The Templar

Baldwin nodded, but the news gave him no comfort. If anything, being reminded of Afonso simply added to his mental confusion. There was no motive for this strange man, this mercenary, to attack Matthew, as Maria had said. An older man, perhaps, who had a grudge against the Templars — that could have been comprehensible, but Maria had said that he was a younger man — quite a lot younger. So what could have been his motive? It made no sense. A richer man trying to rob someone with nothing; a man with position killing a man with none; a young man killing an old one at the end of his life. There was no logic to it. Baldwin had mused over it all through the night while sitting at Simon’s bedside, and all day today it had never been far from his mind.

He needed more information. There was not enough to allow him to speculate. All he was convinced of was that Matthew had not died because he was a beggar. Beggars were sometimes killed, usually by drunks or arrogant fools who thought they were better than them, when the only difference between a knight and a man like Matthew was good or bad fortune.

There were men who believed that Templars were evil, but men who thought that way would not kill like an assassin in the street and run, they would usually confess and throw themselves on the mercy of the local court, expecting all other rational men to thank them for ridding the world of a foul parasite. Any man might execute a heretic, after all, and the Pope’s entourage had succeeded admirably in persuading the population of Europe that all Templars were little better than lackeys of the devil.

Munio was still toying with the little casket. When the men pulled Domingo away from Simon, this little box had been gripped tightly in his hand. Munio had cleaned it and opened it to reveal the bone; both he and Sir Baldwin were convinced that it must be something with religious significance, but there had been no reports of any missing relics. Maybe Domingo and his men had stolen it in France or further away.

‘I wish I could make sense of Matthew’s death. Why should this Afonso kill him?’ Baldwin fretted.

‘You are greatly exercised by the death of a single beggar.’

‘Even a beggar deserves justice,’ Baldwin said sanctimoniously.

‘Perhaps,’ Munio said, but without humour. ‘But so does a young woman, whose life has been cut short.’

‘I know. Both are equal in importance.’

‘Are they?’ Munio asked. ‘Forgive me, but you appear to have discounted the girl’s life already.’

‘Not at all,’ Baldwin assured him. ‘I am as keen as ever to catch her murderer — but with Ramon gone, I do not see how to proceed, whereas a witness gave us the name of Matthew’s killer.’

‘I keep thinking: but where is the money?’ Munio said.

‘Well, we now know that Domingo and his men were penniless. So that makes it less likely that they killed Joana,’ Baldwin acknowledged. ‘And this box and its contents is hardly the sort of thing that could be easily sold. Unless they intended selling it here to the Cathedral?’

‘If they had, it would have involved lengthy negotiations. The Church does not approve of buying back things which are Her own.’

‘The lack of money does not justify assuming that Ramon was the murderer,’ said Baldwin.

‘I do not like to accuse a Knight of Santiago. But he left the city, and no one here appears to have suddenly grown wealthy,’ Munio pointed out. ‘Surely the money could have been removed from the city. Where better, than to be taken out of Galicia itself, carried by a man who has declared himself to be so overwhelmed with grief that he must leave the country? Ramon was there, he saw Joana, he lied to you and he fled. Who else can I suspect?’

‘We know Ramon was there,’ Munio continued sombrely. ‘Domingo went up there later, but if Domingo took the cash, he’d have spent it or run. Yet he did neither.’

He stood, the casket still in his hand. ‘This man Ramon has many questions to answer.’

Chapter Twenty

Simon came to feeling groggy and lethargic, and stared at an unfamiliar ceiling. For some reason it was very dark, and he thought at first that he must have woken during the night, but then he saw the light in thin streams that reached across the floor. There were shutters here which were covering the window.