The Last Templar

Chapter Five

When Black came back out again, he was amused to see that the two had obviously quarrelled. It was plain from their silence, from the fixity of their stares – which were aimed anywhere but at each other – and from the grin on Edgar’s face as he stood a little behind the two of them, out of their sight.

When Black looked at the servant enquiringly, Edgar merely shrugged, the indication of disinterest being totally refuted by his simultaneously expanding smile. The hunter was not aware, but Edgar was, only too painfully, of how close Baldwin had been to death in the previous year. Since then, since his suffering from the brain fever, he had been regularly morose and taciturn, rarely allowing a smile to crack his features, almost never showing petulance or selfishness of any sort, but continuing quietly and with a gentle calm, eternally grateful for the kindly ministrations of his servant. It was a delight as well as a relief for Edgar to see his master in an argumentative mood once more.

The four men slowly made their way back up the street, Black pointing out the houses and indicating the people who lived in each. They were all very much the same, built of the same materials and to the same size. Some had the small front door for the human occupants, each had a larger door, or pair of doors, at the side for the larger inhabitants – the oxen, pigs and goats that represented that family’s wealth. The small, unglazed windows peered at them with apparently bovine calm, as though intrigued by these curious creatures, but not in any way scared or threatened. From the thatch, the smoke drifted aimlessly in the still air, small wisps and tendrils breaking free to climb up the pitch of the roofs before dispersing at the top, like morning mist under the sunshine.

They had almost passed the inn when Baldwin halted, spun round and rushed in through the door. Simon and the others stood and waited, and soon he came out again, the landlord drifting along behind him.

He was a huge man, the innkeeper. He was only a couple of years older than Simon, or so the bailiff thought, but he gave the impression of vast knowledge. The appearance of accumulated learning was helped by his head, which was bald. But that was due to his shaving his pate every morning. His eyes were cheerful and twinkling, deep-set under a heavy, sloping brow, and, looking oddly out of place, his jaw and upper lip were covered in a thick and bushy growth of dark hair, making him appear inside out somehow, as if there had been an accident at his birth leaving his whole body inverted. His tunic was filthy, but then that hardly mattered in the darkness of his hall, and its pale, stained front seemed to have served as a cleaning implement, apron, carrying sack for wood and meat, and towel as well as clothing. In fairness, its size made it an ideal means of transport. The man’s girth was vast, and any cloth that could encompass his belly, Simon thought, would be able to carry a significant load of goods.

“Black, your wife said that Brewer was a heavy drinker, yes? Good, now, innkeeper, tell these men what you just told me,” said Baldwin, motioning towards the little group.

The innkeeper leaned back against his wall, rubbing his hands on his noisome tunic, and gave a quick belch. “About old Harold Brewer, sirs. He was here last night. He came in, like normal, just after dusk and stayed until too late. I suppose it must’ve been gone eleven by the time he went. It must’ve been getting close to the middle watches.”

“So he decided to go home then?” Simon asked.

“Well.” The man’s eyes were sly, and almost seemed about to wink. “Well, no, he didn’t decide to go. I decided for him. He was getting loud again, and when he started his roaring I let him know he might be better off in his bed.”

Baldwin leaned forward. “You got him outside, you put him into the lane. What then? Please tell my friends.”

“Well, I got him out, and there was this other man walking up it, going his way. I called out to him, said, ”Take this one with you, we’ve had enough for one night,“ and he seemed to be happy enough to help. He came over and took Brewer by the arm. Well, that was enough for me, I went back inside to clear up.”

“But, as far as you could see, this man was taking Brewer home with him?”

“Oh, yes. Even after I shut the door, I could hear Harold shouting and cursing him. He wanted more ale, he wanted to stay here, he wasn’t ready to go home yet. ”Course, he wasn’t getting any more to drink from me. He was ready to start a fight again – and I’ve had enough of him fighting in my inn over the years. I felt sorry for the man, though. It sounded like he was getting the rough end of Harold’s tongue alright.“

“Didn’t you see who it was, this helpful stranger?” said Simon, and the twinkling, merry eyes were fixed on him. For an instant he saw through the friendly exterior, to the selfishness, the disinterest that lay behind, before the facade dropped down again like a portcullis.

“No. It was dark and I had just come out of the inn. I could only make out a figure, and I shut the door as soon as I called out to him. No, I never saw who it was, and I wasn’t very interested. All I wanted by then was to get Harold out and get up to my bed.”

The men left him at the door to his inn and made their way farther up the street, Black seeming deep in thought, and Simon staring at Baldwin with an expression of puzzlement. “So how can we find out who this man was?”

The knight turned and faced him with a smile. “We ask people, Simon. We ask people.”