Michael Jecks - The Templar, the Queen and Her Lover

He damned the day he was selected by the bastard. Down in Bishop Fournier’s gaol, where he had been installed after his spirited- overspirited — defence of the poor devils burned on their pyres, declaring them to have stronger religious faith than JacquesFournier himself. His words had been overheard by a zealous servant of Fournier, of course. There were spies everywhere inthose days. So Jean had been hauled off to gaol, and there he would have remained for months, if not years, had not Arnaudmade his surprising offer.

‘My master remembers you. Weren’t you with the host that travelled to the field of the Golden Spurs? To Courtrai?’

He agreed, nodding. ‘My father and brother died there in the service of the King and Comte Robert de Foix.’

‘That same comte’s son remembers you. He wishes to reward you. Be ready, and when I return, you will fly this coop.’

Jean had nodded, but did not believe him. He had seen the woman being left to die hideously on the pyre instead of being grantedthe kindness of a rope about her neck first. He did not trust Arnaud.

But the executioner had been as good as his word. When he came back, he carried a tunic and a new cloak, hood and cowl, togetherwith a good leather belt and a dagger. ‘Best I can do,’ he had explained apologetically, pointing to the roughly sewn starat the breast. The yellow star of a heretic.

Jean cared nothing. He grabbed the clothes and pulled them on, overjoyed to feel the weight of a dagger at his hip once more.Then, quietly, the two men walked out of the gaol, up the stairs, along a passageway, and finally out into the sunshine.

Arnaud walked like a man with the power to have a man sent to the gaol, and none of the guards troubled him. In the courtyard there were two horses waiting, and Arnaud went tothe first, a gentle-faced mare. He set his foot in the stirrup, and then hoisted himself upwards.

It had been the most embarrassing moment of Jean’s life, having to confess that he had never sat upon a horse.

Arnaud had soon introduced him to le Vieux, and Jean had thought the old man the perfect example of a lower-ranking man-at-armsin the King’s host. He even went so far as to run through his memories of men in the host he had accompanied to Courtrai,thinking that le Vieux must be a comrade-in-arms from that earlier war, but without success. No, le Vieux was just one ofthose men who was so archetypical of the kind of warrior the King sought to keep that he appeared familiar.

‘Another one, eh?’ he’d said as he caught sight of Jean and Arnaud. ‘What were you in gaol for?’

‘I said that two folks the bishop burned were better Christians than him.’

‘Do you still think that?’

Jean cast a sidelong glance at Arnaud. Merde! It was possible that the wrong thing said now could have him returned straight to gaol. But Arnaud must know what he hadbeen thrown in gaol for. There was little point trying to hide it. ‘Have you seen Bishop Fournier?’

Le Vieux stared at him for at least five beats of his heart, and then, to Jean’s relief, he began to chuckle, loud and long.‘You’ll do for me, boy.’

It had been the beginning of a companionable friendship, so Jean had thought. Le Vieux seemed to look on him as a slightlywayward apprentice. It didn’t matter that Jean was already almost thirty years old; in the opinion of the ancient warrior,he was a mere stripling. When there was any duty to be performed, le Vieux would help him with advice or would actually knuckledown and assist him. More than he would with any of the others, anyway. Men like Berengar he ignored. They didn’t deserve more than occasional comments or harsh bellows.And sometimes the threat of the lash.

He hadn’t been like that with Jean. Le Vieux seemed to think, after that first encounter, that there was more to Jean thanhe would have guessed. It must have been his defiant first comment. That and the fact that Jean had stood up to the bishop.There were not too many people who would repeat derogatory comments about a man like Jacques Fournier in front of him, andfewer still who would then challenge a man to deny them even after spending time in his gaol. That was what made le Vieuxand him get on: the way that Jean was prepared to stick to what he believed.

Le Vieux admired that. Possibly because he believed in nothing himself. Except the Comte de Foix, of course.

Philip and Adam had tried to find Ricard, but the man was nowhere to be seen. It was Adam’s belief that Janin had alreadyfound him somewhere, and the pair of them had decided to have no part in any attack on the blasted bodhran player.

‘Doesn’t matter,’ Philip said. ‘We can do it ourselves. Why do we need any help? There’s two of us.’

‘Yes,’ Adam agreed, unconvinced.

‘Wait until he turns up in our room, and we can jump him. Just slide a knife in him, and he’ll be quiet enough for good.’

‘Yes,’ Adam said, more quietly.

But he reflected that Philip was a large man. When it came to subduing Jack, Philip should be able to do that with a handbehind his back. And just now, Philip looked as happy to break Adam’s neck as Jack’s, were Adam to raise any more objections.Soon the pair of them were waiting in the musicians’ room. They knew that Jack often slept in there after a light lunch, whichseemed only fair since he appeared to spend so much of his evenings and nights out wandering about the place.

‘Where does he go?’ Adam wondered, shifting his leg as it started to go to sleep. Philip wouldn’t let him stand or move about in caseit warned Jack as he approached the chamber.

‘At night, you mean? He says he’s got a woman, doesn’t he?’ Philip said. He was not convinced. ‘That man in London said he was spying on the Queen. I think he was telling the truth there. Jack’s dangerous.’

‘So you do think he’s a Despenser man? That evil bastard! Christ alone knows what Despenser will do with anything he can learnabout her, poor lady. She is always kind to us.’

‘Yes. Now shut up! Do you want him to hear you?’

Adam was silent for a moment. ‘Why’d he want us here, though? If he was going to kill Peter to get a place with us, so hewas going to be here in any case, why would he need to tell us he was going to spy?’

‘Perhaps he’s not so stupid as some,’ Philip grated. ‘Now shut up!’

‘Well, it makes little sense to me, that’s all I’m saying. Mind you, I never trusted him. Always dodgy, I thought.’

‘ Hush! ’ Philip had stiffened, and now he stretched his neck, head to one side, listening intently. ‘Someone’s coming!’

‘Oh. Oh, shit !’ Adam said mournfully. ‘I’ve never-’

‘Shut up, or I’ll kill you myself!’ Philip hissed.

Steps outside in the passageway. Not one pair, though; it was two men. One was familiar, and Philip was convinced that itwas Jack — he recognised that pause between each footfall, while the arrogant prickle swaggered like a man-at-arms. The other,though, was unfamiliar. It wasn’t Janin or Ricard, he was sure enough of that. But no one else tended to come up here wherethe musicians had their room. Who on-

The door was thrown wide, and Jack walked in quickly, another man behind him moving to Philip’s right as soon as the two menwere inside. Neither had knife or sword at the ready, but neither seemed to think they were necessary.

‘Ah, Philip. My old friend. I think you have met my companion? He told me you would be here. He’s come to help us. I toldyou the Queen was in danger, and he’s heard the same. So there’re going to be more of us to keep an eye on things. That’ll be nice to know, won’t it?’

And he smiled easily at them both. Not that they were looking at him. They were staring at his companion.