Free A Friar's Bloodfeud: (Knights Templar 20) by Michael Jecks Page A

did know that today he needed to try his muscles.
    Some three or four months ago he’d been the victim of an attack, and the encounter had nearly killed him. Even now, the wound
     in his breast was enough to make his chest seize up when he over-exerted himself. The pain was normally a dull ache, but every
     so often it grew into a flaming agony that seemed to threaten to rip his ribs apart. Last night had been one such occasion.
    They had come here to Liddinstone a matter of a month ago. He had promised his wife that they would come to see how the manor
     was faring, and as soon as he felt able to make the journey from his little estate near Cadbury, a short distance south of
     Tiverton, they had arranged their affairs, leaving Edgar in charge.
    Edgar had been his most loyal servant for more years than either cared to remember. They had met in the hellhole of Acre in
     1291, both arriving in time to witness the city’s death at the hands of many thousands of Moors. They had set up a vast siege
     encampment all about the city walls, and during their time there, Baldwin had found Edgar and saved his life. Subsequently,
     both had been injured and would have died, had it not been for the generosity of thePoor Fellow Soldiers of Christ and the Temple of Solomon, the Knights Templar, who had rescued them. As a result, as soon
     as they could, both had given their oaths to serve the Order, and Baldwin became a knight while Edgar became his sergeant.
     They served together for many years, until the appalling day when the Order was arrested.
    Friday 13th October 1307. It was a date that felt as though it had been engraved with a red-hot burin on Baldwin’s heart.
     Each year he felt drawn to toast his comrades on that day, and yet he could not. The idea that he should celebrate their destruction
     was repellent. No, it was better that he remembered them all on days like today, when the sun was newly risen with the promise
     of clear weather, like so many of those other days when he and his companions had woken with the dawn.
    He held his sword out forwards, his arm straight, elbow and wrist locked, the peacock-blue steel of the blade sitting still
     in his grip, and he smiled to himself grimly. There were few knights who were as old as he and yet still capable of holding
     their swords outstretched for any period. He was more than fifty years old now, and although he knew that he could best most
     men half his age, he had to pick his moments and his opponents.
    Yet if there was one thing that the Templars had taught him, it was the benefit of constant practice. A man who trained was
     a man who could rely on his reflexes, and now Baldwin swung the sword in his wrist, first letting the point drop down then
     spinning it up on his right, then dropping it and flicking it up on the left of his forearm to form a figure 8. After twenty
     of those, he threw the sword spinning into the air, and caught it with his left hand, repeating the exercise before tossing
     it up again and catching it in his right hand once more.
    Now he started the serious training. This was basic work, but he had performed these actions almost every morning since his
     acceptance into his Order. It was only at times of great pain that he had neglected his training, such as late last year,
     1323, when the crossbow bolt had laid him low for so long.
    He could consider the near-death with equanimity now, although at the time he had been appalled that he could die and leave
     his wife and daughter without a protector. True, Edgar would be there, and knowing Edgar he would continue to offer his support
     and what security he could to Baldwin’s widow and offspring, but it wasn’t the same.
    It was a dreadful thought, that his wife should be widowed and left to fend for herself. Of all his nightmares, that was the
     one which recurred most often and left him distraught, unrefreshed and emotionally drained in the morning.
    Jeanne de Liddinstone, as she had been before