Michael JECKS - The Traitor of St Giles

Inside all was bewebbed, but not dirty. There was a fusty smell, the odour of damp and decay, and fungus had crept up the woodwork and plaster of the walls. It was swept and clean, but neither noticed as they walked in, their boots ringing dully on the heavy flags. Their attention was on the dark figure ahead of them, who crouched at the altar.

‘Have you found it yet, Nicholas?’ Baldwin called.

Nicholas spun around, astonished. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Probably the same as you. Looking for whatever Sir Gilbert left.’

‘How did you… Did you follow me?’

Baldwin smiled. ‘A Templar Knight, who must surely have possessed a large sum, would look to conceal it in a place he knew, wouldn’t he? And he knew of this place for he used to be a Templar here. But what of you, Nicholas?’

‘Me? What of me?’

‘You too were a Templar, weren’t you? That was where you knew Sir Gilbert from.’

‘No, not me.’

‘There is little point denying it. Your sister more or less told us by accident. And at the tavern you said a knight looked to his mount. You were a knight, weren’t you?’

Nicholas felt a fist of ice clench in his belly. ‘Of course not. What makes you think I’d…’ His voice trailed off. He couldn’t maintain the pretence any longer. His whole life for fourteen years had been devoted to hiding his past, and now that this Keeper had guessed at the truth, the whole edifice Nicholas had so carefully constructed seemed to collapse.

‘You were a Templar. At Witham. Did you kill Sir Gilbert?’

‘No! Why should I?’

‘Because Sir Gilbert could betray your secret. You thought he might tell other people about your background.’

‘Why should that worry me? If he did, he’d have to tell everyone about himself.’

‘Ah, but would you have cared about him? You would be more worried about your friends and business partners finding out about your background. They might not care for a man who had once given his oaths to the Temple.’

Nicholas stared, then guffawed with laughter. ‘You honestly think those ignorant, avaricious arseholes could give two damns about my history? Merchants are not devout religious, you know; not members of an Order. They only care for one thing, Sir Knight, and that is the ability to make money. If other merchants think I can increase their wealth, they will invest with me. If I begin to falter they may discover a new religious fervor and move to other men.’

Baldwin gave a small frown. Simon glanced at him and grinned. ‘I think he’s got a point there, Baldwin.’

‘Which makes the matter rather more intriguing, doesn’t it? If he knew that his brother merchants wouldn’t worry about his background, why should he conceal it? Especially as Templars were known to be thoroughly competent with money. His life with the Order could have helped guarantee riches. Couldn’t it, Nicholas?’

‘Some might not have reacted so favourably,’ the merchant said. ‘What about that priest?’

‘Abraham? Yes, I concede that he could have been troublesome. Perhaps more than that, for his beliefs seem to preclude the concept of forgiveness.’

‘How could a priest forgive a renegade heretic? An excommunicate? It is not within his power. No, I simply wanted to avoid any accusations – any difficulties.’

‘Where was your preceptory? South Witham?’

Nicholas tried to smile as if unconcerned. ‘You have heard of it?’

‘I have heard that a Templar there called de Gonville was the treasurer and that he took all the money from the preceptory and disappeared.’

‘Interesting, but hardly…’

‘What were you doing here?’ Simon asked.

‘I came to pray.’

‘There is a church in Tiverton.’

‘It is not so peaceful as this small chapel.’

‘This is precisely the place to which a Templar would turn. How did you get started as a merchant?’ Baldwin asked mildly.

‘My sister’s money. It was a good purse.’

‘And that was enough to set you up?’

‘Yes. I fear I didn’t inherit, as the younger son.’

‘Nicholas,’ Baldwin said gently, ‘let us stop beating about the bush. You were a Templar. Your name was de Gonville and when your Order was destroyed you took the money and fled, bringing your sister and her daughter with you.’

‘What else could I do? There was only death and ruin if I stayed – the Pope had set the Inquisition upon us! You know what that means – no access to a lawyer, no defence considered, because if you refused to confess you could be imprisoned for life until you did, and all the time you would be tortured.’

He suddenly fell to his knees, the scabbard at his side crashing loudly on the flags, and covered his face in his hands.

‘You can’t imagine how it was – first the Order collapsing, then my brother-in-law dying and leaving me to look after Matilda and little Joan. When she was told she couldn’t stay in her manor, we didn’t know what to do. What was the point of leaving all that money to go to waste? It was better to use it, to look after all three of us. And that’s what I did. I used it for the good of my sister and I. And when I had begun to make enough money, I paid more than I needed in alms for the poor to help those who hadn’t been so lucky.’

Baldwin raised his eyes to Simon. The bailiff was watching the merchant with a sympathetic expression and Baldwin knew he was thinking how a man would behave when he found his profession declared illegal, his sister and her child and he himself suddenly homeless.

‘I think there is no need for us to mention this to anyone,’ Baldwin said. ‘Your secret is safe with us, Nicholas.’

‘Thank you, Sir Baldwin. You are kind to promise that.’

‘But if I hear you have lied to me, I will not hesitate to denounce you.’

Nicholas sniffed and wiped his eyes.

‘Is there anything else you can tell us?’ Baldwin asked.

‘Perhaps,’ he agreed. ‘When I met Sir Gilbert in the tavern, one reason why I feared being noticed was that one of Sir Peregrine’s men was there and seemed to be watching us. It was an impression, no more, but when Sir Gilbert and I left the place, I saw him rise too. I think he followed Sir Gilbert.’

Simon suddenly recalled the bowl. ‘Has someone been living here?’

‘The old priest, Benedict. But he’s dead now. Died the night Sir Gilbert was killed.’

‘What was he doing here?’

‘He was the priest when this was a Templar manor. He stayed on.’

‘That’s why this chapel is still quite clean.’

‘And died here alone,’ Baldwin mused sadly.

‘No, Father Abraham was here.’

‘Of course.’ Baldwin nodded. That was why Harlewin had seen the Father on the road that night.

‘Will you help us to look for the money?’ Simon asked.

‘Can we share it three ways?’ Nicholas enquired hopefully.

‘The bollocks we can!’ Simon exploded.

‘I think my friend is pointing out that the whole amount is owned by the King,’ said Baldwin suavely.

Nicholas smiled thinly. ‘I don’t think you need me getting in your way, then.’

Simon’s sympathy had evaporated. ‘Do you mean to suggest we’d take it for ourselves?’

‘Oh, I suppose you’ll put it straight into the King’s own hands, won’t you!’

‘Hold your tongue!’ Baldwin thundered. A twinge of pain shot through his head and he glowered still more angrily. ‘Remember this, cretin! I am a King’s officer, and I will do my duty as I have sworn. That means that this wealth, if I find it, will be taken straight to the Coroner, Harlewin le Poter, for him to dispose of. If any man has a legal right to it, he can appeal the justices when they arrive on their tourn.’