Michael Jecks - The Templar, the Queen and Her Lover

‘Although he told us to tell everything we learned to some man with a peacock picture,’ Philip said, scowling.

‘Who never appeared,’ Janin agreed. ‘Perhaps that was only while she was in England still, and he couldn’t get his comrade to join us out here?’

‘For my part, I reckon that fellow Jack is a friend of his, and he had Jack placed with us so that Jack could keep an eye on her all on his own. There was no need for us then.’

‘Except,’ Janin said, ‘he had a man who was a competent musician, so he had to find a means of installing the fellow into a troupe of Queen’s musicians.’

The others said nothing. There was nothing much they could say. All knew what he meant: Jack or an accomplice had murdered their friend Peter in order to ease his route into the Queen’s party. Kill Peter, then Jack could join the musicians.

‘We aren’t fighters,’ Philip said, with blatant dishonesty.

‘If Jack is one of Despenser’s men, why did his mate have the glover and his wife killed? That man told us the glover was a loyal servant to Despenser,’ Adam said.

‘Who else told us that?’ Janin demanded harshly.

‘Hmm?’

‘Did anyone else corroborate what he said about the glover? The man might well have been uninterested in politics for all we know. The mention of Despenser’s name was handy to scare us into being obedient, but that doesn’t mean he told us the truth, does it? I’d guess he was a Despenser man himself, and Jack is too.’

‘Which means de Bouden is. He forced us to bring Jack,’ Ricard said, and belched.

‘So he was telling the truth when he told us to leave him alone,’ Janin said. ‘He could have had us caught and executed, if he’s one of Despenser’s men.’

‘In England he could,’ Ricard said. ‘Maybe we ought to just stay here in France.’

‘What?’ Janin shot out. He looked up. ‘Stay here?’

‘Become wandering troubadours. With the number of castles in the country, we’d make a good living, I’ll bet. As much wine as you can drink.’

‘They’re a bit odd over here, though,’ was Philip’s considered opinion.

‘The weather’s warmer,’ Janin mused.

Adam stared. ‘You reckon this is warmer than London?’

‘The summers are longer and warmer,’ Janin amended.

‘At least here in France we’re out of the reach even of Despenser’s arm,’ Ricard pointed out. ‘The only person who hates him more than the Queen is the French king.’

‘What of Jack?’

‘Swyve him with a blunt stick. As soon as we can lose him, I vote we do,’ Ricard said. ‘At best he’s a spy against our queen. I don’t want to aid him in any way.’

For some minutes the group was silent, drinking slowly, each immersed in his own thoughts. But then Ricard’s fingers began to tap out a beat. Janin watched intently, frowning as he strove to recognise the tune, then nodded, and took up his hurdy-gurdy. Adam pulled out a small whistle and set it to his lips, while Philip began to beat on the tabletop.

‘Space for another in your session?’ Jack asked as he entered the room.

‘Where have you been?’ Janin asked as they all stopped playing.

‘I wanted to learn what all that noise was about. Did you hear it? Apparently some guard has been murdered.’

Ricard sprang to his feet, and was about to jump on Jack when Jack held up his hand and laughed outright. ‘Not again! No, there was a witness to the attack, a squire. He’s described a Frenchman from the south, wearing a worn leather jack and red hosen. Do I fit that description? No? Then calm yourselves.’

‘Why should we?’ Ricard said. ‘We don’t trust you. You suddenly appear, just after our mate’s been murdered … did you have him killed?’

‘Me? Christ in a bucket, no! That was our enemy did that. No, I’m your comrade.’

‘You?’

Jack shrugged, but then he stepped nearer their table. In his hand he held his bodhran, wrapped in its leather case. He took it out and showed it to them, then reversed it. At the back of the skin, near the rim where his forearm lay while gripping it, was a picture. ‘Look at that. I’m told it’s a very good picture, although I’m no judge. Ach, I can’t understand pictures and what people see in them. What do you think?’

Ricard could not speak. The little picture of the peacock was perfect, he thought dully. So this was the spy to whom they were supposed to report. All along, he’d been the spy for the man who’d killed the glover and his wife after Ricard’s drunken fondling in the London tavern.

‘Who do you work for?’ he asked.

‘Ah, now. That you have to work out. Let’s just keep things all good and professional.’

It was Janin who asked the one question they all wanted answered. ‘Why show us that now? You could have told us at any time, but you kept it hidden until now. Why?’

Jack looked from one to the other of them measuringly, finishing with Janin himself. ‘I didn’t need to before. I thought to keep quiet and just stay with you. That way I could keep a close eye on the Queen. But now odd things are happening. The man who died today was one of a small garrison in a castle downriver. As far as I can tell, all his companions have died except one.’

‘What of it?’ Janin asked.

‘This castle was a prison. It held an important lady, and the men there, so it is rumoured, raped her. It is a foul story. To think that a high-born noblewoman could be thrown into a gaol is bad enough, and the more so when it’s a place like that, but to have the guards rape her too, that is particularly repugnant.’ He held up his hand. ‘I know. I’m getting to the point.

‘The thing is, gentles, that the woman who was thrown into gaol went there because of our queen. And that’s a little worrying, because it could mean that the dear lady we serve could herself be in danger. Someone has killed those who harmed this prisoner. So she has some fellows who want to serve her , perhaps. They are punishing those who hurt her.’

Adam made an impatient noise. ‘What of it?’

‘Ah, perhaps I’m making a little heavy weather of my story. They do say it’s a curse of the Irish, after all, never to tell a story quickly when it can be spun out. Well, I’ll try to be brutally swift, then. Just for you. You see, young Adam, if someone is out to punish all those who hurt their lady, and if our queen was the very person who had her imprisoned, it’s not too much of a leap of intellect, lad, is it, to think that our queen could very well herself be next on this fellow’s list. Eh?’

Back at the Queen’s chamber, Baldwin took little time to explain what had happened. ‘So if you see a tatty little churl from the far south, carrying a poker and clad in worn red hosen and old leather jack, stab first and question him later,’ he said lightly.

The Queen nodded and showed relief. ‘For a moment I wondered whether there was something a lot worse.’

She was sitting in a high-backed chair. There were no other chairs or stools in the room, so Cromwell and Baldwin were standing before her.

Lord John glanced at her. ‘You thought the peasants had risen?’

‘It is not unheard of, but no — my fear was another fire. Sir Baldwin, that reminds me. How are your burns?’

‘Much better since I’ve been using the salve you kindly sent me,’ he said with a bow.

‘A curious thing, that,’ Lord John said. ‘I have found no one who can tell why someone should have wished to have de Foix killed. He was pretty universally liked.’

‘Except by me, I fear,’ Baldwin said. He caught Cromwell’s eye, and shook his head very slightly. ‘But it is probable that this was just a chance encounter. Someone intended to set off the charge there to tempt men from their tents so that he could enter to rob them, and the Comte happened to catch him in the act. I dare say it was nothing more than that. The main thing is, there was no threat to the Queen, and that is all that matters.’