Murder for Christ's Mass - By Maureen Ash Page 0,67
frequent this wine house are not of low station,” he said. “The customers are mainly wealthy burgesses from Lincoln, but members of the local nobility also go there.” Miles gave a wide grin and added, “There are toothsome harlots available in the rooms above, if such should be your fancy.”
Ralph returned his smile, and his resolution wavered, but not because of the mention of prostitutes. “Bawds may be had anywhere,” he said, “but it is not often one can find a place where such a variety of games are offered.”
“You will come, then?” Miles asked. “Sir Gerard has no need of my services at the moment and none of the other household knights take such pleasure in a game as you do.”
Ralph thought of the meagre amount of silver coins he had in his scrip. They were all he had left after his disastrous losses of the previous summer. But, he reasoned, if fortune was with him, he might double, or perhaps even treble, their number, and if he did, Maud need never know he had not kept his word to her. He stood up and called for a page to bring his cloak.
“Your suggestion is most welcome, Miles. I gladly accept your offer.”
THAT AFTERNOON, WHILE BASCOT WAS WATCHING SOME of the squires at practise in the bail, a Templar man-at-arms came to the castle with a message from d’Arderon, requesting Bascot’s presence at the enclave. The son of a local knight had arrived at the preceptory requesting admission to the Order, and d’Arderon would appreciate it if Bascot would come today to meet the young knight and assist, the next morning, in testing the supplicant’s dedication.
The ritual for initiation into the Templars dictated that the postulant be judged as to the sincerity of his desire by brothers of equal rank. This enquiry was held during a chapter meeting and it was preferable there were as many brothers present as possible. At present, there were only two men of knight’s rank in the commandery, d’Arderon and Emilius, a brother who fulfilled the function of draper. The preceptor wished Bascot to attend and add to their number.
Bascot felt a strong desire to participate in such an important conclave. He remembered his own initiation in London; the stern faces of the Templar knights as they asked him questions concerning the constancy of his faith and readiness to take up his sword to protect pilgrims. It had been a rare moment, with an aura of sanctity surrounding it, and that feeling had never completely left him, even during those terrible moments when he had returned to England from the Holy Land and learned that his family had all perished while he had been a prisoner of the Saracens. Every supplicant knight deserved to have the full support of as many brothers as possible on such an important occasion.
He was certain his presence would not be required in the castle for the next twenty-four hours. The investigation into the murders had come to a standstill and Lady Nicolaa was busy with preparations for Richard’s betrothal. Gianni would be busy giving Stephen of Turville his lesson that afternoon and the boy could spend the night in the barracks under Ernulf’s protection as had done once or twice before. Tucking the message from d’Arderon in the front of his tunic, he went to the keep to speak to the castellan.
Twenty-two
OVERNIGHT THE TEMPERATURE ROSE AND LARGE drops of hail fell, each globule as big as a pea, followed swiftly by a downpour of drenching rain. By daybreak the cloudburst had ceased, replaced by a stiff wind that pushed the black clouds away to the east and allowed a few pale rays of sunshine to brighten the sky.
Gianni, asleep on his pallet in the barracks, was roused from his slumbers by the return of the guards who had been on night duty. Hastily relieving himself in a bucket in the corner of the huge room, he pushed a hand through his tangled curls and ran out into the bail, heading for the scriptorium to report for his morning duties. He was late, the bells for Matins having tolled some half hour before. As he skipped across the shallow pools left on the ground by the rain, he rubbed his eyes and tried to clear his fuzzy consciousness of the last vestiges of sleep. His night’s rest had been uneasy, punctuated by disturbing dreams. Not even an attempt to concentrate on memories of the previous afternoon and Lucia’s company