Chapter 7

This early in the morning, the ride to the Temple Mount was quite pleasant. The sky was clear, which foretold a very warm day, but the coolness of the night still lingered outside. After a while, Hugh and Cadfael reached the Temple, and this time the sergeant guarding the gate did not oppose their request to see the Commander - he had probably been given orders to let them in. However, he still called for an escort; obviously, the Templars did not want guests roaming in their headquarters without anyone to keep an eye on them. Hugh and Cadfael were led through the same corridors as the day before, and invited to enter the same untidy office that was Amaury de Biran's lair. If possible, it was in an even worse state than the day before, with rolls of parchments scattered everywhere, even on the ground. Cadfael's scholarly heart protested inwardly when he saw how such precious documents were so flippantly taken care of. Yet, the whole mess looked strangely homely, although Cadfael suspected nobody but Amaury himself was able to find anything in the room. Perhaps it was the way it was intended.

"Brother, my lord," the Templar said with a pleasant smile, and much more warmly than the last time they had seen him. "How may I be of assistance?"

"Captain," Hugh nodded back politely. "We'd like to have a look at the place where Thornbury died. It might help us figure out what happened."

A shadow crept on Amaury's features, but it was understandable, Cadfael thought. As acting commander, he had to bear a lot of pressure, and if someone else solved a murder that was committed under his very nose, it would probably not look good. In any case, the Templar managed to hide his reluctance, and replied very politely.

"Certainly, if you think it might be useful. After all, we all want to see this murderer punished, the sooner the better. But I still don't see how I may be of help."

"We hoped you could help us find the exact spot," Cadfael explained. "Everywhere looks the same in the desert, especially to newcomers like the two of us."

For a second, Amaury seemed torn by an inner struggle, but the next moment he mustered a smile. "Naturally. Well, let's see... there is sergeant Mathieu, who helped bring back the body. He certainly can show you the place, and he'll find it easily enough - he's been over five years in this country. He doesn't speak English very well, but I suppose you won't mind very much."

"No matter," Hugh replied. "My French is a little rusty, but it should be more than enough."

"All right then," Amaury said, and he walked to the door and opened it. The two visitors' escort was still waiting in the corridor, and hastily entered when the acting commander called him in.

The sergeant was impressively tall, at least six feet and three or four inches, and he towered over the three other men, who were all rather short. It made Mathieu look even taller in contrast, but in spite of his height he was thin and walked like a cat. A mane of light brown hair fell on his shoulders and shadowed two dull blue eyes. For some reason, Mathieu looked rather unhappy. Truth to tell, at first glance he looked like a rather boring fellow, although Cadfael had long learnt not to assess people based solely on their appearance.

Amaury gave a few sharp orders in French, and Cadfael wished Hugh would not have bragged about his mastery of the French language. It was always interesting to hear what a man would say when he thought nobody would understand him, but it was too late for that. In any case, the sergeant nodded obediently and remained standing at attention, waiting for a dismissal.

"He'll take you to the place," Amaury said. "You'll just have to follow him. I hope you have horses of your own, because it's over an hour from the town. I'd lend you some of ours, but I'm not allowed to."

Cadfael shook his head. "That's not a problem," he said. "We brought our own horses, left them at the gates of the Temple."

"It's not very prudent of you," Amaury commented. "Anyone might steal them."

"They wouldn't dare," Hugh observed. "Not in front of a sergeant of the Templars."

The acting commander scowled noticeably. "My sergeant is at the door of the Temple to guard it," he replied dryly. "Not to keep an eye on everyone's horses."

Beringar half opened his mouth, then shrugged. "My apologies," he said. "I did not mean it like that."

"I know," Biran replied grouchily. "Perhaps you should go before it's too hot outside."

The dismissal was clear, and anyway Hugh and Cadfael had obtained what they had come for, so they did not protest and took their leave gracefully, followed by their guide. Mathieu signalled with his hands that he was going to fetch his horse, and a few moments later he was back with a chestnut mare. Cadfael climbed on his own black mare, which had not been stolen, Hugh mounted his stallion, and the three men were ready to go. Mathieu took the lead, and they took a large road, passed in front of the Moriah temple, crossed Jehoshaphat's Gate, and headed east. Quickly, it became apparent that Mathieu's company was as tedious as Cadfael had surmised, and the language barrier could not be held entirely accountable for that. After a few attempts on Hugh's part to speak with the sergeant, and as many monosyllabic answers, Beringar gave up and he and Cadfael began to talk quietly, ignoring Mathieu for the most part.

