Falconer's Trial by Ian Morson Read Free Book Online Page A

eldest son, John of Winchester, had died quite young in August of last year, while in the custody of his Uncle Richard. Now Richard also was dead. But still Segrim shook his head and turned away from his informant, unconvinced of any suggestion of foul play. Death was a normal part of living, and young and old succumbed equally from perfectly natural causes. Life, after all, was a harsh and precarious affair. He buried his face in the ale jug again. It was only later that something occurred to make Segrim wonder if the farmer had not hit upon the truth after all.
    It happened after he had retired to his room with a sore head from too much ale, and aching bones from the persistent damp. He was staring glumly out of the unglazed window, holding the sacking aside that was the only protection from the gusting wind and rain. The bulk of the castle opposite looked even gloomier in the darkness. More so, now that it housed the sad presence within its walls of the body of Richard, King of Germany. Suddenly, Segrim was aware of a sound being carried on the wind. A noise that became clearer as it got closer. It finally seemed to be coming from the narrow lane below the window at which he stood. It was the sound of chain mail and sword clanking together, accompanied by the gentle creaking of a horse harness. The sound was restrained but clear, as if whoever was passing by chose to do so secretively. Segrim leaned out of the window cautiously and peered down. He saw a small group of armoured men on horseback passing below. They were led by the robust and upright figure of the very Templar he had been fleeing for weeks. The man even seemed to sense Segrim’s presence, as he lifted his cold, calm gaze up to Segrim’s window. Sir Humphrey ducked back inside the room, his legs giving way underneath him. He slumped down on to the rush-strewn floor in horror.

FIVE
    T he following morning Ann Segrim was still mulling over her conversation with Sister Gwladys the previous day. The prioress had been reluctant to divulge what was disturbing her at first. So Ann had begun by confessing her angry outburst in the spicer’s shop. Gwladys had listened impassively, but Hildegard had hung on to her every word. The ancient nun professed to be deaf, fulfilling her role as chaperone perfectly in the nunnery. But Ann knew otherwise. Hildegard was a fund of knowledge. Her ears were as sharp as anyone’s, and her store of gossip greater for the fact that all her fellow nuns thought her deaf. Because of it, they spoke unguardedly in her presence. Even though she was aware of the deception, Ann still did not mind speaking frankly.
    ‘I was cold and uncharitable to the woman.’
    Gwladys made her strange smile, where the outer edges of her lips turned down rather than up.
    ‘And you did this because she is licentious? With a man of your… acquaintance?’
    Ann truly did not know if Saphira Le Veske had stolen William away from her using the pleasures of her body. But she knew that look in his eye. It was one she had not been able to arouse. She swallowed hard and nodded.
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Then coldness is appropriate to someone who does not live by God’s laws. But charity is another matter. Does not the sinner deserve our charity so that we may bring them back to God?’
    Ann spoke through thin, tight lips.
    ‘Even when the person concerned is a Jew?’
    She heard Hildegard hiss behind her. But Gwladys seemed unconcerned by the revelation.
    ‘Even Jews have been known to convert. But enough of that. Tell me, does your husband return soon from his sacred duties in Outremer?’
    ‘He does, Sister Gwladys…’
    Ann knew that the nun was not really changing the subject. She was instead gently reminding her of her own matrimonial duties in the light of the difficult situation that Ann had mentioned. She had no cause to be jealous of Saphira Le Veske, when she herself had a husband whom she owed her affections to. She was going to say some more about her