Page 46 of Laird of Smoke
“I can.And have.Granted, my Hildegard is a rather large woman with a husky voice, but…”
That made her laugh.This she had to hear.“Do the voice.”
“Now?”
She nodded.
He cleared his throat, then spoke in a ragged voice with a thick German accent.“Zere is ze music uff heav’n in all tings.”
Her eyes widened.Adam did sound like a wizened woman.
She skewered him with a glittering gaze that was half admiration, half scolding.“Ye know ye’re wicked, feignin’ to be Hildegard.Why would ye do such a thing?”
“To gain access to a library.My cousin needed a copy o’ Aristotle’s treatise on Physics.”
“So ye stole it?”
“Not exactly.The laird was delighted to give it to Hildegard.”
She shook her head in wonder.
“Besides,” he added, “that tome was covered in dust.I’m not certain it had e’er been read.”
Still, such an audacious undertaking was unthinkable to Eve.
“Your turn,” he said.
“I’m afraid I’m not so bold as ye.”
“I’d say a pilgrim with a mule-hair beard confrontin’ the Prior o’ Scone is fairly bold.”
She had to smile at that.“Thatwasa wee bit risky.”
“So tell me about Jehan o’ Rouen.”
“Who?”
He chided her with a look.“I know ’twas ye.I saw the green hood in your satchel.”
She sighed.She supposed there was no point in hiding it anymore.Even if he did know about Jehan, there was still much hedidn’tknow about her.Including her real name and profession.
“Jehan is the oldest o’ ten.His da died last year, so he goes from tourney to tourney, earnin’ coin to support his brothers and sisters in Rouen.”
“I see.And I suppose these brothers and sisters have names?”
“O’ course.”Eve was nothing if not thorough.“Alain, Beatriz, Caterine, Denis, Elaine, Florie, Guillaume, Heloise, and Isabeau.”
His eyes were dancing with amusement and, perhaps, admiration.“And how did Jehan perfect his skills with a bow?”
“Huntin’ hare in the forest.Indeed, he had to flee Rouen, bein’ wanted as a poacher.”
Adam’s laughter rolled over her like a warm breeze and did something curious to her heart.It had been a long while since she’d heard such a carefree sound.She thought she could sit here forever, swapping tales with her fellow impostor.
“Now ye,” she said.
“Have ye heard o’ Godefroid de Claire?”
She had.The abbess at her convent had seen some of the artist’s reliquaries on her travels.But Eve didn’t want to reveal too much, so she shook her head.
