Michael Jecks - The Templar, the Queen and Her Lover

‘Perhaps it was merely a cut-purse, as the French have said,’ Baldwin suggested. ‘The sergent stated as much yesterday.’

‘You think so? I reckon it’s too much of a coincidence that Sir Charles and Paul saw a man they thought was Mortimer, andthen Paul died while trying to find him. To me that sounds as if he succeeded.’

‘Perhaps. Except if his search meant that he was wandering the city late at night, it’s all the more likely that he was knockedon the head by a common felon.’

Sir John sneered. ‘Except he wasn’t knocked on the head, was he? He was gutted like a pig. That’s more like deliberate murder,I’d say. Not some chance encounter.’ He bowed and left them.

‘He has a point, Baldwin,’ Simon said. ‘I’ve never known a man killed like that just because he happened to meet a felon in the streets.’

‘Nor have I,’ Baldwin admitted. ‘But did you think that Mortimer was capable of such an act?’

‘He is a traitor,’ Simon said. There was no accusation in his tone; it was a simple statement of fact, so far as he was concerned.

Baldwin nodded. It was the attitude most men would display. Mortimer was guilty of one crime and thus could be guilty of anynumber of others.

‘Baldwin, don’t you think you should keep yourself hidden? After what Mortimer told you about Despenser’s allegation, wouldn’tit be best for you to be quiet?’

It was something which Baldwin had been considering. His first and most attractive thought was to bolt for the coast, buthe had already rejected that. Not only because it would have felt like cowardice, but also because he had agreed to come hereto protect the Queen. Were something to happen to her because he had run away, he would never be able to live with the shame.And Mortimer’s expression had also affected him. There was such a depth of misery and self-loathing in his eyes.

Baldwin knew that feeling only too well. The self-disgust that came from continuing to live when comrades were dead; frombeing alive while loved ones, friends and family suffered — and being unable to help them. It was a foul experience. And nowothers were going to accuse Mortimer of killing Paul as well. And Baldwin felt sure that he was innocent of that.

Suddenly he had a vision in his mind of the day when his Grand Master, Jacques de Molay, had been executed. A frail-lookingold man, his mind somewhat disconnected by the horror of the death to come, he had been a tragic figure. But then, under theshadow of the post at which he would die, he had found the courage to denounce the accusations levelled against him and his Order, to accuse the French king and the Pope ofcorruption, and to call them to account before the throne of God. The injustice of the destruction of the Knights Templarhad coloured every decision that Baldwin had taken since that fateful day.

The reflection stiffened his resolve. ‘I shall try to remain safe,’ he said. ‘But I won’t allow an injustice. If I can preventthat, I will do so.’

Jean saw him at last. Christ’s balls, but the man had no fear. He could not have realised he was being followed. Sweet Mother of God,how dare he walk the streets like this!

As Arnaud made his way westwards, Jean kept back, his hood up to conceal his face. His hand was already on his dagger’s hiltbeneath his cloak, and his eyes moved constantly, warily looking for any man who might be watching him, but he saw nothing.

Arnaud was making his way towards the Louvre, and as he left the city beneath the western gate Jean cast a glance up at themassive white walls of the fortress. The towers shone in the brief flashes of sunlight, and the flags moved sluggishly inthe still air.

Jean saw that Arnaud was heading towards the northeastern point of the palace. There was a series of houses here in the suburboutside the city itself, and this looked to be a row of merchants’ properties. Two-storeyed, for the most part, they had shingledroofs and well-limewashed walls that made them gleam as much as the Louvre’s. In the summer, Jean thought, this area mustbe blinding. Everywhere would shine and sparkle.

It was to the second of the houses that Arnaud went. He knocked on the door, and quickly passed inside. Jean could hear thebeam being dropped over the door a moment later, and frowned to himself. He had no idea who lived there. After consideringfor a few moments, he turned and strolled idly to a shaded area beside another house in an alley that led to a dead end against the city wall. Leaning against the house so that he couldwatch the door which Arnaud had entered, he gave himself up to a lengthy wait.

Baldwin and Simon met Lord Cromwell at the Queen’s chamber.

‘She is well enough, Sir Baldwin. But I wish I knew where those devils had got to.’

‘We saw Sir John de Sapy just now, but he made it clear enough that he was going to continue to search for Mortimer,’ Baldwinsaid.

‘In the hall, was he? I shall go and see whether he will tell me where to find the others.’

‘You want us to remain here, then?’ Simon asked.

‘Yes, in God’s name! We must have someone here to protect the Queen.’

When he had hurried off, Simon and Baldwin took stock. There was a bench not far off which Baldwin soon appropriated for hisown purposes, dragging it nearer the Queen’s door and seating himself. Simon watched him with a smile, leaning against thewall with his arms folded. ‘Comfortable?’

Baldwin rested his back against the wall and allowed his eyes to close. ‘When you are as experienced in guarding as I, youwill know when to take advantage of a comfortable bench.’

‘So efficient guarding means having a sleep?’

Baldwin opened an eye and surveyed him glumly. ‘No. All too often it means staying awake all night. But when there are two,it is better that one stays alert while the second dozes. You can wake me at lunchtime.’

‘Oh, I am so grateful — so that you don’t miss your food, I suppose?’

‘Correct,’ Baldwin said smugly. ‘Now be silent. I wish to sleep.’

Simon grinned as the knight closed his eyes once more and settled himself. However, it was only a few moments before the dooropened and William de Bouden came from the room. He appeared startled to see the two men on guard, but soon recovered, noddingto Simon and studying Baldwin with some surprise.

A short while after his departure, Alicia appeared in the doorway. She nodded and smiled at Simon. ‘My lady would like somemusic. Could you send for her musicians?’

Simon soon found a servant and instructed him to find Ricard and the others. After only a few minutes, the men arrived andknocked on the door. Simon noticed that one appeared to be missing. ‘Isn’t there another drummer?’

‘If you mean the bodhran player, he’s not about just now.’

Simon shrugged. He was there to guard against men going in uninvited, rather than monitor men who were supposed to be thereand didn’t turn up. He watched the musicians trooping into the room, and resumed the tedious task of observation.

From here he could look straight into the main yard, or to his right along the narrow alleyway that led to William de Bouden’schamber. Of course William had disappeared inside now, and was no doubt already re-counting the gold and coins in his cheststo ensure that there would be enough to support the Queen during her lengthy stay here in Paris. It made Simon wonder howmuch longer they would be here. Of course they now had the Easter celebrations to look forward to. It was the most importantperiod in the Christian calendar, a time of feasting and fun, and that was enough to make Simon sigh. He missed his wife andthe children. As soon as he returned, he was sure, Edith, his little girl, would petition him for a day when she might marryher young man. That would be hard enough. But worse, just now, standing here so many miles from home, was the fact that he missed them all. He wantedto be with his wife Meg, he wanted to see his little boy — in God’s name, he just wanted to be home again. Enough of thiswandering about foreign lands. He wanted to be in Devon.