Sacrifice by Sarah Singleton

Author:Sarah Singleton [Sarah Singleton]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781847388865
Publisher: Simon & Schuster UK

11

Bohemia, 1480

Midsummer’s eve, and the feast of St John. The sun was late descending, a fiery chariot burning over the treetops of the faraway forest, the sky a fathomless vault of blue. Along a narrow paved road, two dozen riders made their way. Tiny, like ants, between the plunge of sky and the wide plain, fringed with trees, the party rode in silence. Two carried banners, displaying the symbols of the Roman church. Behind them, three church officials dressed in silk and fur, and then a captain and twelve soldiers. Despite their finery, all were covered in a layer of dust from the journey. The only sound was the patter of hooves and the clinking of the horses’ bits. The animals tossed their heads and swished their tails wearily against the ubiquitous insects. Ahead of them, massive in its robes of hewn granite, rose the monastery-fortress, the headquarters of the Order of the Lily.

Standing on the battlements, high above the plain, Grandmaster Stephen Maslin gripped the hilt of his sword. How brave they were, he thought as he watched the party’s progress to the huge oak doors, so few against the might of the order with its fortress and hundreds of soldiers. Then again, a man might be more than the sum of his own parts. The inquisitor general represented the strength and authority of the Roman church. The size of his company was a statement in itself. He needed no army.

‘So they have come at last,’ Maslin said, as the fortressmonastery swallowed up the inquisitor and his company. Beside him on the battlements, his fellow members of the council, knights all, made no reply.

‘They have come to destroy the order,’ Maslin said gently. ‘We knew the time would come. The church has turned against us.’

Just before he turned, a flash of colour caught his eye in the forest hem, far away. He shifted his gaze, trying to see better. Next to him, a knight murmured:

‘Travelling people. We sent men out to move them on, but they keep coming back. Shall I despatch soldiers?’

Maslin pondered. An ancient link existed between the gypsy tribe and the Order of the Lily. The origins of this connection were unknown, but the knights had persecuted them over the years. Nothing deterred, the travellers continued to dog the order.

‘No,’ he said. ‘We have other priorities. Let them be.’

The inquisitor dined with them at the high table in the long hall. His papal banner hung down the wall behind him. To left and right, long banners of the order, dark blue with the white fleur-de-lis. The inquisitor was not a young man. About fifty perhaps, but lean still, his muscles honed by riding and fighting. His hair was iron grey, short-cropped, his eyes a cold, icy blue. His face was weathered, all spare flesh honed away by years so the skull was evident beneath the skin. He ate little – some fruit and bread. His movements were neat and scrupulous. His assistants, two administrator priests, were also seated at the high table, to the right of the inquisitor.

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