The Templar

‘The two, the cleric and the peasant — do you know their names?’

‘How should I?’ Don Ruy said dismissively. ‘I did not care for them.’

‘Don Ruy, I think you should consider very carefully,’ Baldwin said. ‘I do not think you appreciate your position! You have been accused of rape, blackmail and murder by a convincing witness, a Prioress. And you are here because of an abduction and a rape …’ he held up a hand to stem the sudden outburst. ‘It is what your papers say, Don Ruy! If you wish to be declared innocent, I suggest you begin by aiding us rather than putting blocks in our way.’

‘I am here because of an injustice,’ the other man spat. Then he admitted grudgingly, ‘The priestly-looking man was called Gregory. I didn’t speak to him. The other was called Parceval. A Fleming.’

Baldwin had been roughly translating for Simon every so often, to keep him in the picture. Now Simon said, ‘This Parceval who slept with her might easily have seen that she had money and concocted this story.’

Don Ruy was dubious. ‘He could have stolen it there and then.’

‘If he had, she would have known who had robbed her. It would have been easy to see to his capture,’ Simon pointed out.

‘Yes,’ Baldwin said. ‘She might have been unwilling to accuse him after a night of passion, but he couldn’t bank on that. Also Joana could herself have been the cause of her own death. She told others about her mistress’s affair — you yourself say you learned the woman’s identity because you overheard Joana mention it to someone. To whom was she talking, incidentally?’

‘I do not know. The two were in a chamber and I was outside. I heard the comment and a guffaw of laughter, but then I left. I do not like acting the spy on private conversations.’

‘A shame,’ Baldwin said unrepentantly, continuing in English for Simon’s benefit. ‘Perhaps someone else was told by this Parceval and saw a chance of making money; he threatened to blackmail Dona Stefania about her peccadillo.’

‘I am troubled by Joana’s part though,’ Simon said thoughtfully.

‘Oh? Why?’

‘Someone presumably spoke to her to warn of the blackmail, but who? And why should she assume it was Don Ruy, unless he went to her himself? If he had a servant, I should suspect him, but Don Ruy travelled here alone.’

‘Unless Joana did intend to rob her own mistress and invented Don Ruy’s blackmail attempt,’ Baldwin said.

‘Then there is the nature of her death,’ Simon continued. ‘This was a strange attack. It might have been committed by a berserker.’ He looked over the crowds of people. He saw Matthew, and was about to wave, but it would have been an incongruous action. In any case, Matthew was joining with other beggars for once. He was sitting next to a large woman, Maria de Venialbo.

‘Or someone like the Fleming,’ Baldwin nodded, speaking for him, ‘who was unused to killing. They wanted to stop her blabbing about the blackmail, but they panicked at the sight of blood and went into a frenzy.’

‘Aye. Unless it was just someone who hated the girl and sought to murder her.’

Baldwin looked up suddenly. ‘No. The Dona said that she had been intending to go, but her maid advised against it, and went in her place. If the motive was hatred, the culprit was someone who detested Dona Stefania herself, not Joana, and sought to kill her.’

‘Bugger!’ Simon exclaimed. ‘That means she could still be in danger.’

‘No, Simon, it means she is still in danger.’ Baldwin scrutinised the people crowding the square. Where yesterday he had seen only happy, satisfied pilgrims and contented hawkers, now he saw a seething mass of humanity, a mix of hatreds and motives to kill, and in there amongst them all, was a murderer. Someone who could bring themselves to slaughter a Prioress.

Baldwin gave a long, puzzled sigh. Just then, he saw Don Ruy, who had left them and was now engaged in earnest conversation with the beggarwoman Maria across the square. After a short discussion, Maria took a coin from the knight and resignedly followed him when he strode away.

Chapter Thirteen

Dona Stefania bowed her head in the small lady chapel of the church and before she could frame her words, she felt her shoulders begin to shake uncontrollably.

Her sin was appalling. Yesterday she hadn’t been able to worry herself about it, because she was too tied up in the fact of Joana’s murder, but now she realised the enormity of her act. She had given away the life of her maid to save the little box in her purse.

How curious that she should have realised what she had done because of a stray word by that evil felon, Don Ruy. He had said it before the two Englishmen, commenting that he hadn’t tried to win the contents of her purse. An odd way of putting it, that. He hadn’t said he’d not tried to take her money, but the contents of her purse. Somehow, he had divined what she carried.