Crispin.”
Crispin waited a moment before he grasped another stool overturned on the floor, set it upright, and sat. One hand rested on the hilt of his dagger.
“And so. I was with Lancaster’s army. Of course I was! I am a knight of the realm, am I not? All the valiant knights have marched to war in Spain. All of us.” His sneer was hidden by the lifted goblet, but he seemed surprised to find it empty.
Jack scrambled forward and poured more in. Thomas smiled at him briefly.
“This your boy?”
“This is Jack Tucker, my apprentice.”
“Apprentice? Oh, for this tracking you do. Very good, very good.” He took a long quaff and smacked his lips.
Crispin was losing patience. “Thomas, you said you’d explain…”
“Yes.” He would not look at Crispin. In fact his gaze would not rest anywhere. “We were in Spain. There were some skirmishes when we disembarked at the harbor. We hacked our way forward and Spaniards dropped before us, the dirty dogs. We were barely scratched.”
A tremor began in the man’s hands and he cast the goblet aside. It skidded across the floor and slammed into a discarded sabaton. He gripped his hand to hide the tremor. The muscles at his jaw tightened. “They fell like threshing in our path. And at one point, I found myself in the thick of it, unhorsed, and surrounded. But I acquitted myself well. Many Spaniards fell from my sword, I assure you.”
“I’m certain they did. I remember well fighting alongside you, Thomas. I look back on those days fondly.”
“I, too,” he said quietly. “But those were long-ago days.” He jolted to his feet so suddenly Crispin startled back. He paced, kicking up the fallen ashes. “I … was sent back to England. There was something I needed to do. And while I was here, I came to this armorer. I paid a great deal of money for something special that would make me unbeatable in battle and on the lists. I paid that whoreson a king’s ransom for this object and now you tell me he is dead ?” He kicked a piece of armor—a besague—and watched it spin away. “I need that object!”
He whipped around so quickly his surcote spun around his legs before settling. “Crispin. You must find it. You are this Tracker. Surely you can find this for me.” His face suddenly brightened. “I’ll hire you!”
God’s blood. When it rains it pours. “Thomas…”
“No. This is perfect. You can find it for me. Perhaps it is here? But no. He would not have left it here in the open.”
“Well, what is it, for God’s sake?”
His hollowed eyes drooped. “A relic.”
Crispin’s gut twisted. “A relic, you say. What sort of relic?”
“A relic suitable for a knight. Find it, Crispin. I’ll pay you.” Thomas fumbled at his scrip, untying laces, and plunged his hand within. He drew out a pouch and began counting out coins. “How much? What is your fee?”
Fisting a flush of humiliation, Crispin leaned forward, closing his hand over Thomas’s. “Hold, Sir Thomas. Let us first discuss that which you would have me find. Then we can discuss fees.”
“There’s no time. Here. Take it!”
Crispin had no choice but to catch the falling coins. Far too many.
“It’s too much, Thomas.”
“I don’t care. Take it and find that relic. Promise me you will. Swear to me.”
“You must tell me what it is and I shall.”
“What difference does it make? It is a relic, suitable for a knight.”
“How can I even begin to look for it if I don’t know what it is?”
“You’ll know it when you see it, I assure you.” He jolted to his feet. Though his movements were still hasty, he seemed much calmer. “I have faith in you, Crispin. Swear to me. I will believe your oath.”
He shook his head. “Thomas…”
“Crispin.”
Sighing, he nodded. “Very well, Thomas. I so swear. As you looked out for me so I shall look out for you. But—”
“Good! When you discover something, meet me at the Falconer’s Inn on Knightrider Street. I am
Crispin waited a moment before he grasped another stool overturned on the floor, set it upright, and sat. One hand rested on the hilt of his dagger.
“And so. I was with Lancaster’s army. Of course I was! I am a knight of the realm, am I not? All the valiant knights have marched to war in Spain. All of us.” His sneer was hidden by the lifted goblet, but he seemed surprised to find it empty.
Jack scrambled forward and poured more in. Thomas smiled at him briefly.
“This your boy?”
“This is Jack Tucker, my apprentice.”
“Apprentice? Oh, for this tracking you do. Very good, very good.” He took a long quaff and smacked his lips.
Crispin was losing patience. “Thomas, you said you’d explain…”
“Yes.” He would not look at Crispin. In fact his gaze would not rest anywhere. “We were in Spain. There were some skirmishes when we disembarked at the harbor. We hacked our way forward and Spaniards dropped before us, the dirty dogs. We were barely scratched.”
A tremor began in the man’s hands and he cast the goblet aside. It skidded across the floor and slammed into a discarded sabaton. He gripped his hand to hide the tremor. The muscles at his jaw tightened. “They fell like threshing in our path. And at one point, I found myself in the thick of it, unhorsed, and surrounded. But I acquitted myself well. Many Spaniards fell from my sword, I assure you.”
“I’m certain they did. I remember well fighting alongside you, Thomas. I look back on those days fondly.”
“I, too,” he said quietly. “But those were long-ago days.” He jolted to his feet so suddenly Crispin startled back. He paced, kicking up the fallen ashes. “I … was sent back to England. There was something I needed to do. And while I was here, I came to this armorer. I paid a great deal of money for something special that would make me unbeatable in battle and on the lists. I paid that whoreson a king’s ransom for this object and now you tell me he is dead ?” He kicked a piece of armor—a besague—and watched it spin away. “I need that object!”
He whipped around so quickly his surcote spun around his legs before settling. “Crispin. You must find it. You are this Tracker. Surely you can find this for me.” His face suddenly brightened. “I’ll hire you!”
God’s blood. When it rains it pours. “Thomas…”
“No. This is perfect. You can find it for me. Perhaps it is here? But no. He would not have left it here in the open.”
“Well, what is it, for God’s sake?”
His hollowed eyes drooped. “A relic.”
Crispin’s gut twisted. “A relic, you say. What sort of relic?”
“A relic suitable for a knight. Find it, Crispin. I’ll pay you.” Thomas fumbled at his scrip, untying laces, and plunged his hand within. He drew out a pouch and began counting out coins. “How much? What is your fee?”
Fisting a flush of humiliation, Crispin leaned forward, closing his hand over Thomas’s. “Hold, Sir Thomas. Let us first discuss that which you would have me find. Then we can discuss fees.”
“There’s no time. Here. Take it!”
Crispin had no choice but to catch the falling coins. Far too many.
“It’s too much, Thomas.”
“I don’t care. Take it and find that relic. Promise me you will. Swear to me.”
“You must tell me what it is and I shall.”
“What difference does it make? It is a relic, suitable for a knight.”
“How can I even begin to look for it if I don’t know what it is?”
“You’ll know it when you see it, I assure you.” He jolted to his feet. Though his movements were still hasty, he seemed much calmer. “I have faith in you, Crispin. Swear to me. I will believe your oath.”
He shook his head. “Thomas…”
“Crispin.”
Sighing, he nodded. “Very well, Thomas. I so swear. As you looked out for me so I shall look out for you. But—”
“Good! When you discover something, meet me at the Falconer’s Inn on Knightrider Street. I am
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