The Eyes of St. Thomas

by S.B. Watson

About the Author: S. B. Watson's stories have appeared in "Mystery Tribune," "The Dark City Mystery Magazine," "Punk Noir," and "Mystery Magazine," as well as various anthologies.

Excerpt

The path down the embankment was steep, and narrow, studded with rocks that shone pearly grey under the light of the full moon. The chevalier reined his horse where the path split from the main road, and sat still upon the great beast as it stamped and scraped the ground, the heavy hooves inches from the boys’ faces, hidden in the underbrush. For what seemed like an eternity, neither of them breathed, the moonlit form of the man-at-arms and his horse towering above them. Then, with a sudden prick of spurs, the horse started down the path.

They sat up, scrabbling from the broken twigs and dirt, and peered after the chevalier, now riding slowly along the brushy bank of the Canche River. In the distance, the lights of The Masse D’Armes glowed from overgrown riverbank thickets, casting a ruddy, shifting reflection across the water. They watched the chevalier follow the moonlit riverbank, eventually fading in the darkness.

“My da says The Masse D’Armes’ full o’ thieves and harlots,” the first boy said.

“I hear they smuggle wine and cloth from Quentovic to cheat the tolls,” said the second. “Up and down the river.”

The first boy shook his head. “Nah, my da says they sell fake relics.”

The second boy’s eyes widened in the moonlight. “Tha’ can’t be true. Where’d they get them then?”

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