Horrors abounded in every passageway as each turn could bring a vision of a poor woman running from her screaming plague-infested son or a bloated corpse of a rich man whose mouth lolled open, showing gaps where someone had pried out a few golden teeth. I didn’t allow myself to see things as they were in those days; now I do. If hate could kill, Ramage would have been killed by a flash of hate. ‘Where did you get that, miss?’ ‘It is the sword of monsieur le major. “Have you ever seen Annabel with him?” she asked. Ennison,” she said, letting her fingers rest in his.
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