Free The Templar's Penance: (Knights Templar 15) by Michael Jecks
Authors: Michael Jecks
his entire life had been pulled apart; his position in the world had been whisked from beneath him andhis status utterly eradicated. There was nothing he could do about it. There were no allies for a man who had been a Templar. Eleven or twelve years ago, he would have been able to report the behaviour of that vain Prioress to her Bishop and felt sure that she would have learned to regret her rudeness.
A couple of traders were watching him unsympathetically, he noted, as though they were preparing to evict him from the square. He turned and walked away between the stalls, until he reached a clearing, and there he almost stumbled into a pair of arguing women.
‘Caterina, look at the state of you! I’m shocked that you’ve sunk so low.’
‘What would you expect, Joana? My father won’t support me, therefore I am destitute. What else can I do?’
‘What of your husband’s master? You gave up everything for your man. Wouldn’t he look after you if he knew the depths into which you have sunk?’
‘Look after me! How many masters accept responsibility for their servants’ widows?’ Caterina said scathingly. ‘There is little enough chance of that.’
‘There may be a way for you to earn some money.’
‘How? From your mistress? I doubt it!’
‘Perhaps so,’ Joana said slyly. ‘I may be able to help you.’ She nodded as though with satisfaction, but then noticed a shadow gliding forwards. ‘Domingo? Is that you?’ she demanded.
‘Yes. I missed the bastard! He got away, but I’ll—’
‘Shut up about him,’ his cousin ordered. ‘We have more important things to worry about.’ She became aware of Matthew and demanded: ‘What do
you
want?’
‘Me? Only alms,’ Matthew said, trying to fit a suitably humble tone to his voice. It was hard, God, but it was hard.
Domingo moved towards him. ‘If you don’t disappear, old man, I’ll make you – got that?’
Matthew squared his shoulders. A flare of anger ran through his bones like quicksilver, making him recall his past, as though his youthful strength might return to him and give his musclesthe power they once enjoyed. He clenched his belly and felt his shoulders drop, a leg slipping back into the approved position for defence. Yet even as his body flowed automatically into the posture, there was a twinge in his ankle and a stabbing pain in his thigh. If he were to try to fight this man, he would be killed within seconds.
That stark reality hurt. Even after the destruction of his Order, he had known that he could fight off an assailant: now even that was taken from him. His stomach was empty, not only from lack of food, but from the emptiness in his soul. He felt like a warrior who had been left on the field after a battle, watching with empty eyes as the scavengers arrived – the crows, foxes, rats and men and women, thieving what they wanted from the corpses. He was the last alive, the remaining member of his unit. And now he had been dishonoured by a felon whom he would have killed with one hand tied behind his back when he was a younger man.
His head hanging, he turned and stumbled away. At last he looked what he knew himself to be: an old, broken man.
Joana watched him shuffling away, then turned to her cousin again. ‘So, Caterina, you’d like to win my lady’s favour, would you? I think I might be able to help you there.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Never you mind for now. Later, when the sun is two hours past its highest, meet me again. There is a ford north of here where many women do their washing. I’ll tell you then. I promise it will be worth your while.’
Caterina held her gaze steadfastly. ‘Very well, but I beg of you, don’t make me hope for something which you can’t provide. Please, I am content now.’
‘
Content?
Look at yourself! A stale widow, no use to anyone. No money, no property, nothing,’ Joana said with disdain. ‘If you want my help, do as I say. Otherwise, be damned! Now leave me.’
In the
A couple of traders were watching him unsympathetically, he noted, as though they were preparing to evict him from the square. He turned and walked away between the stalls, until he reached a clearing, and there he almost stumbled into a pair of arguing women.
‘Caterina, look at the state of you! I’m shocked that you’ve sunk so low.’
‘What would you expect, Joana? My father won’t support me, therefore I am destitute. What else can I do?’
‘What of your husband’s master? You gave up everything for your man. Wouldn’t he look after you if he knew the depths into which you have sunk?’
‘Look after me! How many masters accept responsibility for their servants’ widows?’ Caterina said scathingly. ‘There is little enough chance of that.’
‘There may be a way for you to earn some money.’
‘How? From your mistress? I doubt it!’
‘Perhaps so,’ Joana said slyly. ‘I may be able to help you.’ She nodded as though with satisfaction, but then noticed a shadow gliding forwards. ‘Domingo? Is that you?’ she demanded.
‘Yes. I missed the bastard! He got away, but I’ll—’
‘Shut up about him,’ his cousin ordered. ‘We have more important things to worry about.’ She became aware of Matthew and demanded: ‘What do
you
want?’
‘Me? Only alms,’ Matthew said, trying to fit a suitably humble tone to his voice. It was hard, God, but it was hard.
Domingo moved towards him. ‘If you don’t disappear, old man, I’ll make you – got that?’
Matthew squared his shoulders. A flare of anger ran through his bones like quicksilver, making him recall his past, as though his youthful strength might return to him and give his musclesthe power they once enjoyed. He clenched his belly and felt his shoulders drop, a leg slipping back into the approved position for defence. Yet even as his body flowed automatically into the posture, there was a twinge in his ankle and a stabbing pain in his thigh. If he were to try to fight this man, he would be killed within seconds.
That stark reality hurt. Even after the destruction of his Order, he had known that he could fight off an assailant: now even that was taken from him. His stomach was empty, not only from lack of food, but from the emptiness in his soul. He felt like a warrior who had been left on the field after a battle, watching with empty eyes as the scavengers arrived – the crows, foxes, rats and men and women, thieving what they wanted from the corpses. He was the last alive, the remaining member of his unit. And now he had been dishonoured by a felon whom he would have killed with one hand tied behind his back when he was a younger man.
His head hanging, he turned and stumbled away. At last he looked what he knew himself to be: an old, broken man.
Joana watched him shuffling away, then turned to her cousin again. ‘So, Caterina, you’d like to win my lady’s favour, would you? I think I might be able to help you there.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Never you mind for now. Later, when the sun is two hours past its highest, meet me again. There is a ford north of here where many women do their washing. I’ll tell you then. I promise it will be worth your while.’
Caterina held her gaze steadfastly. ‘Very well, but I beg of you, don’t make me hope for something which you can’t provide. Please, I am content now.’
‘
Content?
Look at yourself! A stale widow, no use to anyone. No money, no property, nothing,’ Joana said with disdain. ‘If you want my help, do as I say. Otherwise, be damned! Now leave me.’
In the