The Templar, the Queen and Her Lover: (Knights Templar 24)

by Michael Jecks

  These last were a shockingly scruffy lot. Their leader was clad in a tabard with her insignia, but although the material was clean and fresh he managed somehow to make it look ancient. This man, Ricard, introduced a tubby, younger man called Adam, fair-haired and tousled; then a slender fellow with bright eyes and the manner of a sparrow; then a heavier-set drummer with lowered, suspicious eyes, and finally a tall fellow with the delightful lilt of the Irish. He bowed most graciously, and she honoured him with a smile and slight nod of her head.

  His tones reminded her of Mortimer. That poor man had been successful in Ireland before he had fallen from grace. He’d been sent there to stop the ravages of the Scottish, and it was largely because of his efforts that the Gallowglasses had been thrown into the northern seas.

  ‘Blaket, I am glad you shall join us on this,’ she said to Richard.

  He nodded, his eyes reflecting his pride in her words. Alicia was just behind her, and she saw his gaze go to her. But then Isabella saw how his eyes darkened as he took in the sight of the musicians.

  It was enough to make her smile. The group was careful to avoid looking at Alicia, she noticed, and there was no surprise there. After the way their companion had insulted her the last time they had played in the palace, it was wonderful that they had dared to return here. But they were reliable. Not only were they competent as musicians (though not as good as some of the singers she was more used to), they were also known to her. The fact that they had behaved rather disreputably on the last occasion meant that this time they would be sure to be more cautious in their manners. She did not wish for any bad feeling to be caused by fools who were supposed to be there for entertainment just because they grew lecherous towards some French girls.

  No, she was content. Blaket might be unhappy to see them – Alicia must have told him how the man had attempted to molest her – but they would serve her purposes.

  ‘Is that boy with you?’ she asked suddenly.

  The leader of the musicians reddened and grunted that yes, he was a little lad whose mother was dead, and they had—

  ‘No, that is enough. Bring him here to me.’

  She studied the little fellow with a heart that felt taut and painful. ‘He is a handsome little man. I like his face. He reminds me of my brother when I was a child myself.’

  ‘Your majesty, would you mind if I brought him with me? There is no one I can leave him with in safety, and I would be anxious for him all the time.’

  The Queen considered, then nodded. ‘And if you have trouble arranging transport – for he will not be able to walk all the way – you have my permission to put him into one of the carts. He is very young.’

  She had thanked them all for joining her on her journey, and now she watched them depart to prepare for the start.

  ‘Well, Alicia? What do you think?’

  ‘The musicians could do with a good clean. De Bouden promised me that he had seen them washed.’

  ‘He lied,’ Isabella said. She looked about her. Eleanor was at the far end of the room, briefing the ladies-in-waiting who would be travelling with her, and was for a moment out of earshot. ‘Which was the man who tried to rape you?’

  ‘He was not here.’ Alicia smiled. ‘Perhaps he was too nervous to come with them.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Richard Blaket said. He had approached them from the doorway, and now he stood gazing after the men as they left. ‘He is not there. The Irishman has replaced him.’

  ‘Good,’ the Queen said. As she spoke, she saw her chaplain in the doorway and beckoned him. ‘I am thankful you too will join me, Peter.’

  ‘I am glad that my presence comforts you,’ he responded. ‘Although whether there can be a happy conclusion to the embassy, I doubt.’

  ‘Let us hope that there may be,’ she said.

  Thorney Island

  Baldwin was glad to be out of the little chamber, and as he walked along the corridor which led to the great hall and out to the palace yard before it, he was aware of Sir Charles’s footsteps behind him.

  ‘Sir Baldwin, a moment, sir.’

  ‘It is a pleasure to see you again, Sir Charles.’

  There was a laziness in Sir Charles’s eye that betrayed his mood. He was amused to see how Sir Baldwin had hurried from the room. ‘You are as easy in the presence of royalty, I see, as you always were in any other company.’

  ‘I don’t know that I understand you,’ Baldwin said. He was reluctant to consider their last meetings on Ennor. During his time there, to his shame, he had committed adultery with a lonely woman, and the memory was still painful – especially the aftermath when he returned to England and his wife once more. ‘But tell me, how is it that you are now a household knight?’

