the seven deadly sins, no doubt aiming to warn his flock against indulgence while the fair, with its atmosphere of freedom and gaiety, took over the more sober routine of Lincoln for the next few days. Each of us, the priest had said, is guilty of at least one of the deadly sins at some time, and often of two or more. Nicolaa ran through them in her mind—Lust, Pride, Avarice, Envy, Sloth, Anger and Covetousness. She looked around at her companions at the high table. Yes, she thought, the priest was right—we are all guilty of at least one of those sins. Hugh of covetousness, de Kyme of anger, Gerard of sloth, Richard, her son, of lust—just in such a short space she could pick these out and, she admitted, there was her own sin of pride, which she excused to herself by naming it a strong sense of duty. We are all sinners, she thought, even if only in the secrecy of our own hearts. But the priest had also reminded his flock of the seven virtues—Faith, Hope, Charity, Justice, Prudence, Temperance and Fortitude—and told them that at least one of these also was possessed by each man or woman, and that by prayer these virtues could be strengthened to overcome the temptation of the seven deadly sins.
Judging by the raucous laughter and drunken merriment of the crowd in the hall tonight, Nicolaa thought it certainly seemed true that the virtues were harder to find than the sins. Her gaze fell on the Templar, Bascot de Marins. He was an enigma to her, seeming to be completely self-contained except in his relationship with his young servant. It had been on impulse that she had given him the task of trying to discover the identity of the murderer of the four people in the alehouse. He had proved himself a valuable addition to her retinue, but she had the feeling that he had talents beyond those required for a simple clerk and she had wanted to bring them out. The rule that the Templars who left their Order could only do so on condition they join a monastic order stricter than their own was a loose one, and Nicolaa was sure that if she brought pressure to bear on the Grand Master of the Temple in London he would agree to overlook this stipulation with regard to Bascot. Since she hoped the Templar would wish to leave the Order and accept an offer to remain in her household, she wondered if giving him additional responsibility might not defeat her own purpose. It may just drive him into making the very decision she least wanted, that of returning to the Order that he had become, at least temporarily, disenchanted with. Ah well, she thought, as her father had often said, a metal must be well tempered to ring true. And, as with metal, so it was with men. That was a lesson she had learned too well to ignore.
Ten
B ASCOT AND GIANNI LEFT THE GREAT HALL DIRECTLY after Nicolaa de la Haye stood and announced that she was retiring. Her husband, Gerard, stayed in his seat, motioning for the servers to refill his wine cup and that of Philip de Kyme, who had moved to sit beside him. Most of the ladies who were staying within the precincts of the castle followed their hostess’ example, leaving the men folk to their wine and talk of old battles, while the visiting merchants and their wives, with lodgings hired in the town, also left. But the bulk of the barons and lesser lords stayed where they were, settling themselves in to enjoy the Haye largesse for as long as it was proffered. There would be sore heads aplenty in the morning but since they were there for pleasure and not for work, as the merchants were, none cared.
When Bascot and Gianni reached their tiny chamber the boy, finally full of food, slumped onto his pallet and within moments was fast asleep. Bascot left the boy to his slumbers and walked up the few steps to the battlements of the tower. The walkway faced south, so that he could see out over the curtain wall to the town spread out below and to where the streets drifted down the hill to the River Witham at the lower end. The
Judging by the raucous laughter and drunken merriment of the crowd in the hall tonight, Nicolaa thought it certainly seemed true that the virtues were harder to find than the sins. Her gaze fell on the Templar, Bascot de Marins. He was an enigma to her, seeming to be completely self-contained except in his relationship with his young servant. It had been on impulse that she had given him the task of trying to discover the identity of the murderer of the four people in the alehouse. He had proved himself a valuable addition to her retinue, but she had the feeling that he had talents beyond those required for a simple clerk and she had wanted to bring them out. The rule that the Templars who left their Order could only do so on condition they join a monastic order stricter than their own was a loose one, and Nicolaa was sure that if she brought pressure to bear on the Grand Master of the Temple in London he would agree to overlook this stipulation with regard to Bascot. Since she hoped the Templar would wish to leave the Order and accept an offer to remain in her household, she wondered if giving him additional responsibility might not defeat her own purpose. It may just drive him into making the very decision she least wanted, that of returning to the Order that he had become, at least temporarily, disenchanted with. Ah well, she thought, as her father had often said, a metal must be well tempered to ring true. And, as with metal, so it was with men. That was a lesson she had learned too well to ignore.
Ten
B ASCOT AND GIANNI LEFT THE GREAT HALL DIRECTLY after Nicolaa de la Haye stood and announced that she was retiring. Her husband, Gerard, stayed in his seat, motioning for the servers to refill his wine cup and that of Philip de Kyme, who had moved to sit beside him. Most of the ladies who were staying within the precincts of the castle followed their hostess’ example, leaving the men folk to their wine and talk of old battles, while the visiting merchants and their wives, with lodgings hired in the town, also left. But the bulk of the barons and lesser lords stayed where they were, settling themselves in to enjoy the Haye largesse for as long as it was proffered. There would be sore heads aplenty in the morning but since they were there for pleasure and not for work, as the merchants were, none cared.
When Bascot and Gianni reached their tiny chamber the boy, finally full of food, slumped onto his pallet and within moments was fast asleep. Bascot left the boy to his slumbers and walked up the few steps to the battlements of the tower. The walkway faced south, so that he could see out over the curtain wall to the town spread out below and to where the streets drifted down the hill to the River Witham at the lower end. The
Similar Books
