Knight Assassin

by James Boschert

  They left the other monks in the field and made their way up to the abbey. They walked through the gates into the courtyard that surrounded the larger building and saw that Talon’s companions were busy taking the horses to the stables. He paused to tell his men that he would be spending time with the monks and that they should find a place to sleep and eat for the night. Pierre left them briefly to take charge of the sleeping arrangements and told them he would follow them in later.

  Claude called greetings to men as they passed and led the way to the entrance below the tower. They went up some stone stairs and then along a short veranda that opened out onto the yard. Claude took him to a large wooden door and knocked. A voice called and they entered a medium-sized room with rough-hewn wooden beams supporting the roof.

  It looked comfortable and cluttered. There were rolls of papers, and books in piles on the floor and all over a table. Behind that table sat a thin man, well into his old age, attested to by the halo of pure white hair that stood out around his balding head. He was dressed in an almost-white woolen habit and, despite the warmth of the day, he wore a heavy cloak over his shoulders. He regarded them with a calm expression on his long, lined features.

  “Ah, Brother Claude, what brings you this evening? Is the work in the fields not to your liking?” he asked without malice and smiled gently to take the sting out of the comment.

  Claude smiled back unabashed, and then said diffidently, “I would always prefer the Scriptorium, my Lord; the exercise of the mind suits me better. I ask your pardon, sir, Pierre and I have brought the interesting young man named Talon to meet you.”

  Abbot Matthias’ reaction was instant. He stood up and came round the table to greet Talon. He was a lot taller than he had seemed behind the table. He extended a bony hand to Talon and said warmly, “Ah, so you are the Talon I've heard all about from Claude and his companion, Pierre. They are very impressed with you, young sir.”

  “I have done nothing that I can think of to impress them, my Lord Abbot,” Talon said politely.

  “Perhaps it's in the lack of what you have said that impresses them,” returned the abbot. “I hope that you will partake of our poor hospitality while you're with us.”

  “Willingly, Sir. I came to ask questions to which I hope you might be able to provide answers.”

  “Then I shall charge you, Brother Claude, to see to his needs and to take him to evening supper after vespers—which is almost upon us—after which we can discuss your needs.”

  “Yes my Lord Abbot, gladly.”

  Claude led the way out and took Talon to a small but clean cell where he told Talon he would sleep for the night. He assured Talon that his men would be taken well care of and not to worry about them. He excused himself with the explanation that he had to go to vespers, after which they could go to dinner. The bell at the top of the tower was ringing by this time, calling the monks in from the fields to prayers.

  Talon listened to the silence of the abbey as the monks congregated somewhere within the complex and then very faintly he heard the murmur of many voices at prayer.

  Within half an hour Claude came and collected Talon, they then went and found Pierre, who told them that the horses were being taken care of and the men were being fed as they spoke.

  Talon would be a guest of honor at the high table with the abbot and some senior monks. Claude and Pierre, by virtue of the fact that they knew Talon, would be nearby.

  The tables were filling up quickly as they entered the main hall although for the most part there was not a lot of talking. The rule of silence, while not fully enforced, was encouraged. Talon was shown to his place at a table that faced the monks. Talon estimated that the company assembled here must have numbered at least thirty. They all stood up when the abbot made his entrance, then continued to stand as one of the senior monks at the high table read a short lesson. When the lesson was over the abbot blessed the company and they all sat down.

  They were served by young novices who hurried about with water, bread, and even wine for the company. Talon allowed wine to be poured into a jug for him but after his indulgence at home he was wary of taking more than a sip. But it turned out to be very good wine and he realized that he liked it. This was a far better vintage than the poor stuff at his father’s hearth, he decided ruefully.

  The meal was simple, but good. There was plenty of crisp bread available and even some salt for all to enjoy. The meal was a rich stew of vegetables and some threads of meat.

  Talon sat quietly, enjoying the company of the monks. The conversation was muted in most part as tired and hungry men consumed their basic food. The abbot gave him a welcoming smile when he saw him, but did not speak to him during the meal.

  When it was over everyone stood up and waited until the abbot and the elder monks had left. He signaled Brother Claude and Pierre to bring Talon with them as he left. They arrived back at the abbot’s office in time to see the candles lit. He offered Talon some more wine, which he accepted, surprised that he should do so but it was a good, heavy vintage that he could enjoy.

  The abbot settled into this chair and addressed him. “My Brothers here told me that you were a hostage of the Saracen for many years, young man. Once we have dispensed with the other business of yours, I would like to hear more of this.”

  “I shall be pleased to tell you more of that once I have discussed my other business,” Talon said politely.

  The abbot indicated that he should go on.

  Talon went on to outline the situation he had found his father facing when he came home. He described the visit of his uncle Sir Guillabert and his sons and then the visit by the priest on behalf of the bishop. When he got to the part about the bishop, the abbot looked surprised and then somewhat alarmed.

  He interrupted Talon. “This priest came to your father’s house and threatened him?” he asked incredulously.

