The Templar's Penance

Chapter Twelve

At a tree some tens of yards away, Parceval heard her screech and glanced up with a sudden coldness in his chest as though he was going to witness her death again, this time while he was sober. It made his bones feel as though they had turned to lard, his blood seeming to clog in his veins, as though time was standing still, so that he could extract every last tiny moment of horror from this scene.

The drinking horn which he had grasped fell from his nerveless fingers even as his eyes fearfully took in the sight – and a tidal wave of relief flooded over him.

He watched as the Prioress pelted across the square towards the Cathedral, his fingers beginning a brief fluttering as though nerves had been trapped and were now renewed as the sensation returned to them, but inside, all he felt was self-loathing and sickness. She had been so perfect, his daughter, and now she was destroyed utterly. All because of Hellin van Coye. ‘Damn you, you …’

But there were no words foul enough to suit Hellin van Coye. Parceval waved at the wine-seller and acquired a fresh horn, paying with a gold coin. In his distraction, he waved the man away without checking his change, and realised later that he had given the potman more than enough for three jugs, and although he felt annoyed to have wasted money, he had plenty more. No, the only thing that concerned him was that others shouldn’t realise how much cash he carried with him. That was a real problem. He didn’t want people to even remotely suspect that he was no more a scruffy peasant than the Bishop was. Hellin had friends all over the world, and one of them might take it upon himself to ensure that Hellin’s murderer didn’t have to worry himself about the return trip to Ypres.

He would protect himself against any attacker, he vowed, surreptitiously fingering his knife’s hilt. As he repeated his oath to himself, his gaze drifted over the people in the square and just for one moment, he saw a face staring at him, and he felt as though Hellin’s ghost had paraded in front of him.

It was the face of a man who was looking for someone. Parceval slowly edged backwards, into the shelter of a chestnut tree, and stared fixedly at the point where he had seen the man. No, he was wrong. It had to be a fellow looking for a friend. The face was familiar, anyway. Where had he seen the man before … Aha! It was Gregory, the priest who’d walked with their group from before Orthez. That was all right, then. Phew! There was nothing scary about him, nothing in the slightest.

Parceval felt the worry falling from his back like a weight. For now, he must return to the room he had hired. The woman who owned it was a terrible old harridan, who stared at him as though assuming he was going to walk off with her best bed and blankets. Stupid bloody bitch! Her stuff was adequate, but no more. At least it meant that he had a base.

He stared once again at Gregory. There was nothing wrong with keeping an eye on him, just in case. And if Gregory turned out to be any sort of a threat, he’d break the bloody bastard’s head!

Don Ruy stood with Simon and Baldwin for some while after the Prioress had left them, apparently still in a state of shock from her accusations. At last he surrendered himself to bellows of laughter, sitting and holding his flanks helplessly.

‘She is mad!’ he choked at last, glancing at Baldwin. ‘Does she mean to accuse every man in the city in rotation?’

‘I had thought that she wanted the knowledge of her carnal adventure to remain hidden,’ Baldwin said, gazing after her curiously. ‘It is almost as though she would admit to sleeping with a man in order to deny murder.’

‘Perhaps the thought that a man could have robbed her, and then done away with her maid, has made her so angry, she can only see the immediacy of her need for vengeance.’

‘Perhaps. In the meantime, what would you say of this Ramón?’

‘Him? A grey, unintelligent man, but honourable enough.’

‘Would you think him capable of killing his own lover and taking her mistress’s money?’

‘That is a foul suggestion. I should be unwilling to accuse any knight of such behaviour.’

‘The Doña was happy to accuse you.’

‘I know, but I cannot understand. How could she possibly accuse me of such a terrible thing?’

‘She was entirely convinced, I should say,’ Baldwin said. ‘What did you think, Simon?’

‘Me? What do I know?’ Simon said with some asperity. ‘I can’t understand a word you’re saying. But I think this man is more concerned than guilty. He doesn’t look like a felon to me, and if he’s so hard up for money that he needs to blackmail, how on earth did he afford those clothes?’

Baldwin smiled slightly and related the story that Doña Stefanía had told. ‘When she left us, she looked as though she was rushing off to the Cathedral to pray to Saint James, to ask him who had robbed her.’ He then added as an afterthought: ‘And murdered Joana, of course.’

