Sun ured her. She reached in to

Both did--but today was the day their parents would be hauled back into the bishop's office below. He spread as much of his tunic over her as he could and looked back down through the gap in the ceiling planks. How much do you think it hurt? she asked. The sound of the door latch saved him from giving an answer best left unspoken. A parade of figures entered the room: several guards, then their father and mother in chains, then several more guards, then the city magistrate Durand de Saint-Bars. The accused were buy instagram followers positioned in front of the table where Saint-Bars, the Catholic bishop, and the prior of the Dominicans had sat in judgment three days earlier. Vital studied the bandages that covered each parent's right hand. The white wraps were stained with blood from the iron manacles binding their wrists. His mother's veil, always clean and always straight, was twisted and instagram clumped with filthy straw. Some of her hair, the same shade as her daughter's, had come free and lay on her shoulders in full public view. The magistrate stepped around the table and stared at Astruc Moysett first and then at his wife until he had their attention. Please. Confess. Repent. After Bishop instagram Raymond and Prior Pons arrive, I will not be able to stop the proceedings from taking a very dark turn. Show some remorse, or at least some fear, for God's sake. That is what Pons wants more than anything. God commands us to uphold and protect the truth, yes? Astruc said. The truth is, we have done nothing wrong. I occasionally offer shelter to poor travelers, and my wife comforts forlorn souls with buy instagram followers her poetry. Confessing would be to defile the truth and therefore to flout God's will. Besides, we both know Pons will have his circus. The truth is of little consequence. Vital had always taken pride in his father's bold approach to life, but this seemed the worst possible time to speak in such buy instagram followers a provocative way. There is a need to repent here, Astruc said, his voice growing even stronger, but it lies on your side. The Roman church, that harlot of the apocalypse, and the Roman pope. His murderous puppets Louis the French boy king and his mother, and all the northerners who invaded Languedoc on their fraudulent crusade. Let them confess and bear penance for stealing our property and destroying our country. You arrogant fool! Saint-Bars yelled. I do everything in my power to give you a prayer of survival, but you would rather throw away your life. And the life of your fam-- Saint-Bars fell silent when the bishop entered, with Prior Pons following close behind. Bishop Raymond lowered himself into the center chair, then Saint-Bars sat at his left and Pons at his right. In the flickering light of the wall sconces, the prior's black cloak and white habit pla a gloomy counterpoint to the bishop's rich vestments. Remove the bandages, Pons said. The male prisoner first. Saint-Bars waved one of the guards over, who knelt in front of Astruc and unwrapped the linen. When the hand was fully http://oneeyedeer.com/ exposed, he yanked the manacles upward to present the evidence. Astruc sucked in breath but did not cry out. Look--he heals, Saint-Bars said. The magistrate seemed more interested in rescuing his father than his father was. Pons shook his head. This cannot be. He is a dealer of herbs and buy instagram followers es. Perhaps he knows some trickery with potions that allowed his hand to recover when it should not have? Or perhaps, magistrate, you did not administer the test