J. Tomlin - The Templar's Cross

Law stared at the man, narrow-eyed. Blinsele knew Law wouldn’t be wearing a worn doublet and biding in a shabby room if he didn’t need the money but having it thrown in his face sat badly. He was tempted to stand by his refusal, but he was no closer than when he arrived a month before in finding a patron. To refuse them could mean being tossed out of even this shabby tavern. That would be no disaster. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d slept on the ground but would make finding a patron even less likely. If he accepted them, it meant creeping about in the dark like a thief, yet it might lead to more, to better.

He gave an embittered nod. “There will be too many places for one man to watch.” Law strode toward the door, managing not to limp, but Blinsele leapt to his feet.

“No!” He grabbed Law’s sleeve. “The story must go no further.”

“I’ll tell him no more than needs must, but to check all the places they could be in Perth I’ll need help.” With a firm hand, Law removed the man’s grip. “I’ll call him up. He’s…a friend…of sorts, and will not ask questions, I assure you.”

When Law opened the door, he breathed a soft snort upon seeing Cormac lounging against the wall at the foot of the stairs. The minstrel would find himself in deep waters one day if he weren’t careful because he was not subtle at eavesdropping. Law called down, “Tell Duncan I need him.”

Duncan had spent more time gambling and whoring than seeking a patron, but would credit Law finding him work to the debt he still insisted that Law owed. When Duncan came in, Law closed the door behind him.

“Lord Blinsele, this is Duncan Leslie, who also was in service in France.”

Duncan made a polite bow to Blinsele with his hand on his chest, but he threw Law a questioning glance.

Law said, “Lord Blinsele lost something valuable in Edinburgh and believes that the thief is in Perth. I’ll check the guesthouse at Whitefriars monastery. I need you to keep watch at Blackfriars. That vennel next to the dyer’s yard across from the gate should be a good place to keep watch. I’ll meet you there after nightfall.” He glanced at Blinsele. “When we find him you want us to keep watch and send word to you?”

“Aye.” Blinsele rubbed his mouth as though in doubt.

Duncan strolled over to stand by the table. His eyes fastened on the pile of coins, and he turned to Law and pursed his lips in a silent whistle.

Law gave a slight waning shake of his head. “It may take some time if he has left Blackfriars, but finding the man shouldn’t be that hard if he is in Perth. It’s simply a matter of checking the monasteries, taverns, and hostelries. It should take a few days at worst. Finding what he absconded with should be easy once we locate him.”

Duncan grunted, crossing his arms. “And how are we supposed to find this thief, whoever he is?”

“He should be easy to pick out, but make sure he doesn’t realize you’re watching him.” Blinsele’s voice sharpened and his lips thinned to nothing. “You’d call him middling height, I suppose. Plump and fair with curling yellow hair so light it is almost white.”

“How old would you say?” Law asked.

Blinsele shrugged. “Younger than you but not a great deal. Mayhap twenty-five.”

“Is he a Scot?”

Blinsele shook his head jerkily. “From Rome most recently, though before that, Alto Adige I think. He goes by the name of Brunerus de Carnea.”

Law gave a snort through his nose. That name should make a man easy to find, though since he was sought he might use a false name. “A cleric, then?” Rome was full of churchmen of one sort or another.

“How should I know if he ever took orders?” Blinsele burst out. At Law’s raised eyebrows, the man took a deep breath and his tone was smooth when he continued. “Not a cleric as far as I can tell. He’s a strutting peacock in bright-colored silks, but the silly women seem to like him.”

“Does he go armed?”

“Certes. As any man might, he carries a dagger at his belt.”

Law shrugged. “It shouldn’t matter. There are few with hair so light or in such fine clothing, much less with such a name. He’ll be easy enow to pick out.”

“I have no idea where…he has left what he stole from me. I cannot return home with matters as they stand. He must be found and followed. Once you do that, leave approaching him to me.” He gave Law a considering look. “I want you to look after this yourself. I am at the Reidheid Hostelry. Bring me news there when you have it.”

“Aye,” Law said. He knew the place, for he’d stayed there for a few days until he found the room here that would not use up his coins. “As soon as we find him.”

Blinsele gave Law a haughty nod. “I thank you.”

Law opened the door for him. When he closed it and turned back to the room, Duncan stood by the table with one of the demi-noble coins held close to his eyes as he examined it. He smiled smugly. “They’re not shaved. Good.” He scooped up two more of the coins and dropped them with a clink into a purse at his belt. Law gritted his teeth in irritation, but he’d see that Duncan saw only a single coin of the final payment. “From his look, these have brothers.”

Law took the other coins before he sat down. He rubbed them in his hand. Blinsele was paying too well for what he was asking. Law had to wonder why. “Probably. But dinnae count on seeing any of them.”

“I shall if you do.” He brayed a laugh but without a trace of amusement. “You shan’t leave our debt to me unpaid. I know you better than that.”

Law ground his teeth. He’d done no more than share a few flagons of wine with Duncan in France when they’d followed their lords, but the man had quickly realized that Law believed in paying his debts. Whether he truly owed Duncan one… He unclenched his teeth. “I’ll meet you at Blackfriars tonight.”

For a moment, Law stood in the door of his chamber considering something odd in Blinsele’s manner, a lack of assumption of authority he’d expect in a lord and the excessive amount he was willing to pay. But he was in no position to be picky about his patron, so he took his cloak from a peg on the wall and strode down the stairs and into the street.

On the way out of the tavern, Law sat down next to Cormac, who had his harp in his lap, tuning it. “Do me a favor?”

Cormac raised an eyebrow. “Aye, if I can.”

“Go to the Blindman’s tavern and ask quietly if they’ve seen someone with hair so light it is almost white.” He slipped Cormac a merk. “I dinnae have time to go there myself.”

Rain dribbled down Law’s leather cloak, and cold water soaked through the seams of his boots. He turned west on Northgate, sloshing towards Northgate Port. Undaunted by the normal Scottish rain, the lord sheriff rode by on a prancing roan palfrey surrounded by his guards. Further, a horde of barefoot, ragged boys were tussling and whacking each other with sticks, one leaning against a wall holding onto his bloody nose. In the shadow of the wall, some farmers stood beside wagons, shouting out, “Leeks and onions, cheap as you will find” and “Kale, here you go. Fresh kale for your pot.”

Once through the tall stone gate, the road became rutted dirt that sucked at his boots as he slogged toward the Whitefriars Abbey. His gait had only a small hitch from the limp unless he was tired. For a moment he regretted having sold his horse, but the walk would do him no harm. He wasn’t sure if they had a women’s hall since it was smaller than Blackfriars, but he knew it had a men’s guest hall, for Duncan had stayed there when they first arrived at Perth. It was a long trek.

The dark hills loomed before him and soon the tree branches met and mingled overhead plunging the path into shadows as though he were passing through a long dark tunnel. The day smelt of rain and mud, and the wind carried a hint of a peat fire somewhere in the distance.