A Friar's Bloodfeud: (Knights Templar 20) by Michael Jecks

was thirsty.’
    ‘In the middle of the night, and you were forced to leave our bed and fetch water? And couldn’t return?’
    ‘I was not tired once I rose, Jeanne,’ he said, and thensighed. He picked up the scabbard again, thrust the sword home, and faced her. ‘You are right, though. It is this shoulder
     of mine. The thing hurts whenever I lie still with it, and there seems to be nothing I can do to alleviate it.’
    ‘You should rest it then, husband. Stop this foolish sword-waving in the early morning. Take things more easily; rest more.’
    Baldwin nodded. ‘Perhaps you are right.’
    ‘Do not patronise me, Baldwin,’ she said tartly. ‘I won’t have it.’
    ‘I am sorry, then.’
    ‘You are still convinced that there will be war?’
    Baldwin shot her a look. They had set off on the way back to the house, and her tone was light, but there was an edge to it.
     ‘Yes.’
    ‘I am happy here now,’ she said quietly. ‘I was not when Ralph was alive. He was so different when he realised that we wouldn’t
     have children. It made him bitter … bitter and cruel. You have changed my life for me. There are two men who have been
     consistently kind to me since I married Ralph: the Abbot of Tavistock, and you. I couldn’t bear to lose you, Baldwin. You
     do realise that, don’t you?’
    ‘What brought this on?’ he asked with some confusion. ‘You will not lose me.’
    ‘If there is a war, I may have to. You may be forced to ride to battle and leave me behind,’ she said quietly. ‘And when you
     ride away, you will go to find excitement. I don’t begrudge you that, but you won’t be thinking of me, will you? Nor of Richalda.
     You will be thinking of warfare and how to win renown by your prowess. Yet all the time I shall be here ready to mourn my
     loss … well, in truth, I will already be in mourning, because although I shall hope andpray that you will come home, it is possible that I shall never see you again, and that is a very hard thought to accept.’
    ‘Jeanne, I swear to you that Richalda and you will never be far from my mind if it comes to war.’ Seeing the doubt in her
     eyes, he took up his sword, and kissed the cross. ‘I swear it, Jeanne! I practise here because I want to ensure that even
     if there is a war, I am fit enough and experienced enough to return to my home. I do not wish to die because of a moment’s
     thoughtlessness. My training is perhaps all that can save me in a battle.’ He looked behind them, back at the moors. When
     he spoke again, it was in a reflective tone, more gentle. ‘You say that I ride for honour and excitement … well, it is
     possible that I could find myself honoured, but it is more likely that I would find myself dead. I have seen war. More men
     always die through starvation and pestilence than wounds won honourably on the field of battle. I fear that more than anything:
     a slow, lingering death at the roadside after the host has moved on, alone, without the opportunity to say farewell to you.
     If I go to war, Jeanne, my thoughts will be with you always …’
    Jeanne was about to speak when there came an enraged bellow from the house. Jeanne closed her eyes and sighed, and Baldwin
     cast his eyes heavenwards. ‘Is there no possibility of sending her home, Jeanne? Or anywhere else?’
    Friar John set his jaw as he made his way rather laboriously up the lane towards the church. He had found a temporary place
     of refuge last night, a charcoal burner’s hut in a coppice west of Iddesleigh, but after the foul discovery at the small holding
     he thought it might be better to move farther away as soon as he could. Friars were not usually so detested bythe populace that they would be attacked, but a prudent man knew when to conceal himself, and a fellow who walked about after
     nightfall when there were plainly dangerous rogues abroad could soon become a target no matter how innocent.
    There were two places on which John had counted in his life: