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contents of his cup into the fire, then threw the cup at the startled landlord. 'I said I wanted wine, you
dolt. Not this horse piss you serve everyone else. Now get you gone and bring me something drinkable -
the best you have.'
The innkeeper's mouth worked as he tried to think of a suitable reply. D'Anjou stood, shoved the jar
into his hands, spun him around, and sent him staggering back the way he had come. 'Look lively, man.
My throat feels like old leather.'
The baron sat down again and began removing his boots, which he placed by the side of the hearth. He
stretched out his feet to the fire. The Templar watched him without interest.
In a moment, the innkeeper came creeping back with another jar which he offered with extreme
hesitation. At a glance from the Master, he proceeded to pour, but his hand shook so badly that he
missed the edge of the cup and spilled wine on the table, almost splashing d'Anjou. 'Clumsy oaf!' snarled
the baron, leaping to his feet. He snatched the jar from the cringing innkeeper. 'Get out and leave us in
peace.'
The man scurried away and d'Anjou, returning to his chair, poured a cup of wine which he pushed
across the table to de Bracineaux. He watched as the commander sniffed the offering, and then took a
swallow. 'Passable,' said the Templar, whereupon the baron took up a hot poker from the hearth and
plunged it into the jar.
'Mulled,' d'Anjou said, as the wine sizzled. Tossing aside the poker, he poured himself a cup and settled
back into his chair once more, feet spread before the fire.
They drank and let the wine do its work; when de Bracineaux held out his cup for more, the baron filled
it and said, 'I suppose this priest has a church somewhere close by. Has the archbishop said where it is?'
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'The bloated pig's bladder of a priest professes not to know. He is more trouble than he is worth. I am
sick of the sight of him.'
'Regrets?' enquired the baron.
'Since Santiago he has been worthless,' grumbled the Templar. 'And he was very little use before that.'
'I smell something cooking.' The baron lifted his nose and craned his neck around.
'Probably pork,' muttered de Bracineaux. 'I am heartily sick of pork, too.'
'What about some of that beef we saw coming into town?' said d'Anjou, sipping from his cup. 'Perhaps
we should have Gislebert get us some.'
'He has better things to do than cater to your idle whims, d'Anjou.'
At that moment, the door opened and Gislebert appeared. 'Ah!' said d'Anjou, lifting his cup. 'The very
man himself. Here now, sergeant, de Bracineaux thinks you have better things to do than serve my trifling
fancies. Is that so?'
Gislebert glared, but made no reply. 'The men are lodged and the horses stabled.' He looked at the wine
longingly.
'What news of Matthias? Did the abbot say where the priest might be found?'
The sergeant swallowed. 'He is not here. The abbot said he is expected to return to the monastery for
the winter, but he has not yet arrived.'
'Then we shall go and get him,' said the commander. 'Where is he?'
'He is building a church on lands near here. It is no great distance - half a day's ride, perhaps, not more.'
'Then tomorrow we will ride out and convince this priest to join our happy pilgrimage.'
'That should be no great difficulty. His grace the archbishop can simply compel him under threat of
excommunication,' said d'Anjou, pouring a cup of wine for Gislebert. 'Sit down, sergeant. You look faint
from thirst.'
'Once we have the priest to lead us, we will abandon that puffing windbag at last.' De Bracineaux
drained his cup and, as the baron refilled it, he shouted for the landlord to bring the food. When the
innkeeper appeared, the Templar said, 'I have a taste for roast beef.'
'I have no beef, my lord,' the landlord said, wringing his hands in the cloth at his waist. 'My good wife
has made a rabbit stew with shallots, wine, and mushrooms. Everyone says it is excellent.'
'I want beef, damn you! Beef!'
'But there is none to be had in all the town just now. Perhaps a young bull will be butchered in a day or
two, and then I shall certainly get some for you.' He spread his hands helplessly. 'I have some sausages;
and there is fresh pork. If you like, I will have my good wife make for you a fine -'
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