St. Severin Church
Paris, Kingdom of France
“Thomas didn’t look well.”
Marcus sighed as he tied up his horse alongside Simon’s. “No, he didn’t. I fear he may not be long for this earth should he not follow through with his acceptance of my offer.”
“To join us on the farm?”
“Yes.”
“I pray he does, otherwise I agree.” Simon glanced up at the impressive structure that was St. Severin Church. “I think the good Lord was guiding us today. If we hadn’t had need of Thomas’ home, he might have died within days.”
Marcus nodded. “Well, if need be, I’ll strap him to the back of my horse. No matter what happens, I’m not leaving him like that. He’s a fine young man who just needs a push in the right direction. Once he’s back on his feet and thinking straight, he can decide what he wants to do. For now, someone has to tell him.”
Simon smiled. “Our farm is getting a little crowded, don’t you think?”
Marcus chuckled. “It is, but part of me feels like that is a good thing. We have more than enough land to feed everyone, and perhaps this new home we’re building can replace the brotherhood we have lost.”
Simon frowned slightly, his response barely a murmur. “Perhaps.”
Marcus let it be, making a note to remember to talk to his sergeant about his feelings later. His men had eagerly agreed to stay with him out of a sense of loyalty, but he didn’t want anyone remaining on the farm against their will. If any one of them wanted to return to the Order, and live out their lives as they had sworn to do, he would never hold it against them.
Though it would hurt him deeply.
Every day, part of him yearned to return to the Holy Land and serve out his days among his brothers, and he was certain the others felt the same. Yet he was the only one who couldn’t leave. He had to remain behind. There was no way he would abandon his niece and nephew, and now Pierre. His future was written.
But the others’ weren’t.
A conversation is definitely in order.
They quickly made their way to the pew in question, finding no message tucked into the gap, though that didn’t surprise him. He spotted a priest nearby, and beckoned him over. The old man joined them, bowing slightly.
“It is rare to see a Templar knight here. Are you here just for prayer, or do you have a purpose?”
Marcus bowed. “Prayer is always a purpose, however today we have another.” He gestured toward the end of the pew. “Have you noticed anything strange over the past few months? Anyone out of place, who paid particular attention to the end of this pew, as if searching for something?”
The priest chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m afraid, my son, that my memory and eyesight are beginning to fail me, though even if they weren’t, I doubt my answer would be any different. This church fills every day, and this pew so close to the front is quite popular. Countless people sit here on countless occasions, I’m afraid.”
Marcus frowned. “That was what I feared. And in the evenings?”
“You’ll find our doors always open. Unfortunately, I’ve noticed nothing strange even among the Lord’s strays.”
“Very well. Thank you for your time, Father.”
The man bowed then took his leave, as Marcus eyed the altar before them. “I think we should take a few minutes to pray for guidance.”
Simon nodded. “And should the good Lord leave it up to us?”
“Then I think we should present ourselves to the King’s Court to hear these charges. My understanding is they are to be formally announced within the hour.”