The Papal Assassin's Curse: Desire. Despair. Damnation

S.J. MartinThe Papal Assassin’s CurseDesire. Despair. Damnation First published by Moonstorm Books 2023Copyright © 2023 by S.J. MartinAll rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.S.J. Martin asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.First edition This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy Find out more at reedsy.com Contents The Papal Assassin Series Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-one Chapter Twenty-two Chapter Twenty-three Chapter Twenty-four Chapter Twenty-five Chapter Twenty-six Chapter Twenty-seven Chapter Twenty-eight Chapter Twenty-nine Chapter Thirty Maps Glossary Character list Read More The Papal Assassin’s Wrath Author note About the Author Also by S.J. Martin The Papal Assassin Series The Papal AssassinThe Papal Assassin’s WifeThe Papal Assassin’s Curse Published by Moonstorm Books Chapter OneNovember 1095 – France Finian winced as the whip-thin branches lashed across his face and arms as they rode through the close-packed birch trees, down towards a fast-flowing stream and long rocky gully. The undergrowth was thicker here and relentless as their horses forced their way through, but they had no other option as two groups of dark-clad men were pursuing them.It had already been a long day, and the first fingers of the dusk mists were falling on the forested hills to the south of Paris as they rode towards home. Their destination was over five leagues away, but it had been a worthwhile journey, for they had viewed and bought a young Flemish Blue stallion. He was four years old, well over seventeen hands and solid, just what Finian had been searching for this year.Finian Ui Neill, an Irish lord and famous warrior with a troubled background of warfare and heartache, was now enjoying a less traumatic life, breeding warhorses on the estate of his friend, Chatillon. He watched his comrade ahead who turned and gave him a defiant grin. Finian laughed aloud. Piers seemed to revel in danger even when they were so closely pursued, but he had so much to be grateful for from this man. Piers De Chatillon; Finian wondered how anyone would begin to describe this enigmatic, dangerous man or even explain their friendship. A French lord, a Papal Envoy, an accomplished courtier, a consummate diplomat. It was true that others in Europe had these attributes, but Chatillon was also a master swordsman and lethal assassin who ran Europe’s biggest spy and informer network. Together they were two of the most feared swordsmen in Europe, yet here they were, riding for their lives to escape at least ten pursuers. No wonder Piers was grinning at the absurdity of it all.Unusually, they had been caught somewhat unawares by these men. They were tired after a long journey and were talking about other things when they finally spotted the first group following behind them in the distance. Fortunately, they were not far from home, only half a league or so, as they had already entered the paths in the dense woodland bordering the Chatillon estate. They knew this area’s terrain well, as they regularly hunted boar in these woods. Then Finian, who had the eyesight of a hawk, spotted another group high in the trees on their left flank. The strangers were obviously carrying out a pincer movement hoping to cut them off. They had quickly pushed on for home, speaking little since they realised their pursuers were now in double figures.‘Could it be the Sheikh’s men?’ rasped Finian through clenched teeth as he manoeuvred his horse down a particularly steep rocky slope towards the water below.‘I’m not sure from this distance, but they seem relentless. Edvard did mention that there was a rumour of deserters and mercenaries in the woods last week; it might be them hoping for easy pickings.’‘Whoever they are, they’re good. We’ve tried to shake them off twice, and they’re still behind us,’ added Finian.Reaching the rock-strewn stream bed, they stopped and listened. Their pursuers were now careless, making enough noise while crashing through the thick undergrowth and shouting to each other.‘We are forcing both groups into the gully, and we should be able to even the odds at the end of the narrower ravine. They will not be able to emerge at speed, and we will be waiting for them,’ threw Piers over his shoulder. Finian nodded in agreement, and they pushed on along the narrow, steep banks.When the stream emerged from the trees into the meadow, Finian dropped his reins, dismounted and, running back, climbed the steep bank behind them, hiding in the undergrowth above the following riders. Chatillon, remaining mounted, knotted and dropped his reins; a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other, he placed himself slightly behind the bushes and trees on the left.As the first men appeared in the mouth of the dark, dappled ravine, with its overhanging branches and rock-strewn water, they suddenly found their quarry waiting for them. Chatillon charged forward at the first grizzled older man, hitting his horse in the side; he whirled his blade and took the man’s head clean from his shoulders. The body toppled into the water, and the scared horse panicked and backed into the horse behind, which reared and scrabbled sideways onto the slippery leaf-strewn bank, but the hooves could not get any purchase, and the animal slid down into the horse behind. It righted itself and panicked,