“Now that I am dying,” Thomas said, appearing to read my mind, “I wish to beg a favor from you, Nan.” He coughed and in a moment of softness I held the cup of water to his lips, but he did not take it. Instead his hand closed around my wrist, spilling the water on the bedclothes. His grip was hard.

“I want you to take the last of the treasure and hide it at Knightstone,” he said.

I drew back. “You told me there was no treasure!” I said. “You said the queen had taken it all but for the few pieces left at Clerkenwell.”

Thomas’s lips twisted. He let me go and fell back on the bed. “I told you the truth,” he said.

“Then—” I was at a loss. “What can you mean?”

Thomas moved his head slightly. “Go to the chest,” he said. “At the very bottom is a cloth wrapped in linen. Bring it to me.”

I disliked taking orders, but I could see he could hardly fetch the thing himself. I went over to the chest, moved the heavy iron candelabrum from the top and lifted the lid. It was full of linens and smelled of cedar and lavender, my least favorite herb. Rifling through the piles of cloth I finally touched the bottom and found the small packet he had indicated. The linen was so old and worn that it was soft as gossamer against my fingers and when I drew it out into the light I saw it was tied with ribbon again so old and frayed that it had lost all color.

“Bring it here,” Thomas said. “Untie it.”

I did so, laying the parcel on the bed and gently releasing the knot that had held the linen closed for so long. The covering fell back. Beneath it I saw the shimmer of silk, pure black, with the eight-pointed star of the Knights Hospitaller emblazon upon it. I touched it lightly with the tip of one finger.

“The Mantle of the Grand Master of the Knights Hospitaller,” I said, but my words were no more than a whisper.

“A sacred trust,” Thomas agreed.

“Which you cannot give to me,” I objected. “Just as your grandfather passed it to you, so you must pass it to the one who is to come after you.”

A tear slid from the corner of Thomas’s eye. For some reason that moved me more than anything else I had seen in that room; this mercurial and dazzling man defeated at the last.

“I wanted it to be Robert,” he whispered, “but it would not serve.”

“No,” I agreed. “That would never have worked.”

Thomas’s gaze sought mine. “All I ever wanted,” he said, “was that men should have the freedom to worship as they wished. I employed my fortune and my pen in that service and I suffered for it, but that was my choice. But Robert—” He moistened his lips. “He has taken up the sword I would not wield in pursuit of what he believes to be right.” His eyes closed. He lay very still.