Michael JECKS - The Last Templar

At last, after stumbling on for over three miles, Simon could see a glimmer of light between the trees. They must have been travelling for over two hours by now; his back and thighs were feeling the strain of having to drag his horse up the hills, and his calves hurt from walking down the other sides. He threw a glance at Black. The hunter did not seem to have noticed the light, his eyes were still firmly fixed on the trail at his feet. Simon peered ahead again. It was clearing. They must be coming to the edge of the woods. With a feeling of relief, Simon realised that soon they would be able to mount their horses and at last give chase, no longer wandering slowly; now they would be able to travel fast at last. He felt a mounting excitement as they slowly covered the last few yards, and had to work to prevent a grin of anticipation from spreading over his face.

Now Black noticed the lightening too, but apparently without the same pleasure, Simon noticed. He seemed concerned as he came up to the last few trees, frowning and looking up every now and again from the tracks. Then, when they came to the edge of the wood, Simon suddenly realised why.

With a sinking feeling, he looked out from the trees and groaned as he saw the road. It was the main road up to Barnstaple; not a very busy one, but busy enough – the dirt of the track was well trodden and rutted from the number of carriages and wagons that regularly passed by, and between the wheel marks it was compacted into a solid mass. With a wince of despair, Simon realised it would be impossible to follow the trail on this. He sighed and watched silently with his feelings of despondency growing as Black slowly stretched and wandered out from the trees. His eyes swivelled, tracing the last distinguishable marks of the horse and rider on the verge as they had left the trees, but then they stopped, obliterated by the multitude of tracks in the mud of the road itself.

Close to tears in his frustration, he watched Black thoughtfully loop his horse’s reins over a nearby branch. Surely they could not lose the trail after following it so far?

He felt the first prickles of the tears starting to heat his eyes, ready to begin weeping in his frustration, the pain and despair of failure clutching at his heart as he watched the methodical and efficient hunter trying to find the trail.

Black was walking in a series of circles, going from one verge to the other, and each time moving the centre a little farther so that he was gradually moving down the road towards Crediton in a series of sweeping loops, his eyes fixed all the time on the ground and occasionally flitting over to the verges to make sure that no one had left the road. He went slowly, and when he had covered twenty yards he came back and went off in the other direction, up towards Barnstaple. At last he stopped and strode back.

“Sorry. Nothing I can do. Trail’s here, but it’s been covered by all this other lot,” he said shortly, waving a hand vaguely and looking up and down the road. “All I can do is guess. I just don’t know.” He shrugged, looking up at Simon with dejection in his eyes.

Simon stood and stared at him, feeling the waves of dread and fear wash over him. There must be a way of finding the killers. Whoever had done this must be mad: until they were caught there could be no peace in the area. Oblivious to the others, he stood fixed to the spot and stared into the distance. He felt Tanner walk up behind, but remained staring in his misery without acknowledging him.

“Problem?” asked Tanner quietly.

“See for yourself,” said Black shortly. “There’s no way I can track someone on this lot. The only way is to guess which way they could’ve gone and hope for the best. I’ve done the best I can.” He almost seemed to be pleading with the taciturn constable, as if he needed confirmation that he had done the best he could.

“Bailiff?”

“I don’t know. We can’t just give up! We have to find the bastards or they’ll do it again,” said Simon, confused and desperately trying to see what to do. “I… leave me alone for a minute.”

The other two watched him as he walked into the middle of the road and peered up and down, Tanner standing calmly and Black scratching his head as he gazed at the ground with an expression of morose defeat.

Right, Simon thought. The murderers took the abbot, robbed him, and killed him – but why burn him to death? Why not just stab him? And if that was all they were going to do, why not kill him nearer the road? Christ Jesus, help me!

He squatted, peering at the road surface, then gazed into the distance again as he thought. “I can’t guess why they killed the abbot. All I know is they did and we have to get them. Otherwise they’ll do it again. So we have to find them, and quickly. Where did they go? To Crediton? Or Barnstaple? They could have gone either way.”

Abruptly, Simon swivelled and looked back down the road toward Crediton. But which way? Which way would I take? If I had just murdered someone, where would I go? If I was passing through I would go on to Barnstaple, but if I came from round here would I go home? Could someone local have done this? Why would they? Who could have done this?

“Bugger.” He reached a decision, stood and strode back to the small posse. “Tanner, Black, come over here a minute.” When they were with him, he spoke again quietly. ”Look, we can’t tell which way they’ve gone. If I’d done something like this I would have gone to the moors and hidden, but these men have obviously gone on. Tanner, where would you go if you were them?“

The constable looked blank and drew down the corners of his mouth as he considered. “If it was me and I was passing through, I’d go on to Barnstaple quickly, I suppose, then down to Cornwall.”

“Black?”

“I’d go home quick. I’d get back to the house and pretend I’d not been out at all.”

“Hmm. I think so too. If I was a traveller, like you think, Tanner, I’d want to get away from the area. But if I was a local, I think I’d go home and keep my head down.”

“Does that help us?” said Tanner with obvious doubt.

“Yes, because it means we have no real choice. We divide into three teams. Tanner, you go on up towards Barnstaple and see if you can find any sign of strangers passing by recently. Ask at the houses you pass about one man on a large horse, could be a farm animal or a war horse, and another on a smaller one. They dressed like knights but wore no signs to show their names or their lord’s. We’ll go back to Crediton and check to see whether we can see any sign of them that way. The other men, the third team, will have to ask at all of the cottages in the woods near here. Tanner, you go as far as Elstone, if you can’t find anything you may as well go home after that. We’ll see if anybody saw anyone.”

“We’ll need a tracker with both teams going by road,” said Black. “We’ll have to keep an eye open for any signs leading off the road and into the trees.”

“Yes. Tanner? Any idea who else we can use?”

“Yes, young Fasten, he’s got good eyes. I’ll take him with me. What about the third team?”

“So long as they know the area, two men should be enough. Make sure they do know these parts, though, and the people in it. All they have to do is ask around – has anyone seen two men recently, probably in armour, one on a big animal like a war horse. Have they seen a grey mare? She may have been found after she bolted. Did anyone see or hear anything the night before last? Someone must have heard the poor soul – a hunter, a coppicer – I don’t know, someone must have heard him!“

“Alright, bailiff, I’ll arrange it. Mark and Godwen know these parts well enough.”

“Fine. When we get back to Crediton, we’ll start asking and see if anyone was out when this happened. We may get lucky and find that somebody saw someone on the road. Well, then. I know it’s hopeful, but I can’t see any other way of trying to find them, can you?”