Michael Jecks - The Templar, the Queen and Her Lover

‘She has her own rooms. Would you like me to show you to her?’ Baldwin asked.

‘No. For a little I should enjoy a chance to wander about here in wanton idleness. I find that I am good at being idle. Thereare skills even for men such as me. You didn’t say how she was?’

‘I am sure she is well enough, but she will be grateful to see a friendly face.’

‘Mine? Perhaps. Why, have you heard her say anything about me?’

There was a sudden abrupt sharpness to the question that somewhat surprised Baldwin. He shook his head. ‘No, but you are knownto be a sensible, rational man, my lord earl. And I know that you and she are on cordial terms. She does not blame you forany of her loss of fortune in the last months, does she?’

‘No, thanks to God. She is a good, sensible woman. Always found her so, anyway. Has she had any setbacks?’

‘The course of negotiations has been so fast that we have been able to study every cobble in this yard in some detail,’ Simonsaid.

‘Ah. So the King is right to be concerned about the length of time spent here and the cost of maintaining this embassy. Anythingelse giving you trouble here?’

‘We have had some incidents. A French comte, Enguerrand de Foix, was killed one night,’ Baldwin said slowly. There was noneed to mention his own proximity at that death. ‘We don’t know who did it, but I should think that some outlaw saw him lateat night and took a fancy to his purse or something. Then another man was killed, again a Frenchman killed by a countryman.But last night, more seriously, a man-at-arms was murdered just outside the gate there. He was the servant of Sir Charles.’

‘In truth? Gracious heaven, you have been enjoying a small glut of murders in this fair land, then. And now, if you will excuse me, I think I have an urgent need for some alein my belly. Is the buttery through here?’

‘Yes, my lord,’

‘There is a man here, a musician called Jack. Tallish, skinny, has an Irish accent. He’s gone to deliver my bags to my chamber.If you see him, tell him where to find me, eh? He’ll be wearing the Queen’s tabard — he’s one of her musicians — so shouldn’tbe hard to see.’

‘Of course, my lord,’ Baldwin said, and then watched as the brother of the King made his way to the hall’s entrance, and duckedinside.

Simon pursed his lips. ‘So things improve not at all back at home.’

‘So it would seem. I have to admit, Simon, I would give much to have my wife and family here in France with us now. It isa country where a man could make a good life for himself.’

Simon looked at him in surprise. ‘You think so? You wouldn’t consider finding a lord over here, would you?’

‘There are times when the thought of returning to England fills me with sadness, Simon. The idea of going somewhere where-’

‘Isn’t that one of the musicians?’ Simon interrupted. ‘Perhaps it’s the man Earl Edmund meant?’

Baldwin followed his pointing finger and saw a tall man stalking off towards the Queen’s chambers. ‘I’m not going to run afterhim now,’ he said. ‘We can tell him when he returns.’

Ricard was reluctant to go straight to de Bouden. ‘We don’t know anything, really. What can we say?’

‘Just that Jack is suspicious, and that you suspect not only him, but his friend too. Don’t have to say anything about him,’Philip said. ‘Only that he is a stranger, and friend to Jack, so probably as dangerous.’

‘As dangerous,’ Ricard repeated to himself as he made his way on leaden legs to the comptroller’s chamber, holding the hand oflittle Charlie. They were close to the Queen’s own rooms, and he glanced towards them with a sense that his whole life wasunravelling. He felt really pathetic about being sent to talk to her most senior clerk like this. It was demeaning. He wasn’tsome magnificent lord or anything, but he had always been in control of his own life, and had known that there was a littleplace in the world that was perfectly Ricard-shaped. Now, though, he was sensing that his space was growing ever more constricted.There might be room for him for a little longer, but he reckoned that soon he’d be squeezed out. Pop! And there’d be no moreRicard. Not the way things were going just now.

Gloomily he rapped sharply on the door, hoping that there would be no answer, and was relieved when there was no response.De Bouden was always curt and sharp with his ‘Come in!’ but now there was no sound. More confidently, he knocked again, andwas about to turn and leave when he heard something from inside. It sounded like a door closing.

‘Master?’ he called.

There was silence for a moment, and he was aware of little Charlie looking up at him with those big blue eyes of his. Trusting,always hopeful. And then a quiet voice called ‘Yes?’

Grimacing, he turned the great ring to lift the latch inside.

‘Hello?’ he said.

There was no light in the room, but there was the scent of a recently snuffed candle, and he was sure that there was a figureat the wall, not far from the shuttered window. A tallish, muscular man, from the look of him. Certainly not de Bouden.

‘What do you want?’

‘I was looking for William de Bouden. I have a message for him.’

‘He has gone for a few moments. I think it would be best if you were to go as well. You don’t want to be here.’

‘Who are you? What are you doing in here?’ Ricard said. His confidence was growing. This man shouldn’t be here, he felt. Thequiet tone, his remaining in darkness, both spoke of his need for secrecy. There was something about the darkness in the roomthat was intimidating. Not scary, but definitely intimidating, yes. Charlie was tugging backwards, away from the room, andRicard could hear him moaning quietly. It was enough to break any spell. He took a sharp step backwards, out of the room,and instantly that sly little Irish voice was there behind him.

‘Ricard, ah, and I’m glad to see you here. You’ll not be wanting to stay, though.’

‘Jack,’ Ricard spat, startled. He moved further away from the door until he was at the entrance to a narrow, corridor-likealley, which led to the Queen’s chamber. Automatically, he moved into it, away from Jack. ‘I was sent here because of you.’

‘Me? And why would I want to be here, then?’

‘We know that you’re an enemy of the Queen. You have had something to do with the murders, haven’t you?’

‘Me? The thought!’

‘Not just here, either. You helped kill the glover and his wife in London, didn’t you? I dare say you killed Peter too.’

Jack glanced back towards the man in the room as though seeking approval of something. Ricard found himself peering in thesame direction, but although the fellow had approached the door, Ricard still couldn’t make out his features. He had a nigglingsuspicion that he ought to recognise him; he was sure that the man was vaguely familiar, but the face stubbornly refused tocome to his mind. And then he suddenly felt himself in danger. He had accused a murderer of his crimes, and there was no oneelse here to protect him except an accomplice.

‘Sweet Mother of God,’ he muttered to himself. The man in the room was moving towards him now, and when he looked back at Jack hesaw that the bodhran player was smiling as he too came nearer. It seemed to him that Jack’s face was full of menace. Whenhe smiled, it touched his lips alone. It never even approached his eyes.

Charlie was pulling away. Ricard gripped his hand and retreated down the narrow corridor, never letting his gaze leave theothers. He was tempted to turn and fly, but then he saw that Jack’s attention was gone from him.

‘Musician? What in God’s name are you doing here?’ de Bouden demanded.

Sir John de Sapy was not the brightest man in the King’s household. He had been a loyal supporter of Earl Thomas of Lancasterbefore the Earl had shown himself to be the King’s enemy, and then the King had caught him and had him executed like a commonfelon, him and hundreds of his supporters from all over the country, barons, knights and commoners. Not Sir John, though.