The Templar Detective

by J. Robert Kennedy

  “So how do we find out where they are taking the prisoners?” asked Simon.

  “A good question, that perhaps you, Sir Raimond, might be able to find out for us.”

  “How?”

  “Send men at once to all of the towns where these arrests are being made. Someone will know where they were taken. At a very minimum, they will have a direction to follow that will eventually lead to the location. Once we have it, we can intervene, and hopefully, with a little luck and the good Lord’s graces, we will be able to preserve the Order from this shameful undertaking.”

  37

  Approaching Crécy-la-Chapelle, Kingdom of France

  Jeremy thanked God once again for creating the magnificent creature now carrying him home. He was exhausted, his wound continuing to seep, and he couldn’t wait to reach the farm and lie down, hopefully to the sweet ministrations of the lovely Isabelle Leblanc. She was beautiful, of that, there was no doubt, and she was not for him.

  Women like that didn’t marry squires.

  He would soon have his opportunity to be promoted to sergeant, the order not requiring noble blood for that position, though with his decision to remain here with Sir Marcus, those plans were now on hold, perhaps permanently.

  Staying here would never have occurred to him a few days ago. Though neither would leaving Marcus’ side. He had served the man faithfully for the better part of a decade, and even if offered the rank of sergeant, he doubted he would accept it unless he could remain with Marcus.

  But that would be selfish and self-serving, and not in what was the best interests of the Order, and by extension, his Lord. No, if he were to become a sergeant, he would be issued his black surcoat and tunic, with its large red cross, then be reassigned, perhaps to never see his friends again.

  For they were friends.

  David was as close to a brother a man could have without sharing a mother, and while Simon outranked him, he thought of him as an older brother, to be respected and obeyed, though still a friend. Marcus by rank could not be considered a brother, even an elder brother—to equate himself with a knight was simply too ridiculous to contemplate.

  But Marcus always treated him with respect, was always friendly when possible, though expected his best when on the battlefield. Jeremy always made certain he did the best job possible, giving Marcus no reason to be cross with him, as did David, rarely a raised word heard among the four of them.

  A father.

  That was how Jeremy thought of Marcus. His guardian and his father. The man he would seek advice from if he were uncertain of what to do, and the man he could always count on to be there for him should the need arise.

  And like a good son, Jeremy would be there for him in his time of need in this new home.

  Home.

  It was a funny way of thinking of the farm. In his thoughts, that is what he was calling it, though for him the Holy Land would always be home, despite the recent defeats suffered at the hands of the unholy Muslims. But home, in reality, was wherever his brothers were, wherever his pseudo-family was.

  And now, with Marcus remaining here, on the farm, this was to be his home. Perhaps he would be fortunate enough to meet a young peasant woman and settle down, have some children of his own. Or perhaps, in time, he might head out on his own and rejoin the Order, though the chances of that were slim.

  The farm seemed peaceful, and though they had only spent two nights there so far, he could see it becoming comfortable. It was larger than most in the area, Marcus’ late brother-in-law nobility, and though not rich, he wasn’t impoverished like most. They had a quaint home with multiple rooms and actual glass on the windows, and a separate barn for the animals, unlike many of their neighbors who slept in the same one-room home with theirs.

  This wouldn’t be an unpleasant experience, especially if barracks were constructed for them to sleep in, separate from the animals. A bed to call his own, a full belly with plenty to drink, and days filled with purpose, were all a man could hope for these days. As a member of the Order, despite his rank, the excesses in life were frowned upon, and rarely partaken in. He had never bedded a woman, had been drunk only a handful of times, and had never owned anything of value.

  How could life here be any worse?

  He spotted the town, Tanya recognizing it and charging ahead, barking with excitement. He laughed, then winced, reaching for his shoulder and pressing against it, trying to stem the pain.

  Marcus had been right. Returning to the farm was the right decision, and he was thankful it had been made. Should his master have needed him in battle, he would have been useless, and might have ended up putting the lives of everyone at risk. He was confident David could take care of them both should the need arise, though if anything happened to them, Jeremy knew he’d forever blame himself for getting injured.

  You should have been paying more attention.

  He frowned at his second-guessing. Nobody expected there to be a fifth man hiding in the trees. Even Marcus had considered the battle finished.

  Yeah, but Marcus reacted first, and shielded the man you were there to protect. You just caught the arrow.

  It could have been worse. A sliced open arm from the grazing of an arrow was much better than what Marcus had suffered in their last battle together. He would make a full recovery, where his master might not, though if there were any doubts whether Marcus was still a formidable warrior, they were put to rest only hours ago when he had bested several healthy soldiers.

  He spotted the farm ahead, and urged his horse slightly faster, a shot of excitement giving him strength, and the sight of the beautiful Isabelle hanging laundry, a vision that would better any man’s day.

  Tanya raced ahead, drawing Isabelle’s attention first, the three children rushing out of the house with excitement. Isabelle spotted him coming down the path, and instead of a wave, planted her fists firmly on her hips, an expression displayed that would make most men shrivel.

  He did.

  He dismounted with a wince.

