Richard and I were sitting in the inn. In fact, we were discussing leaving Knolles and running for the coast — to see if the Prince, or Prince Lionel, would take us.
‘We have nothing to lose,’ Richard said.
‘They might hang us, or publicly degrade us,’ I argued.
Richard spread his hands, which were long-fingered and delicate compared to mine. ‘If I stay here much longer,’ he said, ‘I will be nothing but a criminal. A felon.’ He looked away.
We had probably had far too much to drink already when a party came in — probably the last party to get through the gate that day. There was a priest, a pair of monks and two nuns. The girls had a go at them because the church provided us with some ready customers, but the nuns didn’t even unveil and the monks were silent.
At some point I became suspicious of them, and I ordered Helen, one of the older girls, to see if the nuns were women at all. She took them a flagon of wine, leaned over the table and put a hand on a nun’s gown. The nun gave a very nun-like screech and backed into a corner.
Better safe than sorry, thought I, and gave Helen a moulin of silver for her trouble.
The priest ordered wine for all of them and they kept to themselves. He was a nondescript man in a brown gown that reached to the ground — what we used to call a long gown — but under the gown, he wore boots with spurs, like a knight. That made me suspicious.
The two nuns made me suspicious, too. As soon as they relaxed a little, they were too loud, too free, and they gave the man orders. Something about them wasn’t right.
After they had eaten, the priest asked Helen to speak to the innkeeper, and she sent for me. I went over to the table with Richard at my back. He was limping. I was ready to draw, my blade oiled and loosened in my scabbard.
The nuns sensed my alarmed hostility and became silent. More, the younger one cowered against the back of their snug. The monks glared with that mixture of fear and anger that characterizes the man with no fighting skills.
The priest, on the other hand, appeared very calm. He indicated empty places. ‘Please,’ he said, ‘join us and share a cup of wine.’
I sat, and Richard watched my back. That’s how it was.
‘I need to get to Avignon,’ he said carefully. His eyes flicked up to Richard. ‘You may sit. I confess that I have several weapons, but none of them to hand.’ He smiled.
I turned in time to see Richard return the smile.
I nodded. It was possible he really was going to Avignon. It didn’t add up, but it was possible. And the man himself looked familiar. The hood on his gown made his face difficult to see and read, and he wore a white linen cap, like a scholar — or a soldier, except that his was a clean, sparkling white despite days on the road.
‘Whom do I pay?’ he asked. ‘For passage?’
I glanced at Richard. ‘You want an escort?’ I asked.
He nodded. ‘I had six men-at-arms and a dozen crossbowmen,’ he said. ‘I’ve lost all of them. I need to get to Avignon. With both of my brothers and both sisters. Intact.’ He nodded. ‘Alive.’
Again, he seemed familiar to me. But I couldn’t place him, and I didn’t know any priests, so I stopped staring at him and turned to Richard.
Richard sat. ‘I’m willing to discuss it,’ he said. ‘Messire.’
Richard and I still wanted to be great knights. We were more eager to do good deeds than farm boys safe at home. We had a great deal of sin to expiate.
‘It would be a bold adventure,’ I said.
But Richard shook his head. ‘Auxerre is packed with brigands,’ he said. ‘You are foolish to come this way.’
The priest shrugged. ‘I go where the good Lord sends me,’ he said. ‘I was with the convoy-’
‘What convoy?’ Richard asked.
‘The cardinals who went to make the peace treaty. We were with them on the road — they are too slow. And too rich.’ The priest smiled. ‘Everything about the church that I despise in that convoy. Arrogance. Worldly power. Pomp and display. Wanton sin.’ He shrugged. ‘My sisters are safer in an inn run by professional killers.’ He met my eyes. ‘I know you,’ he said. ‘I ask for your help.’
His eyes were not soft. Damn, I knew him from somewhere. His words — I know you — struck me like sword blows. He knew my kind? Or he knew me, personally?
I smiled, the way you smile when you think you may have to fight. ‘How far behind you is this convoy?’ I asked.
He shrugged. ‘I will not be the agent of its destruction,’ he said, and I swear he knew exactly what he’d just revealed.
‘You are English,’ I said.
He nodded. ‘I am a servant of God,’ he said. ‘Will you help us?’ He flipped back the hood on his gown. ‘Will you help us, William Gold?’
His face had a scar from the corner of his mouth to one eye. And a new scar — he was wearing a clean cap to cover a bandage.
I knew him then. He was the Hospitaller knight I’d met when I was about to flee London.
Richard was still hesitant. I wasn’t. I had prayed, and this was what God offered me.
‘I’ll take you past the worst of it,’ I said. ‘I’ll get you clear of the Auxerre.’
The priest — my eyes went to his right hand, and on it burned a ring — a red jewel with an eight-pointed cross, and the ring was on a hand with the swollen knuckles and scarred fingers of a swordsman. He wasn’t just a priest. But I knew that now.
He nodded. ‘God bless you,’ he said. ‘I am Fra Peter.’
That’s what comes of praying.
Richard was adamant. ‘You go,’ he said. ‘I’m going to take the convoy.’
We looked at each other for a moment, having switched roles too dramatically not to notice the change. Richard was going to raise a company of adventure to sack a church convoy, and I was going to escort nuns.
‘Why?’ I asked.
Richard shrugged. ‘The church has always been against the Prince,’ he said. ‘And they’re rich. They’re blood suckers, William. We can be rich.’
‘Come with me,’ I said.
Richard shook his head and wouldn’t meet my eye. ‘I misdoubt we can do both. Your man asked for you.’
I took his shoulder in my right hand. ‘Richard, we talk about being better men. .’
Richard looked away, and then back into my eyes. ‘You go do what’s right for your sister,’ he said. ‘And so will I. I’ll split whatever I take with you. If you want to turn the money down, fine, but this is our chance to be free of this crap. This endless shit.’
I thought about it for half an hour. Then went and found him at a table with two of the Hainaulters we preferred, because they had no ties to the Gascons. ‘A word, Richard,’ I said.
Musard rose and followed me.
‘Better if I attack the convoy and you escort the nuns?’ I asked.
Musard shook his head. ‘No.’ He smiled. ‘But a damn courteous offer, brother.’
He didn’t call me brother often. Nor embrace — he didn’t like to be touched — but he threw his arms around me then.
We bought them a half-dozen Hainaulters for sixty florins — men we’d been with all summer, and knew. We made ten gold florins on the deal, and felt we’d done a good deed, as, in fact, we had.
I promised to lead them across the Bourc’s territory. I thought I could do it, and leave Richard to prepare a small army for us. A Company of Adventure. The cardinal’s convoy was crawling across France, and we wanted a piece of it. I thought I could be back before Richard marched. Richard did not.
But the priest — the knight, and I was sure he was a knight — needed me. And I was going to oblige him if it killed me.
It almost did.
The nuns were noblewomen — English noblewomen. They were, I think, in shock at the loss of their servants, who had been murdered. And as I heard their story, told in fits and starts, I realized that they seemed wrong, as nuns, because they were not demure. They were, both of them, women used to command. Shock, horror and violence only left them angry. Neither would tell me why they were crossing war-torn France.