The Winter Knight by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781788633116
Publisher: Canelo Books
Published: 2019-09-29T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Saturday morning

Arnau sat at the head of one of the trestle tables in the great hall, Felipe in the next seat, their prizes on the clean timber surface before them. The serfs had been in and out, preparing for the day’s first meal – a luxury that few managed, most relying upon noon for their first food, but one upon which the Ehingen lords insisted. Arnau and Felipe had not returned to their beds after their night-time adventure. Neither had felt a great urge for slumber, and both men were far too tense and alert for such, and so they had cleaned up and dried the items they had found in the snow and spent the next few hours fruitlessly going over everything they knew once more.

They had attended the morning service. Father Oswald rather slyly combined lauds with matins, given the late hour of dawn at this time of the year, and yet still apart from the two Templars, the only attendees were the priest himself and the marshal, a former Crusader whose devotion to the cross still drew him to each canonical service despite his current lay profession.

Three psalms, rote prayers, hymn, chant, reading and versicle, and Father Oswald had blessed them and released them once more to their worldly activities. The old priest had not been particularly pleased that Arnau and Felipe had brought a crossbow into the chapel, but had acquiesced eventually. The Templars were not about to let out of their sight the one piece of evidence they felt they could rely upon.

Following the service, they had returned to the hall and waited. The pair had sat as the places were set about them, comfortable that there was plenty of space for each occupant to sit at a table and still leave room for them. After all, Anselm would no longer need a place at table, and Otto would not be attending breakfast either. The guard who had fallen from the wall had survived, it seemed, and was in his rooms now, being tended to as best they could by the serfs and his friends. He seemed to have a broken arm and some damage to his chest, but his breathing seemed normal and no blood came with his toilet, so everyone was confident that unless some infection took him, he would pull through.

Still, he would not be here, instead being fed and watered in his room.

Gradually, the room filled with those attending the meal, each finding their seat in a strange silence, watching one another, but most particularly watching the two men who bore the red cross of the Order, gathered around the horrifying weapon. The details of what had happened during the night had filtered swiftly through the castle’s occupants, and shock and distrust seemed to pervade the morning, filling the air. At least the snow continued to hold off, the sky a bright blue, cloudless but freezing.

Bernhard took his seat, as did Michael, Father Oswald, the remaining guards and those serfs not busily porting the food from the kitchens.

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