Michael JECKS - The Last Templar

The others were all eager to get to the town and were looking forward to being welcomed as the captors of the trail bastons, but Hugh had seen enough of travelling to last him for several months, and Simon wanted to get home to see his wife and daughter again. Now that the band was captured, there seemed little to fear on the way, so there seemed no need for the bailiff and his man to have any extra protection.

They parted when they came up to the road that led back to Moretonhampstead, the huge track that led right across the moors and down to the coast. Hugh and his master sat and watched as the posse gaily rode off north, waving at their friends until they were out of sight over the next hill, and then they turned and made their way northeast, and back to home.

Simon was deep in thought for the first hour, riding slowly with his chin down on his chest as he allowed his horse to amble, letting Hugh enjoy his riding for the first time since they had left home so many days ago.

It was the first time Hugh had seen him so involved and intense, and as he rode along behind his expression was one of concerned confusion. Hugh had always tried to be a good servant to the Puttocks, who he adored as much as his own family, and although he maintained a melancholic exterior, this was more because of his days when still a youth, when he had lived the rough life of a shepherd up on the hills. A certain dourness was natural among the men that looked after the sheep on the hills around the moors. The loneliness led to introspection, and the attacks from wild and feral animals produced a degree of cynicism, but these did not change the fact that he was thoroughly loyal to his master and his family, and now he was worried by Simon’s sombre attitude.

Just when Hugh was about to try to break into his thoughts, Simon suddenly looked up, a frown on his face, then turned to his servant. “Hugh, do you remember the conversation we had with Black and Tanner by the fire a couple of nights ago?”

Relieved to be included in his previously private thoughts, Hugh gave him a quick, shy sidelong smile. “What, when we were talking about the abbot and Brewer? When I said the trail bastons hadn’t killed the farmer?”

Simon nodded, still frowning. “Yes. Do you still believe that?”

“Well,” Hugh considered for a moment, then continued quickly. “Well, no, not now.”

“Why?”

“John Black told me that that man, the knight, had joined the rest late. He said he must’ve passed through Crediton on the way to Oakhampton at about the right time. He wasn’t part of the gang then, but he was in the area at the time. He must have done it.”

“Hunh! That’s what John Black says, is it?”

“Well it makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“What happened to his war horse? And his companion?”

“Maybe his companion had the other horse, I don’t know. Maybe his friend stole it. Fact is he had the mare. He must have killed the abbot and stolen it, mustn’t he, and it makes sense for him to have been Brewer’s murderer too.”

“I wonder…”

Hugh looked at him. He had reverted back to his pensive silence, chin down on his chest as he swayed along, glaring at the road surface under him as if daring it to argue with his thoughts. Taking a deep breath, Hugh coughed and, when this had no impact, said, “Master?”

There was a grunt, but Simon did not look up until they had ridden on for a few yards, and then he peered at his servant with a frown of concentration, almost seeming not to recognise him, so intense were his thoughts. “What?”

“Why did you ask me that?”

“Eh? Oh. Well… I was thinking, well, wondering really… I still can’t believe that he could have killed Brewer, even if it does look as if he killed the abbot.” His voice trailed off, and he seemed to be contemplating his thoughts again, then, head on one side and without looking at his servant, he started to speak, slowly and concisely. “If the knight had captured the abbot and taken him hostage, if it was Rodney, it was either a chance meeting and robbery or it was planned and intended – perhaps a revenge attack. If it was revenge for some misdeed, then we’ll probably never know what the deed was. Right, but if it was not, then it was a chance attack. What would that mean?”

He was mumbling as he considered, his brow deeply puckered. “The knight and another man found the monks on the road. They took the abbot and carried him off into the woods. They took him a long way, then tied him to a tree, set light to him and watched him die. Why kill him like that? If they had to kill him, why not a knife in the back or a rope round the neck, so that they could get away as quickly as possible. Just because he was killed that way it seems unlikely that it was a chance attack.” He shot a keen glance at Hugh. “Does that make sense?”

Hugh thought for a minute, his bottom lip out as he considered the logic with frowning concentration. “Yes,” he said slowly, “I think so.”

“Fine. Even so, let’s carry on. So, assuming that it was mere chance: if they had done all this… Let’s just think it through. If they did this, if they killed the abbot, then why did they divide? Why did one take all the money and the abbot’s mare, the other the war horse. Why? The war horse was worth more – and what happened to the other man’s horse? The monks said that both attackers were mounted, so where is the second horse?”

“Maybe the other man took both horses?”

“Why? Why should he? What would be the point? One man with two horses is suspicious, he might raise attention.”

“Oh, I don’t know! Anyway, John Black must be right, it surely was the same man who killed Brewer.”

“What? Him? The knight? Killed Brewer?” His incredulity made his voice rise. “Why, for the money? How would a travelling knight hear about the wealth of a farmer on his way past? Is it really credible? Anyway, let’s just sort out the abbot’s death first, shall we!

“Right, so I think we have to assume that it was not chance, but that it was an intentional meeting. So the knight and his accomplice saw the monks on the road and attacked. What does that mean? There was no ambush, that seems odd. So maybe the knight happened to come upon them and recognised the abbot – from behind? No, of course not. You don’t recognise a man’s back on horseback, you only recognise a face. So that means he must have heard about the abbot, have known about him before they came upon the monks, and chased after him, trying to catch him. Perhaps the two of them had been chasing the monks for some time? But even so…”

“What, master?”

“Well, why on earth would they split up after the killing? If there were two of them, and they had been chasing the monks for some way, why would they divide immediately afterwards? You would think they would stay together – that the immensity of their crime would hold them together.”

Hugh was confused now. “So what are you saying? I…”

“I just don’t believe that he killed the abbot. I can’t believe it! I think that whether he came across the monks on the road by chance or whether he was looking for them, either way he would have kept his war horse. He was a knight, he would not have just left it or given it away! A war horse costs over a hundred pounds!”

“Er… well, yes, but…”

“So, could his own story have been genuine? Could it be true that he found the horse? Could it be true that he came across it and took it because he had no other?”

“Master, perhaps…”

“No,” said Simon decisively. “I’m certain the killer of the abbot was someone else. And that means that Master Black’s opinion must be wrong. Black thinks that because a murderer went through the area, he must have killed Brewer on the way. I think Rodney didn’t kill de Penne. I believed him when he seemed so shocked at the idea of killing a monk, and I think it’s equally unlikely he could have killed the farmer – after all, Brewer was very unpopular, surely it’s more likely he was killed by someone local, someone who hated him? No, someone else must have killed them!” He kicked at his horse and coaxed it into an easy canter, and, sighing, Hugh urged his own horse to keep up.