Dagger of the Martyrs by Savile Steven & Meikle William

Author:Savile, Steven & Meikle, William [Savile, Steven & Meikle, William]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B07SQ8PB76
Goodreads: 50168176
Publisher: BadPress
Published: 2019-06-18T07:00:00+00:00

1308

THE POOR QUARTER, PARIS

Aymeric’s father was a shadow of the man he used to be.

His incarceration and the months of long torture had diminished him. He was shrunken in stature, his muscles withered, skin slack. Aymeric realised, for the first time in his life, he looked the man straight in the eye when they stood talking.

There was grey in father’s hair and beard now too, and a haunted aspect to his eyes that spoke of twin ghosts, uncertainty and fear.

And yet, dressed in his simple white surplice, and once again carrying a sword, the proud Templar he had been still showed, like an entirely different ghost.

“I will go to Rome as soon as I am fit to ride,” Lucian said over breakfast at the long table in the church. He ate with a ravenous appetite, not worrying about the niceties of table manners. His gut had not been full for months.

“Not Avignon? Not the Pope?” Aymeric asked.

Reynard answered. “The Pope in Avignon is not to be trusted, young master. He is too close to the King, too enamoured of gold and fine silks for a man of the Church. While Rome suffers from much the same problem, at least they are capable of independent thought, and reason, and might be more easily convinced.”

Lucian turned to Reynard. “You said in the cell that you have evidence I might present?”

“I do.”

Reynard recounted the confession they had extracted from the Count in the cellar under the tavern.

Lucian shook his head. “That will not be enough. We need more than one man’s word to go against the King. We need more. The signed and witnessed confessions from the heart of the King’s retinue, at the very least.”

“Hmmm… There is Gaston LeClair,” Reynard mused. “You were boys together, even friends once. He might recant, should you ask it of him?”

“Gaston is a fat, weak old man drinking himself to death in his vineyards in Chinon. It is too far and besides, his is not one of the signatories.”

“Perhaps not. But he has the ear of the King.”

“Best to find someone in Paris,” Lucian argued. “This must be done quickly, if it is to be done at all.”

All of them round the table fell quiet.

This time it was Yannick who spoke first.

“I might know a man.”

“Go on,” Reynard said.

“He frequents the taverns of the north bank, and he is never short of coin.”

“Who is this wealthy soul?” Lucian asked.

“De Nogaret, the spymaster’s man. He has been privy to the tortures of the men of the Order, indeed, he claims to have carried out many inquisitions on behalf of his masters, and has been boasting of it just this past night.”

The knight leaned forward, elbows planted on the table top, the ghosts banished. In their place lurked demons. “You can take me to him?” Lucian tried to stand, but was so weakened he sank back to his seat.

Aymeric stood.

“Yannick will take me, father,” he said. “I will fetch de Nogaret’s man for you.”

“I cannot ask this of you, son.

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