Falconer and the Death of Kings Read Online Free PDF

of revenge against me.’
    Sir Humphrey’s dark and troubled eyes gazed into Falconer’s. He shook his head.
    ‘No. I cannot rid myself of the idea of the great conspiracy. I have tried to find Odo de Reppes, but the commander at Temple Cowley is tight-lipped about the man. You know how the Templars close ranks and protect their own. It leaves me with a feeling of deep suspicion.’
    ‘But what can I do for you, Sir Humphrey?’
    ‘I have heard that you plan to travel to Paris. Talk to the Grand Master of the order for me. Find out the truth.’
    Falconer would have protested that he was unable to carry out this request. He was supposed to be in Paris to learn about the implications for the teaching in Oxford of Bishop Tempier’s Condemnations. And secretly he was to talk to Roger Bacon – something which would be very difficult to arrange in itself. On top of all that, he had a personal desire to find Saphira. Now Segrim was asking him to meet Brother Thomas Bérard, Grand Master of the Order of the Poor Knights of the Temple of Solomon. He hesitated, but not for long. Segrim’s face showed a deep yearning for the truth, and Falconer could not deny it to him. Besides, he might not know the Grand Master, but he did have a close friendship with Guillaume de Beaujeu, Templar and Preceptor of the Kingdom of Sicily. If Falconer could not get the truth from the Grand Master, then he might from one who was almost as important a man in the order. As long as Guillaume was in Paris also.
    ‘I will do as you ask, Sir Humphrey. But what I learn may have no bearing on Ann’s death. Nor relieve any sense of guilt you feel.’
    Segrim took Falconer’s hand and shook it.
    ‘That will be for me to decide when you tell me what you have found out. Thank you.’
    Falconer watched as the old man stumbled, stoop-shouldered, out into the snow. He had had precious little sympathy for the man when Ann had been alive, knowing how badly he treated her. Now he felt nothing but pity for the lonely figure returning to an empty manor lost in the snow. But he had no more time to ponder on Segrim’s request, for the ever-exuberant Thomas Symon burst through the door of Aristotle’s.
    ‘Was that Sir Humphrey Segrim I saw? What did he want here?’
    Falconer bent down to pick up his saddlebags.
    ‘Yes, it was Sir Humphrey, and I will tell you what he wanted as we ride for Dover. We had better make a start before the weather becomes too bad. We have at least a week of travel before we reach the coast. Ten days, perhaps, if the snow gets any worse. And then the crossing will depend on the state of the weather. We may have to wait a long time, but you can use it to learn some Dutch, which you will need in Calais. And from there to Paris could take as much as another month.’
    Thomas made a quick calculation in his head.
    ‘Then we may get to Paris by the Feast Day of St Albinus of Brittany. That would be appropriate.’
    ‘Hmm. The beginning of March. Perhaps, if we are lucky. If not, it may even be the Feast of St Hugh. All Fools’ Day.’
    The two travellers laughed, hoisted their bags on their shoulders and began their long pilgrimage.

FOUR
    Paris, May 1273
    E dward finally reached Paris, where he came to do homage to the French King Philip for the lands he held in Gascony. He stood at the window of his guest apartments in the Royal Palace on the island that sat in the middle of the River Seine. He watched as the waters were split by the end of the Ile de la Cité. It felt like standing in the prow of an enormous ship barging its way downstream to the English Channel. He sighed deeply. The burdens of kingship were beginning to feel heavier on his shoulders the closer he came to England. Which might begin to explain why his progress from the Holy Lands had been so slow. He had spent some carefree and pleasure-filled months in Sicily and Italy, and had taken joy in fostering the myth of Eleanor’s part in his rescue from the Assassin in