"Amaury de Biran is rather helpful," Hugh observed. "I thought we would have to put up more of a fight to get him to help us, but I didn't even have to show him the King's letters. Not that it would have been of help, since, as Peter of Blythe pointed out, the Templars don't take orders from the King."

Cadfael shrugged. "Perhaps he wants this murder case solved before the actual commander comes back. It's not very lucky for him that the murder took place while he was in charge."

"A strange coincidence, you might say," Beringar pointed out off-handedly, and the monk gave him a sidelong glance.

"You are not suggesting commander Evrard des Barres might have anything to do with this murder, do you?"

"You said it. I am not suggesting anything. Just commenting."

"Hmm," Cadfael muttered distrustfully. "Besides, if the actual commander had anything to do with this murder, he would have stayed here to make sure no one found out about it, don't you think?"

"Who said a murderer is always someone clever?" Hugh retorted shrewdly. "That being said, I don't think we should start accusing anyone before we have some more evidence to back up our assertions."

The monk nodded. "I quite agree. However..." he trailed off, lost in thoughts, until Hugh cleared his throat rather loudly, making him jump.

"However?" Beringar prompted.

Scratching his head, Cadfael shrugged. "Nothing. It's just that, well, don't you find it a little strange that Thornbury would be murdered just ten days before we came to ask him to pick a side in the war?"

Hugh's eyes widened slightly when he caught all the implications of what Cadfael had just said. "You mean it might be the doing of the Empress' men?"

"How would I know?" Cadfael retorted testily, then sighed. "I'm sorry. It's just... we have very few clues. Thornbury's death might very well have nothing to do with the Empress. Perhaps he was killed by highwaymen, who knows?"

"I doubt it," his friend protested. "Remember, he told Tahir to wait for him while he went forward. He had a purpose going out of Jerusalem, and when we find that purpose, we are likely to find the murderer."

"In any case, I doubt the murderer's weapon will just be laying on the ground waiting for us to find it," the monk said dispiritedly.

Hugh smiled and clapped his friend on the back. "Don't give up before we even tried. We'll do our best, and if we fail then it will mean God did not want us to succeed."

Cadfael smiled back, feeling a little better. His friend's spirit always cheered him up, no matter what, and the rest of the journey went without further mention of the murder, although both men were inwardly speculating on the matter at hand. They at least pretended to forget about it, until Mathieu signaled that they had arrived.

Wondering how he knew it was there, Cadfael looked all around him. Nothing looked much different from what they had seen in the last hour of riding, although they were now much closer to the mountains. It was the same desert scenery, the same dusty ground covered in stones and pebbles, its monotony hardly broken by a few rickety bushes, yet the sergeant seemed very sure of himself and was pointing insistently to a spot on the ground, blabbering in French.

"He says it's here they found the body," Hugh translated.

Cadfael dismounted and knelt near the spot, studying it intently. He was certain something was amiss, but it took him a few minutes before he pinpointed it.

"Something strange?" Hugh enquired.

"What?" the monk blinked, raising his head from over the ground.

A smile answered him. "You were staring at the ground, so I was wondering if you see anything I don't."

"No," Cadfael said slowly. "That's the whole matter, I suppose."

Beringar looked honestly puzzled at that.

"Nothing strikes you as surprising?" the monk insisted. "Think about it. Someone was murdered here. The Templars found the body laying here. We are here and we see nothing."

Hugh dismounted and came to take a closer look, seemingly taking the riddle as a challenge. After a little while, he took in a sharp breath. "Of course," he said in a low voice. "How could I have missed that... no blood. It's a little strange if you think someone bled to death on this very spot. But it was ten days ago..."

"We are talking about a huge quantity of blood," Cadfael reminded him. "Even after a few days, some of it should remain."

Thoughtful for a moment, Hugh eventually turned toward Mathieu and asked him a question in French. The sergeant looked a little surprised, then shrugged and answered tersely. Cadfael listened, but was not even able to tell where a word began and where it ended.

