No Law in the Land: (Knights Templar 27) (37 page)

‘In the meantime,’ Baldwin said, and bent down, ‘you will not be permitted to profit by your theft.’

‘No!’ Osbert shouted, but he dared not relinquish his grip on the altar cloth, and could only look on in horror as Baldwin
pulled the casket away from him.

‘All those murdered people, and all for a few pennies that you cannot even hold on to,’ he said. ‘I hope you feel it was worthwhile.’

Jacobstowe

Mark watched them go, Father James walking with them, and felt a strange bubbling resentment deep in his breast.

This man was safe now, secure and protected with the full strength of the Church behind him. No man might touch him, unless
he was captured outside the church, and then, if he was molested, his attacker would be guilty of a serious offence, just
as a man who tried to drag him from the church would be. A man who committed such a desecration of the church could expect
to be hanged.

‘Bring me water, monk. I’m thirsty.’

Mark allowed a fleeting frown to pass over his face. ‘Perhaps you should fetch it yourself.’

‘I am your guest here,’ Osbert said.

‘No. You are the guest of Father James. He is gone to ensure that the money you stole is safe.’

The dig struck home. A cloud settled on Osbert’s features. ‘After all that effort and trouble, to lose it all here is enough
to make a man turn to the Church. What do you think? Is there a church I could go to for a job? Perhaps a lay brother’s position
in Tavistock, eh? That’d be good. You and me, we could sit and chat. Talk about the fun we’ve had in the last week or so,
eh? You looking for me, and me hiding from you. Oh, so you’re back?’

Mark turned to find that Roger had returned inside. ‘I am here to make sure you don’t try to run.’

‘You think you could stop me?’ Osbert sneered.

Mark pressed him. ‘Why did you kill Anselm? He was never a threat to you, was he?’

‘Him? He was a fool. Jesus! You’d have thought the cretin would have realised that bringing a puppy might just make for problems
in the future, wouldn’t you? How would he think to look after it?’

‘And that was why you killed him? Not so you could take his share?’

‘Look, he wanted to join me. It was Basil’s idea in the first place, to get one of the monks on our side, and Anselm was the
easiest man to pick. He was bored stupid with his companions in any case. Did you know that? He was perfectly happy to sell
them to us. That was before he knew he was going with the money, of course. It was easy to persuade him, letting him come
and help me take the money.’

Mark was revolted. ‘So he wanted to share the money? That was all?’

‘Yes. For so much coin, most men will forget their morals. He was happy to see all those folk die in exchange for his share.
I killed the only guard, and he helped me to carry the money out of the camp. Then …’ He paused. ‘Then I helped him take
it away and hide it, and I went back to see that there was no alarm. Easy.’

‘And the dogs?’ Roger had been silent for so long, Osbert seemed surprised to hear him.

‘What of the dogs? I didn’t want them raising the alarm.’

‘It seemed unnecessary to kill them. Just like the murder of the children.’

Osbert looked at him blankly. ‘They were only dogs.’

Roger nodded. ‘Brother, you remain if you must, but I cannot share the same room as this dunghill rat. He makes me want to
puke.’

Mark wanted to speak, but found he couldn’t. His mouth was too dry. There was no mistaking the revulsion in Roger’s eyes as
he turned and left the church, and Mark felt much the same. Anselm had very likely done as Osbert had said. The poor fellow
had entered the Church when he was young, and it would be no surprise that a man, even a monk, would be willing to commit
a crime for such wealth. Split two ways, his share of a hundred pounds would be two years’ income for even a well-paid man.
It was a staggering sum for one used to no possessions whatever.

‘There is one thing, of course,’ Osbert said in a sly tone. ‘Now I’ve nothing. But the man who’d help me escape from here
could share in the money with me. A full fifty pounds, maybe more, would be his share. Just think of that.’

Mark did think, but not of the money. Instead he was remembering Anselm, the cheerful, joking, ironic monk who had lightened
the atmosphere of the abbey so often. It was hard to believe that he was actually dead. Somehow Mark had hoped that he had
survived the attack when his body hadn’t been found with Pietro’s. That this man had killed him, after he had perverted him
from his brothers, was repugnant.

‘Fifty pounds.’

Osbert looked up. ‘It’s a lot of money. It was enough to tempt your brother.’

‘My brother? But you killed Anselm, didn’t you?’

