The Enterprise of Death - Jesse Bullington [92]
“If you ladies would care to join me,” Katharina said, both Awa and Monique noticing that while she had discarded her biscuit she still held a small knife in her right hand. She was shaking slightly, and as Lydie opened her mouth to speak, or maybe sigh or yawn, the full attention of her aunt fell upon her. “Lydie, please take a walk outside.”
“Where should—”
“Outside,” Katharina repeated, and the two strangers realized that despite the levelness of her voice the woman was incensed. As soon as the girl had removed herself and the rear door swung shut Monique rose from the bench beside Awa.
“Right-o, what in hell’s the rumpus?”
“Oswald,” said Katharina, staring at the still seated Awa. “The abbot of the Dominican monastery.”
“Oh,” said Awa, recalling Manuel’s story of the abbot who was not supposed to like ladies but did anyway. “Is he here to commission Manuel again?”
“The Dominicans are the ones burning witches,” Katharina said softly, and Awa flinched from the sharpness of the woman’s eyes. He had told her, then, and she had not been happy. Not at all, and now the chief Dominican in the area was talking to Manuel in the next room.
“Come on, then.” Monique nudged Awa. “I’ll get my pistols ready an’ we’ll scoot out, aye?”
Awa looked up at her friend. “They’ve caught me. Manuel’s told me the sort of men they are, that those who try to help these women are accused themselves. I’ve endangered you all enough, so let me surrender and—”
Monique stuck out her tongue and blew, the raspberry deafening. Then she seized Awa and jerked her to her feet. “You’re not that fuckin weak, an’ neither am I. Let’s go, little sister.”
“What? Mo, I’m caught, they—”
“The window at the back of his studio.” Katharina was looking at the biscuit she had dropped on the table. “Give me a moment, I’ll, I’ll spill something on myself and run in crying, keep them from looking out the front. Go straight out and left, there’ll be more people on the road that way.”
“No,” said Awa, pulling her arm away from Monique, “I—”
“Don’t think I won’t fuckin carry ya,” Monique hissed.
The door burst open and Monique’s hand fell to her hip but her guns were still in their brace, hung over a chair in the studio, and Katharina gave a little yelp. Manuel beamed at them, shutting the door softly behind him and striding proudly over to the table. Looking at each woman in turn, he sat back down on the bench and picked up his half-eaten bozolati.
“Should I stab him?” Katharina asked Monique and Awa.
“Alright, alright!” Manuel put his breakfast back down. “The abbot’s just called. Father Oswald?”
Katharina put the knife against her husband’s cheek.
“And-he’s-commissioned-me-to-paint-something-big,” came out in a rush. “Very big, and very lucrative. It’s finally happened, Kat, it’s finally fucking happened!”
“Mary’s mercy, Niklaus.” Katharina’s knife clanged onto her plate. “We heard shouting.”
“He’s just loud, and happy to see me. He’s been waiting for my return.” Manuel looked to Monique. “He commissioned me before, a small piece, but I was still excited, and so I had a drink or two since Kat—”
“Manuel,” said Monique, sitting back down. “I’ve ’eard that story far too many times ta even pretend I give a fuck bout the ’orny bishop.”
“Abbot,” said Manuel, crossing his arms. “Oswald’s an abbot.”
“Don’t make the story any more interestin.” Monique took another biscuit. Meeting Awa’s eyes, Katharina smiled. The necromancer smiled back, and they finished breakfast.
Monique claimed to need most of the afternoon to follow through on a few leads and Awa was not in a hurry to see her future employer fawning over pig-assed whores, and so as the table was cleared they parted until the evening. Later in the day, and after much soul-searching, Manuel went to his studio where Awa was preparing to leave.
“Awa?” She was admiring the dress Katharina had given her and Lydie had quickly altered, the accompanying veil draped over the stool as she held up the strange garment. The stained bandages and habit