  “I can only see it that way, sir.” replied Talon. “We are to take this to a court the bishop wishes to convene that will decide the issue once and for all.”

  “Why have you come here? To tell us of this story?”

  “I came because I thought you might be able to interpret the law and help us understand why everyone is so interested in taking the land from my father. There must be some papers somewhere to prove that it is rightfully the land willed to my mother.” He tried not to sound exasperated but it was difficult.

  The abbot leaned his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers thoughtfully in front of him.“We do read law here, that is true; but it is Church law and not feudal law. For the most part, it only applies to our own brethren. We also hold in trust those wills of the commoners and knights, indeed, lords, too, who wish to leave their papers in our care. With the lack of some written evidence, this is going to be a difficult interpretation. To my mind, though, it sounds suspicious that your uncle should have been at the bedside of your grandfather if he died of the plague.”

  “Even a priest was unlikely to be present at the death of someone with the plague,” Claude agreed. “It raged through here like a wild fire and then was gone, almost as quickly as it came, but it left many dead. Those who survived fled the region completely or hid themselves away in the forests until it was over.”

  “We were ourselves very frightened of the pestilence that swept over the land at that time,” Pierre added. “People would not go back to their villages but lived in caves and shelters in the forest where many died of starvation rather than risk the plague they thought might linger in their homes.”

  The abbot nodded. “That is the first part that I do not like about the tale. The second part is that there seems to be no written document proving your uncle’s claims, either. This means that the dispute can be settled by armed combat as is the old way, or must be settled in a court. However...” He trailed off.

  “What are you saying, sir?” Talon asked, looking at him curiously.

  “I am disturbed that the bishop has shown such interest on the side of your uncl
e. This is not a good sign, especially as he will be one of the presiding officials at the court. The Count or his secretary will be one of the others, and there will be one other appointed officer of the State who has good knowledge of the laws of the land, namely Languedoc, as we are ruled by the Count of Carcassonne.”

  Talon’s heart sank. “Does this mean that the bishop could influence the case against my father from the start?”

  The other two men looked at one another, then nodded reluctantly.

  “It is very unusual and I think irregular for a bishop to become involved in a land dispute, which makes me wonder why this should be so,” said the abbot thoughtfully, “If we could understand this, perhaps we could solve this riddle.”

  “Can we not challenge the case as only hearsay?” Claude asked.

  “Without papers of his own, your father is not very much better off. The whole thing would not even be in dispute if his mother had been the first-born son,” the abbot remarked with a wry smile at Talon. “Does your mother know if there were papers of any kind to be had?”

  “She is certain that there were, sir. But they cannot be found and all the people who might have known have died, so we now do not know where to look.”

  “Pierre, we hold papers of a legal sort for people; where would we hold such a document of this kind should it exist?” the abbot asked.

  “We do, indeed, my Lord. I shall see if there is anything in our own records.”

  The abbot hesitated, and then said carefully, “Talon, you need to understand that despite the honor attached to men of the crusades who go to the Holy Land to fight for the Lord, the kind of thing we are seeing here is not uncommon. Man is a lowly creature for the most part, and more often than not his greed will shut out matters of principle and many will not scruple to distort or cheat the law, or their own kin for that matter.”

  “I am not sure what you mean, sir,” Talon said, although he thought he might. Was the abbot warning him in some manner?

  “There have been many examples of theft and greed visited upon people who have either left for the crusades or, often as not, visited upon those unfortunates left behind who are too weak to defend their rights. Women have been dispossessed by the very families of those who left on God’s Holy errand. In other cases, the land is simply stolen and never returned as there is no one to dispute it. This has happened from peasant rank on up to that of knights and beyond, despite stern admonishments from the Church that this is terribly wrong. We are vehemently opposed to this kind of thing. It is an affront to God.” He looked sternly at Talon, then changed the subject. “It is almost sunset. The bells will ring for Compline prayers and then it is bedtime. We monks have to rise and go to chapel for the midnight Vigil mass. Will you permit me to say goodnight? We shall talk again in the morning about this, and I hope about your life in the world of the Saracen.”

  Talon rose and bowed. “Thank you for your patience with me, sir. Of course I should retire; it is late. We shall talk on the morrow.”

  He left with Claude and Pierre close by. As they walked, Claude touched Talon on the arm.

  “Talon, you need to understand one thing.”

  “What is that, Brother Claude? That even the church is corrupt and trying to steal my father’s land?”

  “What I wish to say about the abbot is this,” Claude said calmly, ignoring the jibe, “he's as honest a man as I have ever met, and that's why I stay here. I can assure you that if he can help you, he will.”

  “I am with Claude on this, Talon. Our abbot is one of those rare men of the Lord’s class who has renounced worldly goods and placed his life in the hands of God. You have come to the right place to hear wise words and good council. He will tell you the truth as he sees it.”Pierre said.

  Talon paused. “I understand Brother Claude, Pierre. I apologize as I, too, feel that he's a good man and I didn't mean to include him in my comment. But I had not expected to come home to this kind of strife and intrigue. Is it truly as he has stated?”