"What did you ask him?" he enquired after they were done talking.

"If it had been raining in the last ten days," Beringar explained.

"And?"

"No, so it seems your reasoning is sound. As to why there is no blood..."

"We know Thornbury died," Cadfael said, continuing their common reasoning out loud.

"So he had to bleed somewhere," Hugh nodded.

"Yet there is no blood here."

"So either Mathieu is mistaken..."

"...or Thornbury died somewhere else and was brought here only afterwards," Cadfael concluded.

"And only one person could have moved the body," Hugh added. "The murderer. But why would he do that?"

"I suppose it's the whole question," the monk sighed. "I don't know. Everywhere in this desert looks the same, so what would it change?"

"In any case, the body can't have been moved very far," Beringar observed. "Tahir said it was no more than two hours and a half between the moment Thornbury left him and the moment he found the corpse. Assuming he is not lying, of course."

"I doubt it. Why would he have come back if he had killed his master? He's too obvious a culprit for him to be the murderer."

"I agree," Hugh nodded, "but you'll need more than that to convince our dear friend Amaury."

Straightening up, Cadfael winced as his joints cracked. As young as he might feel in this magical land, he still was nearing sixty, and what his mind overlooked his body did not forget. Stiffling a groan, he stretched. "I suggest we take a look around," he said. "We can try to find the real place where Thornbury was killed. If Amaury didn't notice the incoherence of the lack of blood, he might not have checked that out, so we might find something he didn't."

"Since we're here, we can as well do that," Beringar agreed philosophically. "I'll tell Mathieu to wait here and not to move. He's probably not used to investigations, and I don't want him tramping around and possibly erasing traces. As much as there can be traces on this over-dry ground."

He said a few words in French, and the sergeant nodded grumpily, then the two friends began to look around. By then, the sun had risen high in the sky, and the temperature had increased dramatically, making the search all the more uncomfortable. Cadfael thought wistfully of his old abbey. It would soon be the summer, and the table of the brothers would be heavy with fresh fruits and vegetables. The fields would shine gold with ripe corn and oat... and suddenly, it struck the monk that he was nearing an age at which each summer might be the last, and he felt much older than ever before. He had always known that he would die someday, and he had thought he had come to terms with the idea. He had thought that, when the moment came, he would not be frightened, for he knew he would go back to his Creator; yet, at this very moment, he felt he liked life very much. Shaking his head, he tried to dispel those dark thoughts, and he was relieved when Hugh called him.

Grateful for the distraction, he walked to join his friend who, completely unaware of the monk's mournful mood, grinned at him as he gestured toward the rocky ground. Cadfael realized that, while wandering in their search, he and Hugh had come even closer to the mountains, almost at their very base, and the land was rugged. In his last steps, the monk had to be careful not to slide down the slope, with the pebbles rolling under his feet.

"Here, see?" Hugh said.

Indeed, several brown spots stained the rocks, and there was no questioning what it was. The two friends had seen enough dead men to recognize blood when they saw it. Cadfael immediately forgot all about his own impending death and bent over the spots with renewed interest. A man had died there, a man to whom he owed his son's happiness, and it was almost with reverence that he touched the rocks.

"It's not all," Hugh added.

"What else?" Then only did Cadfael notice that his friend was holding a sword in his hand, a Christian knight's weapon in all likelihood, for its blade was straight, its handle gilt and inlaid with jewels. It was without a shade of doubt worth a fortune. "May I?"

His friend handed him the sword, and the monk began to study it closely. It had served a lot, judging from the minute nicks on the blade and hilt, but it had been lovingly taken care of, which made the abandoning of the weapon all the more surprising. "I don't understand," Cadfael said. "Why leave this weapon behind, when it could only charge its owner? It's worth a great deal of money, at that. It's just not logical."

"What I wonder, for one, is why there is almost no blood on the blade," Beringar replied.

"The murderer could have wiped the blood," Cadfael suggested.

"Why take the trouble to clean the sword and then leave it behind?" his friend protested. "Besides, if he cleaned it, he did not make a very good job at it." He pointed at the brown smears on the edge of the blade.

