Michael Jecks - The Templar

‘I don’t know what you could mean,’ she began, and then she saw his expression. ‘You mean Frey Ramon …? So at last you understand my fears?’

‘What fears?’ Baldwin asked.

‘As I said before, he could have persuaded poor Joana to pretend that Don Ruy had spoken to her and demanded money. When Ramon got the money, he killed her and fled.’

‘That is one possibility. Another is that both fled together, with your money,’ Baldwin said.

‘You really think she lied to me?’ Dona Stefania repeated dumbly, and the memory of the shattered face above the tunic sprang into her mind at the same time. ‘She lied …?’

‘The poor girl was so viciously beaten; no woman deserved such a fate,’ Parceval said, resting a hand on hers. ‘I think I can throw some light on the matter.’

‘Please speak,’ Munio said.

‘I saw the Knight of Santiago riding away yesterday morning. At the time I thought it was odd because he has only recently returned with us, and I thought that a knight in an Order would be told to rest and remain here for some time. It isn’t right that a monkish knight should wander about so much, surely! Yet there he was, saddling his mount and riding off.’

Baldwin shot out, ‘Was he alone?’

‘Yes, so far as I could see.’

‘Then surely that dead maid was my Joana,’ the Prioress said brokenly. ‘You let him escape!’

‘In which direction did he go?’ Munio asked.

‘I saw him heading for the southern gate. Perhaps he turned in a different direction afterwards, I don’t know, but he didn’t look like a man who was trying to conceal his route. I think he was going to carry on that way. Surely his departure proves his guilt!’

‘I shall have men follow after him,’ Munio said.

‘There may be no need,’ Baldwin said. ‘We spoke to a groom who mentioned that Frey Ramon had gone, and from what the groom said, he was determined to seek out the Knights of Christ at Tomar.’

‘Why would he want to do that?’ Munio frowned. ‘He was already a member of an honourable Order here.’

Parceval took a gulp of wine. ‘My God! Because he was appalled by what he’d done, of course! He killed Joana and then bolted. If he’d stayed here, the freiles of the Order would have condemned him and wanted to punish him, so he chose to ride away and seek fulfilment of his penance in battle. The Knights of Christ are the successors of the Templars and the Reconquista , aren’t they? Ramon must have decided to ride there and seek for war against the Moors. How else would a warrior find peace, but in fighting?’

‘It is as I said! Ramon saw my money and took it! He is not going to Tomar; he is fleeing justice!’ Dona Stefania cried. ‘Oh my God — all that money!’

Joana had lied to her: she was sure of it now. Joana had intended stealing from her, then she herself was murdered and robbed. While she, Dona Stefania, sat alone, waiting. Until Parceval finally arrived, anyway.

Suddenly, the Dona felt a lurch in her breast, and her heart began pounding just as it had the night before in the alleyway. She shot a look at Parceval, her attention dropping from his features to his lap. There, she saw, was his heavy wallet. He had said that he was poor when he had journeyed here with her. She wondered about that again, then shot a look at his face. Could he have been Joana’s killer, the robber of the money?

Baldwin saw the direction of her gaze and thought that she was eyeing her lover salaciously. It was a shock to him to see a Prioress acting so lewdly, and he felt physically repulsed. He was close to passing a sarcastic comment, when he saw that her face was stilled, as though there was a terrible doubt in her mind, and that was when he took in the sight of the well-filled purse.

‘You appear to have enjoyed some success with investments,’ he said to Parceval.

‘Hmm? Oh well, I have been fortunate, but this isn’t from investments.’

‘Then how did you come to find such wealth?’ Baldwin asked, allowing an edge of suspicion in his voice.

‘When I left on pilgrimage, I wanted to make sure that I could travel without being recognised,’ Parceval explained. ‘So I deliberately wore these miserable clothes. I carried no money, for a pilgrim should need none, and instead had a receipt for a sum I had deposited with a Florentine banker. Now I’m here, I have cashed it with his house — that of Musciatto.’

‘Most convenient,’ Baldwin said. ‘But please — tell us where you were when Joana was being killed.’

‘She died during the afternoon, you say? I was in church at first, and then went to meet Musciatto. After that, I went to a tavern where I met this good lady.’

Simon, meanwhile, was beginning to feel quite sick. His breathing was abnormal: he was having to take shallower breaths, but more of them. It felt as though he was growing hotter, then a little cooler, and his throat was parched. He had ordered drinks, but the damned innkeeper was so slow, it would be next week before he bloody arrived. Simon tried deeper breaths, and simply doing that seemed to help. Noticing Baldwin’s anxious expression, he said with scarcely a moment to think, ‘If he was so fond of her, why didn’t Ramon stay here for her funeral? He left yesterday morning, didn’t he, and that was before the poor girl was put in the ground.’

‘True, I did not see him there at the funeral, and I should have expected to,’ Munio said thoughtfully. ‘Yet if he was filled with gloom at losing her … why wait to view the funeral?’

‘I think he killed the woman, took the money, and bolted,’ Simon gasped, but he was scarcely aware of his words, he was so overcome with sickness. He had to concentrate merely on sitting upright. Otherwise he must fall.

‘Most men would draw the line at murdering the woman they intended to marry, but I suppose such a thing is possible when a lot of money is involved. One thing that my time as a Keeper of the King’s Peace has taught me is that nothing is impossible.’

‘Surely it is unlikely, though,’ Munio said, shrugging. ‘This man was her lover, poor young lady. Even if he did not stay for her funeral, that may have been the impact of his broken heart. Losing her, he lost all. He decided to travel and, who knows, to throw away his life in a gesture of faith to God, joining the Knights of Christ. No, I believe someone else had a part in this, some other man. There are so many strangers in a city like this,’ Munio said dejectedly. ‘Foreigners from all parts.’

‘Even my husband,’ the Prioress said. ‘I had not thought to meet him here!’

Parceval was frowning. ‘It must have been him. Who else?’

Munio sat back and gazed at Dona Stefania suspiciously. ‘Your husband?’

‘My ex-husband, perhaps I should say. I was married to Gregory of Coventry. We were wedded in 1301, when I was fourteen, and I was lucky enough to divorce him six years later.’

‘How did you get dispensation for that?’ Baldwin asked, intrigued.

‘It was easy. He had an argument with me, declared he would be better living as a monk, and swore before witnesses that he would renounce the secular world and enter a fighting Order instead. In return I swore that I would myself enter the convent, and thus we parted for the night.’ Her voice was calm and level, but there was a certain fire in her eyes as she spoke, like a woman recalling scenes that were better forgotten.

‘The next morning he didn’t remember what he had said, and tried to force himself upon me, but I reminded him of his oath. He was rather shocked at first, but then tried to say that it wasn’t a real oath. I had to demonstrate that it was genuine, and if he was determined to renege on his word to God, I was not. Then he … he took me against my will. I spoke to the priest that morning and managed to install myself in the Priory that very same day. I believe that he joined that disreputable and dishonourable band of warrior knights, the Templars. It is terrible to think that I was once married to a man who would be capable of joining such a group. Terrible!’