  “And why are you alone? Where are the others?”

  “Their business isn’t finished. I was—”

  Isabelle threw her hands up in frustration. “How much longer am I to be expected to watch over these children? I have my own chores to do, you know.”

  “I’m sure it won’t be—”

  “And you, why have you returned alone?” Tanya sniffed at Isabelle. “And why in all that is holy would you bring this wretched creature with you!”

  “I was wounded in battle…”

  Off the horse and on his own two feet for the first time in hours, the world began to spin. He reached out to steady himself, but his horse betrayed him, stepping aside, leaving Jeremy to collapse onto the ground.

  Isabelle yelped, apparently noticing his bleeding arm for the first time. “Children, help me get him inside!”

  A flurry of little hands were on him, and he tried to help, forcing himself to a knee, then with the help of Isabelle, to his feet. He stumbled inside, his good arm over her shoulders, then sat in a chair, the relief almost overwhelming.

  “Jacques, fetch me fresh water. Angeline, fresh cloths. Pierre, stoke the fire.”

  The three children bolted in different directions to execute their orders, as Isabelle carefully untied the knot holding the bandage in place, then unwrapped the wound. She hissed at the sight. “This is bad.”

  Jeremy glanced at the wound. “Not too bad. It will need to be cauterized. Have you ever done that before?”

  “Of course not! We’re civilized here. I suppose you have cauterized hundreds?”

  “Not hundreds, but dozens, yes.”

  She paused, her cheeks flushing. “You’ve seen battle that many times?”

  Jeremy shook his head. “No.” She seemed disappointed. “More. I’ve only treated dozens.”

  Water and cloth arrived, and she wiped around the wound. She drew Jeremy’s dagger and handed it to Pierre. “Put the blade in the fire. Be careful.” Pierre co
mplied as Angeline stared at the bloody arm.

  Isabelle looked at her. “Do you want to watch, so you know what to do in the future should some fool come to your door requiring assistance?”

  Angeline nodded, stepping closer, Jeremy impressed the sight of blood didn’t frighten the girl.

  “First, you must clean the wound so we can see what we’re dealing with.” She continued, the children all leaning in to see the still oozing cut. Isabelle handed Pierre a cloth. “Wrap this around the handle of the dagger so you don’t hurt yourself. See if the blade is red.”

  He took the cloth and appeared a moment later with a glowing blade.

  Jeremy gulped.

  He had done this before, too many times before, but never had he experienced it himself. Though judging from the reactions of the men he had treated, what was to come would be horrific. He grabbed one of the cloths then looked at Isabelle. “Do you know what to do?”

  “Of course not, we’ve already covered this.”

  “I’m sorry, you were doing so well, I just assumed—”

  “Everything to this point has been common sense!”

  Jeremy chuckled, though it was more the result of nervous tension than anything else. “Just pick an angle that will cover the entire wound if possible, then when the blade is no longer glowing red, press it against the wound and count to two, then remove it. Repeat this until you’ve sealed the entire wound. Don’t do any area more than two counts, or it could become infected. Questions?”

  “Will it hurt?”

  “Like nothing you’ve ever experienced. I will probably cry out, I may even pass out. Just do what I told you, and I’ll be fine. Understood?”

  Isabelle nodded. She held up the dagger, the red glow already faded. “Okay, children, step back.” They did, and Isabelle positioned the blade parallel to the wound, only an inch away from Jeremy’s skin. “Are you ready?”

  He shoved the cloth into his mouth and bit down on it. He nodded.

  She pressed down on the wound and the pain wasn’t as bad as he had expected.

  For barely a moment.

  He screamed against the cloth, his teeth clamping down on the material as his eyes bulged and his skin hissed. The children retreated, Angeline crying, when he heard “two” then felt immediate relief.

  Then he passed out.

  It must have only been for a few moments, because he felt Isabelle’s hand gently slapping his cheek, her sweet, concerned voice asking if he was okay. Abruptly the world came into focus. The boys were standing nearby, their eyes wide. Angeline was still crying, and Isabelle was standing in front of him, her hand on his cheek.

  “Are you okay?”

  He nodded, sucking in a few lungsful of air before taking a look at his arm. He smiled. It was cauterized, the bleeding stopped, and it appeared she had executed her duty almost perfectly, the burn not so bad as to expect infection. He grinned at her. “Perfect! I couldn’t have done better myself.”

  She stood, appearing pleased with herself. She jabbed a finger in his face. “Don’t you dare make me do that again!” She stepped back and took Angeline in her arms to comfort the poor girl. “You lot will be the death of me. Here I was, just trying to do—”

  “What’s that?”

  Tanya growled at the door, everyone turning toward the open window, the sound of horses and a crowd of people outside, shouting. Jeremy rose, unable to make out what was being yelled, though despite not hearing the words, the tone was clear.

  Whoever it was, they were angry.

  And there were a lot of them.

  He cautiously approached the window and suppressed a gasp, dozens outside, many with pitchforks and torches, several on horseback, their faces red with anger.

  And he could hear their words.

  “Burn the farm!”