The monk shrugged. "Well, I don't know. In any case, it will help us to discover who that sword belonged to. I suppose we have found everything there was to find, so let's get back to town, what do you say?"

"Agreed," Hugh nodded. "It's almost noon, already."

However, as they headed back to the horses, Cadfael's eyes were caught by a glimpse of gold, but as he turned his head back, it disappeared.

"What is it?" Beringar enquired.

"I'm not sure. Haven't you seen anything?"

"You mean apart from rocks, rocks, and some more rocks? No, not really. Why?"

"Hum..."

After a last hesitation, Cadfael walked in the general direction of the glimpse, until one again he was dazzled for a second by a flash of gold. There was definitely something shiny on the ground, but it was small, and it took the monk several minutes before he found it. For once, it had come as an advantage that the Holy Land was such a sunny place, for he would never have seen it in the cloudy England. Bending, he picked up a small, rounded piece of metal and examined it closely.

"It's a coin," Hugh said, his eyebrows raised up to his hairline in surprise.

"A Saracen coin, at that," Cadfael nodded. "And not a recent one. But what is it doing here?"

"It can't be a coincidence," Hugh mused. "So it had to have been brought here, either by the murdered or by the murderer."

"But even if it's the case, why bring here a gold coin? It makes no sense, just like everything else actually." The monk shook his head in frustration.

"Indeed, so far everything we discovered raised more questions than it answered," Beringar admitted. "But for now I think we found everything there was to find, so let's get back."

Cadfael agreed and followed his friend, all the while staring at the small coin. A Saracen coin, a sword with a golden hilt, a dead man who had been moved after his death, and a murderer who was nowhere to be found. Add to that a manservant who was a mystery in himself, and there was enough to make him feel the onset of a headache.

"On peut rentrer," Hugh told Mathieu, and the sergeant nodded abruptly before climbing on his mare and leading the way.

The journey back was much more silent, each of the three men lost in thoughts - although Mathieu did not seem to have that many thoughts to be lost in in the first place. Both Hugh and Cadfael were staring at their respective finds, while the sergeant stared at nothing in particular. At last, they saw ahead of them the stony walls of Jerusalem, blurred through the dust and the heat, and a few minutes later they passed one after the other through Jehoshaphat's gate, dusty and sweaty but reasonably satisfied with their ride as far as two of them were concerned.

"Let's go back to St John's," Cadfael suggested. "No use going back to the Temple."

Hugh nodded, then began talking with Mathieu. Several times, the sergeant shook his head vehemently, protesting against whatever it was Beringar was telling him. After a moment, Hugh heaved a sigh of exasperation, then said two or three sentences. Mathieu seemed to consider, then nodded his agreement, and Hugh turned towards his friend.

"Our dear friend here insists we should tell the acting commander about what we found. Since he is very insistent, I told him I'd go, but you can go back to St John's."

"You're sure you don't want me to come along?" Cadfael enquired, reluctant to leave his friend on his own, but Hugh waved his concern away.

"No need for you to bother. If you would take that sword back with you, though, I'd be grateful."

"Of course."

Cadfael took the sword, which was heavier than he had surmised, and felt a little stupid with it in hand, and no sheath. He hid it under his scapular, lest it would raise some eyebrows if people saw a monk with weapon in his hand. Even in Jerusalem, that was not a common sight. With a nod, he bid Hugh good bye for the time being, and headed back to St John's. The sun was nearing its zenith, for it was past noon, and the sultriness reached its highest point. Cadfael was more than glad to leave his horse in the stables after he had quickly groomed her, but as he made for the room he shared with Hugh, he nearly bumped into Blaine. The Hospitaller gave a pleased grin when he recognized his long time friend.

"Cadfael! I was just done with training, and about to get something to eat. Care to join me?"

"Gladly! I just need to stop at my room and leave a few things there, and then I'm free."

"I'll accompany you, then." Blaine glanced around as though looking for something or someone. "Your friend isn't with you?"

"No," Cadfael shook his head. "He had a few things to take care of."

"Very well," Blaine said with a shrug. "Anyway, I had the distinct feeling he doesn't like me very much."

That pained Cadfael a little, and he gave the Hospitaller a reproachful glance. "He just doesn't know you yet, so it's normal he would be a little wary. Certainly, you don't hold a grudge just because he asked you about the murder..."

