To Wear The White Cloak: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery Read Online Free PDF Page B

at once when the sergeant entered.
    “You are to see the Marshal,” he told them. “He will receive you in the chapter house.”
    “Thank you,” Edgar said, and rose, offering Catherine his arm.
    They followed a path that separated the knights’ cloister from the stables and were led into a small room adjoining the church. A moment later a man entered, his white cloak proclaiming his noble birth. He was only a little above middle height, but he was built like a bull, with powerful arms and a thick neck. His legs were bowed from life on horseback. He seemed too big for the room. Catherine shrank back to give him space, but Edgar led her forward and bowed.
    “My lord Marshal,” he said. “I am Edgar of Wedderlie and this is my wife, the Lady Catherine, granddaughter of Lord Gargenaud of Boisvert, in Blois. We returned to our home in Paris yesterday after an absence of nearly a year. Although the house had been closed while we were gone, when we entered we discovered that someone had left the body of a man dressed in the manner of your Order. Murdered, we believe.”
    “What?” Whatever the Marshal had been expecting, it wasn’t this. “One of ours? Murdered? Who? How?” he sputtered.
    “We have no idea,” Edgar answered. “We only ask that you send some men to claim the body of your fellow and give him a burial with such rituals as you accord your own.”
    “How do you know this man is one of ours?” the Marshal asked. “There’s been no one missing as far as I’ve heard. An empty bed in the dormitory would have been noticed.”
    Edgar paused. Catherine forgot her promise and answered for him. Edgar hid his smile. He wasn’t surprised.
    “The man wore a mail shirt and the white cloak of the Knights of the Temple, with a brooch showing two knights sharing a horse,” she said. Then she added, “But perhaps we were wrong, for his cloak had no red cross on the shoulder such as you wear, only a small dark one held in place by the brooch. Or is the red cross only granted to those of you in authority?”
    The knight put his hand to the embroidered cross on his left shoulder almost as if caressing it.
    “My mother made this at my request when I converted to the Order,” he said. “But Pope Eugenius only gave us permission to carry
the red cross on our cloaks a few days ago. Not all of the knights have added them, yet. Yes, the man certainly seems to have dressed as we do. What are his features?”
    Catherine shivered as she remembered the distorted face.
    “Time has erased his features,” Edgar said. “His hair was light, though not as blond as mine. He was no longer young, I think, but I could be wrong. His size was a bit taller than you and of more slender build. Can you remember anything else, Catherine?”
    She tried to recall anything beyond the torn face and gaping hole in the man’s back. Something.
    “He was accustomed to riding,” she said suddenly.
    “Meaning?” The Marshal seemed skeptical.
    “He wore leather brais ,” she said slowly, thinking. “But the inside of the leg was worn the way it is when it’s always rubbing against the side of a horse. That makes the leather shiny from oil and sweat. Walking causes leather to chafe and become rough, not smooth. That’s why I assumed he was a knight.”
    The two men were silent a moment. The Marshal looked to Edgar for confirmation.
    “I didn’t notice,” he admitted. “You can examine his clothing when you have the body retrieved. It would be best if you sent someone at once, with canvas to wrap him in. I would judge the man has been there for some time.”
    The Marshal went to the door and called to a guard waiting outside.
    “I’m still not convinced that your inconvenient guest is a Knight of the Temple, but I shall send some of the servants to collect him,” he announced. “Direct them to your home, or lead them if you will. I’ll tell the commander of this. He may wish to question you himself.”
    “We shall be at