Read The Outlaws of Ennor: (Knights Templar 16) for Free Online

‘They’ll pay if they try.’
    Sir Charles stumbled as the ship dropped sickeningly from the top of one wave down into the trough beyond; he grabbed hold of a rope. When he spoke, his voice was a little breathless. ‘How many are there on this ship?’
    ‘Too few,’ Baldwin said. ‘There are four and thirty in that keel.’
    ‘And we have only six sailors and us. Not a good wager.’
    ‘Be damned to a wager!’ Simon declared. ‘We can thrash a boatload of French pimps! Pox on you all! Sons of turds! You …’ He drew his sword and waved it defiantly, before hastily leaning over the side again.
    Baldwin shot a look at Paul. ‘What of your longbow? Could you hit that man?’
    Paul did not bother to gauge the distance. ‘The string has been soaked. I looked at it last night, and the thing’s useless. I couldn’t even hit our sail.’
    ‘Thenwe shall need to repel them,’ Baldwin said heavily. ‘So be it.’
    The distance was closing all the time. Master Gervase used every trick of seamanship to escape the smaller craft, but the oars made a great difference, propelling the Frenchmen towards them at a surprising pace. The four stood watching, all holding tightly to the rail as the ship rode up massive waves, hesitated as though wavering at the crest, and then pointed the prow down into the trough. Time and again, Baldwin saw Gervase cross himself, saw other sailors reach for the nearest rope and close their eyes as though they felt that this dive would be the ship’s last, and they would all be carried through the trough and down into the depths.
    The Frenchman had bided his time, but now Baldwin was sure that there was a greater urgency in his voice as he roared at his men. It was the light, Baldwin realised. The sun was going down behind leaden clouds in the west, and even as he looked ahead hopefully, he felt the first flecks of rain strike at his cheeks. There was a brief flash of orange light as the sun peeped through the clouds, and Baldwin felt a sudden awe at the sight of the bright orange finger stabbing towards him across the water. It made him feel as though God was showing him that he was safe. Then the light was swept out as though by a massive grey hand, and Baldwin glanced back over the stern.
    He stared in astonishment. A column of blackness seemed to be racing towards them, overtaking them and the pirates.
    ‘Thanks be to St Nicholas,’ the master breathed. Baldwin glanced at him and saw that he was crossing himself again.
    ‘Master, what is that?’
    ‘Foul weather. If we survive it, we’ll be safe. Even Breton pirates wouldn’t try to attack in that,’ the master said, and sneered at their pursuers, bellowing, ‘ HEAR THAT? KISS MY BUTTOCKS GOODBYE, YOU DUNG-EATERS! ’
    Glancing at him, seeing his joy, Baldwin gave a heartfelt prayer of thanks to God for saving them from attack. Surely this was the miracle they had hoped for.

Chapter Two
     
    Atthe Priory of St Nicholas, on the island of the same name, Cryspyn set the brothers to work as soon as the shepherd had rushed in to warn them. It took only a moment’s glance south-east from the roof of their little priory church, to see what he meant, and Cryspyn had instantly ordered the lay-brothers and monks to their various tasks.
    God had no mercy sometimes, the Prior reflected, glancing heavenwards. ‘Why now?’ he muttered aloud, staring out at the approaching storm, watching to see where it might strike first.
    There was never enough time these days to sit and consider things in peace. Since the famine, this priory had been teetering on the brink of collapse. At least they had sheep and the support of the mother-house, Tavistock Abbey, which meant that there was rarely a shortage of ale and grain, but that was not everything. Cryspyn had the unpleasant feeling that the priory was beginning to fall apart.
    It had all begun with the disastrous appointment of Peter Visconte, the chaplain of St Mary’s Church on Ennor until his