  ‘When the last time you saw me I was a desolate renegade, you mean?’ Sir Charles said sharply – and then laughed aloud at the sight of Baldwin’s face. ‘Don’t take me too seriously, Sir Baldwin. I am permitted a sense of humour, I think.’

  ‘There is much about you which appears to have changed,’ Baldwin said.

  ‘It is some little while since we were thrown up on the beaches of Ennor, is it not? One year and a half, and yet it could be a decade for me. We parted in Cornwall, did we not? I made my way to London, hoping that I might find some position which would be not too arduous, while not attracting too much attention from any enemies – such as men in the King’s employ! But when I was discovered by one of them, to my astonishment I learned that I was not considered a dangerous enemy of the King, as I had expected, but was fully pardoned.’

  ‘Why would that be?’

  ‘Ah. Well, I happened upon an old friend. Do you know Sir John de Somery? He is a knight banneret in the King’s household. There are few enough of them, in God’s name. Time was, back in the tenth year of the King’s reign, when there were some fourteen or fifteen. Now there are three. At the same time the King has reduced his knights from almost fifty to about half that.’

  ‘I am surprised.’

  ‘So was I. But he had so many who proved to be unreliable. Men who agreed to serve him in exchange for clothing, food and drink, and living at his expense, are fewer than those who seek money. Why, Sir John de Somery receives two hundred marks for his service, along with thirty men-at-arms. It is a better way for the King to remain armed and stable.’

  ‘You mean that a man will be more loyal to a mark than to his oath?’ Baldwin asked.

  ‘Ach, you are one of the old breed, Sir Baldwin. Believe me, this is the way of the future. Kings cannot expect men to fight and die at their side just because of the past. A man will fight when he can see that his service will enrich him, though.’

  ‘Not I.’

  ‘So you have no need of money. I envy you. Me, I need a new horse. And when I find one, I shall require a good saddle for him. And a decent courser must have the best provisions. Some the King will provide, of course, but for the rest, well, perhaps I shall have to buy it myself. And now I can.’

  ‘Tell me, though, what of your service to Thomas of Lancaster? Did that not give the King some pause for thought? Surely a man who was the loyal retainer of an enemy – for that was how the King viewed his cousin – would have been viewed askance?’

  ‘Not today, old friend. No, you saw the man beside me in there? Sir John de Sapy? He was a member of the household six or seven years ago, but during the Lancaster rebellion he was on my side. We were companions in the Earl’s host. Yet he too has been received with a welcome back into the King’s fold. It helped him that he was ever a friend of Sir Hugh le Despenser, of course.’

  ‘Oh. Any friend of Sir Hugh’s is to be received with honour into the King’s service, then?’ Baldwin said with a sinking feeling.

  ‘Afraid so. Personally, I dislike the man intensely, but it has to be said, he has the kingdom clenched in his fist. There is nothing that happens in the realm without his approval.’

  ‘What of the other knight? Sir Peter?’

  ‘Lymesey? Did you never hear of th
e lady in Warwickshire? Forget her name, but it was Sir Peter who took all her lands, and when she tried to have her case heard in court, he prevented it. It’s the first time I’ve heard of an assize of novel disseisin being abandoned because a knight threatened all concerned that they’d be burned, maimed or murdered if they continued. One has to admire the determination of a man like that.’

  ‘No,’ Baldwin said with determination. ‘I fear I cannot agree with you.’ To himself he added that such dishonourable behaviour was the mark of a thief, not a noble.

  ‘No matter. I refuse to argue with you, old friend. Yet you will have to respect them both, for we are all bound to protect her majesty on the way to meet the French king.’

  ‘Tell me about this journey,’ Baldwin said, glad to move the conversation away from the behaviour of other knights.

  ‘Ah. That. Yes. It may be a challenging duty, I fear. The Queen’s task is to persuade her brother to give up all the lands he’s just managed to take from our king. Yet short of planning a full-scale invasion of Guyenne, there is little our Edward can do to regain them. King Charles must know he has the whip hand.’

