The Last Templar (4 page)

The bailiff shrugged and looked over at the knight, who was happily accepting more wine from John. “Why are you travelling so late at night, sir?” he asked, watching as the knight stretched his legs slowly and started to rub at them, pulling his mail aside - Baldwin raised his eyebrows as he stared back, a hint of sardonic humour showing in his dark eyes. He seemed to be close to laughing at himself ironically.

“It’s been a long time since I travelled these roads. I am the new master of Furnshill Manor, as John said, and I’m on my way there, but I was held up today, in my pride and foolishness. I had a wish to see some of the old views, but it has been many years since I came along these roads and I forgot my way too often and… well, I got lost. It took me a lot longer than I expected to find the right roads.” His head rose and he gazed straight into Simon’s eyes as he gave a sudden smile. “Have I broken the law in being out so late, bailiff?”

Laughing, Simon happily took another cup of wine from John. “No. No, I’m just naturally inquisitive. So are you on your way to Furnshill now?”

“Yes. I understand my brother died some time ago, so the manor becomes mine. I came as soon as I heard he was dead. I was going to continue tonight, but if I can get lost so easily during daylight, what hope is there that I can find my way in the dark? No, if John could allow me… ?” He finished with an interrogatively raised eyebrow as he peered over at the older man beside him.

“Of course, of course, Sir Baldwin. You must rest here the night.”

Simon studied the knight carefully. Now he could see the man’s features more clearly as the firelight and candles caught his face, and he could see the family resemblance. Sir Reynald had been known to be a kindly master, and Simon found himself hoping that his brother Baldwin would be too. A cruel man in an important manor could be disruptive to an area. “Your brother was a good man, always ready to help another in need and was known to be good to his people,” he said speculatively.

Thank you. Yes, he was a kind man, although I’ve not seen him for many years. It’s sad I didn’t have a chance to give him my farewell. Oh, yes, thank you, John.“ He held out his cup again for John to refill, and his eyes caught Simon’s for an instant and held his gaze. There was an arrogance there, Simon noticed, the arrogance that came from experience, from battle and testing his prowess, but there was also a humility, a kindness, and an almost tangible yearning for peace and rest, as if he had travelled far and seen almost too much and only wanted to find somewhere where he could at last settle.

The young bailiff was intrigued. “So how long is it since you were here last, if you got lost on your return?”

“I was last here in my seventeenth year, that was in twelve hundred and ninety,” he said blandly, and then smiled at Simon’s obvious calculation. “Yes, I am forty-three, bailiff.”

Simon stared at him. It seemed almost incredible that he could be so old, especially now, as he smiled in amusement with the firelight twinkling in his eyes. He seemed too vigorous somehow, too quick and sharp to be that age, and it was only with a mental effort that Simon managed to stop his jaw dropping.

“You honour me with your surprise, anyway,” said the knight with a small smile. “Yes, I left in twelve ninety, over six-and-twenty years ago. My brother was the elder, so he was the heir. I decided to go and seek my fortune elsewhere.” He stretched. “But it’s time for me to come back. I need to be able to ride the hills again and see the moors.” Suddenly his smile broadened and he quickly looked over at the bailiff with his eyebrows raised in an expression of humorous lechery. “And its time I started breeding. I intend to take a wife and begin a family.”

“Well, I wish you well in your search for peace and marriage,” said Simon, smiling back at him.

There was a glint in the knight’s eyes, not of anger, but more of quizzical interest as he gazed over at him. “Why do you say ”peace“?”

Simon was aware of, and annoyed by, a slight stiffening in the servant beside the knight. “You say you have been away for many years and want to settle down at your home.” He drained his cup and set it on the bench top beside him. “I hope that means you want to find peace and not battle.”

“Hmm. Yes, I have seen enough of war. I feel the need for rest and, as you say, peace.” For an instant Simon saw the pain again, reflected by the flames as the knight stared into the fire, seemingly lost in his past, but then the moment was gone and Baldwin smiled again as if he was silently reminding himself of the others around and putting the pain away for the present.

“Well, if you wish, you may travel with us tomorrow. We will be passing close by Furnshill Manor on our way home.”

