Page 31 of The Warrior Priest
“That’s not an answer.”
His jaw firmed and he stared at the temple with grim determination.
The high temple’s bell rang out in the distance. Time for evening prayer.
“Let’s get this over with,” I said.
Rhys bowed his head. His lips moved in silent prayer. After a moment, he looked up. “Ready.” It seemed he had to follow the religion’s rules of prayer time even when he was on a mission.
We entered the narrow lane where the temple’s side door was located. It wasn’t as dark as I thought it would be, thanks to a sliver of moonlight slicing across the cobblestones. I crouched at the door and set to work. Moments later, the click of the lock opening sounded loud in the empty lane.
Rhys entered first, then signaled for me to follow. Light from torches positioned in wall sconces helped guide our way through the warren of the corridors and back rooms. Rhys grabbed one and led the way down a set of stone steps to the basement. The air was even colder, making it the ideal room to prepare bodies for burial, particularly the unclaimed ones that needed to be kept for a week.
I caught a glimpse of four lying on tables before Rhys blocked my vision.
“Don’t look,” he said. “They’re naked.”
“I’ve seen naked men before.”
“When? Who?”
“None of your business.”
The only naked men I’d seen were at the river, frolicking in the shallows on hot days. Sometimes they invited me to join them, but I always declined, for obvious reasons. I stayed to enjoy the view, however. It was quite an education for a sheltered young lady.
“Stop being a prude, Rhys, and step aside. I assure you I won’t faint from the sight.”
“Me, a prude? Ha!”
“Oh, that’s right,” I teased. “You haven’t keptthatparticular vow.”
“Low blow, Jac.” He stepped aside. “We need a relatively fit looking body, one capable of climbing a vine and rowing a boat.”
It didn’t take us long to settle on a man aged about thirty with a stubbled jawline and in need of a haircut. Old scars marred his torso and hands, but there were no obvious signs of foul play.
“He drowned.” Rhys indicated the bluish tinge of the skin and the wrinkly palms and souls of the feet. He tilted the head to the side and held the torch close for better light. “No sign he was held underwater, so my guess is he was so drunk he fell unconscious and stumbled into the river. A relatively peaceful way to die.”
A chill rippled down my spine. “How can you speak so calmly about death?”
He held the torch up to see my face. “Because death isn’t the end. All believers know that.” The heat from the torch and his intense gaze chased the chill from my bones.
I cleared my throat. “We can’t present a naked body to the sheriff. To make the story of a drunken drowning feasible, he needs to be dressed.”
“That trunk probably has their clothes. See what you can find while I pray for him.” He stood by the body and closed his eyes.
His prayer was said out loud this time, although he kept his voice low. It was melodic, the words soothing, as he prayed to the god and goddess to embrace the poor soul who’d become lost and lonely. “If he was without faith…” Rhys paused. “If his faith wavered, show him the path back. He needs your guidance and love.”
I opened the trunk only to step back from the power of the smell coming from the pile of rags inside. I turned away, coughing, then gulped in some fresher air before holding my breath as I rifled through the clothes. Thankfully it was easy to determine which ones belonged to our body.
Rhys came up alongside me with the torch. “Do you need light?”
“You’ll need it to look for his boots. I’m not going back in there.” I held a pair of trousers, shirt and jerkin at arm’s length. “He wore these when he died. They smell of the river, and not the nice part either. He died not far from the factories, if I’m not mistaken. There’s even some mud still on them.” I deposited the clothes and boots beside the body. “Shouldn’t there be mud on him, too? And if he was a vagrant, why isn’t he dirtier?”
“The priests have cleaned him. It’s part of the burial ritual. You dress his top half. I’ll look for the boots.”
He wasn’t a large man, but carrying a dead body out of the temple unseen wouldn’t be easy once we’d dressed him. I was considering the best way to do it when Rhys simply picked him up and slung him over his shoulder. The body draped there like a shawl, torso and arms dangling at Rhys’s back.
“I’ll go first and check if the coast is clear,” I said, torch in hand.