  ‘Yet he will surely not wish to leave his own sister with egg smeared on her face?’

  Charles shrugged. ‘He is a man – she is a woman who’s married his enemy. What would you do?’

  ‘She is the mother of the future king of England too,’ Baldwin pointed out. ‘Surely King Charles would not wish to deprive his nephew of his inheritance?’

  ‘If he could force the boy to pay homage for them, he’d probably be glad of the chance to have the English prince bend the knee to him. But it’ll be a while before the prince becomes king. He is still young, and so is his father. There is no sign of the good King Edward suffering an early death.’

  ‘So her mission will be a challenge. What of our duties?’

  ‘There are we knights, also Lord John, of course, and the men-at-arms. I think that we will present enough force to guarantee our safety on the way. However, it is rumoured that many, including the traitor Mortimer, could be preparing a welcome for us. That is what I fear more than anything: the attacks of our king’s enemies while we are abroad.’

  ‘I see. But as you say, we shall be a strong enough force to defend ourselves from most attacks.’

  ‘I do so hope.’

  Chapter Nine

  Alehouse at gateway, Thorney Island

  Ricard and the others gladly agreed to the stranger’s suggestion that they might repair to the alehouse. It was always one of their favourite meeting houses, and the weather was growing cold, so they all trooped into the alehouse and ordered ale, before sitting and talking.

  His name, so he said, was Jack of Dublin. His story was short enough: he had been a loyal servant of the King in his homeland, fighting the murderous bastards from Scotland who served under the Bruce, and when they had succeeded in destroying the invaders Jack had returned to England to see a little of how the world worked. There was more to life than living in a provincial city like Dublin, he said with a smile.

  ‘There’s also more to being a musician than talking about it,’ Ricard said. ‘Or impressing a queen with a bow. How good’s your playing?’

  When Philip and Adam grunted their agreement, he led them out to their cart. From it he pulled his gittern, listening to the tune of the strings. His citole he left wrapped. It was too valuable to him to keep wrapping and unwrapping. Better to leave it. The gittern was a cheaper instrument, the one that he took into taverns and alehouses. Janin had already begun to crank the handle of his hurdy-gurdy, and now Adam started to pipe a tune, while Philip tapped out the beat. Charlie stood watching them all open-mouthed.

  When they re-joined the Irishman, Jack set his pack on the floor and took up a large cylinder of leather. Grinning, he untied a buckle and withdrew a large bodhran and stick. He set it on his knee, his head bent as he listened to the tune, and then nodded once and began to beat the drum. Yet he didn’t use the simple rhythm of the others, but instead beat at double the pace, thundering on the skin as though he was galloping while the others ambled. And he could vary the sound by pressing on the back of the skin, so that it sounded more firm and powerful, or taut and crisp.

  ‘You’re called Jack, you say?’ Ricard said as they finished.

  ‘Yes. What do you think?’

  ‘I think we need to talk before making a firm decision,’ Ricard said, glancing at the others as he spoke.

  Jack nodded and told them he would wait to hear their decision – he would be outside. He stood and walked from the room without once looking back, to Ricard’s annoyance; he would have preferred even a brief sign of doubt. This man appeared to have the arrogance of a bishop.

  ‘Well?’ Philip asked.

  ‘He can play,’ Ricard admitted.

  ‘Play? He beat the shite out of Peter’s playing. I miss Peter, but God’s teeth!’ Adam contributed. ‘I mean, I’m sorry, but I can’t lie. I miss Peter, but Jack is better than Peter would ever have been. Did you see how fast his drumming was? I could hardly see the stick in his hand, it was moving so quickly.’

  ‘Why is he suddenly here?’ Philip wondered.

  ‘Who cares? We could do with a decent drummer.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  Adam suddenly realised what he had said. ‘Sorry, Philip. No offence meant; I was thinking of him compared with Peter.’

  ‘You should remember not to speak ill of the dead,’ Ricard said quickly before an argument could erupt.

  ‘For my money, we shouldn’t take him,’ Janin said.

