BURY ME DEEP an utterly gripping crime thriller with an epic twist (Detective Rozlyn Priest Book 1) by JANE ADAMS (best book reader .txt) 📗

“And what of Cate? Is she happy in her marriage?”

Osric spat, to show his displeasure. “Eldred beats her,” he said. “She was a lass of fifteen when he married her at Christmastide. If she looks elsewhere for comfort, it’ll be others to blame.” He glanced through the doorway at Hugh and Treven was painfully aware that Osric would have heard every word Hugh uttered on the journey home. He should have silenced him earlier, as Osric was now pointing out in his own inimitable fashion. Osric himself was true and loyal as day, but the others would gossip, Treven was in no doubt of that, and it wasn’t seemly for the new Shire Reeve to be speaking so openly of cuckolding another man and even less seemly for the new Thegn to be tacitly encouraging this by his silence. He had, he acknowledged, a good deal to learn about the management of his new position.

“When did Allis Scrivener disappear?” he asked.

“Six weeks since, they said. Reckoned it drove the old man mad with grieving, though some say he was heading there long before, since after his wife died.”

Treven nodded, recalling what he had been told about the winter deaths and Cate’s mother being buried out in the woods. He was not surprised there had been no mention of her elder sister and this, perhaps, explained much about the state of the father. He wondered, though, if it were true that Tilian Scrivener had not been in his right mind since his wife’s death, who had, in reality been managing the estates. He found it hard to cast either of the brothers in the role of steward. His thoughts were interrupted by Hugh shouting at him from his place beside the fire.

“Will you come out and eat, man? I’m half starved.”

Treven glanced in his direction, then patted Osric on the shoulder. “See what else you can discover,” he said, “and be sure you and the others have your fill of the food.”

Osric jerked his head in what might have been acknowledgement and took himself away to eat with the other servants. Treven, his thoughts now filled with Osric’s revelations, joined Hugh by the fire.

* * *

Cate had come outside to catch the last of the evening light. She had her spindle with her and stood on the steps of the hall, spinning the last of the wool she’d combed earlier in the day.

Cate didn’t need to think about her task. She’d learnt to spin so long ago she could no longer recall a time when her fingers had not known how to twist the thread and draw the staple from the combed wool. Her yarn was smooth and even and the cloth she wove hard-wearing and warm and Cate was proud of her skills. Allis had never had the patience for it. She could use the spindle adequately enough — what woman couldn’t? — but Cate despaired of the knots and slubs Allis managed to catch in her work, though she was, Cate owned, an even better weaver than Cate herself.

Cate blinked aside the tears that threatened whenever she thought of Allis. She missed her so much she felt almost split in two. The two of them might have been different in temperament and four years apart in age, but they had been very close, especially after their mother had died and so much more of the responsibility fallen on their shoulders. Their mother, Aeldryn, had been at the heart of their small community. Her knowledge of herbs and healing salves and the best plants for dyeing cloth were unchallenged in the neighbourhood. Her death had left a hole that the two girls together had tried hard to fill. Now Allis was gone too and Cate knew herself to be incapable of plugging such a gap. Sometimes the responsibility felt overwhelming for a woman of just sixteen years. Sometimes, she felt such rage at Allis for choosing to go when she, Cate, had no option but to stay. Other times, most times, her grief at her sister’s loss was far greater than her anger.

She looked round at the sound of feet on the steps behind her. Edmund came out and stood, as she had done, staring towards the wood and the path that led towards Theadingford. Golden, autumnal light was giving way now to a blazing red that filled the sky as the sun set beyond the line of trees and flushed the few white clouds with rose.

“What do you think of him?” Edmund asked.

“Treven or Hugh?” she asked.

Edmund snorted. “I don’t need to ask what you made of Hugh de Vries,” he said harshly. “Or what he thought of you. Have a care, little sister. You may not like my brother overmuch, but he’s still your husband. He’d not take kindly to his wife following the way of mine.”

“And what way’s that?” Cate demanded. Then she sighed. “I’m sorry, Edmund. I’d not cause you pain for anything. Allis was strong minded and wrong-headed all lifelong. She’d ever have her own way, no matter who or what stood between.”

“I know it,” Edmund said. “Cate, I think, truly, that she and Eldred would have been better matched.”

“Lord, no. Can you imagine the storms? Each as determined as the other to get their way?” She laughed briefly at the thought of it, but the laughter choked and diminished into sobs that she tried hard to contain.

Edmund reached out and patted her hand. “Her going has caused you great pain, I know. Truth is I miss her too, Cate. While I can’t say with honesty that she was a good wife, she was a good companion when the mood took her. And a more knowledgeable, sharper-minded woman I never met.”

“Nor sharper tongued!” Cate managed a smile. “I know you love her, Edmund.”

“Yes,” he