The Two Confessions John Whitbourn (best books for students to read txt) 📖

‘Hello.’

Samuelhad already noted the young couple at a nearby table. They stuck out fromHigham's usual clientele and were so wrapped up in each other as to flirt withexpulsion. A single public kiss between - betrothed - lovers was just aboutpermissible, but these two, good clothes and breeding notwithstanding, weresailing close to the wind. Their mutual passion had been observed and tuttedover by the regulars.

Forall Trevan cared they could mount one another over the tea-things, but hepreferred not to have to watch affection. 'Romantic love' was just an inventionof old-maid authoresses. Moreover, it was a lie that didn't last (barring heand Mrs T, of course). Besides which, these two needed feeding up far more thansmooching. They'd do better to eat what they'd ordered instead of linking lipsor addressing strangers.

‘Areyou talking to me?’ Samuel asked, a welcome-free zone.

‘Hello.’It was the girl this time, smiling wider and wider. Meanwhile, her thin armdidn't cease to twine round the beloved. ‘Hello!’

Trevantook pleasure in alarm: suddenly this was no longer normal or everyday. Perhapsthey were well-spoken loonies, escaped from the priory bedlam. Or maybe they'dgot out of a private asylum, the sort of place where wealthy families dumpedthose who failed the exam of life. But thereagain, would any warder let themdress so... fashionable?

MrHigham himself detected matters were amiss and interrupted his cutlery audit.Then the girl's swift-drawn pistol sent him back to it in comic reverse stride.

Thecouple stood up and embraced across the crockery, exchanging a titanic,the-tongue-as-intrepid-explorer, type kiss. Somehow Trevan sensed it was longawaited. The casually brandished gun meanwhile kept him in his seat, morefascinated than threatened.

‘Ishould have so liked to fuck you,’ the young man told the girl,once disengaged. Samuel had rarely heard such adoring tones. The profanityreached and hushed even the distant beer-tap bar. The yeomanry there gatheredround to look on through the hatch.

‘Inheaven,’ the girl consoled her sweetheart. ‘Soon.’

Bothdrew silver bodkins from their sleeves. Loving fingers gently parted shirt andbodice to lodge a needle-point above each heart.

Thenthey turned their perfect faces to Trevan.

‘Weare here,’ they told him, speaking as one - and then fell forward, screaming inpain and joy.

U[U[U[U[U[U[U

cHAPTER 2

Since he didn't wishMelissa troubled, Samuel took his resultant thoughts to Pevensey - once theauthorities had finished with him. A Justice of the Peace, an outlander fromSurrey, had taken his deposition and, finding it supported in every way, wasobliged to let him go. Trevan truthfully maintained that though the youngpeople might have addressed him he did not know them. Higham the hotelierfurther testified as to their general peculiarity, and so that settled thingsfor the moment. A King's Coroner's inquest was called for a week hence andTrevan told to be before it.

Samuelhad already come to his own verdict - the most probable and horrible solution -before his feet boarded the carriage taking him away. Even so, he postponedacceptance. The chain of logic to the correct conclusion was long andvulnerable to attack in many places. Happily, there was (dishonest) comfort inthat task and Samuel set about it as Haddad whipped the horses to the coast.Since the coachman loved his team dearly that hurt him as much as they, but hismaster had said to 'shake some action!', his face a mask drained ofmercy. Poor Haddad had no alternative to cruelty and prayed for equineforgiveness even as he laid on.

Accordingly,they made good time, round Caburn and the gypsy camp at Southerham, peltingpast Wilmington and its 'Long Man', barely slowing to fling out the tollat Polegate. The broad new road, commissioned to speed His Majesty tosea-bathing and mistresses at Brighthelmstone, made even January journeysfeasible. Thus they travelled smoothly until obliged to branch off near StoneCross. Thereafter, it was back to normal; progress being tempered by cautionand great ruts and dips, the ravages of wear and tear. They were fortunate inthat the month had so far been dry. Winter often made Sussex roads only fit forox-carts.

Samueldidn't complain, for at least the lesser pace removed the cursed 'blurring'attendant on him since they left Lewes. Every time he looked from the window anemergent... shape seemed keeping pace with them. It proved so disconcertingthat he almost drew the blinds, but once they’d slowed down the afflictionfled. The gut-churning state of the Pevensey road was a price worth paying forthat relief.

ThenTrevan noticed a neat spray of bloodstains down his waistcoat; spurted dropletsfrom the boy or girl's puncture wound. All his troubles immediately returned information.

Inconsequence, Pevensey Castle was an even more welcome sight than normal. Samuelhad long ago warmed to the round of its Roman walls amidst the flatness of the'Levels'. Plus there was a glimpse of the sea beyond. And looming up above thebeach rose the 'Wizard's Palace': Papal Roman architecture improbablytransported to darkest Sussex. This was the official abode of the ThaumaturgicGrandmaster for the south-east and... interesting tales were spun about it.Safely far off, Trevan could just appreciate the frisson it added to thescene, a dark mystery he need not probe.

Mostof all though, Trevan liked the Castle because Susan lived beside it.

Haddadwas directed to the 'Royal Oak and Castle' and given a guilt-inspiredhalf-crown to play with. Samuel left him soothing the team, whispering to themof treats in store. Most of the money would probably go on sugar lumps.

Meanwhile,across the empty cattle-market square was Susan's cottage. Trevan sped off toburst into it - and, very shortly after, into her.

************

Shewas a hard-working but less-than-lucky young mother of three, left a widow by alost fisherman. Or so it was assumed. His precise fate and whereabouts wereknown only to God and the fishes, although scattered wreckage washed up longafter supplied a clue. It had been that kind of storm. Standing on tiptoe inSusan’s upstairs room, you could see (should you care to) his token cross in StNicolas' churchyard across the square.

Sometimes,afterwards, Trevan did care to. He viewed the already faded memorial andwondered if the man had gone down beholding the lights of home. And, if so, hadthat been a consolation or torment? No one would ever know. Then, faced withthat dead-end, Samuel’s thoughts would backtrack along less philosophicalpaths. It was ignoble