‘He wanted to run away from me. He was dangerous to me as well as to himself. All I did was hasten his end by a very little
while. And he didn’t suffer. I killed him quickly.’

‘So you might do that to me, too.’

‘I’ll swear here and now, as I believe in Jesus and in God, that I will not kill you or hurt you if you help me escape.’

Mark thought hard, and his gaze went from Osbert to the door open behind him. The money was vast. A man could live like a
lord on fifty pounds.

In his scrip was the little enamelled green crucifix that Pietro had worn. He drew it out now, and studied it. It was so pretty,
he thought it should never have been worn by a monk. Clearly the brothers in foreign abbeys took their vows of poverty less
seriously than did the English.

‘Where did you get that?’ Osbert said sharply.

‘I found it under a bush near the glade where you killed all the travellers.’

‘It was taken by Anselm. I threw it away. I didn’t want him stealing from the others.’

Mark frowned. ‘He took it? But you said that he was gone with the money when you returned.’

‘Aye. And then I went back to—’

‘So how did he take this from Pietro? If Pietro was asleep, having a man take his crucifix would waken him.’

‘Perhaps he knocked him on the head to take it? I don’t know. But he had the crucifix later and I took it from him.’

‘No. He wouldn’t have stolen from Pietro. He would have been
fearful in case he woke the man. It would only have been taken when Pietro was dead.’

‘So?’

‘If you had taken it, you wouldn’t have thrown this away. It’s gold and enamel. Surely it’s worth a lot of money. You killed
Pietro and then stole this for yourself, didn’t you? And Anselm saw you and took it away.’

‘He snatched it from me! I didn’t know the fool would come back. I’d made him go so that he’d be safe. I was trying to look
after him, but he came back. Some sort of guilt or something. He wanted to see what he had caused to happen. And he saw me
there with the others. I saw him too, the prick! All I was going to do was tell him to go back to where he was safe, but the
fool wouldn’t. He told me I was cursed if I tried to take the crucifix from a dead monk. Damn his soul for a fool! I hit him
when he threw it away, though.’

‘He was right,’ Mark said quietly. ‘Perhaps the crucifix itself is cursed.’

‘You think a lump of metal can be cursed, Brother? Then throw it away yourself. Come, though, you didn’t answer me. Will you
help me? Half the money will be yours if you do.’

‘How would you get it?’

‘If you will help me, we can get it easily. Those fools won’t think to guard it well. They’ll take it back to Tavistock, I
expect. In the middle of the night, you help me out of here, and we’ll find them, and then it’s just a little tap on their
heads and we’ll have the chest without needing to kill anyone. It’ll make no difference to anyone, Brother. If you help me,
you’ll have half and I’ll escape earlier, that’s all.’

‘You won’t escape from here.’

‘You think so? I’ll be out in a few days. This little vill won’t want to spend time holding me here for no money or purpose.
No, I’ll soon be out, and when I am, the money would be useful. What do you say?’

‘I will leave this crucifix. I have no more use for it, I think,’ Mark said softly. He stepped forward and very carefully
placed it on the altar cloth not far from Osbert. ‘It can stay here.’

Baldwin was bitter, but there was no point in growing angry. The law was the law, and while inside a church a man was answerable
to the ecclesiastical courts, not the king’s. It would be dangerous to try to
prise Osbert from the sanctuary cloth where he sat now.

‘I will not have him dragged away, and that is final,’ the priest was saying, wagging a finger under Sir Richard’s nose.

The coroner appeared to swell with anger, and if Simon and Baldwin had not been there to prevent him, he might have pushed
past the priest to haul Osbert out.

Mark stood at Father James’s side. ‘The good father is quite right, Sir Richard. There is nothing to be done for some days,
as you know. Unless this man commits some new crime in the church, he must be allowed to remain here, safe and well.’

‘What sort of crime?’ Sir Richard asked hopefully.

‘Stealing the cross or some plate,’ Father James said acerbically. ‘And only a fool would do such a thing.’

Mark nodded. He was feeling shaky, but he looked at Sir Baldwin, hoping he would understand. Mark had grown to respect the
knight. ‘Oh! I left Brother Anselm’s crucifix on the altar. Father, would you go and fetch it for me? I feel unwell.’

‘Yes, my son. Of course.’

Baldwin was watching him closely as the priest strode off into the church again. ‘Brother? Are you well? You look quite pale.’

‘I am well, I think. But I hope—’

There came a cry from inside the church. ‘Brother? Are you sure you placed it here? I can see no sign of it.’