  And even more disturbing was the other chant he could now make out clearly.

  “Death to the Templars!”

  He spun toward Isabelle. “Is there a back door?”

  She nodded, the fear she should be feeling, evident on her face. “Yes.”

  “Take the children, and get out of here. Don’t look back, just run!”

  She gathered the children, all now trembling with fear, tears streaking their faces, then turned to look at Jeremy. “What about you?”

  “I have to stop them.”

  “But how? You’re wounded!”

  “Never mind me. It’s my duty to protect you and my master’s property. Go, now, so I don’t have to worry about you!”

  Isabelle stared at him for a moment, then pushed the children through the door and out of sight. He was still wearing most of his chainmail, and his skill being with the bow, his arms were normally free of things that could obstruct their full range of motion.

  Hence his earlier wound, that would have glanced off the others’ armor.

  He looked about for his bow and arrows, and suppressed a curse when he realized they were still on his horse. Tanya was barking now, in a frenzy to get outside and see what was the matter. He peered through the window one last time and saw the torches already pressed into service against the barn.

  And now several others were heading for the house. He yanked the door open and surged through, rushing toward his horse, thankfully tied up by one of the children. He grabbed his quiver and slung it over his shoulder, then snatched his bow as he scanned the area, his experienced eye assessing the threat.

  These were all peasants, probably whipped up into a frenzy by recent events. There were no archers among them, so if he could hold them off, he might yet save the house.

  He stepped out from behind the horse, drawing his first arrow and taking aim. Eyes bulged as those approaching noticed him for the first time. He placed an arrow in the chest of the first, then the second, those with him roaring as they charged him. He had been in enough battles to know it was their shouts that were fueling their courage, nothing more, and he loosed two more arrows, thinning their number enough that those that remained finally realized they were too few for mob-courage to sustain them.

  They dropped their torches and ran.

  Two men on horseback, swords drawn, charged toward him. He drew another arrow and placed one in the shoulder as the other neared. There’d be no time to take him down.

  Suddenly Tanya bolted past him and leaped through the air, her jaws clamping down on the man’s arm. He cried out in agony as his sword fell and Tanya dragged him from his saddle and onto the ground. Jeremy ignored his pleas for mercy as he rushed forward, placing his final two arrows into those still at the barn, some not having noticed the skirmish at the residence. Those that remained turned, and when they saw more than half a dozen of their own down, and one of their leaders begging for help as Tanya continued to tear at him, they scattered.

  Jeremy rushed toward the barn, the screams of the animals inside heartbreaking. He opened the doors and threw them aside, then quickly opened the stalls, smacking the animals on their behinds, urging them through the smoke and flames. Hooves pounded, cows protested, and pigs squealed as chickens squawked, Jeremy pressing all the way to the back to make certain none were left behind. His eyes burned, as did his lungs, and he gasped for breath as the flames surrounded him. He listened for any more panicked creatures, pushing into each of the stalls, making his way forward, when he was finally overwhelmed, collapsing to his knees.

  He crawled toward the door, lost in the smoke, only a hint of daylight making it through the thick, black hatred billowing around him, when someone grabbed his arm. They dragged him toward the door, and it was enough for him to continue his fight, clawing at the ground with his free hand, the light getting brighter, as his world continued to fade around him as he gasped, desperate for air.

  Finally, he felt the beginning of relief, the light now bright, the heat behind him, the sounds of the roaring flame dying, a coughing fit clearing his lungs of the deadly soot and ash he had been sucking in for minutes.

  He flipped on his back, staring
up at the sky, his chest heaving, when Tanya’s snout appeared, sniffing at him, then licking away at his face.

  He continued to cough, then rolled over, retching, a black paste spit up onto the ground. He repeated the process for a few minutes before he could finally breathe relatively normal again. He pushed to his knees and stared at the inferno in front of him, the barn a total loss, but the animals, strewn about the property, saved by his actions.

  He turned to Tanya and gave her a hug, patting her hard on the side, giving thanks to his own savior, the good Lord’s payback for his good deed swift and effective.

  38

  Templar Commandry

  Coulommiers, Kingdom of France

  “Do you miss it?”

  Sir Raimond nodded slowly at Sir Marcus’ question, asked as this man had served for many years in the Holy Land, and had been gone for some time.

  A prospect now faced by Marcus and his men.

  “I do, and I don’t.” Raimond smiled. “I know that’s hard to explain.” He motioned at their surroundings. “Here, I interact every day with our brothers, most passing through, some who work here every day like I. Until these recent events, I never feared for my life, and never walked the streets of my new home with any worry of attack or molestation. But this unease is nothing compared to the constant vigil necessary in the Holy Land, where a crazed Saracen could attack at any moment. Here, life is a dream compared to there, if only in this small way.”

  “I sense your answer isn’t complete.”

  Raimond smiled. “And you’d be right. While I love the peace and quiet of this good town, and don’t miss the random violence of the Holy Land, I do miss the streets. To walk where Jesus walked, to gaze upon the same skies as the Apostles.” He trembled as if covered in goosebumps. “It is something I dearly miss.”