"Well, it's not every day someone almost asks me outright if I had any reason to kill a man," Blaine grouched. "But I can understand his point of view. Is that your room?"

"Ah, yes." Cadfael opened it and entered, followed by his friend. Taking the sword from under his scapular, he set it down on the bed, but before he even withdrew his hand, Blaine let out an exclamation of surprise.

"God in heaven, Cadfael, where did you find this?"

The knight strode to the bed and picked up the sword, then stared at it intently as though he could not believe his eyes. Taken aback, the monk blinked and stared at his friend for a second. "Why? Do you recognize it?"

"Of course I do! I must insist, Brother, where did you find it?"

"Out of town," Cadfael said slowly. He gently took the sword from Blaine's hands, put it back down and looked expectantly at his friend. The knight gazed into space for a moment, then shook his head and glanced sheepishly at the monk.

"I'm sorry, Cadfael," he said. "It's just... I really didn't expect to see this sword here."

Cadfael had always thought he was a patient man. Until now. "So, who does it belong to?" he asked keenly.

Blaine gave him a sad smile. "It's Antony of Thornbury's."

Gaping, the monk was still for a moment, frozen in shock, then sat down heavily on the bed. "And here I thought we had found the murderer's sword..." he murmured dispiritedly. "I thought we were a little closer to finding the murderer... all this for nothing, in the end!"

"Well, at least now you have a clue," Blaine said to cheer him up. "You can be sure that whoever killed Thornbury, it was not to steal him. This sword is worth at least a hundred pounds, if not more."

"Are you absolutely certain this is Thornbury's?" Cadfael insisted.

"Quite sure," the Hospitaller snorted. "When someone holds a sword at your throat, you usually don't forget the weapon."

"Another piece of evidence which vanishes on us," the monk sighed. "Well, that's no reason to starve ourselves, I suppose. You said something about a meal?"

"Yes. Don't you want us to wait for your friend?"

Cadfael shrugged. "I don't know how long it'll take him to get back, and he won't mind. I could drown a whole bucket of water all by myself."

"Water?" Blaine protested. "Who said anything about water? We should have some fresh beer."

"Fresh beer?" Cadfael eyed his friend dubiously. "And just where do you intend to find anything fresh in this heat?"

The Hospitaller grinned in answer. "That's one of the reasons why I chose the Hospitallers over the Templars - they know how to take care of themselves. Mens sana in corpore sano, as they say. We have a cellar, dug deep enough to keep things relatively fresh."

"I can only admire your resourcefulness," the monk retorted mockingly, and Blaine bowed with a flourish of his hand. "Well then, lead us to your rejuvenating beverage."

"Right. We'll keep some for your friend, if you want."

"I'm certain he'll appreciate," Cadfael nodded.

However, Hugh was not to taste the beer, for he did not show up during the meal. Once they were done eating, Cadfael and Blaine gave up waiting for him and took a walk in the courtyard, in the welcome shade of the high walls of the Hospital of St John, all the while chatting amiably.

"Still," Blaine said, "all this mess is a pity."

"What?" The remark had come without anything obviously justifying it, and Cadfael looked at his friend in understandable surprise.

"I'm speaking about the murder, of course," the knight specified.

"I thought you did not like Thornbury," Cadfael observed idly. "Why would you care about his death?"

"Well... I don't know," Blaine shrugged. He passed a hand through his blond, grey-flecked hair, and added, "I guess I somehow got used to him, after some time. Feels strange not to argue with him every once in a while. And, well, it's a pity about his wife, too. She was a nice girl, in spite of what she was."

It took Cadfael's brain a moment to process all the informations he had been given. "His wife?! Thornbury was married?"

Surprised by the monk's vehemence, Baine nodded. "Of course. I thought you knew - it was no secret in Jerusalem. But I don't see what difference it makes."

"It makes a huge difference, I'm afraid," Cadfael sighed, his mind twirling with the implications of his discovery. A wife - and so many more reasons for Thornbury to have been murdered. Was it jealousy? Or should he suspect the woman herself to have wanted to get rid of her husband? But if so, why? And then, something else struck him as strange, and he frowned. "What did you mean, when you said 'in spite of what she was'?"

