The Butcher of St Peter's: (Knights Templar 19) by Michael Jecks Read Free Book Online

beautiful woman, and one of
     whom Sir Peregrine would be eternally covetous.
    ‘When you’ve finished staring at my wife, would you like some wine?’ Sir Baldwin asked sharply.
    Sir Peregrine laughed and sat at his side. Sir Baldwin was a tall man, running slightly to a paunch now, especially after
     some weeks recuperating, but he was striking in his mannerand his looks. Used to power, he displayed a firmness and confidence in all he did, and his dark brown eyes had an intensity
     about them that many found intimidating. His face was framed by the flat, straight, military haircut over his furrowed brow,
     and below by the line of hair that clung to the angle of his jaw. Once, when Sir Peregrine had first known him, that hair
     had been black, but now it was liberally sprinkled with white, as was the hair on his head. A scar reached from one temple
     almost to his jaw, the legacy of a battle of long ago.
    Now Sir Peregrine received the full force of those eyes.
    ‘Have you come to enquire after my health,’ growled Baldwin, ‘or to dally with my wife while I sit here as an invalid?’
    ‘Neither, friend.’ Sir Peregrine chuckled. He leaned forward as Lady Jeanne poured wine from a heavy jug into a pottery drinking
     horn. It was cheap, fashioned in the likeness of a bull’s horn with a man’s face embossed on the front, all glazed green,
     and he studied it a moment. ‘No, this is a little business which may be more to your taste than mine.’
    ‘You are the Coroner,’ Baldwin remarked.
    ‘This is not a matter of a body … not yet, at least. It is a matter of the King’s Peace. I have been told that there are
     some friars causing trouble again.’
    Baldwin winced. ‘Rather you than me if it comes to a fight over rights and liberties between a friary and the city. Which
     friary is it?’
    ‘Worse than that.’ Sir Peregrine smiled. ‘It’s a straight fight between the friars and the canons. The friars are preaching
     in the streets against the canons. Apparently one of their older confraters is on his deathbed and wants to be buried in the
     friary, but the canons are determined to enforce their claim to the funeral.’
    Baldwin did not smile. ‘I see.’
    It was odd. Sir Peregrine had always respected Sir Baldwin, who was clearly a fighter of prowess and some courage, and yet
     Sir Baldwin could not bring himself to like Sir Peregrine. It was all because of his personal loathing for politics, as Sir
     Peregrine knew full well.
    They had a different view of the world, so he thought. While he sought to improve the lot of the people by his own active
     involvement, Sir Baldwin tried to avoid any participation in the disputes and political struggles that so often absorbed the
     entire kingdom. In the last few years, since the accession to the throne of the weakly King Edward II, the realm had suffered
     from the greed of the King’s friends and advisers, first the grasping Piers Gaveston, and now the still more appalling Despenser
     family. The King appeared incapable of reining in their ambition, and it would soon be necessary, Sir Peregrine felt sure,
     to remove them by force. That was his firm conviction, and the attitude of rural knights like Sir Baldwin, who wanted to enjoy
     their quiet existence without running risks, seemed to him to be both selfish and short-sighted. Avoiding conflict only guaranteed
     that the strong would become bolder.
    ‘Has the Dean raised the matter yet?’ Sir Baldwin asked.
    ‘No. I have heard all this only from the city. The receiver wants no more disputes. The city can remember too clearly all
     the nonsense twenty years ago.’
    Jeanne looked interested. ‘What happened then?’
    ‘I don’t know, nor do I care.’ Baldwin held up a hand. ‘It’s a matter for the Church, not for a king’s officer. If they wish
     to bicker amongst themselves, that is for them to decide. I know this: I have no jurisdiction over any of the men involved.’
    ‘Quite so,’ said Sir