20
Margaret’s hands grabbed at her own throat, strangling the anguished cry that was trying to escape her, as she watched the long blade of the dirk arc viciously through the air and rip into David’s back.
The stable lad’s head twisted about in an unnatural way as he tried to look back at his attacker, but the sharp ledge of the chasm, only a step away, was all he would ever see.
Pressing her back rigidly against the ice-cold walls of the cave, Margaret watched in mute horror as cold, sure hands reached out and pushed David hard over the edge.
Margaret shut her eyes, trying to block out the vision of the flailing arms of the stable lad as he went over.
If only I were blind, she prayed, sobbing. Oh Blessed Virgin, strike me blind.
Margaret sank to the ground, her eyes closed, but she
