J. Tomlin - The Templar's Cross

A dark flush washed up from Carre’s neck to his forehead. “I should have you put down for an incompetent fool,” Carre said in a low voice.

Carre’s mouth dropped open, but he snapped it shut. He shook his head. “We must go after the thief. There is no time for this. I don’t blame you for the theft, Sir Law, but I do expect you to earn that purse in your breast.”

When Wrycht grabbed his forearm, Law pressed slightly so the dirk pricked his skin and a drop of blood welled out. Using the leverage from the man’s twisted arm, he turned them both so he could see the other two and the guards. “There are still three murders to be dealt with before you go haring off.”

Carre narrowed his eyes, holding out his hand palm up. “If you are not going to do what you were paid to do, I’ll thank you for that purse.”

Law shook his head but before he could answer, there was a rap on the door and it opened slightly. Cormac, his hair clotted with blood on one side and a lump on his forehead, peered inside and then stood in the doorway, only partway in the room and obviously ready to take flight.

“You were knocked out!” the guard exclaimed.

Marguerite had backed to the rear door with her hand on the knob, her eyes darting frantically around the room.

Cormac ignored them. “I did what you said and took them to the cross. Then that damned ratcatcher knocked us out so it took longer than you planned. But as soon as they were gone, I went to the Sergeant Meldrum.” Wide-eyed, Cormac looked from Law to the others, eyes lingering on the armed guards. “He paused to gather his men but he’s nae time behind me.”

“I dinnae think you want to explain to the sergeant why you’re in Scotland with no warrant from the king, so just put the gold down to paying me what I am due.” Law jerked Wrycht’s arm even higher. “And this one has murders to answer for.” Over Wrycht’s shoulder, he eyed Marguerite. “She had a hand in much of it, but Wrycht did the killing and the lord sheriff would be loath to hang so bonnie a woman.”

Wrycht jerked a dagger from the breast of his doublet and slashed at Law’s arm. When Law dodged aside, Wrycht wrenched free. He kicked his chair out of the way as he ran for the door. Law jumped after him. It was a long leap, but Law bludgeoned his shoulder into the small of Wrycht’s back. The man went facedown with Law on top of him. He thrashed, trying to reach Law with his dagger. Law grabbed his wrist with both hands, wrenching hard. The dagger, a little narrower and shorter than a Scottish dirk, clattered to the floor.

Law heard footfalls, running. When he looked up, Marguerite was already out the door. He scooped the weapon up and pressed the point into the side of Wrycht’s neck.

“I’ll kill you,” Wrycht shouted, “and that thieving bastard if it is the last thing that I do.”

There was a noise of tramping feet and a shout from down the street. “No time now,” Carre barked and strode toward the rear door, motioning his guards to come with him.

For a breath or two after the door slammed, Law stared at Cormac who was looking around with a dazed look. Wrycht thrashed again, so Law pressed the blade a bit harder. When it pierce the skin, the man stilled.

“I didn’t kill them,” Wrycht protested in a choked voice.

“Ach, aye. I believe that.”

The sergeant loomed up behind Cormac and elbowed him roughly out of the way. “What’s this to do? The minstrel said you had the murderer.” Two watchmen trailed behind him, wood cudgels in hand.

“Aye. Meet Lord Blinsele. Or Maister Wrycht.” Law shrugged. “Or plain Wrycht. Though I doubt any of those are his true name.” Law removed his dirk from Wrycht’s neck and shoved him toward the sergeant.

“He’s crazed!” Wrycht cried.

Law shook his head. “I’m thinking that Duncan saw you murder de Carnea. You found him first and killed him. He couldn’t have told you where the cross was since you didn’t go after it. Mayhap he spun you a tale and you thought he kent where it was.” Law tilted his head as one of the watch grabbed Wrycht and twisted his arms behind his back. “I’d wager Duncan demanded a payment to keep quiet. That must have been it. At first, I thought it might have been Marguerite. Duncan would have let a woman come close enough to stab him, but he would you as well since you were paying him. And there is no way she is large or strong enough to hold de Carnea whilst she slashed his throat. It might have been the ratcatcher, but I couldn’t imagine Duncan letting him close. Moreover, it was clear from almost the first that there was someone else, Carre as I later kent, who was involved. When I followed Marguerite and she had a secret tryst with Carre’s son, I thought it might have been youth, but then he was murdered as well.”

“He’s crazed, I tell you!” Wrycht shouted.

“Shackle him and take him to the Tolhouse,” Meldrum told the watchman. “The sheriff shall sort the story out.”

The man jerked his arm free, shoved the watchman, and took a running step toward the door. Meldrum swung the cudgel he carried. It landed with a thunk. Wrycht crumpled under the blow to lie bonelessly on the floor. The sergeant motioned his men. They dragged him out the door. He gave Law a brusque nod. “I’ll expect you there in an hour.”

“The young man… Carre’s son?” Cormac looked puzzled. “I still don’t understand why Wrycht would kill him.”

“I expect the lord sheriff will get answers out of him in his dungeon about that. I think… I think the lad may have been working with Marguerite to cut Wrycht out. The lad had little reason to love his father, it seems to me, and I saw the two of them plotting together.”

Cormac shook his head in wonder. “Was there anyone who wasn’t betraying the others?”

“Nae. Nary a one. Wrycht killed his partner in order not to share the profit. Marguerite was betraying Wrycht with Carre’s son. And Carre only cared that he ended up with the cross, so he’d cut them out and pay me.” He breathed out a soft snort, but then he went over to look closely at the minstrel, who had a large lump on his forehead, rapidly turning purple. “You look like you’ll live, lad. But from now on, it’s best if you to stay out of my affairs.” He clapped the minstrel on the shoulder and prodded him toward the door.

“But the cross? Where is it, do you think?”

“I think that the ratcatcher was employed by someone…important. Let’s just say I saw the king’s secretary not long ago leaving an inn, taking a very oddly timed evening stroll when the ratcatcher was about. I’d leave it at that. I wonder if Dave was seeking the Templar’s cross the whole while, or finding it for whomever employed him was mere chance.” Law shook his head and twitched a wry smile. “As long as I’m not going to hang, he’s welcome to take it to whomever it was he was taking it for.”