Time Scout by Robert Asprin & Linda Evans

What did you do to her in Rome, my friend? You seduced her, hurt her, drove her away …

”I trusted you, Malcolm.”

That hurt almost as much as what Margo had suffered

Malcolm’s breathing told him the younger man hadn’t fallen asleep, either. Good. He hoped Malcolm Moore spent a night in hell. Kit turned over with a creak of bed ropes and presented his back to the guide.

”Get some sleep,” he said roughly. “You’ll need it.”

Malcolm didn’t answer.

At two o’clock in the morning, Kit rose and lit a lamp, then kicked Malcolm into wakefulness. The guide stirred under dirty blankets and groaned, then struggled to his feet. His eyes showed the strain of sleeplessness. Malcolm faced him squarely, however, neither flinching nor apologizing. Kit grunted “Time to wake these sinners up for night office. I want them half asleep and off balance for the next five days.”

Malcolm only nodded. He vanished outside to search for the fort’s alarm bell. Kit heard Malcolm speak with the night watch, then the bell sang out a dirge which brought men stumbling out of the houses to the fort. They clutched weapons a little wildly as they searched for danger.

”What is it?” one of them cried, darting frightened glances into the darkness. “What danger threatens, Father?”

”The danger of damnation and hell everlasting,” Kit said sternly. “The Evil One has been at work among you, by your own admission. God has sent us to save your souls. All of you, put away your guns and crossbows. Kneel for Matins.”

The men of Lourengo Marques exchanged dismayed glances in the dim light from Kit’s lamp. Then, with a low muttering and a shuffling of feet, they knelt in the darkness: Kit began Matins in high Latin, speaking out the service in a slow, rolling way that spun out the observance as long as he could stretch it. Then, just for good measure, Malcolm repeated the whole thing. The traders yawned and dozed until Kit switched them awake with a small stick and an admonishing glare.