‘I don’t know what she said about things,’ Simon said pensively, ‘but I’ll tell you this: she was glad to get that story off her chest. If anything happens to her now, it’s this knight who’ll suffer for it. No one else would be considered.’

‘No. I wonder what parts of the story were true?’

‘The sleeping with a pilgrim was true. The flush that came to her face was genuine, or I’m a peasant. After that, I don’t know what she was talking about, but the anger and fear in her eyes when she looked at this knight was real, I’d reckon. She looked terrified, and obviously believed that her maid had been murdered by him – if she believed that story about the blackmail.’

‘Yes, but do we believe it?’ Baldwin said, glancing at Don Ruy de Benavente again.

‘If I could understand a word of what was being said, I’d be able to advise. As it is, though, how the hell should I know?’ Simon groused. ‘You twitter on with these others so quickly, I don’t know what’s going on.’

‘Do you need help, Masters?’ asked a new voice.

Baldwin turned round. ‘Good day to you Matthew. I think that the short answer to that is “Yes”, but we can’t ask for it just now. The girl who was murdered was apparently carrying a large sum of money, and we are trying to find it.’

‘You think he might have it?’ Matthew asked, staring at Don Ruy.

‘Stranger things have happened,’ Baldwin chuckled and watched as the beggar moved off again among the crowds. When he turned back to Simon, his expression was pensive. ‘You are right – this is nothing to do with us. Perhaps I should simply tell that to Munio and leave the whole thing to him.’

‘Just ask Don Ruy: did he try to demand money?’

Baldwin shrugged and did so.

‘Me? Of course not!’ the man snapped, his patience gone. ‘I certainly saw her in flagrante with that peasant Parceval, the nasty little man from Flanders, but I wouldn’t dream of demanding money from her. Why, I wouldn’t do that to the lowliest serving girl, let alone a Prioress – if she is one! She says she is, but she behaved more like a whore from Malpertugio! I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that she is less honourable than she avows. I saw her, after all, with her legs spread as wide as a whale’s mouth, ready to engulf any man who came near. It was just the bad luck of the peasant that she caught him.’ He laughed briefly. ‘Snared like a man in a bear trap.’

‘You mentioned Malpertugio – the “Evil Hole” of Naples where they have the fleshpots,’ Baldwin said. ‘You have been there?’

‘A few times. It’s a fine city. I don’t go to the Malpertugio myself, of course.’

‘Of course not,’ Baldwin said suavely. ‘Yet the Prioress was engaged in that form of entertainment.’

‘And not as an unwilling victim as she pretends,’ Don Ruy stated. ‘She was enthusiastic as hell. In fact, I didn’t realise that she was the Prioress. When I walked in on them, she was underneath him with her head towards me, and seeing a naked woman upside down … well, it’s not so easy to recognise someone you hardly know. It was only later I realised who it was.’

‘Why? Did you wait and see who came out of the room?’

‘No, of course not! As soon as my eyes had accustomed themselves to the light and I realised what they were up to, I left them to it. Not knowing who it was, I had no interest. It was merely two adults rutting in a shed. No, I only realised the next day, when I heard the Prioress’s maid talking to another girl. They were giggling about it. I suppose all servants when they are alone laugh about the peccadillos of their masters and mistresses. It must amuse them no end.’

‘And you thought you might be able to take advantage of her yourself?’ Baldwin suggested.

‘No! I am here on pilgrimage, not to fornicate!’

His outrage seemed unfeigned. Baldwin shot a look at Simon, but his friend was merely gazing at the two of them with an expression of bemusement. ‘So what then? The Prioress says you tried to blackmail her. You say you did not. She says you demanded to see her yesterday, you say you did not. Yet you were there at the place where this woman died. Tell me, why did you follow her? To demand sex?’

‘I am a pilgrim,’ Don Ruy said steadily. ‘I do not need to explain myself to you or to anyone.’

‘No, but it might be easier if you were to do so. Perhaps I could see your pass? You have authorisation from your master to undertake the pilgrimage?’

‘I see no need to show you or anyone else my credentials!’

‘Very well. I shall mention this conversation to the Pesquisidor and leave the matter there.’

‘I am not scared by your threats.’