Blaine leaned back against the wall, rubbing his back against the cool stones with relish. "It caused a bit of a scandal. Actually, I'm not even sure they had been lawfully married, for which priest would have agreed to celebrate such a union? Yet, he went out openly with her at his arm, so who knows...? But Thornbury often had strange ideas, that he did. Sometimes, I wondered if he was all there."

The Hospitaller's idle chatter was putting a great strain on Cadfael's patience, but his glare must have been plain enough for his friend quickly got back to the point.

"...and I guess nobody else would ever dare to call a Saracen woman his wife."

Cadfael had been expecting about anything but that. A commoner, perhaps, or a very ugly woman, from what Blaine had been saying - even a whore. But a Saracen? What Christian man would ever marry such a woman? And what Saracen woman would ever marry such a man? Then again, she might not have been given much choice, although Cadfael could not imagine her family agreeing to such a union. He himself had never considered marrying Maryam - although he had cared about her a great deal.

"Where is she? The wife?" he asked. Perhaps if he could speak with her...

But Blaine shook his head. "I have no idea. Hardly a day after Thornbury's death, she left. As far as I know, she did not tell anyone where she intended to go, but I doubt she intends to come back, since she took her son with her."

Another thought struck Cadfael, and he bit his lower lip. He should have known, he should have suspected... a surprising and frustrating idea was creeping into his head. Almost with resignation, he asked the obvious question. "What was her name?"

"Ayah, why?"

Cadfael heaved a deep, miserable sigh. "For no reason." He sat down on the stone of a window sill and stared glumly at the dusty courtyard, deserted at this time of the day. The sun was blazing, so much that Cadfael felt some sympathy for the knights who were supposed to train in that sultriness. The day was exceptionally hot, even for the Holy Land. Then he thought again about all the clues they had found, all the evidence that seemed to be crumbling as their quest for the truth went on. What little remained was the coin he had found. So far, Blaine had been a reliable source of information, so he might as well show it to him.

"Blaine?"

"Hum?"

"Have you ever seen anything like that?" Cadfael showed him the Saracen coin, that shone darkly in the meagre shadows of the interior walls.

The knight took the coin and brought it closer to his eyes to study it with attention. "That's Saracen. Seems rather old. Looks like you have a knack for finding things, Cadfael. But I'm afraid I have not seen anything like this, not recently in any case."

Disappointed, the monk stowed the coin back in the small bag he kept at his waist, where he also stored a few herbs and balms. "Never mind," he said. "I just found it. It might not have anything to do with Thornbury's death."

Blaine scratched his head thoughtfully. "Well, I can't really help you, but if you want information about Saracen things, you ought to speak with Imrahim."

The name sounded vaguely familiar, but Cadfael could not remember where he had heard it before. "Imrahim? Who's that?"

"A beggar, in town. Most of the time he stays near the Hospital of St Mary. He's old and harmless, although the children are afraid of him because of his scars. I must admit he does look horrible, but each time I spoke with him he sounded very dignified - for a beggar, that is - if a little out of his mind. I heard the wildest tales about him, that he had been a proud warrior and a war leader. As for me, I'd say he was always a beggar, and perhaps a talented storyteller, but, well..."

Blaine was, once again, indulging in his infuriating habit to give in to idle chatter, but Cadfael remembered in time that he was supposed to be the embodiment of patience, so he did not interrupt his friend. He could have sworn, however, that the Hospitaller was taking a wicked pleasure in making him wait. But as Blaine trailed off, the monk had to prompt him.

"And why should I ask Imrahim about the coin?"

"He knows a lot of things - for a beggar, as I said. Used to tell Saracen tales for a coin or two, I don't know if he still does it. If anyone in town will know anything about your coin, that's him."

Cadfael remembered now where he had heard the name before - it was the beggar on whose stick he had very nearly tripped, the previous night. If he had known, at the time... then again, at the time, he did not have the coin, so it probably made little difference.

"Anyway," Blaine added, "I have to go now, or Gary definitely won't forgive me. Give my regards to your friend."

"I will," the monk replied with a small smile.

