'Do you think the secret Templars exist?' I asked.
'Possibly. Such societies or covens batten on their own secrecy. They create an exclusive world and, despite its green fields and pleasant villages, the King is right - England seethes with discontent. Great lords with Yorkist blood in their veins hold high office. There's a growing dislike of the Church. The Scots still threaten in the north whilst in Europe great alliances are formed which leave England isolated. In such an atmosphere secret societies like the Templars flourish. You'll always find the strongest weeds on a dung hill.'
'And the Grail and Excalibur?'
Benjamin shrugged. 'The King wants them or, more importantly, if he can't have them, he wants to make sure no one else does. I cannot make sense of that rhyme. What are the waters of Jordan?' He pulled a face at me. 'That's why I was talking to our young beauty last night. Is there, in this God forsaken place, some stream, river, house or church bearing the name Jordan? And where could Moses' Ark possibly be?' 'And could she help?'
'No, nor could her father - or so Mandeville told me last night after you had retired. So Master Hopkins's riddle is still shrouded in mystery.'
'Did he leave any papers?'
'None whatsoever. According to Mandeville, before he left for his fateful journey to London, Hopkins cleared out his entire chamber, the very one you are now using.' Benjamin pointed to the fire flickering in the great hearth. 'He stripped his chamber of everything, and what he couldn't burn, he destroyed.'
'A strange act.'
Benjamin shrugged. 'Perhaps he had a premonition about what might happen in London. Or maybe someone gave him a warning. Or perhaps he knew that Warnham and Calcraft in Buckingham's retinue were really the King's agents.' Benjamin sighed. 'Whatever, Master Hopkins took his secret to the grave.' He leaned closer. 'Roger,' he whispered, 'I wish to stay here, but you go back to your chamber, collect your boots, cloak and that broad-brimmed hat you wear. Sir John will leave within the hour. When he does, I want you to follow him from afar off. I know it will be hard in a snow-covered countryside but see where he goes to.'
The prospect didn't appeal to me but, there again, neither did the thought of lounging around Templecombe. So I slipped back upstairs, taking more careful note of my surroundings, particularly the small gargoyle's heads in the cornices of the ceilings and, above all, the great blackened Beauce crosses. Why hadn't they faded with time? Were they being constantly re-painted and gilded as some sort of memorial to that ancient secretive order? I reached the chamber, found the door half-open and cursed my own stupidity. I don't trust myself and, apart from Benjamin, I certainly didn't trust anyone else yet I had forgotten to take the key down with me.
I pushed the door open quietly. A young woman sat with her back to me on the far side of the great four-poster bed. Her head was covered in a white coif with a white shawl shaped in the form of a triangle going down her back like a liripipe. I heard the clink of coins, smiled and tiptoed round the bed.
'Good morrow, Mistress,' I said, leaning against a bedpost. I glanced at my purse in her lap and the coins scattered on the bed beside her. 'Do I owe you something?'
The young woman just stared back like a frightened rabbit. I caught a glimpse of auburn hair and large blue eyes in a suntanned face. She seemed to be about seventeen or eighteen years old.
'I asked you a question, Mistress. Do I owe you some money? If not,' I continued sarcastically, 'can you tell me why my purse is in your hand?'
I stepped closer and the young woman rose and made to flee but I seized her by the wrist. She struggled.
'I am sorry,' she pleaded, her voice betraying a thick country burr. 'Oh, sir, I am sorry but I saw it lying there and the temptation was too much for me.'
I pulled the girl closer, caught the faint perfume of lavender and roses and noted appreciatively how, under the brown smock, her plump breasts rose and fell in agitation.
'You're Mathilda, aren't you?'
'Yes, sir, I'm the chambermaid and I am also responsible for the linen cupboard.'
'And you prepared the beds for Sir John's guests?'
The girl nodded, still wide-eyed.
'Including the bed of the man who died?'
Now the girl's face paled. 'Yes, sir, but as I have told Sir John and Master Devil. . .'
I laughed at the girl's pun on Mandeville's name. With his black garb, Italianate features and fearsome reputation, Sir Edmund must appear as Master Lucifer himself to the peasants of Templecombe Manor.
'I saw nothing untoward,' she repeated. 'You are hurting me, sir, let go of my wrist!'
'Why should I? You are a thief. You could be hanged for what you have done.' I looked at her in mock sternness. She caught the mischief in my eyes and pressed against me.