Baldwin’s expression hardened. ‘Simon, I think that the sanctuary-seeker may have stolen a small crucifix. Sir Richard? If
he has stolen something from the Church, that means he is not eligible for the Church’s protection, does it not?’

‘I will fetch him out!’ Simon said, and was about to move when a hand took his arm.

‘No, Father, please. Don’t.’ Edith had been at the gate, and had heard much of the conversation. Now she hurried across the
grass and gripped his elbow.

‘Edith?’ Simon put a hand out to her and smiled. ‘Are you all right now?’

She gave a weak smile in return, but the anxiety was still in her eyes. ‘That man, I saw him, Father. He was one from the
castle, wasn’t he? I remember him.’

‘You’ll never have to worry about him again,’ Simon rasped, and
was about to return to the church, but her hand caught him and held him back.

‘
No
! Please, Father, as you love me, don’t do it!’

‘What? After what he and his friends were going to do to you?’

‘They did nothing to me, though. Not yet. But if you go in there and kill him, they’ll have changed you, Father. I couldn’t
bear that. Please, don’t go in.’

Simon was about to draw away, but Baldwin was still at his side, and the knight sighed. ‘Simon, I know that this may seem
foolish, but I agree with her. There are good reasons for avenging your child, I know, and you will probably think me the
worst of advisers, but the fact is, it will not help you to kill this man. Nor will it make the experience any better for
your daughter.’

‘Father, if you kill him, it will make me feel responsible for his death, and I don’t want that. I saw you fight once before,
you remember? Against Wattere. And yet if he had not tried to rescue me, I might not be here now.’

‘He tried to rescue you?’ Simon said.

‘He came to my room and gave me a knife, and then he created the fire to distract the others so that I could try to get free.
It was the merest bad luck that Osbert came to find me and all but cut poor Wattere in half when he found him there.’

‘This is avenging others too, Edith,’ Simon said.

‘No, Father. It isn’t. And I wouldn’t have his blood on my conscience. Not now, of all times.’

She rested a hand on her belly as she spoke, and as he glanced at her uncomprehendingly, she gave him a weak smile.

‘Dear God, child! My little girl … You mean you’re …’

‘With child, yes.’

Simon grinned, then gaped, and then in swift succession a frown, a slightly gormless smile, and a pale, fretful expression
passed over his features. ‘You must need to sit, Edith. Please, come with me, and we’ll find a chamber that is comfortable.
You must tell me all about it.’

‘Really, Father? I would have thought you knew enough, with two children.’

‘I didn’t … Dear Mother of God, this is marvellous! Wait until we see your mother,’ Simon said as he led her across the
grounds towards Agnes’s house.

Sir Richard grunted to himself. ‘So, what of this fellow, then?’

‘Leave him a while,’ Baldwin said. ‘There is no hurry.’

Mark heard something, and shot a look inside the church. The priest was hurrying out. ‘Preposterous! He says you gave him
the crucifix, Brother Mark. Did you say that he could have it?’

‘Of course not! I merely left it there.’ Mark could not add the words ‘by accident’.

Sir Richard squared his shoulders. ‘In that case, Father James, I think he has broken the terms of his sanctuary. I have the
right to bring him out immediately.’

‘I would beg that you leave him,’ Father James insisted. ‘I will not have blood spilled in my church. It is unnecessary.’

‘You mean you don’t want to have the church reconsecrated?’ Sir Richard chuckled. ‘We’ll bring him outside, never you fear,
Father.’

‘That was not my meaning, as well you must know,’ the priest said angrily. ‘In Christ’s name, I merely seek to save a soul.’

‘You wish to save him, you tell him to come out here and agree to abjure the realm,’ Mark said quickly. ‘There is no need
to kill him. Let him abjure.’

Reluctantly the coroner agreed to the compromise, and Osbert came out with a shuffling gait, as though appreciating that this
truly was his last opportunity.

Sir Richard stared at him. ‘I don’t suppose that this will have the slightest impact on your conduct, man, but you have agreed
to exile. You will abjure the realm, taking the route I give you, carrying a cross to demonstrate your penitence, wearing
only the meanest of hair shirt and simple robes, and you will go by the fastest route to the nearest port, which is …’
He hesitated and stared at Baldwin.

It was Roger who answered. ‘Send him to Plymouth or Dartmouth, Coroner. They’ll serve.’