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[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] chickens poked their heads disconsolately through the bars of their cages as their sellers pondered the cost of continuing to feed them. Now the whole market was full of people and buzzing with rumour. The corn merchants had abandoned their stalls and stood in a huddle in the centre of the street, a look of glee written on all their faces. They were so excited as to ignore Sir Hugh s peremptory calls to clear the way, and he was forced to take his charger over the stinking sewage channel in the middle of the street, risking laming the creature on the uneven gully. Beyond the corn merchants, other knots of traders were eagerly swapping news with each other across their trestles. Their voices carried to Sir Hugh, and now the full import of what had roused everyone came to him. The Lord has struck down Gog & One of the Tartars had been killed & & by his own graven effigy & They say the whole encampment will be destroyed. This last came from a wall-eyed fishmonger, who did his trade no good by the comment, because all his customers, on hearing the rumour, raced for the city walls and a view of the devastation. 80 Sir Hugh recovered his good humour at the story that was circulating, and spurred his horse in the direction of South Gate, and Bernard de Genova s friary. What he and the Dominican had spoken about only a few days ago had come about, it appeared. And he was anxious to get the full story from Bernard. The only jarring element of what was becoming a very pleasant day came as he crossed the busy thoroughfare of Carfax. There, the conflux of people crossing from wood-merchant to glove-maker, tannery to bread stall, pig market to potter, created a jam of bodies that even a nobleman on horseback had difficulty negotiating. Spotting a gap in the ebb and flow, Sir Hugh twisted the bridle on his charger to turn the horse s head, and thread his way through. Suddenly a shabbily clad peasant strode out of the crowd and almost under the horse s neck, causing Sir Hugh to pull sharply on his reins. The man stumbled to one side, and, as he did so, grabbed the horse s ornate bridle to steady himself. Sir Hugh raised his gloved hand to strike the impudent fellow, but the man look up, unafraid, straight into Leyghton s eyes. Somehow, the blow never fell, and the curse that was to accompany it died on Leyghton s lips. He wrenched on the bridle, and the man released it, disappearing back into the throng, leaving Sir Hugh Leyghton wondering why Guillaume de Beaujeu, Knight Templar, was scurrying around Oxford dressed like a peasant. The encounter was so odd that by the time he reached the Dominican friary at Trill Mill, he was beginning to wonder if he had dreamed it. Perhaps the man had just resembled the Templar; indeed it was some twenty-five years or more since he had last seen de Beaujeu. It had been when both had been youths, and the Frenchman had been with a party of Templars bringing the news of Geoffrey Leyghton s death to his parents. Hugh had been ushered into an ante-room by one of the servants, so that Sir Thomas Leyghton and his wife could hear the stark and tragic news of the loss of their favoured, eldest son in private. Whilst in France, Geoffrey s Templar order had summoned him to the defence of Christendom, when news of the Tartar invasion filtered through to the Western world around 1240. A year later, at Leignitz, a massed army of Templars, Hospitallers, Teutonic Knights and mercenaries under the command of Henry of Silesia was routed by the stocky little men on horseback. The Templar force was totally lost, and Geoffrey s comrades came to tell his parents of their loss. Amongst the contingent had been the young, devout Guillaume. Even then, de Beaujeu s eyes had been cold and 81 frightening, and Sir High was sure the self-same eyes had stayed his angry blow just now in the square. He dismounted in the inner courtyard of the friary, and sent one of its Preacher inmates to announce his presence to Adam Grasse. And tell him I wish permission to talk to Brother Bernard. Though he was anxious to speak to Bernard de Genova, he would observe the proper amenities first. As ambassador for the king, he would ensure the senior Dominican s nose was not put out of joint, before glorying in the demise of the Tartar with Brother Bernard. He itched to know how the friar had achieved their objective, and so soon. The Preacher friar who stood before him gave him a strange look, but went on his errand. An unconscionable time passed, with Sir Hugh pacing impatiently round the cloister, becoming increasingly annoyed at the lack of prompt attention. Gradually he became aware that his presence had not caused the usual stir in the friary. The Dominicans were normally a nosy bunch, who would have found any excuse to pass by and attempt to discover the purpose of his visit. By now he should have been accidentally encountered by a number of friars. In fact, it suddenly dawned on him that the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |