Michael Jecks - The Templar

Baldwin felt sure that the man was concealing something. Before Ramon could move on to a fresh topic, Baldwin said, ‘What then?’

‘That was all. I returned to the town, and shortly afterwards her body was brought back.’

‘That is not all, is it? You were walking with her for some while. What else did you talk about?’

‘Nothing. We spoke a little, and separated. That was all.’

‘What did you speak about?’

‘That is none of your business!’

‘I am trying to convince myself that you are an innocent man, Brother! Can you not tell me what passed between you?’

‘What does it matter?’ he spat.

‘It matters because another could be arrested and hanged for the murder if you don’t help us to resolve things,’ Baldwin snapped. ‘Do you want an innocent man to be blamed, just because of your high-minded desire to protect someone?’ This last was a guess, but Baldwin was sure that Ramon must have a good reason for keeping silent on the matter.

Ramon shot a look at Joao, then looked down at the floor. He hated the idea of telling the truth, but he hated still more the idea of lying, especially if that might lead to an innocent man being accused. He had no idea that Baldwin’s ‘innocent’ was already dead. ‘I don’t know that I should tell you … it reflects upon my lady’s virtue.’

‘Tell me, please,’ Baldwin urged.

Ramon glanced once more at Joao, who remained impassive, but then lifted an eyebrow. Ramon knew what that meant. A Knight of Christ was supposed to tell the truth to the glory of God. That reflection stabbed at him coldly like a shard of ice, and he shivered, but at last told his story.

‘I was surprised when she asked me to see her there at the ford, because she and her mistress had already told me that Dona Stefania must go out to a meeting and that was why I couldn’t see Joana until later. Then she whispered to me to find a means of getting to this place. When I arrived, she was there. She had a bag with her, and she told me that she had taken it from her lady. Dona Stefania was a dragon and a thief, she said. She had served her loyally, she said, but enough was enough.

‘During the journey to Compostela, the Dona had slept with men, she said. A woman with loose morals was no mistress for her. So Joana had invented a blackmailer, a man who knew of the Dona’s affairs, and who demanded money. Joana asked me, would I run away with her? We could keep the money, she said, and she showed me her bag.

‘There was more gold in there than I had seen before in my life. Thirty to thirty-five libras . She had taken it from her lady.’ Baldwin interjected, ‘How so, when the lady herself was going to bring this money to the blackmailer?’

‘She hid her lady’s horse. There was a cousin of Joana’s travelling with her and her lady, a man called Domingo. He was there to protect them. Joana told him to take her lady’s horse and move it so that the Dona wouldn’t be able to leave immediately, and then Joana played on her lady’s fears, pointing out that it would be easy for a man who was so dishonourable to capture her and take her hostage. Dona Stefania,’ he added drily, ‘was easy to convince that she would be safer left in the town.’

Domingo was Joana’s cousin! Baldwin felt a tingling of excitement in his belly. ‘I see. So she showed you all this money?’

‘And I told her to take it straight back to her lady. I’d have nothing to do with stolen money,’ Ramon said, but to Baldwin’s consternation, a tear began to run down his cheek. ‘And that, Sir Baldwin, is the cause of my guilt. For I killed her, as surely as though I beat her about the head.’

‘What do you mean?’ Baldwin demanded.

‘I left her there. I shouted that I wanted nothing to do with a common draw-latch, and that if she wished to marry me, it had to be as an honest woman. I told her to take the money back to her lady and quit her post. Then, I said, I would marry her. But on her way back, someone who must have heard us shouting, captured her, killed her, and stole all the money. If I had been kinder, if I had ridden back with her, instead of angrily riding off and leaving her alone, she might still be alive today.’

‘That was Domingo, perhaps? He could have killed her for the money?’

‘Perhaps. From his reputation, he would not have thought anything of murder for thirty libras . But I did not see him there.’

‘Did you see anyone?’

‘Don Ruy was there. I saw him after I had spoken to Joana and refused to accept her money. I was not in a good temper. I was thinking that I should leave her alone. If she could be so faithless to her own mistress, was she really the sort of woman who would make a good wife to a Knight of Santiago?’

‘Don Ruy, you say? Where was he?’

‘At the ford where the women wash their clothes. I saw him there. I remember it, because he was exchanging foul comments with a whoring beggar, and both were laughing at their lewdness. I thought it was disgraceful that a knight should be so crude. Don Ruy thought nothing of it. I dare say he took her for a tumble afterwards.’

Later, when Ramon had left them, Baldwin and Joao sat for some time in silence.

To Joao, it seemed as though Baldwin was at a loss for words, and he thought it better to leave him to mull over all he had heard without interruption. It was necessary sometimes, he knew, to have time to order one’s thoughts.

Baldwin at last broke the silence. ‘I think your Frey Ramon will make a good Brother.’

‘We have need of faithful brethren,’ Joao said. ‘You were persuaded by his evidence?’

‘I was,’ Baldwin said heavily. ‘Which carries the double pain for me of a wasted journey and the knowledge that I could have remained in Compostela seeking the real murderer there. I have no idea who was responsible. There is still this rape, murder and theft.’

‘Perhaps a means of finding the murderer will come to you when you return to the town.’

‘I can pray.’

‘I shall pray for you.’

‘I wonder … It would mean much to me to be able to pray in your oratory to ask for guidance. Would it be possible …?’

‘No, not with the Brothers, of course. But you could join in a service in the chapel with the lay Brothers.’

‘I should be very grateful. It would ease my mind.’

‘Yes,’ Joao said, and then, although he was not sure why, he said, ‘Would you prefer to pray with me here, alone?’

Baldwin looked at him, and nodded. ‘I would be very glad.’

It was afternoon when he and the claveiro left the chapel and wandered down from the little cloister around the church.

‘My heart is full,’ Baldwin said simply. ‘I feel renewed.’

‘I am pleased for you,’ Joao said. He looked at Baldwin. ‘You speak Latin very well, my friend.’

‘I was fortunate to be educated.’

‘And you say the paternoster fluently.’

‘My brain has always been retentive,’ Baldwin said defensively.

‘Many men are fortunate to have good minds,’ Joao said comfortably. ‘Especially those who have lived in places like this for a while.’

Baldwin could not meet his gaze. There was a terrible silence between them. It was a gulf into which all noise was swallowed, as though if either were to speak, it could only result in death and disaster. Baldwin waited. He was convinced that Joao would call for men to capture him, that he was going to be thrown into a gaol and held. His worst fears were about to come true.

Then Joao idly kicked a stone from the path. ‘I think,’ he said quietly, ‘that those who served here were not evil: they were heroes and martyrs. If they had been evil, do you not think that the demons they had summoned would have frequented these places? No, if the Templars were guilty of anything, it was of arrogance. And who, living in a place like this, wouldn’t be prone to that sin?’