Even in these shadows, his head throbbed after that night of drinking. If someone offered to chop off the offending part, he might have considered the proposition. Only the state of his soul would have stopped him, a concern that rarely troubled the sheriff except when he was reminded of death. Seeing Baron Otes’ corpse was one of those painful moments. “I have sinned,” he muttered, dutifully herding guilt into his heart. An insistent hiss of protest rose above the thundering inside his skull. Were his transgressions worse than others? Hadn’t he been less corrupt than most in his situation? He had taken only one substantial bribe, looking the other way when a man paid far less into the king’s treasury than was due. Fulke had used that coin to buy a rich, ecclesiastic position for his brother, Odo. Since the money had gone to Church coffers, he deemed it only just that the ultimate beneficiary of the bribe count in his favor and that his deed be cleansed of any wrong. Odo had also vowed to pray daily for his elder sibling’s soul in gratitude for the gift.