With evident gratitude, Baldwin inclined his head. “Thank you, I would be happy for your company.”

The next morning was bright and clear, the sun shining down from a perfect blue sky, and after a breakfast of cold meats and bread Simon and the new owner of Furnshill left the little castle with their servants and made their way back up to the lane towards Cadbury where the knight’s manor lay.

Simon found himself covertly watching the man and his servant. They seemed to move in accord with one another, a complete unit in themselves. There was never any sign between them that the bailiff could see, but whenever Baldwin wanted to move slightly, whether to look at a view or at a flower by the side of the road, it seemed that his servant was already moving, as if he had anticipated the knight’s wish. Wherever they went, the knight was always in front, but the servant was never far from him, leading the small packhorse on its long halter just behind and to the knight’s right. Simon found himself thinking how the two were perfect complements, and for an instant wondered whether he would ever be able to train Hugh to ride properly so that his own servant could behave in the same faultless manner. He threw a glance over his shoulder to where Hugh was sulkily jolting along behind, and with a sardonic grimace gave up on the thought.

Sir Baldwin rode into the lead shortly after they began the climb up the steep hill from Bickleigh and seemed surprised at the slow pace of Hugh.

“Hugh has only been riding for a short time,” said Simon with an ironic grin, in answer to the enquiring gaze. “He’s always nervous that the horse will canter off and leave him behind. I don’t like to worry him too much by going too fast for him.”

The knight peered ahead contemplatively while his servant stared back at Hugh with a sneer of disgust on his face. “I can remember this lane,” Baldwin said, “I can remember riding here when I was very young. It seems so long ago, in a way…” His voice trailed off.

Simon looked at him. He seemed to be reflecting, his forehead puckered in thought as he studied the road ahead, “ until they came over the crest of a hill and could see the view. Pausing, they waited for Hugh. From here, up on top of the rise, they could see far over to the south and west, all over the moors and forests of Devon, even as far as Dartmoor.

In the mid-morning haze it seemed, at first, as if they were alone in the world as they sat in their saddles at the top of the hill and waited for Hugh to catch up with them. Then the signs of life became evident. Some four miles away they could see smoke from a chimney rising between trees. Just beyond was a hamlet, nestling on the side of a hill above a series of fields that sprawled down into a valley. Farther on, the scene coloured blue with the distance, were more houses and fields with, here and there, the inevitable columns of smoke to show where fires were alight for cooking. Simon smiled as he looked over the area with a feeling of proprietorial pride at the sight of this, his county. When he looked over at the knight beside him, he was surprised to see him leaning forward and resting on his horse’s neck, a small smile on his face as he contemplated the view. “It’s good country, isn’t it?” said Simon softly.

“The finest,” Baldwin murmured, still staring at the view. Then, shaking himself out of his reverie, he swiftly turned and flashed a smile at the bailiff. “I cannot wait for your man any longer. This road needs a quick horse to let the memories flow. My friend, I will look forward to seeing you at the manor. As a friend and companion of the road I will be pleased to offer you some refreshment before you continue on your way home.”

Before the words had sunk in, he had dug his heels into his horse’s flanks and was away and rushing down the hill, his cloak streaming out behind him and billowing in the wind, his servant still maintaining his position slightly behind and to the knight’s right. Eyebrows raised, Simon watched them race down the hill until Hugh arrived at his side.

“He’s in a hurry to get to the manor,” he said sombrely. His master nodded.

“Yes. It’s been many years since he last looked forward to anything so much, I think. He looks as though he feels young again.” Slowly they started off down the hill towards the manor, some two miles away.

“Strange man, though,” said Hugh pensively after a few minutes of jolting along.

“In what way?”

“He looks all lost sometimes, like a lamb that’s lost his ewe, then it’s like he’s remembered who he is again and his smile comes back.”

Simon thought about his comment for the rest of the way. It certainly agreed with his own observations from the previous night. It was almost as if the knight was coming back to forget something in his past, as if in returning to his old home he would be able to forget the years spent away. But when Simon had asked him what he had been doing since he left so many years before, he had simply said, “Fighting,” with a terse curtness that seemed strangely out of character, and would not explain further.

