Read Sing Me Home for Free Online

Now the chimes jangled from her waist and banged her knees with each step. Despite the noise around her, despite the flash of swords Matilda hefted into the air, despite the scent of burning pitch emanating from Arnaud’s torch, Maura’s gaze fixed upon another sight, stranger than any she’d seen before: An enormous city.
    This place bore no resemblance to the kind of village that clung to the walls of her old convent—that was just a cluster of houses, a baker and a butcher and a beekeeper, the sort of traders the sisters did business with. Sure, her home village swelled during the harvest time, when laborers drifted through to help bring in the hay for the cows’ winter fodder. But what she was looking at now, from across the River Shannon, was no makeshift collection of hovels, but a sea of thatched-roofed houses.
    The troupe crossed the stone bridge and danced into the thick of it. Scents assaulted her—the metallic taste of the air outside the blacksmith’s shop, the stench of rotting carcasses around the tannery, the sweet scent of honey outside the waferer. In the narrow confines of the smoky convent kitchens, she’d long become used to the richness of conflicting fragrances. But here, the odors mixed and churned in the streets like a stew over-spiced, sickening to the smell. She tilted her head back to stare at the blue sky … and caught sight of a church spire.
    Ah yes, she thought. She was long overdue for confession.
    The street narrowed. Matilda, absorbed in her sword-dancing, paid her no mind. Arnaud’s attention was fixed on the crowd. The others danced and piped and tumbled with no care for her. She wasn’t expected to do anything now, anyway. Not until Arnaud scoured the alehouses frequented by the wealthy English of the place and found the one willing to give him the heftiest cut of the night’s profits for their entertainment.
    She saw an alley of opportunity and knew she wouldn’t be missed at all.
    In one swift movement, she took two steps sideways into the crowd. Pushing her way through the horde proved harder than she expected. Such a crowd, so many people! The Irish around the convent lived in scattered settlements, with huge tracts of pasture between them to graze their cows and plow under enough land to feed their families. She wondered how the meager fields she’d seen around this settlement produced enough food to feed all the beefy Englishmen she passed.
    With the soaring spire as her guide, she wove her way through the streets as the piper’s music dimmed and the push of the crowd eased. She slipped down a narrow alleyway and then turned into another. Finally, light streamed through an opening ahead, and she found herself in a courtyard facing a stone church.
    She hiked her skirts, climbed the stairs, and pushed open the doors. The familiar coolness enveloped her. She paused to let her eyes adjust to the darkness. The scent of incense lingered in the air as if a Mass had just been said. She released a trembling breath, and it was as if something stiff and tight unwound within her. She’d been gone from the convent for only two days, yet standing here in the echoing presence of the church she felt safe for the first time.
    Of course, this church was nothing like the small stone chapel that stood on the convent grounds and on the best of days could only fit a dozen sisters. Here, a rosette of colored light poured down from above the nave and shimmered upon the rush-covered floor. She’d never seen such colored glass before. She’d never seen such a high-roofed church, so much space.
    “You, girl, what do you want?”
    The slap-slap of hard-bottomed shoes drew her attention to a young man in a long brown tunic making his way toward her.
    “Good day, father,” she began, bobbing in a curtsy. “I’ve come—”
    “By God!” The cleric stopped short. “Are there minstrels in town again ?”
    Maura jerked in surprise. The cleric’s hair hung to his shoulders, not shorn in a