The Templar's Cross: A Medieval Mystery (The Sir Law Kintour Mysteries Book 1)

by J. R. Tomlin

  “As long as I am well out of the burgh before you take any action.” Carre took the leather purse from his breast and held it out. “This is going to be yours so you may as well have it.”

  Law took it and sat on the edge of the table. He bounced it in his hand. “I ought to have more.”

  “Fifty nobles is a great deal of gold for digging something up from under a statue. That’s where it was, is it not?”

  “It wasnae that easy and you ken it.”

  “I have no reason to care, and I have guards to pay as well and now a dead son. This has been a costly venture.”

  Shaking his head, Law looked up at Marguerite. “Is there wine in the house? We could all use a cup.” He shoved the purse into his doublet, Wrycht was glowering at him, forehead creased.

  “You’re planning on cutting us out entire.” He stood, clenching and unclenching his hands.

  Marguerite stood and went to the sideboard to pour three cups of wine. She took a gulp from one. “I’ll be happy to return home to France and out of this uncivilized place. But I shall leave without a profit.” She put a cup into Wrycht’s hand and handed one to Carre. She didn’t offer any to Law, so he poured himself another cup.

  Wrycht sat glowering into his cup without drinking. Law, Carre and the woman drank their wine, and then each had another in a tense silence. Watching the shifting light from the windows, Law stood to prop a shoulder against a wall. Carre took out a parchment which he read, commenting occasionally on the stupidity of his buyers. Wrycht’s hands twitched where they rested on his thighs as he scowled from Carre to Law and back again. Marguerite smoothed her dress as she listened to Carre’s comments, and she tried to coax Law into a conversation about the war in France. He grunted in response to her questions.

  When it had been at least an hour since the ratcatcher and the guard had left, Law crossed to the sideboard and poured himself yet another cup of wine. Something had obviously gone wrong. Cormac knew to hand over the cross without protesting. Law could only hope he had done as he was told. The tension in the room was growing as Carre tucked his papers away, his face tight and eyes narrowed.

  “If they don’t return when it is dark, we should go to seek them,” Law said. “The first place to look is my room at the inn. If they’re nae there…” He looked toward Marguerite. “Do you have any food? It may be a long day.”

  There was the sound of pounding feet outside in the street and the door banged open. “I did not take it,” Scarface gasped. “I swear it, Master Carre!” Both his eyes were swollen and blackening with bruises. One side of his hair was clotted with dried blood.

  Carre leapt to his feet sending his chair clattering. “What happened! Where is it?”

  “Where is the minstrel?” Law demanded.

  “It was that goddamned ratcatcher. But I’ll eat my own boots if he’s any such thing. The minstrel took us to Law’s room.” The man thrust his chin at Law. “He pried up a board. When I bent to take the cross from the space, he knocked out the minstrel with a club. I’d never seen the weapon, it was that well hid. I went for my sword but before I had it out of the sheath, he’d clobbered me. Then he gave me a kicking for good measure. I don’t know how long I was out but when I came round, the cross was gone.”

  Law took a step toward the man. “I asked you. Where. Is. The. Minstrel?”

  “We were tied up when I roused, and he was already at the door kicking it when I came to. The innkeeper came and loosed us. I ran back as fast as my feet would carry me.”

  A dark flush washed up from Carre’s neck to his forehead. “I should have you put down for an incompetent fool,” Carre said in a low voice.

  Carre’s mouth dropped open, but he snapped it shut. He shook his head. “We must go after the thief. There is no time for this. I don’t blame you for the theft, Sir Law, but I do expect you to earn that purse in your breast.”

  When Wrycht grabbed his forearm, Law pressed slightly so the dirk pricked his skin and a drop of blood welled out. Using the leverage from the man’s twisted arm, he turned them both so he could see the other two and the guards. “There are still three murders to be dealt with before you go haring off.”

  Carre narrowed his eyes, holding out his hand palm up. “If you are not going to do what you were paid to do, I’ll thank you for that purse.”

