Cruel As the Grave Read Free Page B

wasted time or energy on futile denials or self-delusion. Justin would that he could do likewise. He kept looking over his shoulder, though, unable to outrun either his memories or his regrets.
     
    "Well?" Nell demanded when he didn't answer. "Are you going to tell me how you got that bruise or not?"
     
    "Not," he said, smiling, and then tensed, for Durand was coming in the door. He had to stoop to enter, for he was taller than most men. Justin had always been proud of his own height, but Durand topped him by several inches. He wore a mantle of finely woven wool, fastened with an ornate gold pin. Spying was clearly a profitable profession, Justin thought sourly. Durand looked out of place in such shabby surroundings, but Justin doubted that he'd be a target for cutpurses or robbers; his eyes would chill even the most obtuse of felons.
     
    Spotting Justin, he crossed the common room, dismissing Nell with a terse "Leave us."
     
    He'd misjudged his woman, though. Nell stayed put, looking up at him with an indifference that could not have been more insulting. "Justin?" she queried, and he nodded reluctantly.
     
    "Will you excuse us, Nell?" He did not offer to buy Durand an ale, for he was damned if he'd drink with the man. "Sit," he said, as soon as Nell had risen, switching from English - Nell's tongue - to French, the language in which he would normally converse. Since most of the alehouse patrons were English speakers like Nell, Justin could feel confident he'd foil would-be eavesdroppers; he strongly suspected that this was a conversation he'd not want overheard.
     
    Durand seemed in no hurry to begin. He pulled up a bench, claimed a candle from a nearby table; the occupant was about to protest, then thought better of it. As the flame flared between them, Justin was pleased to see that the corner of Durand's mouth was swollen. Rarely had he ever taken such an instantaneous dislike to another man, but he'd distrusted Durand de Curzon from the first moment they'd met. It was a hostility returned by Durand in full measure, for Justin had outwitted the other man in the past. And then there was Claudine, who'd spurned Durand and taken Justin into her bed. Add to the mix their rivalry for the queen's favor and it was a very unstable brew, one likely to boil over at the least provocation.
     
    "Jesu, what a pigsty." Durand glanced around the alehouse with contempt. "I do not know what I was thinking to pick this hovel for our meeting."
     
    Justin knew exactly why he'd chosen the Gracechurch alehouse: to send a message - that he knew far more about Justin than Justin did about him. "You're not here for the pleasure of my company. You have word for the queen?"
     
    "Yes ... I do." Durand looked into Justin's half-filled ale-cup, grimacing. "How can you drink that swill?"
     
    "Do you have something of value to tell me or not? I've already played one of your tiresome games with you this day, am in no mood for another."
     
    Durand laughed. "Are you complaining about our little joust in the hall? I had to get word to you, and that seemed the safest way to do it. All know we like each other not, after all. But if it eases your mind, next time I'll take a gentler approach."
     
    Justin was determined that he'd not take the bait again. "Say what you came to tell me. I assume it involves John?"
     
    Durand's grin faded. "Be outside the priory of St Bartholomew's by dawn. John is sending a messenger to France on the morrow. He leaves at first light."
     
    Justin leaned across the table. "What does this message contain?"
     
    "If I knew that, would I not tell you?"
     
    "I do not know. Would you?"
     
    Durand's smile was mocking. "All I know is that the message is meant for John's allies in Normandy and bodes ill for the king. John does not confide utterly in me - no more than the queen does in you."
     
    Justin ignored the gibe. "How will I recognize this courier?"
     
    "His name is Giles de Vitry. He is French-born, not as tall as