The Templar's Penance: (Knights Templar 15) Read Online Free PDF Page A

trade he would gladly have made, but it was not to be.
    He had enough men left to charge again, but they wouldn’t. That much he could see in their eyes. As a fighting band, they were destroyed. It was no good even thinking about using them again. Now Domingo would have to go back and tell her that he had failed her.
    The thought wasn’t pleasant, but it was better than sitting here, staring out over the corpse of his son.
    ‘I shall kill them. I swear it!’ he vowed.

Chapter One
     
    On arrival in Compostela, Baldwin knew immediately that coming here on pilgrimage had been the right thing to do.
    Just the weather was balm to his soul. The sky was larger here in Spain. He had noticed it before – it wasn’t as immense as Portugal’s, but definitely vaster than poor England’s. The plants looked greener here, the trees more robust, the buildings more comfortable. It was all because of the climate, which was warm and reliable. In the summer there was sun, in the winter there was cool. Rain fell in season – but it was always warm rain. In Devonshire, Baldwin knew that the rain was always chill, being blown in off the sea.
    He snuffed the air like a dog. There were the scents of rosemary, thyme and other herbs from the markets; the warm fug of many people crammed together in the heat, the smell of roasting stonework and heated timbers. Good God, he said to himself, how could I have lived without all this for so long? It was good to have returned to his old clothing. Today he was clad in white again, with a fine linen material that accentuated his body underneath. After the horror of the mad monk at Gidleigh, during which episode he had been forced to kill one man in order to defend another, he felt as though he needed every little bit of assistance that he could win, because he felt dirty. There was a deep, ingrained stain on his soul, because the man he had defended was more guilty than the attacker could ever have been.
    A nasty matter, that one. Bitter and devastating. He craved forgiveness, some solace for his unwitting homicide, and hoped that here in Santiago’s great Cathedral he might find it.
    The massive entranceway, the
Pórtico de la Gloria
, was enough to distract him and he looked up at it in awe. It wasmagnificent – daunting. Over a hundred years old now, it had been carved between 1168 and 1188, and the stonework was richly decorated with figures of prophets and apostles, each of them welcoming the pilgrims. Saint James himself was placed sitting prominently above the central column as though watching over all the poor folk as they reached this, his memorial.
    ‘A bit ornate,’ muttered his companion.
    ‘Different, that is all,’ Baldwin said, refusing to argue. In his opinion there was a grandeur about this entrance that showed how well men could honour God when they put their minds to it.
    Simon Puttock glanced up and his face twisted doubtfully. This experience was wholly new to him, and he wasn’t sure that he was enjoying it. He had been keen to come here at first, because it seemed a great adventure. Simon had never travelled abroad before. True, he was well travelled compared with almost everyone he knew, but this was the first time he had been somewhere where all the people spoke a different language. It made him feel very exposed, as though he stood out wherever he was. Like a pilgrim, perhaps, but as he told himself, he felt more like a blasted target, walking about on a field waiting for the archers to loose their arrows. It was as though everyone was pointing at him, gauging the distance before firing, and it made him jumpy and unsettled.
    Seeing Simon jerk his head to one side, staring suspiciously at a pilgrim jostling him, Baldwin had to laugh for sheer joy. It was hard not to feel delight here, among so many people thronging the church. Their joint pleasure and relief on reaching their goal was enough to make the tiredness fall away from Baldwin like a man shedding a mantle.
    Not