  Law shook his head but before he could answer, there was a rap on the door and it opened slightly. Cormac, his hair clotted with blood on one side and a lump on his forehead, peered inside and then stood in the doorway, only partway in the room and obviously ready to take flight.

  “You were knocked out!” the guard exclaimed.

  Marguerite had backed to the rear door with her hand on the knob, her eyes darting frantically around the room.

  Cormac ignored them. “I did what you said and took them to the cross. Then that damned ratcatcher knocked us out so it took longer than you planned. But as soon as they were gone, I went to the Sergeant Meldrum.” Wide-eyed, Cormac looked from Law to the others, eyes lingering on the armed guards. “He paused to gather his men but he’s nae time behind me.”

  “I dinnae think you want to explain to the sergeant why you’re in Scotland with no warrant from the king, so just put the gold down to paying me what I am due.” Law jerked Wrycht’s arm even higher. “And this one has murders to answer for.” Over Wrycht’s shoulder, he eyed Marguerite. “She had a hand in much of it, but Wrycht did the killing and the lord sheriff would be loath to hang so bonnie a woman.”

  Wrycht jerked a dagger from the breast of his doublet and slashed at Law’s arm. When Law dodged aside, Wrycht wrenched free. He kicked his chair out of the way as he ran for the door. Law jumped after him. It was a long leap, but Law bludgeoned his shoulder into the small of Wrycht’s back. The man went facedown with Law on top of him. He thrashed, trying to reach Law with his dagger. Law grabbed his wrist with both hands, wrenching hard. The dagger, a little narrower and shorter than a Scottish dirk, clattered to the floor.

  Law heard footfalls, running. When he looked up, Marguerite was already out the door. He scooped the weapon up and pressed the point into the side of Wrycht’s neck.

  “I’ll kill you,” Wrycht shouted, “and that thieving bastard if it is the last thing that I do.”

  There was a noise of tramping feet and a shout from down the street. “No time now,” Carre barked and strode toward the rear door, motioning his guards to come with him.

  For a breath or two after the door slammed, Law stared at Cormac who was looking around with a dazed look. Wrycht thrashed again, so Law pressed the blade a bit harder. When it pierce the skin, the man stilled.

  “I didn’t kill them,” Wrycht protested in a choked voice.

  “Ach, aye. I believe that.”

  The sergeant loomed up behind Cormac and elbowed him roughly out of the way. “What’s this to do? The minstrel said you had the murderer.” Two watchmen trailed behind him, wood cudgels in hand.

  “Aye. Meet Lord Blinsele. Or Maister Wrycht.” Law shrugged. “Or plain Wrycht. Though I doubt any of those are his true name.” Law removed his dirk from Wrycht’s neck and shoved him toward the sergeant.

  “He’s crazed!” Wrycht cried.

  Law shook his head. “I’m thinking that Duncan saw you murder de Carnea. You found him first and killed him. He couldn’t have told you where the cross was since you didn’t go after it. Mayhap he spun you a tale and you thought he kent where it was.” Law tilted his head as one of the watch grabbed Wrycht and twisted his arms behind his back. “I’d wager Duncan demanded a payment to keep quiet. That must have been it. At first, I thought it might have been Marguerite. Duncan would have let a woman come close enough to stab him, but he would you as well since you were paying him. And there is no way she is large or strong enough to hold de Carnea whilst she slashed his throat. It might have been the ratcatcher, but I couldn’t imagine Duncan letting him close. Moreover, it was clear from almost the first that there was someone else, Carre
as I later kent, who was involved. When I followed Marguerite and she had a secret tryst with Carre’s son, I thought it might have been youth, but then he was murdered as well.”

  “He’s crazed, I tell you!” Wrycht shouted.

  “Shackle him and take him to the Tolhouse,” Meldrum told the watchman. “The sheriff shall sort the story out.”

  The man jerked his arm free, shoved the watchman, and took a running step toward the door. Meldrum swung the cudgel he carried. It landed with a thunk. Wrycht crumpled under the blow to lie bonelessly on the floor. The sergeant motioned his men. They dragged him out the door. He gave Law a brusque nod. “I’ll expect you there in an hour.”

