Falconer and the Death of Kings Read Online Free PDF Page A

death. Rumour had it that he had buried himself in his manor, the snowstorms only putting the final icy seal on his self-incarceration. Now he stood in Aristotle’s Hall facing the very man he could never bring himself to speak to during his wife’s life. Falconer observed that his visage, too long hidden indoors, was the colour of uncooked pastry, and just as flaccid and soft. His eyes were dark pools showing no spark of emotion. But his furrowed brow, half hidden by the fur bonnet he wore, betrayed an uncommon level of unease and uncertainty. His lips flapped soundlessly a few times before he could form the words he needed.
    ‘I need to know more about Ann’s death.’
    Falconer waved his arms at the bunch of students who hovered behind his visitor, agog at what might now be said. Reluctantly, they retired into the cubicles at the rear of the hall which formed their sleeping quarters. The fire did not heat these small boxes so well, and they would be cold. But Falconer sensed that the conversation he was to have with Segrim would best be in private. His clerks would have to get their warmth from hiding under the coverings on their truckle beds. He invited Segrim to sit on one of the rickety chairs beside the open hearth, but the old man chose to pace restlessly around the room. Falconer sat anyway, and asked Segrim what more did he want to know about the matter.
    ‘I know what was said about the man who it is believed murdered my wife, but I cannot put out of my head that damned Templar.’
    Falconer sighed. So that was what all this was about. The Templar – Odo de Reppes. Segrim had travelled to the Holy Lands recently with a Templar, who the old man thought had been involved in an intricate plot to murder members of King Henry’s family. Odo de Reppes had indeed shared in the crazy murder a year or so earlier of Henry, son of Richard, King of Germany, and nephew to the old King of England, while he was at prayer in Viterbo. On the infamous day, Sir Humphrey had found himself at the back of the church, packed out with noblemen who were seeking to speak to Henry. So all Segrim got to see was the back of a distant figure, kneeling before the altar. Then all Hell had broken loose.
    A group of armed men had stormed up the aisle, swords in hand. They had hacked Henry to pieces. Three of the men were later identified as Simon and Guy de Montfort and Count Rosso, father-in-law to Guy. It was assumed then that the deed was revenge for the death of the de Monforts’ father, Simon de Montfort, at the Battle of Evesham, seven years before. But as the murderers left the church, running out the way they had come, one of them turned to briefly stare at Sir Humphrey. A pair of cold green eyes shone from behind the full-face helm. Segrim had been convinced it was the Templar. Now he embellished his story.
    ‘On my return journey from the Holy Lands, the Templar pursued me by sea and land for months on end, until I thought I had eluded him at Honfleur.’
    The mention of the French port hit a nerve with Falconer. It was there he assumed Saphira Le Veske still resided. She had gone there on business and had not returned. It had been some months now, and Falconer hoped to be able to track her down once he was in France. If Roger Bacon gave him the time to do so. He tried to get his mind back on Segrim’s story, as the old man went on.
    ‘Then, after crossing the Channel, I next saw him in Berkhamsted the very day young Henry’s father – Richard, King of Germany – died. And the Templar saw me . That is why I went into hiding in Oxford town before daring to return home. And why I still think Ann was murdered by or at the behest of the Templar because he was afraid she had been told of the conspiracy by me.’
    Segrim’s face was ashen, and he groaned.
    ‘It was my fault Ann was killed.’
    Falconer stood up and grasped Segrim by his shoulder.
    ‘No, Sir Humphrey, it was not your fault. If anything, it was mine. It was an act