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Though I was unnerved, I couldn’t keep the smile from slicing across my face. The little mouse did well. All I did was give her a head start. I wasn’t even sure that was enough.
Now I know. She’s not to be underestimated.
Bishop Sutton sighed. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, and I felt like a fool for missing this careful, calculating man the entire time, hidden behind his saintly public persona.
I had latched onto the idea of him being righteous and good. Now the mere notion made me scoff. There is no one good in this world. This is only further confirmation of that fact. We are all sinners in a cesspool of depravity.
Bishop Sutton looked at Sir George with his rheumy eyes, and it made the Sheriff reel his head back.
“What is it?” George asked.
“There will always be more sinners of the flesh to buy our wares, Sheriff George, and always more pagan witch-girls to sell to them. Not all is lost.”
“I know that,” George snarled. He gesticulated in frustration. “I’m simply angry at the message, Father Sutton. That’s all. Excuse my poor attitude.”
The bishop stood from his seat, groaning while his body cracked from his old age. He shuffled past George, his robe swishing across the floor, and put a hand on the Sheriff’s shoulder. “Then get yourself together, Sir George. Because I will be expecting the Church’s money back. And I’ll be expecting a fresh contingent of sinners to send to the flesh-dealers.”
George nodded glumly. He looked up at the bishop. “We are the flesh-dealers, Father.”
The bishop cracked a smile, and then the mask of geniality, warmth, and friendliness returned to his face. “You deal in bodies, Sir George. I deal in souls.”
With that eerie departure, the bishop shuffled out of the room.
I clicked my tongue, another smile spreading across my face. How truly awful and delectable. The unassuming bishop, of all people—the paragon of righteousness and herald of His Word—selling women to scoundrels across the country and beyond?
I hated the concept of what they were doing, and the fact George had kept me in the dark about his extracurricular activities.
Yet the challenge presented lovely opportunities.
Robin of Loxley had upset forces she couldn’t even fathom. I was glad she had escaped her captors. Would have been a shame if I’d gone through all that work to help her only for her to be enslaved by another man.
I tapped my chin and turned away from the wall, leaving George with his thoughts, and me with mine.
As I marched through the hall, a trill of excitement crept up my spine. My smile widened, and I threaded my fingers together enthusiastically. The game is on once more.
“And so the hunt continues, little mouse.”
To Be Continued!
