J. Tomlin - The Templar's Cross

“And what did your Hieland intuition tell you about that?” Law scratched at his jaw, wondering why they had sent Dave to search his room a second time. Or perhaps it was just to see if he was there.

Cormac smiled. “Not all of us have the sight, Sassenach. I telt you I’m no seventh son of a seventh son, but he is more than he seems. Of that I am certain.” He raised an eyebrow at Law. “I’d better go with you to call on the sheriff. Someone should in case you dinnae come out again.”

“You being there will make no difference.”

“I helped you at the start.” Cormac rolled his shoulders in a shrug. “Say that I’m curious. Murders and mysterious-”

Law cleared his throat, so Cormac shrugged, but he stood and carefully slipped his harp into a bag to protect it.

As Meldrum led him through the corridor to the sheriff’s privy chamber, sweat trickled down Law’s neck. Why would Sir William decide to call him now after the trial concluded with no evidence to involve him? Meldrum seemed satisfied with the verdict then and didn’t give any indication of pursuing the murders further. Of all the ways to die, hanging was the one he most wanted to avoid, if something had changed the sheriff’s mind. What Cormac thought following along at his heels would do, Law couldn’t imagine. It wasn’t as though a Highland minstrel wielded power, but Law hadn’t enough friends in the world anymore that he’d turn one away.

Meldrum knocked and after a brief pause, Sir William called out, “Enter.”

A fire on a small hearth cast a flickering light across the room and a couple of candles illuminated some parchments spread across the table where the lord sheriff sat, his bald head shiny in the muggy air of the office. A windowpane stretched with oiled animal skin allowed in yellowish light. In the corner, a torch added a bit of smoky light.

When Sir William saw the minstrel, he leaned back in his chair, scowling. “Why did you bring him?”

“He’s no harm.” Law shrugged, carelessly. “Just a minstrel wanting to learn more of his betters so he can sing of them.”

The sheriff snorted. “Letting Hieland scum dog your heels.”

Law walked to stand in front of the sheriff’s desk and look down at him. He casually scratched the back of his neck. “You had something on your mind, Lord Sheriff?”

When Sir William waved him to a chair, Law sat while Cormac stood near the corner, eyes fixed on his shoes, obviously regretting his decision to accompany Law. Meldrum took a position, arms crossed, before the door.

“You’re going to tell me what you’re holding back about these murders.”

“I said what happened at the assize, my lord.” Law kept his hands relaxed and open, his face blank, but his mind raced. John Cameron had been in Perth. Had he brought a reproach from the king that had so provoked the sheriff to action? “If you think I lied there, I give you my oath you are wrong.”

“And if you think yon knight’s spurs will protect you from hanging, you are wrong.” He leaned forward on his hands, lips pulled back into a snarl. “When he returned, King James made some foolish oath about peace in the kingdom, and he’s made forfeit more than one lord who he decided had failed him. Worse, he is more than passing fond of this St. John’s and intends to govern from here.”

“The murders are yet fresh. There is time to find who did them.”

Sir William studied Law’s bland expression. “When the king returns from putting down this rebellion, and he shall, I promise you that it will not be me who pays for allowing lawlessness in the burgh. The king will expect someone to hang for it. Someone will and I dinnae much care who. Now tell me what Duncan Leslie was doing outside Blackfriars that night.” He narrowed his eyes. “Spying perchance?”

“He was to meet me there. Neither of us have truck with the English.” Law’s mouth twisted though he tried to stay expressionless. Telling what he knew about Wrycht and Marguerite might cause more problems than it solved. “Nor would.”

“Rubbish. There was more to it than that.”

Law shook his head.

The sheriff slammed a fist down on the table. A candlestick wobbled, its flame wavering and parchments fluttered on the table’s surface. “I shall learn what was going on that night and you are going to tell me-now.”

Law sighed as though hard-pressed by an unreasonable man. “I’ve telt everything that happened, my lord. If I kent more, I would say so.”

Sir William slowly turned his gaze toward Sergeant Meldrum and nodded. Law guessed what was coming. The sergeant stomped over to grab the front of his doublet and haul him to his feet. Law clasped his hands into fists to keep them off his sword. Meldrum backhanded him hard. He yanked Law’s doublet as though to shake him and backhanded him again. Law had the coppery taste of blood in his mouth and grimaced.

Cormac gasped from where he stood against the wall. Law closed his eyes, thinking keep quiet. Just keep quiet. He’d taken worse on the practice field, much less in battle. This was nothing, in spite of the humiliation of a mere sergeant laying hands on him.

Sir William said, “You’ll tell me the truth.”

Law could barely hear it over the rush of ringing in his ears. He shook his head to clear it and swallowed the blood where his cheek had ripped against his teeth. “I’ve told you already.”

This time Sergeant Meldrum drew his arm back as far as he could and slammed his ham-like fist into Law’s jaw. Law grunted, stumbling back. He caught himself with both hands on the back of the chair, and it nearly went over. After a gasping breath, he raised his head and looked Sir William in the face. He barked out a choked laugh. “Do you really believe you can do worse to me than the English?”

“Wait.” Sir William held up a hand to stop the sergeant. He stared into Law’s face for a moment and then looked to Cormac. A smile slowly formed on his lips. “I am sure I cannae. But he ne’er saw battle. Methinks if he came with you, he is more of a friend than you say. If not, no one will care if a thieving minstrel loses a few fingers.” He nodded to the sergeant. “Meldrum…”

Meldrum gave the sheriff a puzzled look, which earned him a scowl.

“Take the forefinger first. But don’t make a mess when you do it.”

The sergeant dropped a hand to his sword and stepped toward the minstrel. Cormac made a strangled sound. Law turned his head painfully to look at him. The young minstrel’s face had gone milk white and he had both hands pressed to the wall as though he could cling to it, but his chin was raised in defiance.

Law breathed a sigh through his nose. “Wait.”

The sergeant grabbed Cormac’s bicep and jerked him away from the wall. When Cormac writhed to wrench free, the sergeant grabbed him by the throat.

“I said wait!” Law yelled.

“Not even a single finger?” Sir William shook his head. “Very well. Let us hear it.”

“Loose him first.”

“I think we’ll hold onto him until I’ve heard what you have to say.” He made a circling sound with two fingers as though to hurry Law up.

Law sank wearily into the chair and ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his face. “We were hired, both Duncan and me. It was a well-dressed man, wore a bonnie black gown, said his name was Lord Blinsele. He hired us to follow this man, de Carnea. He said he believed the man was staying at the Blackfriars’ guesthouse but was not certain. Duncan went to watch for him there whilst I checked Whitefriars.” Law shrugged. “I wasnae happy taking the job, but we needed the coin. Anyroad, I was supposed to meet Duncan to see if he had spied the man. When I got there Duncan was dead.”