The Hospitaller took his leave, and Cadfael remained alone. It felt strange to be alone - in the last few weeks, it had not often been the case, and it made him realize Hugh was very late. How long could it take him, to go speak to the acting Commander of the Templars and then come back? He was not exactly worried - after all, what could happen to his friend in the middle of the day, in Jerusalem? But, still, it was not normal, and he began to toy with the idea of going to the Temple to make sure. However, in the end he did not have to, for Hugh showed up no long afterwards, looking tired, and grouchy, and hungry, but perfectly all right. Relieved, Cadfael greeted him with a wide smile.

"What took you so long?" he asked. "No - never mind. Go get something to eat, I'll take care of your horse."

"Oh, gladly!" Hugh replied as he wiped his forehead.

He handed the monk the reins of his horse and headed to the kitchens, while muttering something unflattering about the Holy Land and its climate under his breath. Cadfael chuckled as he led the brown stallion to the stables, groomed him and made sure he had enough to eat and drink before going back to the kitchens, where he found Hugh busily swallowing mouthfuls of bread and hardly taking the time to chew them.

"So?" Cadfael enquired as he took a seat in front of his friend.

Beringar shook his head and hastily finished his mouthful before replying. "Well, de Biran was not very happy we kept the sword - I didn't mention the coin, by the way. Said if it's the murderer's weapon, he should keep it at the very least."

"It's not," Cadfael informed him.

"It's not what?"

"It's not the murderer's weapon. I just spoke with Blaine, he told me the sword belonged to Thornbury himself."

Hugh looked surprised, and understandably disappointed. "Is that so? Well, I suppose it's logical he dropped his sword when he died. And if the murderer moved the body, it's possible he forgot the sword behind."

"Or did not have the time to move it as well, if Tahir disturbed him when he discovered the body," Cadfael pointed out.

"Right," Beringar sighed. "We'll have to check, I suppose. Hmph, in any case we would have had to give the sword to de Biran."

"Still," the monk said, faintly amused, "don't tell me you argued over an hour about who got to keep the sword, did you?"

"Of course not," Hugh replied with as much dignity as he could muster while eating. "But since I was there, I asked to speak with Tahir, just in case he remembered anything about his master's death he did not tell us already. And while I was at it, I asked him if his master possessed any Saracen coins."

"And what did he say?" Cadfael leant forward in interest.

"That his master did not possess any coins like the one I described, but he did remember something about that day. He said his master was looking carefully on the ground, as if following tracks. Tahir said he was not really paying attention - he could not have known his master would be killed - but he thinks once or twice he saw a figure, ahead of them on the road. He said that on second thought, perhaps his master had been following someone."

"And what did Amaury think of that?"

Hugh snorted. "He said it was probably a story made up by Tahir to save his sorry hide, and that we should not believe a single word of it. I'm not so sure about it. Tahir sounded sincere. Of course, he could have been lying all the same, but the fact that he came back after his master's death seems to indicate that he is either very loyal, or very stupid. In both cases, it is unlikely he would lie. But Amaury's a Templar, and his duty is to fight the heathens, so I suppose it's natural he would be biased."

"That's another clue, at the very least. We established Thornbury had to be going out of town for a reason. He might very well have been following someone. But why... I don't know. In any case, I didn't waste my time, while you were at the Temple."

Cadfael repeated everything Blaine had told him, including what he had said about Ayah being Thornbury's wife, or assumed wife, and having to ask Imrahim about the coin. Beringar shook his head with a wry smile.

"I don't know how you do it," he said. "Each and every time, you are ahead of me, no matter what."

There was no bitterness in Hugh's voice, only admiration and affection, so Cadfael smiled. "I'm just lucky. And, well, I am old, wise and experienced - it's only fair it should be of use every once in a while."

"In that case, I certaintly hope to end up as wise and experienced as you," Beringar chuckled. "You can keep the 'old' part. In any case, I suppose we should pay this beggar a visit, this afternoon."

"It's hardly past two o'clock," the monk pointed out. "He probably will have found shelter somewhere, I doubt we will find him near the Hospital of St Mary. I suggest we wait for half an hour, or an hour, before going."

"I concur," Hugh nodded.

"Only because you're not done eating yet," Cadfael sniggered.

His friend gave him a mock-offended look, but did not deny it.