Free The Prophecy of Death: (Knights Templar 25) by Michael Jecks

the King’s side that the man was still alive, let alone that he was protected by his
     own brother-in-law.
    ‘If there is no agreement on this, then there may be no peace,’ the Bishop said heavily. ‘It is clear that King Charles has
     every right under feudal law to demand that you go to him, and—’
    ‘There can be no agreement,’ Despenser interrupted rudely, stepping forward until he was almost between the Bishop and the
     King. ‘It is clear that King Charles is demanding this because either he knows that it’s impossible for him to retain all
     our Lord’s assets in France without a struggle, or because he plots the capture and downfall of the King. If our King were
     to travel to Paris, would he even arrive? With Mortimer planning the King’s murder from within the French court, could there
     be even a vestige of hope of reconciliation? The French know full well that we cannot even consider travelling there while
     Mortimer walks abroad under the protection of the French Crown.’
    ‘Mortimer was evicted from the court before the Queen arrived, my Lord,’ the Bishop said directly to the King, ignoring Despenser.
     ‘If he wished you harm, it is not with the connivance of the French. It is his own solitary plan.’
    ‘You say so? Yet I have heard that Mortimer is still in Paris, and still meets with the King’s enemies there,’ Despenser said
     coolly, staring at him with those unsettling eyes of his. He had eyes with all the humanity, sympathy and human sensitivity
     of a snake, the Bishop thought.
    The Bishop shook his head, but he said nothing. There was little to say against a man with the spying resources of Despenser.
    ‘What say you, William?’ the King asked.
    William Ayrminne was behind the Bishop. He had remained quiet while the others bickered, but now he looked up. In contrast
     to the ascetic-looking Bishop, Ayrminne was solidly built, and had the clear grey eyes of a man who was philosophical in outlook.
     He shook his head gently. ‘My Lord Bishop is absolutely correct, my Lord. There is no resolution without your travelling to
     France. The French are adamant.’
    ‘Then there is no resolution,’ the Despenser said heavily, and the King slammed his fist on the table.
    ‘
Damn
that son of a whore!’
    Second Monday following Easter
10
    Sandwich
    They had made good time, Simon thought to himself as he splashed ashore, uncaring about the water that soaked his thighs and
     feet. He held his sword high at his chest to protect it from the salt spray, but his attention was more fixed on the shore
     and the sand, gleeful at the sensation of solid, safe ground beneath his feet once more.
    He had been on ships too often for him to count now, and he held a firm and unswerving hatred of his experiences. Each occasion
     he had been thoroughly sick, and so demoralised that he had actively wished for death. On one journey, while returning from
     pilgrimage, he had been attacked by Breton pirates and shipwrecked, only narrowly escaping with his life. Ships were for sailors,
     so far as he was concerned, and if he never so much as saw a ship again in his life, it would be all the same to him. He disliked
     the feeling of wobbling about on the water more than any other.
    They had been blown north. Oh, Baldwin had said that it didn’t matter, that they were still heading more or less westwards,
     but Simon knew better than that. They’d ended up on the Isle of Ennor when they were heading for Cornwall last time he’d crossed
     the Channel, and now they were going
up
the English Channel. Knowing Simon’s luck they’d end up in some ungodly damned country like the Norwegian lands, or even
     Scotland!
    But instead, here they were. He wriggled his toes in his boots. Sand! Sand! Glorious, firm, solid, sound sand! He could have
     bent and kissed the ground, it was so wonderful to feel the shore under his sodden boots. Instead, he took the more acceptable
     opportunity to close his eyes and utter a