Michael JECKS - The Devil's Acolyte

‘How is he, Brother?’

Baldwin was struck, not for the first time, with the thought that a man with so extensive an injury to his face should not have survived. During his time as a Templar, both in the Holy Land and afterwards, Baldwin had seen men who had suffered less violent, less apparently lethal wounds, and yet they had died in hours or days, but this man had clung on. True, he had become an object of loathing or ridicule, but he was living, nonetheless. To Baldwin, it proved that he had a strong character and will to live. Many others would have scorned life and sought death.

Peter appeared to read his thoughts. He gave one of his odd, twisted smiles. ‘Perhaps he will be as fortunate as me, eh, Keeper?’

Baldwin was embarrassed and looked away, but Peter’s voice continued gently.

‘If he has an urge to live, he will live, with God’s good grace. If he doesn’t, or if God decides that he is ready for heaven, then he shall die. Whatever God wills, so be it.’

‘What are they?’ Baldwin asked, glancing at some bowls sitting on the floor near the lad.

‘Egg-white for cleaning his wounds, warm water to slake his thirst, a little strong wine for my comfort, and a cushion for my old knees to pray upon, or to rest my head when I grow too tired to hold my head up.’

It was tempting to leave the man there alone with Gerard, but Baldwin did not quite trust him. There were no other chairs in this little infirmary, only two more beds; all three in plain view of the altar which was the salvation of all those who could glance upon it while they suffered. Baldwin planted himself on one of the other beds and waited.

They had both been sitting in silence for some while when Gerard began to moan softly, his voice snuffling and adenoidal from his ravaged nose. Peter at once leaned forward and rested his hand upon Gerard’s, but the boy didn’t seem to notice. He groaned several times, muttered like a man who was deeply asleep, and every so often, whimpered like a dog in pain. It was pitiful, and Baldwin felt his flesh creep to hear the agony of a poor fellow so young, damaged so severely for no reason. And then there was a sudden pause, and he spoke again, this time clearly.

‘I can’t take any more, Augerus… I won’t steal any more… Joce, go to hell. I won’t do it any more!’

Baldwin felt his heart almost stop in his breast. ‘Did you hear that?’

Peter left his hand on the boy’s, and glanced upwards as though praying. ‘I did. And may he rest now that his heart has confessed, even against his will.’ He slowly, painfully, came to his feet. ‘With your permission, Sir Knight, I shall go and tell the good Abbot about his Steward.’

‘Did no one suspect him?’ Baldwin wondered aloud.

‘Some of us did, yes.’

‘Then in God’s name, Brother, why didn’t you tell anyone?’

Peter smiled and sat again, resting his hands in his lap with a serene expression. ‘Why should we do that?’

‘If the man was guilty of stealing–’

‘God will know. And God will punish that which He feels He should. It is not my place to accuse or seek another’s punishment.’

‘You knew?’

‘Aye. And I tried to make the boy see by my own example that it was pointless and silly, but he wouldn’t listen to an old fart like me. Besides, I think that there was some coercion used. Perhaps he had committed some more minor crime, and Augerus sought to make him obey his commands to prevent his secret being discovered. That, I think, is most likely. I don’t believe this boy is peculiarly evil.’

‘What sort of hold could Augerus have had on him?’ Baldwin asked.

‘Some trifling matter, Keeper. A youngster is always hungry – perhaps it was merely the naughty theft of a bread roll, or some pieces of sausage from the salsarius’ room? Who can tell? A minor offence like that might have been discovered and the evil, older man used it to bend the younger to his will. Make no mistake, the older will be evil. Not this poor child. And now,’ he added, climbing to his feet, ‘I must warn the Abbot. We know all about the thefts in the Abbey. Although there is one detail I am keen to understand.’

‘What is that?’

‘How he managed to steal the wine. Surely that was a wonderful thing to do. And just think of all the Abbot’s good spiced red wine. I could certainly be persuaded to bribe the lad for that secret, eh, Keeper?’ he said, and winked.

In a moment he was gone and Baldwin sat back on his chair. ‘Well, boy, you still have many secrets which others would like to learn,’ he said wearily.

As Simon left Mark, he gave in once again to the old feelings of despair. The Abbot was right to doubt his abilities. He was nothing more than a fool. Useless. He had no idea who had killed Wally or Hamelin. His enquiry was going nowhere, and so was he. There could be no surprise in the Abbot’s decision to replace him with another man better able to investigate crimes. Almost anyone must be better than him, Simon thought bitterly.

Just for a moment his mind returned to his wife. Meg would take the idea of leaving their house very badly. She would not say anything, of course, she would be entirely loyal and supportive, but he knew she would hate the thought of going from Lydford. They had been very happy there.

Just then, he arrived at the Great Gate. From here he could see the scarred monk leaving the infirmary, and he walked across to him.

‘Not now, Bailiff, please!’ Brother Peter said hastily.

‘What is it?’

‘Gerard has just told us who was guilty. It was Augerus who persuaded the lad to steal.’

‘Yet not who killed Walwynus?’

‘No. Walwynus was alive when I left him, and when I returned after seeing the shepherd, he was not at his house. I came straight back to the Abbey. I spoke to my friend the groom and drank ale with him because Augerus and Mark were away and there was no refreshment.’

Simon nodded. ‘Are you sure of that?’

‘Aye. Why?’

Simon gave him no answer, but stood deep in thought. Obviously the only reason for the lack of drinks was the absence of Augerus and Mark. Ellis had said that Mark had returned and was already in the Abbey when he went to shave some heads later. Perhaps Mark had gone elsewhere, not straight back to his storerooms?

He was about to enter the infirmary when he saw Mark waving to Peter, and Peter hurried over to the salsarius’ room. The two spoke for a moment, and then Peter made straight for the Abbot’s lodging. Mark immediately locked up his room and crossed the court to the infirmary, and entered by the door which Peter had just left.

Simon suddenly had a strange idea… then dismissed it. Surely, he thought, he was leaping to foolish conclusions. To clear his mind, he walked to the trough near the stables and sipped water from his cupped hands. After wiping a little over his face to refresh himself, he stared down into the water.

Wine! Simon had ignored the theft of the wine, at first because the Abbot had told him to leave it alone, and later because there were so many other things for him and Baldwin to consider, with the murder of Wally and Hamelin, but there was still that central problem of the wine. Who had taken it – and why? For some reason he recollected what he had seen when he was leaving the Abbot’s presence that first time, when he had just begun to suspect that Abbot Robert had lost his faith in him: a syphon.

Simon was still standing and thinking when he heard shouting at the entrance to the court. Looking up, he saw Ellis. At his side was an attractive woman, and he had his arms about her waist, while her head rested upon his shoulder. Ellis pointed to him meaningfully.

‘Christ Jesus, what now?’ Simon muttered to himself, and strode forward. ‘Well?’