Michael Jecks - The Templar, the Queen and Her Lover

Pierre d’Artois had ordered his men to force a way through the crowd to the portcullis, and then allowed his mount to walkeasily between the lines of polearms to the gate. The guards manning it saw who it was who approached and scrambled to getthe great shutter lifted to allow Artois to enter, while behind him his men held their weapons horizontal, trying to clearthe space immediately in front of the castle.

He looked about him as he entered the main grounds. ‘My Lord Cromwell. I hope I find you well on this fine morning?’

‘I am always happy when I meet you, my lord.’

Artois allowed himself a small grin at that. He glanced back at the crowds being shoved and cursed back. ‘You have many gueststhis day.’

‘There was a murder, and some mistakenly assumed it was one of my knights who was responsible.’

‘I had heard so. And who was the knight so accused?’

‘Sir John de Sapy.’

‘I see. You are sure of his innocence?’

Cromwell hesitated only a fraction of a second, but it was enough for Artois to raise a corner of his mouth sardonically.‘You are that sure?’

Before Cromwell could comment, Baldwin had attracted his attention. ‘My Lord John, it would appear that someone is hurt outthere.’

Artois stared back over his shoulder. His men were forcing the crowd away from the entrance to the castle, and as the tideof Parisians washed backwards, two bodies were exposed lying on the ground.

‘You there! Go and bring those two men in here. Hurry!’

Baldwin had not realised who it was who lay on the ground, but as the first men brought in the pale, blue-grey-faced figure of theKing’s Executioner, he frowned quickly, and then peered out at the second man being brought inside.

‘The man from Poissy,’ he breathed. ‘Simon, this is the man who killed the old fellow and hurt Robert de Chatillon.’

Simon gazed at the two men. ‘I wouldn’t worry. I doubt that either is likely to last long.’

Artois had heard their words. ‘You say this man was at Poissy, Sir Baldwin? Can you be sure?’

‘I am certain of it. I saw him walking with the man who was killed there. The other man was being hunted by him. Why wouldthat have been?’

‘You must ask them, if they ever recover,’ Artois said. ‘Now, Lord Cromwell. This man de Sapy. It has been suggested thathe was responsible for the death of Chatillon. I have to decide what to do about this allegation.’

‘Who says he is guilty?’ Cromwell demanded.

‘A man of the highest reputation, I fear. A priest from the south, who happens to be a friend of one of the King’s own advisers.You may have heard of François de Tours? No? He is held in the very highest regard by the King, and the accuser is his ownchaplain, Père Pierre de Pamiers.’

‘Would it be permitted to speak to this père ?’ Baldwin asked.

Artois looked at him steadily for a moment. ‘I suppose that might be possible.’

‘Then I should be grateful if you could arrange it.’

‘And what of his accusation?’

Lord Cromwell sighed. ‘I swear to you that de Sapy shall not leave this castle until he is shown to be innocent. If he isnot, he is still protected by the safe conducts I hold, and I expect them to be honoured. However, I would send him back instantlyto England were he discovered to be guilty.’

‘That is well.’

‘If you will both excuse me,’ Baldwin apologised, ‘first, my lords, I think I should arrange for these two men to be takento a place of healing. They will most certainly expire here.’

Both men nodded, and Baldwin began to arrange for men to carry Jean and Arnaud indoors to the little chapel.

De Sapy was already inside, kneeling and praying most assiduously at the altar, when Simon and Baldwin entered, Baldwin directingthe men carrying the biers to opposite alcoves from where the injured men could see the cross. ‘And please bring wine andwater for them,’ he urged the men as they deposited their burdens.

Simon and he spent a while checking both men. There was little they could do other than try to cool their brows, but evenwith such action Baldwin was unsure that either would recover consciousness, let alone revive enough to recover. Still, heand Simon waited until Peter of Oxford arrived.

‘Dear God in heaven!’

‘I do not think it will be long before they meet Him,’ Baldwin said. ‘Sadly these two had an altercation in the road outsidethere.’

‘And came to blows?’

‘Yes. We saw this one hunting the executioner yesterday morning, and although he got away that time I think he tried the same assault today, but this Arnaud was able to defend himself.’

‘I will do all I may for them,’ Peter said, and bent to pray at the side of the nearer, who happened to be Jean.

Baldwin and Simon walked away a short distance as Peter finished his prayers and took up a cloth to begin washing the facesof the dying men. Blood was leaking from their biers on to the floor.

‘Sir John,’ Baldwin said. ‘I could not help but overhear what you told Lord Cromwell earlier. You took this priest to a housein Lombard Street?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

He rolled his eyes. ‘You know how it is. My Lord Despenser asked me to, and I wanted to remain in his favour. I was tryingto become rehabilitated.’

‘And he told you what he wanted at this house?’

‘All he said was that there was a French couple in there. That was all.’

‘A couple?’

‘Oh, he mentioned a boy as well, I think.’

‘What did he do to them?’

‘How should I know? He asked me to take him to the house, and I did. Then I waited outside.’

Baldwin remembered the look of horror on Ricard’s face. ‘He came out with blood over him, didn’t he?’

‘He might have done.’

‘And you heard later of the murders, didn’t you?’

Sir John looked at him steadily. ‘I was asked by Sir Hugh le Despenser. I didn’t trouble myself beyond that. It was his will,and I was helping him.’

‘I see,’ Baldwin said. He withdrew slightly, then shook his head, spun on his heel and walked back down the nave towards the entrance. On his way, he stopped at Jean’s side. ‘Peter, I believe this one is dead already.’

Sir John happened to look across as he spoke. His face hardened, and he pointed at Arnaud on the other bier. ‘That man! Heis the one who came in and accused me in Chatillon’s room!’

‘Arnaud, the executioner?’ Baldwin muttered. ‘What was he doing there?’

Ricard was out in front of the hall, playing catch with Charlie. He tossed the ball gently, and the boy, chuckling uncontrollably,holding his hands firmly unmoving in front of his chest, shrieked as the ball landed in his palms and rolled out on to thedirt.

Baldwin smiled to see the lad’s delight. As Ricard retrieved the ball again, and returned to attempt to teach him how to catchonce more, Baldwin walked to him.

‘Master Ricard, I do not know whether my suspicions are correct, but in the name of all that matters to you, keep this boyat your side no matter what. You understand? You must not let him out of your sight, and never allow any man who is Frenchto look after him. Yes?’

‘Certainly, Sir Baldwin. But why?’

‘I am not sure. But it is possible that this little boy holds the key to all these murders,’ Baldwin said.

As he walked away, leaving Ricard looking at the boy with a bemused expression on his face, Simon muttered, ‘Baldwin, whatdo you think is happening here? What secret could that little boy hold?’

‘He may know who it was who killed his parents,’ Baldwin said. ‘And that could itself be dangerous for him. Worse, though,is my concern that he might be the target himself.’