Michael JECKS: The Last Templar

The young bailiff was intrigued. “So how long is it since you were here last, if you got lost on your return?”

“I was last here in my seventeenth year, that was in twelve hundred and ninety,” he said blandly, and then smiled at Simon’s obvious calculation. “Yes, I am forty-three, bailiff.”

Simon stared at him. It seemed almost incredible that he could be so old, especially now, as he smiled in amusement with the firelight twinkling in his eyes. He seemed too vigorous somehow, too quick and sharp to be that age, and it was only with a mental effort that Simon managed to stop his jaw dropping.

“You honour me with your surprise, anyway,” said the knight with a small smile. “Yes, I left in twelve ninety, over six-and-twenty years ago. My brother was the elder, so he was the heir. I decided to go and seek my fortune elsewhere.” He stretched. “But it’s time for me to come back. I need to be able to ride the hills again and see the moors.” Suddenly his smile broadened and he quickly looked over at the bailiff with his eyebrows raised in an expression of humorous lechery. “And its time I started breeding. I intend to take a wife and begin a family.”

“Well, I wish you well in your search for peace and marriage,” said Simon, smiling back at him.

There was a glint in the knight’s eyes, not of anger, but more of quizzical interest as he gazed over at him. “Why do you say ”peace“?”

Simon was aware of, and annoyed by, a slight stiffening in the servant beside the knight. “You say you have been away for many years and want to settle down at your home.” He drained his cup and set it on the bench top beside him. “I hope that means you want to find peace and not battle.”

“Hmm. Yes, I have seen enough of war. I feel the need for rest and, as you say, peace.” For an instant Simon saw the pain again, reflected by the flames as the knight stared into the fire, seemingly lost in his past, but then the moment was gone and Baldwin smiled again as if he was silently reminding himself of the others around and putting the pain away for the present.

“Well, if you wish, you may travel with us tomorrow. We will be passing close by Furnshill Manor on our way home.”

With evident gratitude, Baldwin inclined his head. “Thank you, I would be happy for your company.”

The next morning was bright and clear, the sun shining down from a perfect blue sky, and after a breakfast of cold meats and bread Simon and the new owner of Furnshill left the little castle with their servants and made their way back up to the lane towards Cadbury where the knight’s manor lay.

Simon found himself covertly watching the man and his servant. They seemed to move in accord with one another, a complete unit in themselves. There was never any sign between them that the bailiff could see, but whenever Baldwin wanted to move slightly, whether to look at a view or at a flower by the side of the road, it seemed that his servant was already moving, as if he had anticipated the knight’s wish. Wherever they went, the knight was always in front, but the servant was never far from him, leading the small packhorse on its long halter just behind and to the knight’s right. Simon found himself thinking how the two were perfect complements, and for an instant wondered whether he would ever be able to train Hugh to ride properly so that his own servant could behave in the same faultless manner. He threw a glance over his shoulder to where Hugh was sulkily jolting along behind, and with a sardonic grimace gave up on the thought.

Sir Baldwin rode into the lead shortly after they began the climb up the steep hill from Bickleigh and seemed surprised at the slow pace of Hugh.

“Hugh has only been riding for a short time,” said Simon with an ironic grin, in answer to the enquiring gaze. “He’s always nervous that the horse will canter off and leave him behind. I don’t like to worry him too much by going too fast for him.”

The knight peered ahead contemplatively while his servant stared back at Hugh with a sneer of disgust on his face. “I can remember this lane,” Baldwin said, “I can remember riding here when I was very young. It seems so long ago, in a way…” His voice trailed off.

Simon looked at him. He seemed to be reflecting, his forehead puckered in thought as he studied the road ahead, until they came over the crest of a hill and could see the view. Pausing, they waited for Hugh. From here, up on top of the rise, they could see far over to the south and west, all over the moors and forests of Devon, even as far as Dartmoor.

In the mid-morning haze it seemed, at first, as if they were alone in the world as they sat in their saddles at the top of the hill and waited for Hugh to catch up with them. Then the signs of life became evident. Some four miles away they could see smoke from a chimney rising between trees. Just beyond was a hamlet, nestling on the side of a hill above a series of fields that sprawled down into a valley. Farther on, the scene coloured blue with the distance, were more houses and fields with, here and there, the inevitable columns of smoke to show where fires were alight for cooking. Simon smiled as he looked over the area with a feeling of proprietorial pride at the sight of this, his county. When he looked over at the knight beside him, he was surprised to see him leaning forward and resting on his horse’s neck, a small smile on his face as he contemplated the view. “It’s good country, isn’t it?” said Simon softly.

“The finest,” Baldwin murmured, still staring at the view. Then, shaking himself out of his reverie, he swiftly turned and flashed a smile at the bailiff. “I cannot wait for your man any longer. This road needs a quick horse to let the memories flow. My friend, I will look forward to seeing you at the manor. As a friend and companion of the road I will be pleased to offer you some refreshment before you continue on your way home.”

Before the words had sunk in, he had dug his heels into his horse’s flanks and was away and rushing down the hill, his cloak streaming out behind him and billowing in the wind, his servant still maintaining his position slightly behind and to the knight’s right. Eyebrows raised, Simon watched them race down the hill until Hugh arrived at his side.

“He’s in a hurry to get to the manor,” he said sombrely. His master nodded.

“Yes. It’s been many years since he last looked forward to anything so much, I think. He looks as though he feels young again.” Slowly they started off down the hill towards the manor, some two miles away.

“Strange man, though,” said Hugh pensively after a few minutes of jolting along.

“In what way?”

“He looks all lost sometimes, like a lamb that’s lost his ewe, then it’s like he’s remembered who he is again and his smile comes back.”

Simon thought about his comment for the rest of the way. It certainly agreed with his own observations from the previous night. It was almost as if the knight was coming back to forget something in his past, as if in returning to his old home he would be able to forget the years spent away. But when Simon had asked him what he had been doing since he left so many years before, he had simply said, “Fighting,” with a terse curtness that seemed strangely out of character, and would not explain further.

It was odd, he knew. Most knights were pleased to discuss their exploits, they were always happy to boast and tell of their valour and courage in the field. It was only natural for warriors to be proud and arrogant, describing their battles in detail and telling of their bravery. To meet a man who did not want to talk about his past at all seemed curious, but then again, as Simon knew well, if a knight lost his lord he could well lose all his wealth and property. He would have to survive as best he could – by whatever means – trying to gain a new lord to keep him in armour and food. Perhaps this knight had fallen on bad times and had been forced to struggle to maintain himself and now wanted to forget. He shrugged. Whatever the reason, if Baldwin wanted to keep his past to himself, he would respect his wish.