  ‘Why?’ Adam demanded. ‘I mean, I’m sorry, but he’s easily the best I’ve heard in a while, and we could do with someone who can pick up a tune that quickly.’

  Janin shook his head slowly. ‘I don’t think it’d show much respect for our old companion if we were to replace him so soon after his death. It hardly shows much feeling for him, does it?’

  ‘Marg would understand,’ Ricard said. Margaret, Peter’s widow, was sensible enough. She had a good head on her shoulders, and she would know the sort of pressures that were being exerted on them without her husband’s tabor.

  ‘Marg may, yes – but the problem is not her. It’s him. Jack. Who is he? Where did he come from? He saw us playing, and suddenly appeared. Just when we lost our main drummer. That to me seems a bit too much of a coincidence.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Janin!’ Adam scoffed. ‘You trying to tell me that he had some part in killing Peter to join us? Look at us! Who’d want to join in with us unless he was keen on the music? And I have never heard of a man killing a musician to join a band, have you? It’s more normal to join in with some music and see if you fit – just as Jack did just now. No, I say we let him join us. We could do with him, and he’s keen.’

  ‘Janin?’ Ricard asked. He was watching the hurdy-gurdy player closely.

  ‘I’m not happy about him. He looks the part, yes, but I just have this odd feeling that he’s not all he makes out to be.’

  ‘So do I,’ Philip said with a glower at Adam.

  ‘So it’s two for, two against,’ Adam said.

  ‘No,’ Ricard said. ‘I agree with Janin. I think we shouldn’t have any new member. And I don’t like the way he just appeared today, one day before we leave with the Queen’s party. It seems odd, that. Just think, were something to happen, if he turned out to be an assassin or something, and tried to kill her, we’d all be taken and tortured as a matter of routine. I don’t want to be crippled because we took a drummer in a hurry.’

  ‘But he’s the best I’ve heard!’ Adam protested.

  ‘If he’s so keen to join us, he’ll wait for us to get back. In any case, he may not even want to travel to France. Why should he? He’d probably be more than happy here.’

  ‘You’ve already introduced him to the Queen,’ Adam pointed out.

  ‘No. He tagged along while we introduced ourselves. There’s a difference,’ Ricard said. But he hoped the Queen would appreciat
e it.

  Jack the Irishman was waiting outside as they all trooped out, and eyed them briefly before his gaze settled on Ricard.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Ricard said. ‘The trouble is, you see, we’re off tomorrow, and the idea of taking on someone new just now is a bit hard. When we’re back, maybe? Look, tell us where we can find you, and we’ll look out for you when we’re back.’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry. I can find you,’ Jack said, smiling. He shrugged. ‘It’s a pity, though. I like your music. You play with a sense of fun – there aren’t many musicians can do that.’

  ‘Aye, well. Sorry.’ Ricard was suddenly uncomfortable. This man had the most penetrating gaze of anyone he’d ever met. ‘Right, well, we’d best be off, then. Packing the last odds and sods.’

  ‘Oh? I thought this was all your stuff,’ Jack said, glancing pointedly at their packs. When his gaze rose to Ricard again, there was a small smile at the edges of his mouth.

  ‘Goodbye. Godspeed, and maybe we’ll see you when we’re back,’ Ricard said uncomfortably.

  Baldwin saw the little group of musicians and a small boy crossing the yard, but thought nothing of them. He was considering Sir Charles’s words and trying to find any comfort he could. There was little enough, he had to conclude. He was riding to a dangerous foreign land with a lord whose allegiance was probably to the King alone, with two knights who were simple mercenaries who were most likely in the pay of Sir Hugh le Despenser, an evil man whom Baldwin had cause to despise, and with Sir Charles, who would sell his mother, if he hadn’t already done so. And all these were with him to protect the Queen, a lady who clearly needed all the aid Baldwin could provide, but was the undoubted enemy of Despenser and was presently as good as estranged from her husband. The only reason she was being entrusted with this embassy was that her brother was the French king.

  He grunted to himself. It was not the most cheerful of reflections, he told himself. And there was one other aspect to this litany of woe: his position as a renegade Templar.