Belaset's Daughter - By Feona J Hamilton Page 0,11

reprovingly.

Guy hesitated for a second, but the expression on the priest’s face convinced him. He was led across the room, to the door by the chest. The cupboard was opened again, but this time, the priest reached over to the side, and the back swung open to reveal another passage, shorter than that which led from the side door to the room they were in. At the other end, a heavy curtain hung from ceiling to floor. The priest pushed it to one side and walked through, then held it back for Guy to follow.

They were in the apse of the church. It was dim, and the heavy scent of incense hung in the air. The cold was piercing and stung the nostrils with every breath. The silence was so profound, that Guy felt himself grow calmer, and the tension of the journey was eased by the atmosphere.

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Belaset’s Daughter

As his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, he could see that they were in an alcove, with the high altar to their right, in the centre of the apse. The priest went to it, and, stooping down, reached under the embroidered cloth that draped it.

He stood up, with a packet in his hand, and came back to where Guy stood. The packet was small, sealed with wax, bearing the impression of a ring. The wax gleamed faintly in the dimness, as the priest held it out.

"Here," he said. "Here’s the message you came for take it!"

Guy took it from him, and put it into a pouch, which he drew from inside his tunic.

Closing it again, by the drawstring on which it hung, he thrust it back into its hiding-place, where it lay against his chest.

"The safest place I know," he said to the little priest, patting his tunic. "To cut that off, you would have to cut me down first!"

The priest nodded, as if satisfied.

"Now," he said. "Perhaps you will spend some little time quenching you thirst and warming yourself, before you leave?"

"Why not?" Guy said. "Is there somewhere for my horse, that it might enjoy some rest and shelter, too?"

They returned along the passage and into the priest’s room.

"If you wish," said the priest, almost timidly. "You can bring it into the other passage.

It will get some warmth from the fire, and the droppings if there are any will give me some fuel, perhaps."

The horse lifted its head, as Guy opened the door. Grasping the reins, he urged it inside, and it came willingly enough. Its hooves clattered on the stone floor and it snorted in surprise. Then it nuzzled Guy, as though to show its gratitude for being brought in, away from the bitter cold. Guy patted its neck, roughly, and squeezed past it, to shut the door.

He gave a quick glance to each side, but there was no sign of life the length of the lane.

Closing the door, he slipped across the stout bolts at the top and bottom of it, then squeezed back past the horse and into the room.

The priest had slung a pot over the fire and was stirring vigorously. Guy picked up the beaker of wine, and finished the contents. He stepped across to the fire and gazed curiously into the pot. The smell it gave off was pleasantly spiced, but strange to him.

"What are you brewing there, Father?" he asked, puzzled but intrigued.

The priest smiled up at him.

"Just a herbal infusion, made to warm you on your travels," he said. "There’s cinnamon and ginger in it, and a little pepper. The whole receipt is a monkish secret."

"And will remain one, I see!" said Guy, laughing.

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The bubbling mixture was ladled into another wooden beaker, and Guy took a cautious sip. He felt the fiery liquid go down his gullet and a warmth spread through his stomach and into his bloodstream. He took half of the beaker s contents in a single gulp, for the pleasure of repeating that spreading warmth.

"Sit awhile," came the priest’s voice. Guy was surprised at how far away it sounded. He could feel he was being led towards the bed, but the bed and everything surrounding it was disappearing into a mist, and all he wanted was to sleep....

He reached the bed with a last effort, and collapsed onto it, as his legs buckled beneath him. He had fallen on his side, and the priest, grunting a little with the effort, leant over and felt inside his clothes, to retrieve the packet. He lifted the whole