It was odd, he knew. Most knights were pleased to discuss their exploits, they were always happy to boast and tell of their valour and courage in the field. It was only natural for warriors to be proud and arrogant, describing their battles in detail and telling of their bravery. To meet a man who did not want to talk about his past at all seemed curious, but then again, as Simon knew well, if a knight lost his lord he could well lose all his wealth and property. He would have to survive as best he could - by whatever means - trying to gain a new lord to keep him in armour and food. Perhaps this knight had fallen on bad times and had been forced to struggle to maintain himself and now wanted to forget. He shrugged. Whatever the reason, if Baldwin wanted to keep his past to himself, he would respect his wish.

Even at Hugh’s shambling pace they were not long in getting to the road to the manor. For once Simon was quite pleased to meander along slowly - it gave his mind more time to wander over his new responsibilities and he found himself planning for the inevitable visits he would soon have to make. First there were the other bailiffs- he would have to go and see them all, his new peers, and see what the state of the lands around Lydford was. He wanted to visit the constables in each of the hundreds, the subdivisions of the shire, as well and make sure that they were ready with their allocation of men in case of war. It did not seem very likely, but a bailiff should be ready at all times in case his lord needed him and his men. He was not too concerned with the other responsibilities of the constables - if there was a hue and cry, the constables should be able to cope, calling up the men and forming a posse to catch the offenders.

In a society where most men were living in a state of poverty, it was inevitable that there were often robberies. Burglars, draw-latches, thieves, cut-purses and poachers were a constant problem, but all men living within the law were expected to be ready to fight for their lord at a moment’s notice and could be called up by the constables quickly to chase criminals. After all, the king himself wanted the folk ready for the defence of the realm, and everyone was expected to be able to arm themselves quickly to defend their homes. The people living within Simon’s new area were all hardened countryfolk and were well used to using their weapons for hunting. God help any man who tried to commit a crime. He would be chased like a wolf by some of the best hunters in the kingdom until he was caught. It would not be difficult; few people needed to travel, so any stranger in a district would always be questioned by the locals, and news of travellers would always filter back to Simon’s friend Peter Clifford, the priest at Crediton. If there was a hue and cry shortly after a newcomer had arrived it would be obvious who would be the main suspect.

He was just thinking this when he was surprised to see, a little beyond the lane to Furnshill manor and travelling from Cadbury on the road to Crediton, a small group of monks. Wondering who they were and where they were going, he coaxed his horse into a trot and left Hugh behind to catch up with them. Since his schooling with the priests at Crediton, where he had met many monks as they travelled on their way to Buckland Abbey and beyond down into Cornwall, Simon had enjoyed meeting these godly men who had exchanged worldly sins for lives of poverty, helping the people and dedicating their years to God.

There were five men in the group, four walking slowly, one of them leading a pack-mule, another on horseback.

From their habits they must be Cistercians, the same as the monks of Buckland.

As he came closer, he slowed his pace to a walk and greeted them. “Good morning, brothers, where are you travelling to?” At the sound of his voice, the man on the horse whirled suddenly and Simon was shocked to see the fear on his face.

He was a large man, running to fat, with flabbiness around his heavy features and showing in his jowls and chin, but for all that he looked muscular and rode like a knight, sure and steady, if a little hunched. He looked as though he had been a strong and sturdy man in his past, but had now developed too keen an interest in good food and drink.

“Who are you, sir?” he asked, in an almost petulant voice with a heavy accent in which Simon recognised the tones of France - but that was normal with many monks now that the pope lived in Avignon.

“Simon Puttock, sir. I am the bailiff of Lydford,” he answered, smiling to put the man at his ease. It did not seem to help. The man was plainly terrified of strangers, and his eyes flitted over Simon as he rode alongside. Unconcernedly, Simon looked at the other men in the group. The eldest, a jovial-looking man with almost white hair and a cheeky smile, grinned at him as if in mute apology for the rude introduction, then turned his eyes to stare fixedly at the road ahead, the remains of the smile showing as a slight grin that played around his lips. The others simply walked on quietly and ignored him, to his faint surprise, because usually monks, like other travellers, would be happy for any diversion on the road.