  “The young man… Carre’s son?” Cormac looked puzzled. “I still don’t understand why Wrycht would kill him.”

  “I expect the lord sheriff will get answers out of him in his dungeon about that. I think… I think the lad may have been working with Marguerite to cut Wrycht out. The lad had little reason to love his father, it seems to me, and I saw the two of them plotting together.”

  Cormac shook his head in wonder. “Was there anyone who wasn’t betraying the others?”

  “Nae. Nary a one. Wrycht killed his partner in order not to share the profit. Marguerite was betraying Wrycht with Carre’s son. And Carre only cared that he ended up with the cross, so he’d cut them out and pay me.” He breathed out a soft snort, but then he went over to look closely at the minstrel, who had a large lump on his forehead, rapidly turning purple. “You look like you’ll live, lad. But from now on, it’s best if you to stay out of my affairs.” He clapped the minstrel on the shoulder and prodded him toward the door.

  “But the cross? Where is it, do you think?”

  “I think that the ratcatcher was employed by someone…important. Let’s just say I saw the king’s secretary not long ago leaving an inn, taking a very oddly timed evening stroll when the ratcatcher was about. I’d leave it at that. I wonder if Dave was seeking the Templar’s cross the whole while, or finding it for whomever employed him was mere chance.” Law shook his head and twitched a wry smile. “As long as I’m not going to hang, he’s welcome to take it to whomever it was he was taking it for.”

  Historical Notes

  Most of medieval Perth was later destroyed, much of it by Oliver Cromwell’s army, so accurately depicting the medieval layout of what was then one of Scotland’s major exporting cities and de facto capital is difficult. There has been in recent years substantial excavation and research which I used and you’ll find discussed in Philip Holdsworth’s Excavations in the Medieval Burgh of Perth. Scotland’s King James I, with whom the main character meets in Chapter One, is, of course, the main character in my own novels A King Ensnared and A King Uncaged, where I listed more of the resources I used in researching the period.

  Sir Law, Duncan, Dave the ratcatcher, and most of the other characters are fictional. However, there are a few historical characters in or mentioned in the novel, the most important being:

  Archibald Douglas, Duke of Touraine, Earl of Douglas and Wigtoun, Lord of Annandale, 13th Lord of Douglas, killed in battle with the English at the Battle of Verneuil.

  Archibald Douglas (son of the Archibald Douglas who was 13th Lord of Douglas and Duke of Touraine), Earl of Douglas and Wigtoun, Lord of Galloway, 14th Lord of Douglas.

  James I, King of Scots.

  John Stewart, Earl of Buchan.

  Sir William Ruthven of Balkernoch, Lord Sheriff of the burgh of Perth.

  Glossary

  Aright, In a proper manner; correctly.

  Assize, Judicial inquiry.

  Aye, Yes.

  Bairn, (Scots) Child.

  Bannock, (Scots) Flat, unleavened bread made of oatmeal, generally cooked on a flat metal sheet.

  Brae, (Scots), Hill or slope.

  Bogle, Scarecrow.

  Braw, (Scots), Fine or excellent.

  Burgage, (Scots), Tenure of property in royal burghs in return for the service of watching and warding.

  Burgher, Citizen of a borough or town, especially one belonging to the middle class.

  Burn, (Scots) Name for watercourses from large streams to small rivers.

  Canna, Cannae, (Scots) Cannot.

  Chaperon hat, Round headdress of stuffed cloth with wide cloth streamers.

  Clàrsach, Scottish harp.

  Dadaidh, (Gaelic) Father.

  Demi-nobles, Gold coin with half the value of a noble (a gold coin).

  Dirk, A long, straight-bladed dagger.

  Dreich, Dreary.

  Dulcet, Pleasant to the ear; melodious.

  Enow, Enough.

  Écu, French gold coin in use at the time of the Hundred Years War.

  Erstwhile, In the past, at a former time, formerly.

  Faggot, Bundle of sticks or twigs, esp. when bound together and used as fuel.

  Fash, Worry.

  Forbye, (Scots) Besides.

