Chapter Eight For an instant in the silence that followed, shocked into immobility, Melusine stared in horror at the body lying there so still. Melusine flew after him, the sword held out before her and pointing directly at his retreating back. ’ ‘Yes, but what is it, Jacques?’ demanded the lady. “You will go and see her,” he begged. A slow anger burned in the man. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside.
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