The Rose Demon

beard were neatly clipped in a military fashion. Matthias couldn’t reckon his age. He was struck by the sheer intensity of the man’s gaze.

    ‘Matthias Fitzosbert?’ he repeated, hitching the heavy furred robe closer round his shoulders.

    ‘Yes, sir!’

    The Hospitaller smiled and held out his hand.

    ‘I am Sir Edmund Hammond.’ He patted the robe. ‘I am sorry I am swaddled like a baby but I spent most of my years in Cyprus and Malta. London will be the death of me.’

    ‘You seem to know me, sir.’

    The Hospitaller opened his mouth to reply but paused and instead beckoned Matthias into a small, wooden panelled chamber. The windows were shuttered, a fire roared under the canopied hearth and chafing dishes, full of hot coals, stood around the room. A servitor came in and, under Sir Edmund’s directions, moved high-backed chairs in front of the fire. A small table was set between, and cups, brimming with white wine, were served and placed there. Sir Edmund waited until the servant closed the door behind him.

    ‘I know it is very hot,’ he smiled. ‘If you want, Matthias, take off your sword belt and jerkin; come and sit down.’

    Matthias obeyed. For a while the Grand Master just sipped at his wine, cradling the cup between his fingers.

    ‘I don’t know you, Matthias Fitzosbert,’ he began. ‘But I know of you. The execution of Sir Raymond Grandison at Tewkesbury eighteen years ago, the consequent massacre at Sutton Courteny, not to mention the death by burning of Sir Raymond’s brother, Otto. Oh yes,’ he caught the surprise in Matthias’ face, ‘they were brothers, Hospitallers. As young knights they were given a most sacred task to carry out before Constantinople fell to the Turks. They failed. The Rose Demon Father Anthony alludes to in his letter was, by their mistake, once again released into the world of men. Sir Raymond spent the rest of his life scouring Europe. He discovered that the Rose Demon was in England, so he tied his fortunes to those of Margaret of Anjou and the House of Lancaster.’ The Hospitaller sipped from his wine. ‘You know what happened to him. His brother, Otto, decided to live a life of reparation as a hermit out on the rock of Masada above the Dead Sea in Palestine. Otto disappeared. He was later seen in England, but there’s no doubt that by then the Rose Demon had become incarnated in him. He was the hermit the villagers of Sutton Courteny burnt to death.’ He sighed. ‘I suspect that the royal clerk Rahere was also possessed.’

    Matthias put his wine cup down. He felt a thrill of excitement. For the first time ever, he was talking to someone who regarded the Rose Demon as a matter of fact, as a great danger which must be confronted.

    The Hospitaller was watching Matthias closely. ‘I am only telling the little I know. The existence of the Rose Demon is one of the great secrets of our Order. There’s someone who knows more. Someone you may later meet. First I want to hear your story, from the beginning until now.’

    Matthias forgot about the cloying warmth of the room. This time he told his life story in precise tones. He described scenes from his life as he would a painting or a carving. Now and again he would pause to sip at the wine or answer the occasional question. When he had finished, Sir Edmund sat, elbows propped on the arms of the chair, his fingers rubbing the side of his temple. He did not look up. Matthias sensed the Hospitaller was frightened, as if Matthias had said something which was most important though its significance was lost on him.

    ‘You should go back.’ The Hospitaller Commander got to his feet. His face was grey, his tone harsh. ‘You should go back to Sutton Courteny.’

    ‘Why?’ Matthias asked. ‘You said there was someone else who might help?’

    ‘There is, but not now. You cannot see her.’ The Commander walked across to a side table to refill his goblet. He came back and gingerly did the same for Matthias as if the old soldier wished to keep his distance. ‘There is a great mystery about what you have told me. First, did Parson Osbert ever keep a record?’

    Matthias recalled the small, black and gold Book of Hours or breviary his father always carried. Sometimes he would make notes there, sermons or thoughts which occurred to him. Matthias rubbed his mouth. Strange, after his mother’s death Matthias couldn’t remember his father either holding or using the breviary.

    ‘You also say the