Michael JECKS - The Templar's Penance

‘I was in Portugal for a while. It has happy memories for me, but it also has the great fort of Tomar.’

‘So what?’ Simon yawned. It felt as though his entire body had been pummelled by a gang of miners with their hammers, and he winced.

‘If this Ramón was heading for the Order of Christ, Tomar would be the first place he would go to. It is where I shall find him.’

‘And the killer of Matthew.’

Baldwin’s smile hardened. ‘His killer also seems to have headed in that direction. I think I shall find him there as well.’

‘How long would it take to get there?’

‘I am told that on horseback, a man travelling at his ease could do the journey in fifteen days without any strain, or perhaps as few as eleven if he was prepared to make his mount suffer.’

‘I’ve been here for two days. You’d have to travel swiftly to catch them.’

‘I have an easier method. We shall take a ship and sail there.’

Simon caught a yawn. ‘If you think so,’ he said unenthusiastically.

‘You’ll be fine, Simon. It’s only a short ride to the port, and then we take a ship down the coast. Travelling night and day, not worrying about a horse’s stamina, we can get there speedily.’

‘I’m sure,’ Simon said, but now the exhaustion was overtaking him again.

‘When we are there …’ Baldwin began, but before he could complete his sentence, Margarita appeared in the doorway behind him. Baldwin turned and gave her a shamefaced smile. ‘I see I am not allowed to overtire you. Rest, Simon, and I shall speak to you again later.’

Simon nodded, and although he tried to give the woman a cross look, because he would have liked to know what Baldwin had been about to say, he failed. His eyelids were too heavy, and he needed to close them, just for a few moments.

Before Margarita could silently close the door, he was already snoring.

Baldwin found it hard to contain his enthusiasm. He left the house and went out to the small garden that Munio was so proud of, and when Munio’s steward appeared, Baldwin asked for a cup of wine.

It arrived, carried not by the steward, but by Munio himself. ‘So you have had some good fortune?’ he enquired.

‘It seems so,’ Baldwin said lightly. ‘With luck we can soon take our leave of you and board a ship to Portugal. I will be reluctant, but it will be good to try to find this Ramón.’

‘And the other,’ Munio said. His usually doleful expression looked today still more mournful than usual.

‘It would be good to catch him as well,’ Baldwin agreed.

‘It would have been more satisfying if Joana’s murderer had been that felon Domingo.’

‘Yes. But his men deny anything to do with her murder and there is no money. If a common felon found himself in possession of such wealth, he would be incapable of saving it or concealing it. He would surely spend it at once,’ Baldwin said. He had seen it many times before.

‘Yet he did go out there that day. Of course, one of Domingo’s men once said that he and Joana were cousins.’

‘Which makes murder neither more nor less likely,’ Baldwin observed.

‘As you say,’ Munio said. ‘And have you given any thought to what you would do if you caught one or other of the two?’

‘Oh, Ramón I should like to question, if the Mestre allows me. As you said, he could have had something to do with the death of the girl. We think he saw her up there but lied and left the place. If he is guilty of her murder, I should wish to bring him back here.’

‘And the other?’

‘Matthew’s killer is clearly evil,’ Baldwin said shortly. ‘He was witnessed murdering a harmless old man. He deserves his fate.’

Munio turned upon him a look of such piercing intelligence that Baldwin blinked. ‘I fear you think me a fool, just because I do not speak your tongue so well as you.’

‘Not at all, you speak my language better than I speak yours, and for that I honour you,’ Baldwin protested.

‘But still you treat me as an idiot. You think me a country bumpkin, not an astute fellow like yourself. Oh, do not try to argue otherwise. It is clear enough. Now, Don Baldwin, let me tell you some things. I know you have a burning desire to go to Portugal. Why not? I hear it is a lovely country. But you want to punish the murderer of a beggar. That death offends you more than the ending of the life of a beautiful, defenceless child, when the motive for her death was either her rape or the simple theft of the money that was on her. That means to me that her murderer was either exceedingly fortunate, because he found a suitable woman to rape just at the time that she was carrying a fortune in money, or that he already knew she would be there with the cash. Which means he knew her, knew of the blackmail, and knew she had the money. That man could so easily have been Ramón. He picked up a stone and smashed that poor face into nothing, then stole all the money. If that is the case, he is a cold-blooded murderer and should be punished.’

‘I agree, of course I do. But where is the proof? Why should he run if he had killed her?’

Munio was scathing. ‘If he didn’t, why did he run away before seeking out and killing the real murderer? Can you imagine a chivalrous man leaving his fiancée’s corpse like that? Any knight would try to seek the murderer.’

‘I have no power to arrest him in Portugal or anywhere.’

‘So you will question him,’ Munio said. ‘And he will go unpunished.’

Baldwin nodded slowly. The thought in Munio’s mind was easy to read. The Pesquisidor wanted the man killed. ‘If he is a Brother in the Order of Christ by the time I get there, there is nothing I can do to have him punished. The Brothers will protect him.’

‘And meanwhile you will go about and in his place, seek the killer of an old beggar.’

‘If I can bring the man to–’

‘Yes. You want him more than Ramón. You think he deserves his punishment and you will visit it upon him. Why is that?’

Baldwin couldn’t meet his gaze. There was a deeper understanding in Munio’s eyes than he had expected, and he felt ashamed. Yes, he had been determined to go to Tomar, both because he wanted to find the murderer of Matthew, but also because he wanted to see a Templar site once more. He had heard that Tomar was unchanged, that the Portuguese King Dinis had no wish to lose the powerful army that had helped to protect his Kingdom, and had therefore allowed the Order to continue in all but name. Striking the words ‘and the Temple of Solomon’ from their name satisfied the Pope, as did the statement that the new Brothers were all recruited from untainted men who had nothing to do with their forebears, although Baldwin suspected that many among them must have had some links to his old Order.

It was not only that, though. Munio had hit the nail on the head with that astute comment: Baldwin wanted to serve justice on the murderer of a man who had once been his companion-at-arms. This confession made Baldwin feel ashamed. He had truly sought to treat one murder as somehow more worthy of justice than the other. When all his life since the destruction of the Templars had been focused on seeking an equality of justice for all, he now saw that in this strange city he had forgotten the basic principle of his own creed: that any murder victim deserved the same benefits from the law as any other.

Munio had not ceased to gaze at him, but now his expression was less bitter, and he poured some wine into a cup for Baldwin, lifting it to him. ‘Have a little of this.’

‘Señor, my shame knows no bounds.’

‘A little humility is good,’ Munio said while he poured himself a large cup. He took a gulp and swallowed with satisfaction. ‘Ah! A good wine, that. Yes, but too much humility is self-indulgent, I always think. I knew a man a little like Matthew once, and he burned at the sight of any injustice, just as you do. He was formed from much the same mould. Once he had been a clavero in the Order of Santiago, a very important man, as you can imagine: the man who held all the keys for a great fort. One day that good man learned that some of the Order’s expensive goods had disappeared, and he sought to find the thief, but the Order’s Maestre accused him of taking it – saying that he was bound to be the one responsible since he had all the keys in his possession.’