  “Yes and worse, my young friend,” Pierre answered. “The things men do to men is horrifying often enough, but to steal from those who have taken up the Cross and gone to fight in a holy war is despicable. Many are the examples we know of, and not in this region alone. We try to intercede where we can, but it is the responsibility of the parish priests to at least observe and report, which sadly few do.”

  They made their way down the stairs to the yard; there Claude turned to Talon. “Be of good heart, Talon. If we can, we will help. I have heard that your father is a good man and looks after his people. He should not be cast out of the inheritance.”

  He clasped hands with both the monks and they went their separate ways. The bell in the high tower began to toll the time for prayers. It filled the evening with a sound that carried far. When it stopped there was a long silence, almost as though the birds themselves were contemplating the night to come. As it was still dusk and Talon was too restless to go to sleep, he went to the stables. He had always found comfort in being around horses, so he walked along the short row to where he had heard Jabbar whicker. Jabbar was standing with his head poking out over the rail that kept him enclosed, looking for him.

  “We have come a long way together, you and I,” Talon said unconsciously using Farsi. The horse nuzzled his hand, looking for a tidbit. His master did not disappoint him. Jabbar slurped the tiny sugar cake happily and then allowed Talon to stroke his muzzle and chin. They stood this way for a few minutes while Talon reflected on what the abbot had said.

  Could it really be possible that the bishop was involved in some kind of scheme to disinherit his mother of her rightful inheritance? If so, why?

  He resolved to ask his father to take him around the property when he got back. He heard a slight sound and instantly faded into the shadows. Someone was coming down the length of the stables cautiously: Drudwas. He held a large stick in his hands and seemed to be looking for someone. Talon waited for him to pass, so close that they could have touched, and then stepped out behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. Drudwas was quick; he spun round and slashed at Talon with his stick. Talon was faster and ducked and then stepped well inside Drudwas’ guard and tripped him. Talon followed him down with his knife out.

  He leaned over the surprised man. “What were you doing, Drudwas?”

  Drudwas gasped out, “No! No, don’t use the knife. Oh, it’s you, m’lord! I thought I heard some person speaking a strange language and I wanted to make sure no one was about to hurt the horses. I did not know it was you.”

  “Up you go, man. I was talking to my horse. He doesn't understand French.”

  Drudwas clambered to his feet. “I did not even sense that you were there, m’lord. I did not mean to attack you. I love horses and cannot abide them being hurt, you see. I am the guard for the next few hours.”

  “You're a good man, Drudwas. I thank you for your concern. I was simply thinking out loud and talking to my horse, Jabbar. He is from Persia.”

  “Magnificent animal too, if I may say so, sor. I shall leave you alone then, m’lord.”

  Talon smiled in the dusk. He would not be able to get them to call him by his name. These men were going to insist that he be called sir or m’lord no matter what. He bade Drudwas goodnight and left the man looking after Jabbar.

  The next day dawned bright and sunny; a few clouds could be seen in the western sky but otherwise the sky was clear and blue. Talon ate a frugal breakfast in the company of Brothers Claude and Pierre, who had more or less adopted him for the duration of his stay. They asked him if he could stay one more day and he willingly agreed after making sure the men were comfortable. He need not have concerned himself; the men were intent upon lounging in the sun as much as they could after tending to the horses. Talon went back to Claude and Pierre.

  The abbot was engaged for the time being so the two monks decided they would take Talon on a guided tour. It was a fascination for Talon as he could not compare the monastery with any
thing other than the castles of his boyhood in both Palestine and Persia. This monastery was every bit as well run as the Templar station of Mas-Dieu, where they had stayed the one night. There were many similarities and then some differences.

  First, this was not a military order, Brother Claude informed Talon proudly. “Although this monastery has a very long history with the Benedictine Order, we are an order known as Cluny. We are especially fortunate as we are immune from both lay and Episcopal interference; hence, we owe nothing to the bishopric that rules in Albi. We do, however, owe much of our patronage to the Count of Carcassonne, who is one of our greatest benefactors.”

  “So he protects you and pays you?”

  “Not quite. We have to pay our way, but we observe the full Benedictine Rules.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that as a result our liturgical devotions are among the most beautiful. Therefore many lords, and even counts will come to us to say prayers for their relatives and give us money for doing so,” Pierre answered.

  “Also, our abbot is of a very aristocratic family and can see more clearly than most the state of the governance of the country, and to some extent affect it. This means that he might be able to exert some influence upon the bishop in his cause,” Claude told Talon.

  Claude and Pierre took him on tour of the winery, which contained many barrels of aging wine. Dates written on the casks went back at least ten years in some cases. Then they toured the olive press, where a couple of sweating monks were walking around, pushing a long pole ahead of them. Attached to the other end, rotating about a short axis, was a wide and deep, circular stone with rough grooves emanating out from its center. The stone crushed the olives as it went, the oil being captured in a crude drain where they showed him it could be filtered. There was some joking between the monks at Claude’s expense as the two monks offered him their workload and he laughingly refused.