The old hypocrite!’
She looked me up and down again. ‘How much?’
I fumbled in my belt pouch and held out a coin.
She remembered Raoul all right. Last night was the second time he’d been in. It seems he’d taken a particular fancy to her among all the whores and sought her out. The first time had been fine but last night he made a bit of a nuisance of himself.
‘Anyway, you were there,’ she said. ‘I remember you and that cripple. You must have seen him.’
‘Indeed,’ I replied, ‘but last night, wasn’t there some kind of a… disagreement?’
She folded her arms across her chest. ‘Oh, so that’s what this is about, is it? You tell him he pays for the hour. If he can’t get it up that’s his problem.’
‘No no,’ I said frowning at her candour. ‘That’s not why I’m here. I just want to hear from you that he was in the tavern for most of the evening.’
She regarded me with curiosity. ‘Not till he pays.’
I fumbled in my pouch again and took out another coin.
‘Why’d you want to know?’
It seems Raoul was there all right, all evening. Netta hadn’t been able to shift him, he was too big. He just slept on the edge of her bed like a baby.
‘While you … entertained … other gentlemen?’
She shrugged. ‘He didn’t notice and they didn’t care.’ She smiled slyly. ‘Like to hear that sort of thing, do you?’
I could feel my face glowing bright red. ‘No, I er… Thank you. Thank you very much.’ I fumbled in my robes and brought out another penny.
She stared at the lonely scrap of silver lying in the palm of her hand. I fumbled again and gave her another penny then shrugged to indicate it was all I had left. With a snort of contempt she snapped her hand shut and turned up the road again, muttering.
Well, I thought as I watched her go, at least she confirmed what I had hoped, that Raoul was in the tavern before the curfew bell was rung. Not that Netta or anyone else would likely testify to the fact. I doubted whether anyone could be found who would admit to being in the tavern last night - I certainly wouldn’t. But what I found baffling was why a personable young man like Raoul de Gray with a beautiful young wife and a family reputation to uphold would feel the need to seek out such as Netta – delightful and charming as I was sure she was …in the right environment. Raoul’s behaviour was mystifying. I sighed. Not for the first time I found the human condition perplexing.
Now that Netta had gone, the vagabond she called Hervey started up again: ‘If your right eye causes you to sin, brother, tear it out! If your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off!’
I squatted down next to him in the dust. ‘And is that what happened to you, my friend?’ I asked him indicating his bandaged arm.
His companion who was squatted next to him sniggered and I had to breathe shallowly for the odour of his breath was so foul that I would have coughed to breathe normally. From Hervey’s vacant eyes I could see the poor man was not fully sensible, though clearly he must have had had some learning from all the quoting he was doing from scripture. I wondered how and where he came by it. I wasn’t at all sure I was going to learn the source from his lips which were never still but conveyed little sense. I could only lament the distance he must have fallen to have arrived now in his shredded rags and stinking like a bale of rotting fish. Whatever was going on behind those mobile eyes and was struggling so painfully to get out I was never going to learn.
I could see now that he wasn’t a leper after all but his injury was recently inflicted for there was freshly-dried blood on his rags. I gently eased the bandage off and grimaced at what I found beneath: A stump where the hand had once been now blackened with pitch to stop the bleeding - perhaps by his rheumy friend. I felt my stomach leap. Another lost hand. There seemed to be an epidemic of lost hands. The skin around the
She looked me up and down again. ‘How much?’
I fumbled in my belt pouch and held out a coin.
She remembered Raoul all right. Last night was the second time he’d been in. It seems he’d taken a particular fancy to her among all the whores and sought her out. The first time had been fine but last night he made a bit of a nuisance of himself.
‘Anyway, you were there,’ she said. ‘I remember you and that cripple. You must have seen him.’
‘Indeed,’ I replied, ‘but last night, wasn’t there some kind of a… disagreement?’
She folded her arms across her chest. ‘Oh, so that’s what this is about, is it? You tell him he pays for the hour. If he can’t get it up that’s his problem.’
‘No no,’ I said frowning at her candour. ‘That’s not why I’m here. I just want to hear from you that he was in the tavern for most of the evening.’
She regarded me with curiosity. ‘Not till he pays.’
I fumbled in my pouch again and took out another coin.
‘Why’d you want to know?’
It seems Raoul was there all right, all evening. Netta hadn’t been able to shift him, he was too big. He just slept on the edge of her bed like a baby.
‘While you … entertained … other gentlemen?’
She shrugged. ‘He didn’t notice and they didn’t care.’ She smiled slyly. ‘Like to hear that sort of thing, do you?’
I could feel my face glowing bright red. ‘No, I er… Thank you. Thank you very much.’ I fumbled in my robes and brought out another penny.
She stared at the lonely scrap of silver lying in the palm of her hand. I fumbled again and gave her another penny then shrugged to indicate it was all I had left. With a snort of contempt she snapped her hand shut and turned up the road again, muttering.
Well, I thought as I watched her go, at least she confirmed what I had hoped, that Raoul was in the tavern before the curfew bell was rung. Not that Netta or anyone else would likely testify to the fact. I doubted whether anyone could be found who would admit to being in the tavern last night - I certainly wouldn’t. But what I found baffling was why a personable young man like Raoul de Gray with a beautiful young wife and a family reputation to uphold would feel the need to seek out such as Netta – delightful and charming as I was sure she was …in the right environment. Raoul’s behaviour was mystifying. I sighed. Not for the first time I found the human condition perplexing.
Now that Netta had gone, the vagabond she called Hervey started up again: ‘If your right eye causes you to sin, brother, tear it out! If your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off!’
I squatted down next to him in the dust. ‘And is that what happened to you, my friend?’ I asked him indicating his bandaged arm.
His companion who was squatted next to him sniggered and I had to breathe shallowly for the odour of his breath was so foul that I would have coughed to breathe normally. From Hervey’s vacant eyes I could see the poor man was not fully sensible, though clearly he must have had had some learning from all the quoting he was doing from scripture. I wondered how and where he came by it. I wasn’t at all sure I was going to learn the source from his lips which were never still but conveyed little sense. I could only lament the distance he must have fallen to have arrived now in his shredded rags and stinking like a bale of rotting fish. Whatever was going on behind those mobile eyes and was struggling so painfully to get out I was never going to learn.
I could see now that he wasn’t a leper after all but his injury was recently inflicted for there was freshly-dried blood on his rags. I gently eased the bandage off and grimaced at what I found beneath: A stump where the hand had once been now blackened with pitch to stop the bleeding - perhaps by his rheumy friend. I felt my stomach leap. Another lost hand. There seemed to be an epidemic of lost hands. The skin around the
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