meet Nicholas’s gaze. He was a handsome youth, quite striking really, with long lashes that hid those startling eyes …
Nicholas drew in a sharp breath. ‘Do you have any idea where your brother might have gone?’
The boy shook his head. He wore a snug-fitting hat that made it difficult to tell the colour of his hair, but his brows were nearly black and finely arched.
Nicholas glanced away, oddly uncomfortable. ‘Where do these paths lead?’
‘The moor is home to little except religious houses, the Hospitaller commandery, the Templar preceptory and—’
‘The Templars? Where?’ Nicholas asked. When Emery pointed towards a rise, Nicholas turned to Guy. ‘Perhaps we should enquire about our blackguard there.’
Guy’s frown made Nicholas swing back towards Emery. ‘Do you know of any such knight who would have a dispute with your brother?’
Emery shook his head, then spoke haltingly. ‘But last night Gerard warned me against a Templar, among others. I thought his ravings the product of fever until this morning, when a knight of the cross rode up to Clerkwell, the Hospitaller commandery that I … that is nearby.’
‘This morning? You saw a Templar and said nothing?’ Nicholas spoke more sharply than he intended, making Emery flinch. Immediately, Nicholas softened his expression, for the youth was just a stripling, slender and smooth-skinned. And he could not have known how eager Nicholas was to meet last night’s foe.
‘I was afraid and thought only of escaping, lest the Templar find me, my lord,’ Emery said and Nicholas felt churlish.
He eyed the boy thoughtfully. ‘You said the Templar went to the commandery, but if he was following your brother, he would have gone directly to your home. Perhaps the Templar simply went to the nearest Hospitaller commandery, hoping to find Gerard there.’
‘Wouldn’t these knights belong to the same house?’ Guy asked, sounding confused.
‘No,’ Nicholas said. ‘They are members of different religious orders, though, unlike most, both are military orders.’
When Guy blinked, Emery spoke. ‘The Order of the Hospital of Saint John of Jerusalem was founded to provide medical care for pilgrims to the Holy Land, while the Poor Knights of the Temple of Solomon were founded to protect the pilgrims travelling there,’ he said. ‘The Hospitallers later became a military order, as well, so now both fight the infidels.’
‘Dangerous monks,’ Guy said, warily.
‘The monks themselves do not fight,’ Emery said. ‘Only the knights, the young and able, are sent east. Those who remain here are pious men who tend to their properties, raise the horses and provide equipment that is needed, while seeking donations to the cause.’
A cause that was failing, Nicholas thought. By most accounts, the Holy Land was all but lost and some blamed the military orders, charging that the once-noble and selfless knights had become corrupt, arrogance and greed fuelling their decisions. But Nicholas knew that it was easy to pass judgement from the safety of En gland. And the privileges granted these orders, free from taxes and tithes, often drew resentment.
‘I thought the Templars were already rich as Midas, the New Temple in London being filled with the king’s gold,’ Guy said, as if confirming his thoughts.
‘At the king’s pleasure,’ Nicholas said. ‘The Templars act as bankers, guarding wealth and arranging the transfer of it over distances, for they have long handled the monies used to fund their battles. I doubt that they have amassed much of their own, as they must continue to support the fighting in the east.’
‘The rules of these orders do not allow for personal possessions and require selfless commitment,’ Emery said.
Guy seemed unconvinced. ‘If that is so, where did the phrase “drunk as a Templar” come from?’ he asked. ‘And I’ve heard worse about them, too, strange rumours of hidden hoards and secret meetings. Why, look at what that one did to you!’
Nicholas tried not to wince at the reminder. ‘Perhaps not all are what they should be. Still, they could hardly condone the actions of the man we saw: attempted theft, intimidation and assault,’ he said.
‘Or maybe our man is not what he seems,’ Guy said, with a sidelong glance towards Emery. ‘He might not be a Templar at all, but simply garbed as one.’
‘Well, there is only one way to find out,’ Nicholas said. ‘Let us go see what the good brothers have to say. And if Gwayne, as he called himself at the inn, makes his home there, he might well have returned already.’
Guy greeted the suggestion with alarm. ‘If so, then he will be in his element, with a host of others at his beck and call.’
Nicholas frowned. The day had not yet come when he couldn’t handle a houseful of monks, but he refused to be drawn into a discussion of his abilities. ‘I doubt that the entire preceptory is full of villains,’ he said, sending Guy back to his mount with a look.
However, his own steps were stayed by a light touch upon his arm. Emery, eyes downcast and slender face flushed, was standing at his elbow. Nicholas felt that odd hitch in his chest again, an unwanted sensation that made him speak more sharply than he ought. ‘Yes?’
But this time Emery held his ground. ‘Beware, my lord. This country is isolated and the religious houses even more so. They have little contact with the outside world and answer to none except the ecclesiastical authorities.’
Had no one faith in him? Nicholas wondered. They were not facing an army, but a monastery populated by men whose fighting days were long over. Yet the blue eyes gazing up at him were fraught with anxiety, making Nicholas glance away and choose his words carefully. Even if his abilities were suspect, the power of his family was not. ‘Do you really think they would dare make enemies of the de Burghs?’
Yet Emery was not reassured. ‘I don’t know, my lord.’ With a bow of his head, the boy headed towards the horses, leaving Nicholas to mull over his earnest warning.
Having done battle more than once, Nicholas had not been concerned with the prospect of facing a few elderly religious brethren, but he was not so arrogant as to dismiss Emery’s words. Although it was unlikely that this remote preceptory was the home of violent men intent upon harming visitors, he could not deny that one Templar in particular was dangerous. Should there be more like him, Guy hadn’t the strength or skills for much combat. And as for Emery …
Nicholas found himself watching the odd youth’s graceful gait before turning abruptly away to find Guy eyeing him with an odd expression.
‘See? He’s not slow-witted,’ Nicholas said, inclining his head towards Emery.
His squire snorted. ‘That’s not all he’s not.’
Nicholas approached Temple Roode cautiously, but there was little that was forbidding about the sheep grazing in fields and the cluster of neat buildings: two barns, a church and a small house. The property was more a manorial farm than a fortress; there was no keep, no moat, no gate and no guards. In fact, there was no sign of life, not even of the lay people who presumably worked the land, yet all was in good condition.
The stillness was eerie, broken only by the sound of the wind moving through the
