[William Falconer 06] - Falconer and the Ritual of Death (30 page)

‘It is an old skull, but we knew that anyway. We were told it was in the Templars’ possession long before le Saux brought it from the Holy Land. That it was venerated by them for some reason. But if it was Hiram’s skull, as Thorpe believed, or not, I suspect even the Templars do not know for sure. I suggest we hand it back, and be finished with it.’ He shivered, perhaps from the cold of his damp clothes. Perhaps from other thoughts that flitted across his mind. ‘It has not been lucky for those who have it in their possession. So the sooner it is gone from mine the better.’

‘I could not agree more.’

It was Saphira’s voice. She was hovering in the doorway of Aristotle’s, unsure about entering this male sanctuary.

Falconer strode to the door, and took her by the arm.

‘You may enter, though I cannot vouch for the cleanliness of the quarters, nor of the young men who live here. I try to teach them about washing each day, but it does not often sink in. Fortunately, they are all out taking their lectures this morning. Thomas Symon will put them through their paces in my stead. We were just about to return the skull to the Templars. Would you care to come?’

Saphira nodded her head, where a snood once again covered her flame-red locks. Falconer hoped he might soon see them once again unshackled and loose. He blushed a little at the errant thought, and withdrew his hand from Saphira’s arm where it had rested overlong. But as he did so, she took hold of his elbow, and indicated he should lead the way. He cast an embarrassed glance at Bullock, who merely winked and picked up the skull. The constable relished the vision of his friend being led by a woman. Perhaps he would take the hint of Saphira taking his arm like a wife, and behave as any normal man would. Falconer had failed to see Ann Segrim’s subtle advances for a number of years now. Either that, or he had respected her married status too much. Perhaps with a widow, he would be less cautious. In fact there did seem to be a spark between them already.

As if in response to Bullock’s wishes, Falconer smiled at Saphira, and patted her hand as it lay on his forearm. They walked together out of Aristotle’s and along St John Street.

Bullock followed behind, at a respectful distance, so he might not hinder any small talk. Their heads were together, and they were laughing; so it was Bullock who saw Ann Segrim first.

He also saw the dark cloud that rapidly brewed on her face as soon as she saw William with the widow on his arm.

‘Hello, William.’

Her voice was cold and sharp, in a manner Bullock had never heard before. Apparently neither had Falconer. He stopped abruptly in his tracks, and blinked at the vision of Ann Segrim that had appeared like magic before him. Behind her, like an homunculus, stood her diminutive servant, Margery.

Her monkey face was split with a broad grin. She saw she would have much good news to report to Ann’s husband and her master, Humphrey, this afternoon. Falconer’s jaw hung open, and it was Ann who filled the ominous silence.

‘I was looking for you, as I was minded to apologize for my abrupt comments the last time we met. It seems, however, that I have no need to.’ She turned her steely gaze on Saphira.

‘You have clearly found yourself some.., female companionship more worthy of your status than I could ever be.’

Saphira arched her dark eyebrow at the barbed comment, and looked at Falconer. Her expression clearly conveyed the question, who is this mad woman? She had no doubt that the attractive woman before her was suggesting Saphira was no more than a whore. It amused her that this was the second time she had been taken for one in Oxford. Perhaps it would be a more interesting place to live than Canterbury after all.

She smiled at Ann Segrim.

‘Madam is too kind. Now don’t let me keep you from your husband.’

She had taken note of the ring on the other woman’s hand.

Ann hissed, and turned away before Falconer could say anything. She stormed off, with Margery scuttling at her heels.

Saphira turned her innocent smile on William, who looked down at his feet in embarrassment. He might have wished to hurry after Ann, but appeared to be struck dumb. Bullock coughed, and tapped the skull under his arm.

‘De Bernère will be anxious to see this returned, William.’ Coming out of his daze, Falconer nodded.

‘Yes, of course. The skull.’

But he still stood transfixed, until the triumphant Saphira gently eased him forward with her arm linked in his. An awkward moment had passed, and the past had given way to the future.

Once back at Temple Cowley, Laurence de Bernère slipped into the back of the round chapel. He withdrew a key from his purse, and unlocked a dark and chilly room to the rear of the altar. One of the niches to the back of the room was empty.

It had not been so until recently, when the Templar had taken the small oak chest from its place. He had conveyed it to Oxford in anticipation of replacing the contents of the chest with what it should have contained. To have found, as de Bernère had done twenty years ago, the bloody severed head of Michael le Saux in its place had been an abomination. To have rendered the head down to its bare bone and used it as a substitute for the real thing had made him sick to the heart.

Now he could return the skull to its rightful place. He could not resist opening the lid one more time. The old skull nestled comfortably in the padded velvet interior.

‘Welcome back, Hugh de Payens. You will never be lost again.’

The Templar knight closed the lid, and slid the chest into the recesses of the niche.

Historical Note

1. Baphomet. The rumour of the Templars worshipping a head or an image abounded when the Order was being persecuted by Pope Clement. It was a persistent rumour, and may have had some foundation in fact, in that the Order may have possessed a relic. Some connection has even been made with the Shroud of Turin, but given the dubious nature of that item, this should be taken as fanciful.
   
2. Hiram Abiff. There is no evidence, of course, for the Hiram legend existing in medieval times. Though there have been suggestions that a craft guild mystery play may have included the theme of his murder, none has ever been found. It is in much more recent times that the legend has been blended into a heady cocktail including Freemasonry, the Templars and Kabbalah.