Crispin: The Cross of Lead (Crispin (Paperback))

Crispin: The Cross of Lead (Crispin (Paperback))


Language: English

Pages: 320

ISBN: 0786816589

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

H "Avi's plot is engineered for maximum thrills, with twists, turns, and treachery aplenty. . . . A page-turner to delight Avi's fans, it will leave readers hoping for a sequel."-Publishers Weekly (starred review) H " . . . [T]he book is a page-turner from beginning to end . . . [A] meticulously crafted story, full of adventure, mystery, and action." -School Library Journal (starred review) "Historical fiction at its finest."-VOYA

















steward. Or was it a ghost? A demon perhaps? Or was it an angel come from Heaven to take me to the safety of God’s sweet embrace? Then, with a lurching heart, I realized what it was: a dead man swinging from a crossroads gallows. I drew close. It was a man—for so he had once been. Now his face was moldy green and much contorted, with a protruding tongue of blue that reached his chin. One eye bulged grotesquely. The other was not there. His body oozed from open wounds. Swollen legs and arms

Sure enough, his face clouded with anger. “Does it, now?” he bellowed, making me jump. “So be it. I hate all tyranny. Is that treason, too?” I did not dare to speak. Then, far softer, he said, “Well, by all the blessed saints and martyrs, what does it matter what I think? Come closer. I’ll give you some bread.” My hunger was so great that whatever prudence I might have had, I put aside. Instead, I returned my cross to my neck pouch, and hurried around to the church’s proper entry. I then

dancing. Then I stopped my playing, too. “Did you hear?” I blurted out right away. “They’re accusing me of murdering Father Quinel.” “I heard.” “That priest also said Lord Furnival was their master. How can that be?” “These lords of the realm own more land than God Himself. Now we need to hurry.” “But when the priest named the courier that had come to them, I recognized the name.” “Did you?” “It was the man my village’s steward, John Aycliffe, met in the woods. Father Quinel spoke his

secure behind the doors of Widow Daventry’s inn did I draw a fully relaxed breath. I looked about. The main room was deserted. “Bear, you need to tell me what I should do if—” The widow came into the room. As she did, Bear put up his hand to silence me. “Ah,” the woman said. “You found him.” “He was wandering and became lost,” Bear said, not mentioning the attack. “Did the watch see you?” she asked me. “I don’t think so.” “Good.” She drew herself up. “I’m afraid John Ball has just

spoke of it.” She smiled grimly. “I’m sure Bear, God keep him, spoke of many taverns.” I fell asleep, only to waken at the sound of ringing bells. Shortly after, I heard the tramp of feet outside. Then, from some distance came the cry, “The hour of Compline is at hand. The curfew is in force. No one may be on the streets.” Not much later the widow appeared holding a lighted lamp. “The man is here. It’s time.” I got up, making sure I took Bear’s sack as well as his hat. I also took some of the

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