The mystic rose

'Pour,' said the Templar.

The i

The i

The baron sat down again and began removing his boots, which he placed by the side of the hearth. He stretched out his feet to the fire. The Templar watched him without interest.

In a moment, the i

The man scurried away and d'Anjou, returning to his chair, poured a cup of wine which he pushed across the table to de Bracineaux. He watched as the commander sniffed the offering, and then took a swallow. 'Passable,' said the Templar, whereupon the baron took up a hot poker from the hearth and plunged it into the jar.

'Mulled,' d'Anjou said, as the wine sizzled. Tossing aside the poker, he poured himself a cup and settled back into his chair once more, feet spread before the fire.

They drank and let the wine do its work; when de Bracineaux held out his cup for more, the baron filled it and said, 'I suppose this priest has a church somewhere close by. Has the archbishop said where it is?'

'The bloated pig's bladder of a priest professes not to know. He is more trouble than he is worth. I am sick of the sight of him.'

'Regrets?' enquired the baron.

'Since Santiago he has been worthless,' grumbled the Templar. 'And he was very little use before that.'

'I smell something cooking.' The baron lifted his nose and craned his neck around.

'Probably pork,' muttered de Bracineaux. 'I am heartily sick of pork, too.'

'What about some of that beef we saw coming into town?' said d'Anjou, sipping from his cup. 'Perhaps we should have Gislebert get us some.'

'He has better things to do than cater to your idle whims, d'Anjou.'

At that moment, the door opened and Gislebert appeared. 'Ah!' said d'Anjou, lifting his cup. 'The very man himself. Here now, sergeant, de Bracineaux thinks you have better things to do than serve my trifling fancies. Is that so?'

Gislebert glared, but made no reply. 'The men are lodged and the horses stabled.' He looked at the wine longingly.

'What news of Matthias? Did the abbot say where the priest might be found?'

The sergeant swallowed. 'He is not here. The abbot said he is expected to return to the monastery for the winter, but he has not yet arrived.'

'Then we shall go and get him,' said the commander. 'Where is he?'

'He is building a church on lands near here. It is no great distance-half a day's ride, perhaps, not more.'

'Then tomorrow we will ride out and convince this priest to join our happy pilgrimage.'

'That should be no great difficulty. His grace the archbishop can simply compel him under threat of excommunication,' said d'Anjou, pouring a cup of wine for Gislebert. 'Sit down, sergeant. You look faint from thirst.'

'Once we have the priest to lead us, we will abandon that puffing windbag at last.' De Bracineaux drained his cup and, as the baron refilled it, he shouted for the landlord to bring the food. When the i

'I have no beef, my lord,' the landlord said, wringing his hands in the cloth at his waist. 'My good wife has made a rabbit stew with shallots, wine, and mushrooms. Everyone says it is excellent.'

'I want beef, damn you! Beef!'

'But there is none to be had in all the town just now. Perhaps a young bull will be butchered in a day or two, and then I shall certainly get some for you.' He spread his hands helplessly. 'I have some sausages; and there is fresh pork. If you like, I will have my good wife make for you a fine -'

'Devil take you and your good wife!' the Templar raged. 'I want beef, and that is what I shall have.'

The i

'Bring it,' the baron told him.

'At once, my lord.' He turned and scurried back to the kitchen. 'I will bring bread, too.'

'And more wine!'

'At once, sir.'

The Master glared at d'Anjou. 'Never cross me like that again,' he growled.

'What – and do you mean to crucify the man?' replied the baron casually. 'For God's sake, de Bracineaux, there is no beef. Carving up our host will avail you nothing.' He leaned back in his chair, clutching his cup to his chest and closed his eyes, savouring the warmth of the fire.

The i

The three drank in brooding silence until the i

'What is that?' growled de Bracineaux, eyeing the fourth bowl balefully.

The landlord hesitated. The ladle wavered uncertainly above the table. 'Stew, my lord,' he replied, timidly. 'For the archbishop.'

'You were told he was to have nothing but boiled cabbage and water,' the Templar said darkly.

'Of course, my lord, but…' he swallowed, glancing anxiously from one to the other, 'that is, I thought you were in jest.'

'I do not expect you to think,' the commander replied menacingly, 'I expect you to obey. Pour it back, and get him the cabbage as you were told.'

The i

'We have asked him already,' de Bracineaux said. 'He has told us all he knows – which is little enough.'

'Get some wine into him, and he may surprise you and sing like a lark,' said d'Anjou. 'It is the last chance to find out.'

'Very well,' said the commander. To Gislebert, he said, 'Fetch the disagreeable priest and tell him he can join us if he minds his ma

The sergeant stuffed a last piece of bread into his mouth, then rose and lumbered off; de Bracineaux regarded his companion with dull petulance. 'You are an old woman, d'Anjou. Do you know that? You should have been a priest.'

The baron sipped his wine. 'I lack the mental rigour,' he replied placidly. 'I am too easily led astray by frivolity and caprice.'

The commander stared at him, then laughed, the sound like a short, sharp bark. 'God's wounds, d'Anjou.' He lifted his cup and drank again, then pulled his bowl before him and started to spoon hot stew into his mouth.