  Ford, Shallow crossing in a body of water, such as a river.

  Garderobe, The contents of a wardrobe, or a bedroom or private room.

  Gilded, Covered with a thin layer of gold.

  Groat, A silver coin worth four pence.

  Halting, Faulty or imperfect.

  Haughty, Having or showing arrogance, noble or exalted.

  Hawked, To clear the throat noisily.

  Heid, (Scots) Head.

  Hen, (Scots) Term of address (often affectionate), used to women and girls.

  Hie, (Scots) To go quickly.

  Hieland, (Scots), Highland.

  Hodden-grey, (Scots) Coarse homespun cloth made by mixing black and white wools.

  Holy Rood, (Scots) Holy Cross.

  Houppelande, Outer garment, with a long, pleated body and flaring sleeves, that was worn by both men and women.

  Jape, Joke or quip.

  Jesu, Vocative form of Jesus.

  Kailyard, (Scots) Vegetable garden mainly used to grow kale.

  Ken, To know (a person or thing). (Past tense: Kent)

  Kirk, Church.

  Kirtle, Woman’s dress typically worn over a chemise or smock.

  Kist, Chestlike container; a box, trunk.

  Knackered, Exhausted.

  Loch, Lake.

  Louring, Lowering.

  Maister, Master.

  Mamaidh, (Gaelic) Mother.

  Mawkish, Excessively and objectionably sentimental.

  Merk, (Scots), Coin worth 160 pence.

  Mien, Bearing or manner, especially as it reveals an inner state of mind.

  Mount, Mountain or hill.

  Murk, An archaic variant of murky.

  Nae, (Scots) No, Not.

  Nave, The central approach to a church’s high altar, the main body of the church.

  Nonce, The present, or immediate, occasion or purpose.

  Outwith, (Scots) Outside, beyond.

  Privily, Privately or secretly.

  Rammy, Noisy disturbance.

  Saltire, Heraldic ordinary in the shape of a Saint Andrew’s cross. Capitalized: when it refers to the flag of Scotland: a white saltire on a blue field.

  Samite, Heavy silk fabric, often interwoven with gold or silver.

  Sassenach, (Scots) An English person or a Lowland Scot, mildly pejorative.

  Schiltron, A formation of soldiers wielding outward-pointing pikes.

  Sgian-dubh, Small boot knife originally used for eating.

  Sleekit, (Scots), Unctuous, deceitful, crafty.

  Snood, Netlike hat or part of a hat that holds or covers the back of a woman’s hair.

  Tail, A noble’s following of guards.

  Tarradiddle, Nonsense.

  Telt, Past tense of tell.

  Tolhouse, Building which housed a courtroom, town jail, and dungeon.

  Tooing and froing, Coming and going.

  Trencher, A wooden plate or platter for food.

  Tryst, Appointed meeting.

  Tun, Large cask for liquids, especially wine.

  Vielle, Medieval instru
ment similar to a violin played with a bow.

  Villein, A medieval peasant or tenant farmer.

  Wain, Open farm wagon.

  Whang, A resounding blow.

  Wattle, Fleshy, wrinkled fold of skin hanging from the neck.

  Wean, (Scots) Child.

  Westering, To move westward.

  Wheedling, To use flattery or cajolery to achieve one’s ends.

  Whilst, While.

  Wheest, Be silent—often used as an interjection to urge silence.

  Wittering, To chatter or babble pointlessly.

  Wroth, Angry.

  Wullnae, (Scots) Will not.

  Novels by J.R. Tomlin

  Please sign up at www.jrtomlin.com for my email list to learn whenever I release a new novel and to receive a free Kindle copy of A Kingdom's Cost.

  Sir Law Kintour Mystery Series

  — The Winter Kill

  — The Intelligencer

  The Stewart Chronicles

  — A King Ensnared (Book I)

  — A King Uncaged (Book II)

  Standalone Prequel to The Black Douglas Trilogy

  — Freedom’s Sword

  The Black Douglas Trilogy:

  — Kingdom’s Cost (Book I)

  — Countenance of War (Book II)

  — Not for Glory