Free The Chapel of Bones: (Knights Templar 18) by Michael Jecks

the congregation threw open the great doors, and the Chaunter walked out, his black cloak and gown flapping about him like the wings of an enormous bat, his
familia
trailing along behind him; and then came the shout of warning that stopped them all in their tracks.
    The Chaunter never stood a chance. Even though that damned idiot Vincent ran down to him, shouting that he was walking into a trap, it was too late. The boy was struck down almost instantly by Nick, one of the Chaunter’s men, thinking he was one of the assassins.
    He might as well have been. As soon as the novice had fallen, the rest of them piled over the muddy grass, weapons ready, and bellowing their war cries. All apart from William. He simply smiled as he rushed onwards, eager to be in at the beginning. William always enjoyed the feel of a sword in his hands, and the idea of hacking at another man was appealing to him. All Peter could remember of William was a kind ofhigh-pitched manic giggle as he stabbed at the men before him.
    The one who’d killed the novice, he went down fairly quickly. Then a second was killed by Henry. The latter was still riven with guilt over that, the fool. What he had to complain about, Peter didn’t know. He wasn’t even arrested.
    Yes, Peter could remember every part of that night: the tension while they waited, the raw thrill of hurtling over the mud, and later the strange emptiness as he stood with the others, staring down at the bodies. There were no apparent survivors at that stage. Peter himself certainly didn’t realise that two of the men were still alive. Not that it would have changed anything. William might have executed them on the spot for sheer devilry, perhaps, but that was all. The two left alive couldn’t identify any of the attackers, not that that mattered. All knew exactly who had been there, including the Bishop.
    Which was why two years later Peter was taken and held in the Bishop’s gaol: a terrible punishment. His livings were stripped away and he was left destitute, until he could join the monastery.
    If he now wielded the power of a Prior, it was no more than he deserved. He had carried out the wishes of his Dean and of his Primate. The only man who disagreed with the action taken was Quivil!
    Thomas wasn’t drunk. Not quite. After the morning’s events, he didn’t think he could be completely drunk, no matter that he wanted to forget all that which had passed. The sight of that poor, lovely woman lying in a faint was so sad that he could have thrown himself on the ground with guilt. Her sorrow and despair were all his doing.
    If only he hadn’t seen that figure, he thought – but he had.The ghost of the man he had once called friend, and whom he had then severely wounded.
    The sun was bright, and warm enough to dry the ground. Only the mud in the roadways was still moist, kept so by the horses, oxen, cattle and dogs that trampled through the filth and straw. Tonight the rakers would come along again and cart off the worst of it, most to be taken to the fields and spread for fertiliser. The streets were not clean, and yet Thomas had seen worse. He dawdled along. The tavern where he had stopped after seeing Sara and leaving the wineskin at her hut was a short way up from the road leading to her section of the city. It was time for him to return to the Cathedral, except he didn’t want to. It would remind him of the man whom he had killed by accident today. As though in reminder of his guilt, his palms started to tingle and sparkle with fresh pain.
    And seeing Saul crushed beneath that rock made Thomas think of Vicar Matthew. It was enough to slow his steps. When he had first arrived back here, he had thought that his beard, long hair and age would make him all but unrecognisable. Surely most of those whom he’d known in the Cathedral would have died long ago. When he first realised that the Vicar in charge of throwing down the old walls was Matthew, he had been tempted to bolt – and yet