‘It is not a threat,’ Baldwin said, bored with his prevarication. ‘It is merely that I seek to assist the officer of the law in this city. If there is something he should know, I will tell him – it is my duty. You admit that it is suspicious that a woman of the cloth appears to believe you were blackmailing her; that her maid went, so she thought, to see you, and was murdered; and that all her money is gone. And you admit that you followed after the woman, but can’t tell us much about what you were doing. Can you really be surprised that I think you would do well to explain yourself?’

‘I am innocent of this crime!’ Don Ruy declared, but then appeared to reconsider. Reluctantly he slipped a hand into the bulky purse that dangled on his belt. ‘I am unfairly accused – an innocent man, but you seem determined to expose my shame. Here, read this.’

He passed a parchment to Baldwin, who took it up. He turned to Simon. ‘This says that he was found guilty of raping a woman in Ghent in Flanders.’

Simon stirred and eyed the man intimidatingly. ‘He’s a rapist? And the dead maid was raped, wasn’t she?’

‘Yes,’ Baldwin agreed, reading. ‘And he was sent on this pilgrimage to make amends for his crime.’

Don Ruy understood some of their words and now he burst into an angry denunciation of his conviction, but Baldwin had to hold up his hands to slow the torrent. ‘Don Ruy, please speak more slowly. Let me translate for my friend here.’

‘The woman I was accused of raping was in fact my wife,’ Don Ruy said heatedly when Baldwin motioned to him to continue, and pulled a second page from his purse. While Baldwin studied it, Don Ruy continued, ‘The accusation was a false one, designed to embarrass me and prove that my marriage was null. I was accused of abducting her and raping her, but she was a willing lover for me, and it was her father, who sought to ruin my reputation, who deliberately brought me to this farce.’

After relaying his words to Simon, Baldwin said, ‘This second sheet confirms your marriage to the woman. So you deny the rape?’

‘Of course! But the court chose to ignore my statement. The Bishop himself told me to leave and undertake the pilgrimage.’

‘Why the Bishop?’

‘I was in his service. The matter was an embarrassment to him.’

Baldwin sipped at his wine. ‘I fear that the officers of this city would be keen to know all this. Yet you cannot tell me exactly what you were doing yesterday, so that I can clear you of the murder.’

‘I was alone. What else do you want me to say? I didn’t try to blackmail anyone, I haven’t raped anyone, and I certainly didn’t murder that girl or steal any money. It’s ridiculous to suggest any such a thing!’

‘Ridiculous or not, it is what Doña Stefanía has claimed. Word of her accusation may well reach the ears of the Pesquisidor, and if it does, he may decide that you should be held here for trial. The word of a noble Prioress in a religious city like this could be enough to see you hanged.’

Don Ruy said nothing, but stood and inclined his head very slightly. He was about to walk away when Simon, who had caught the gist of Baldwin’s words, interrupted quickly.

‘Don’t let him go yet! Wait, Don Ruy! Let’s say this girl was with her lover. She’s dead now. Did he see someone else there, apart from Frey Ramón?’

Don Ruy listened to Baldwin’s translation. ‘No, I saw no one else. But I wasn’t looking.’

‘So either Ramón killed her himself, or someone else was hiding there.’

‘Like the felon I saw leaving the city,’ Don Ruy muttered.

‘Why did you not try to have him arrested for attacking your band of pilgrims earlier?’ Baldwin wanted to know.

Don Ruy stared at him. ‘You seriously ask that? This man was a felon, on my honour! Yet it would be my word against his. If I were to draw my sword against a man who looked like a local Galician, I should expect to be captured and hanged for starting an affray in a cathedral city and for insulting Saint James. Look – the man was leaving the city. What purpose would my confronting him have served?’

‘It might have saved the woman’s life,’ Baldwin said coldly. ‘If you are right, and this man killed her.’

Don Ruy flushed. ‘My inclination was to avoid any involvement with women,’ he said, pointedly thrusting the parchments back into his purse.

‘You say the Prioress is mad to accuse Frey Ramón. Yet some men have been tempted by less money.’

‘By that, you mean that Joana did intend to rob her mistress? But Frey Ramón is a monk. He has renounced money.’

‘Perhaps,’ Baldwin said, unconvinced. It was possible for any man to grow to desire money – and just as possible for a woman to steal from her mistress to give to her lover. Still, he told himself that there were other possibilities – for example this lopsided-headed felon of whom Don Ruy spoke. If such a creature were to come across a maid carrying a fair sum of money, it would be easy to imagine his stealing it, and getting rid of her afterwards in a brutal way … yet Baldwin still disliked the fact that Ramón had lied to them.

