Shroud of Dishonour by Maureen Ash Page B

in surprise at d’Arderon’s abrupt entrance into the commandery, and hastily told the brothers standing in line to await his return before hurrying after the preceptor. When Bascot caught up with him, he told the draper in a few succinct words of the murder of a second harlot and that a Templar cross had been carved on her chest. Emilius’s gaze grew cloudy with dismay as he assimilated the blasphemous nature of the wanton cruelty.
    When they entered the preceptor’s office, d’Arderon was standing by the one small window the room possessed, gazing out of the narrow aperture at the men under his command, now standing in puzzled groups looking towards his office.
    The preceptor turned and spoke as Bascot and Emilius entered the room. “This murdering bastard must be caught,” he rasped. “Not only has he killed two women, he has placed the Order, and this enclave, under attack.”
    D’Arderon moved to the desk, the expression on his face rigid with suppressed wrath. “Until I order differently, no one is to leave the commandery without my express permission.”
    “But, Preceptor,” Emilius protested, “the contingent going to Portugal is due to leave tomorrow….”
    “Their departure must be delayed,” d’Arderon replied abruptly. “Someone in the preceptory is the cause of this devil’s hatred. I would stake my life that it is not one of the brothers that are based here in Lincoln, nor any of our lay brothers or servants. The two murders must be connected, so the men of the cohort that just left can be exonerated. Therefore it must be one of the men in the contingent that is still in the enclave. Until I discover which of them has committed the sin that is enraging this madman, they will stay.”
    Emilius said no more, but his expression mirrored his disappointment of the preceptor’s decision. The morale of the men was already low; to be told they would not leave as planned would deflate it further.
    “The only information we have on these brothers was contained in the missive sent from London to warn us of their arrival,” d’Arderon continued. “It states only their name, rank and length of service.” He barked an order at Emilius. “You will write immediately, Draper, to the preceptories from which they came and ask for more information about each man, especially whether any have been subjected to punishment and, if so, the reason for it.”
    “Many of them have only recently joined the Order,” Emilius replied repressively. “It is hardly likely they would have transgressed in such a short space of time.”
    At the implied criticism in the draper’s voice, the anger that d’Arderon had been holding in check finally exploded.
    “You will follow my orders, Draper, and without question, as you are sworn to do.” The preceptor had not raised his voice, but there was no mistaking the depth of his emotion.
    Emilius, whose steadfast commitment to his vow of obedience had wavered for a moment, flinched at the reprimand and nodded his acceptance of the rebuke.
    D’Arderon walked over towards the window and stood looking out the grilled opening for a few long moments in silence before turning once again towards the two knights. When he spoke, his words were milder in tone. “If this devil’s objective is to cause dissension among us, we must take care that he does not succeed. There is another reason for my keeping the contingent back, Emilius, and it is that we cannot be certain that the man committing these outrages is not a Templar.”
    The draper reacted to d’Arderon’s words with a shocked countenance and the preceptor looked at Bascot. “My charge comes as no surprise to you, does it, de Marins?”
    When Bascot gave a brief nod in response to the question, the draper looked at him in puzzlement. For all his battle experience, Emilius’s forthright nature still contained a touch of innocence. His devotion to Christ and the Order had blinded him to the fact that it was not only infidels