The Templar

‘Your horse?’ he repeated, a faintly anxious expression rising to his face. He was a typically swarthy, unhealthy-looking serf, vacuous and incompetent — and right this minute as nervous as any felon caught filching a lord or lady’s purse.

‘Yes,’ she said tightly, ‘my horse. I left her with you while I went into the Cathedral. Perhaps you remember now?’

‘But the man …’

‘What man?’ she snorted. His manner was shifty; why she had left her mare with him, she didn’t know. Looking at him now, it seemed obvious he was a wastrel. He’d taken her mount and probably sold it already. ‘Where is my horse, you thief?’

‘My lady, please don’t shout!’ he begged, his hands up, but it was too late. There was whispering and now a space opened about them as the crowd became willing and eager witnesses. Among the voices, Dona Stefania heard muttering as other pilgrims realised that this fellow had not just robbed any old pilgrim, he had taken a lady’s horse, and a lady of the cloth at that. There were many who would be ready to hang a man for that.

‘You have my horse? Good. Where is it?’ she said, her voice cold and relentless.

‘But you asked me to deliver the horse, and I did.’

‘What do you mean?’ she scoffed. ‘I told you to keep the horse for me and I would pay you when I had visited the Cathedral. Now you suggest I asked you to sell it and keep the money yourself, I suppose? You do know the penalties for those who rob pilgrims?’

Turning, she saw Joana behind her. She opened her mouth to command her maid to seek an official to arrest the peasant, but now the momentum of her speech was lost and the groom’s desperate voice was winning support from others in the crowd.

‘No, lady!’ he pleaded. ‘When you were going inside, your man came here and told me to give him the horse. He said he would take it to you because you felt faint and were going to ride to an inn. He paid me, too.’

‘What man, eh? I see no one! Joana? I want you …’

‘He took the horse and led it away.’

‘A likely story!’

Now a basket-seller spoke up. ‘It’s true. I was here when the man came up. The boy was reluctant to hand over the horse, but this man, he accused the boy of calling him a liar. What else could the lad do?’

‘What sort of man was this?’ asked a suspicious-looking fellow who stood with his thumbs in his broad belt.

‘Looked like a felon, but he had something about him, you know?’ the helpful basket-seller said when the boy plainly wasn’t going to reply; he was overawed and terrified that he could be accused and found guilty of theft. ‘He wasn’t tall, but hunched, and very broad about the shoulder, like one who’s used to work — but his hands weren’t dirty, so he was more like a knight than a peasant. Had a head that was sort of tilted to one side, like this, as if he had a pain in his neck.’

There was some sympathetic noise from the crowd. Clearly most felt that the lad had done his best, and any boy who was threatened had a right to protect himself.

‘That’s all very well, but how do I know you aren’t in league with this fellow yourself?’ demanded the Prioress.

‘Lady, I am only trying to help.’

‘Of course you are!’ she said sarcastically, and threw a look at Joana. The description was all too familiar — but why should Domingo take her horse? More probably, this ‘witness’ had seen Domingo with her earlier, and thought this was a good way to deflect attention from the kid. Except there was an indefinable tone of conviction in his voice.

‘The horse might be found,’ Joana said. ‘Shouldn’t we go and look? In which direction was it taken?’

Dona Stefania could have stamped her foot in frustration. This was not how she had intended spending her afternoon. Glancing over the crowds, she wondered where that oaf Frey Ramon had gone, but it was too late and he had disappeared. He wasn’t here, and neither was her mare.

‘Ballocks!’ she said viciously in English, but the folk about her merely stared uncomprehendingly.

Joana alone understood, and she was waiting when her lady joined her and spoke from the corner of her mouth. ‘It was him took my horse, was it, your damned cousin? Why should he steal my horse?’

‘If he did,’ Joana said soothingly, ‘I assume it was because he saw it held by a stranger and sought to protect your property.’

‘Don’t give me that,’ Dona Stefania snorted. ‘He’s a thief and a leader of thieves. When he saw a horse waiting with a groom, he saw a profit to be made, and that’s all.’

‘Perhaps I can find him and ask …’

‘Ask him what?’ Dona Stefania hissed with frustration. ‘There’s no time — look at the sun. No, there’s no choice: I’ll have to use your mount, Joana.’

‘Dona Stefania, let me go instead.’