‘Tell me,’ he said at last, ‘if you overheard Joana giggling about her mistress, could another man have heard her, too?’

Don Ruy frowned and looked away. Eventually he found his voice again.

‘You think someone learned of my seeing the Prioress in flagrante, then made up the story of my blackmailing her so that they could take the money when it was paid? It is a convoluted theory.’

‘Not if you spoke of it to another,’ Baldwin said. ‘Perhaps the blackmail was real enough, and only the name of the felon was concealed. Someone knew of the Prioress’s affair with this peasant, and that someone was surely with your band when you came here. He made up the blackmail story in order to rob the Prioress more easily.’

‘I told no one,’ Don Ruy insisted.

‘Very well. But of course the Prioress’s lover knew you had been there.’

‘And blamed me while he sought to rob her,’ Don Ruy muttered.

Baldwin nodded slowly. ‘Yes, Don Ruy. If you are as innocent as you say, then the killer, or the blackmailer, could be one of those who travelled here with you. He had to kill Joana, because she saw him and could denounce him. Were there many in your party?’

The knight had stood to leave. Now he dropped back into his seat again. In the sunshine, Simon thought he looked like a man who had been up too late the night before. He also had the air of a man who had been living rather too well. Simon wondered whether he had been with another woman the night before. There were such wenches even in a cathedral city, he guessed. Then again, he realised, a man might feel guilt after committing a murder. That was emotionally draining.

‘I believe the Prioress and Joana had been to Orthez, and they travelled on to Compostela with a large group. I joined their band at Burgos. She and her maid left us some four days ago to travel on ahead, I don’t know why. I and the others continued and we arrived yesterday.’

‘Not the day before?’

Don Ruy said irritably, ‘She was on horseback; I was on foot! We made good time, but no, she is wrong.’

‘And she left after you saw her caught in the act with her peasant lover?’

‘Yes.’

‘There’s something I still don’t quite understand: you walked into the shed without knocking, knowing full well that it was her chamber?’ Baldwin asked.

‘No, of course I didn’t know! I had been praying in a shrine not far from there. When I returned, it was dark, and I entered the place thinking that it would make a rude shelter for me for the night. As soon as I understood what was happening in there, I left. Next morning I rose and heard the maid Joana talking about it to a companion, and realised who I had walked in upon. The next day my companions and I moved on. Her lover came with us. He is not an honourable man,’ he added disdainfully.

Baldwin frowned. ‘Yet she arrived here before you?’

‘As I said, my companions and I were on foot. She and many of her group were on horseback,’ Don Ruy pointed out again. ‘She must have overtaken us.’

‘Or she spoke the truth and left before you?’

‘Possibly. Who knows?’ He looked bored with the subject.

‘All your group are here in the city now?’ Baldwin asked, prompted by Simon.

‘No. The party was so glad to see the city ahead of us that many started running off down the plain towards it, and as they did so, they were attacked by the outlaws.’ He gave a slight shrug. It was a common enough occurrence. ‘The murderous devils tore down the slope at my companions, hacking them to pieces. It was a miracle, but the rest of us were saved by three men who weighed in and slaughtered the attackers.’

‘A random attack against such a party?’ Baldwin asked. ‘It scarcely seems the behaviour of a rational gang. Was there anyone among you who could have deserved such a treatment?’

Don Ruy stared into the distance meditatively. ‘They were mostly a gaggle of peasants. Even the man with …’

‘With Doña Stefanía, you were going to say?’ Baldwin guessed.

‘Even he was a scruffy little devil,’ Ruy said equably. ‘I was the only knight, and there was one cleric, a well-built fellow who could have been a fighting man of years ago, before he took up the cloth. But apart from those two, no. The rest were all churls of one form or another. It gave me no pleasure to endure their company for so long, I assure you.’

‘So of the men of your party, how many survived?’

‘Seven were killed, another five were wounded badly and remain in the Cathedral’s hospital. None of them could have harmed the girl.’

‘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 Doña Stefanía 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, María 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 Doña 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 Doña Stefanía 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 María across the square. After a short discussion, María took a coin from the knight and resignedly followed him when he strode away.