Galloglass Book One the Templar Read online

  "Did you know I have met these Italians before?" volunteered de Flor. "Indeed," he bobbed his head. "It was in Cyprus several years ago. Ascheri, as I remember, is a rotten bastard, but on the surface, quite likable. Spinola is straightforward, quiet. Look at his face and you will know what he thinks. Of the two, Ascheri is much more dangerous. Do not be fooled by his charm."

  "Good advice. Fortunately I am not here to negotiate, only to deliver terms and a request for a meeting with the masters of the three Orders."

  De Flor clasped my hand and said, "Then watch closely and commit everything you say and do to memory. To be a Templar in Acre requires guile and no small amount of cunning. You have obviously caught the eye of de Beaujeu. The trick is to continually do so by being successful. That, my friend, is how you prosper."

  The sailor returned with my sword and my box, along with the leather tube I carried with Master de Beaujeu's proposal. "Brother, your companions are making their way forward as we speak," he said.

  I thanked him as I uncloaked and strapped my great sword to my back. Above me I heard a lookout call, "Two leagues, captain!"

  De Flor bellowed, "Reef the sail. Oars out!" To me he smiled and said, "Now we take it slow. They have seen us. We will let their curiosity get the better of them and come to us."

  De Flor was right. Within the hour, a galley from the Genoese fleet had closed with us. When told of our mission, a skiff was lowered from the Genoese, and the three of us were brought on board. A quick return journey brought us into the heart of the fleet where we were hastily ushered aboard Admiral Ascheri's own galley.

  There we waited in the hot mid-day sun for more than an hour. The three of us steamed in our mail coats, but there was nothing to be done for it. I could tell Brother Marin was becoming as hot as his mail but said nothing. Eventually one of the galley's officers brought us to the admiral's cabin below the aft platform. Ascheri awaited us behind a large oak table, covered with various charts and correspondence. Beside him was one of his guards, a thick limbed Arab, as tall as myself, armed with a large falchion. It was obvious by his sneer that he was not pleased to see us. "What brings three representatives from the Church's Military Orders to my ship, uninvited and unannounced?"

  I said nothing, waiting for Marin to put his foot in his mouth. The big Hospitaller swallowed his evident ill temper and replied, "Our masters would meet with you and Admiral Spinola, to discuss the situation in Acre."

  Ascheri waved his hand as though dismissing a servant, "Why? There is nothing to discuss as long as Acre remains a Venetian port."

  "That could be remedied if you would but come and talk," replied Marin smoothly.

  "Indeed," answered Ascheri dryly. "How so?"

  "It is not for me to say, lord. I am but a messenger."

  The admiral rubbed his chin, combing his fingers through his goatee. He stared at Brother Wolfram a moment, changed his mind, and then pointed at me, "What of you, Templar? I wonder why de Beaujeu sends one as young as you on this mission? Are you important? Do you come from a noble family? What does he gain by sending you?"

  All the attention in that little room was now focused on me. Both my companions were pondering Ascheri's questions as well. I could feel their eyes upon me.

  "Come. You must speak for your master. Is that not why he sent you?"

  It was then that I remembered the box in my hands. I lifted it so that it drew the admiral's attention. Intricately carved and covered with gold inlay, it was worth a small fortune. "Lord, I am the bastard son of the heir to the Lord of the Isles, a Scots Gael. It is a land north and west of England."

  "I know of it, a hard land of cold winds and colder women."

  "I never found that to be true, lord, and I am afraid that I am no more or less important than any other Templar." Placing the box on the table, I said, "I was instructed to give you this, should the situation present itself."

  Ascheri shifted his gaze to Marin. "This one does not like it that you are speaking. Why?"

  Knowing there was no point in lying, I said, "Brother Marin feels that he has more experience in these matters. I would not disagree."

  "And when do the Temple and Hospital ever agree?"

  "That is true from what I have been told, yet I know we three agree on this. The masters of our Orders would like for you to meet at the Tower of the Flies within a fortnight. It could be most beneficial for all concerned."

  Ascheri shook his head. He pointed at Marin. "I have already told him there is nothing to gain by such a meeting. We control the sea. We have you bottled up in your port. In time you will wither and rot like a piece of overripe fruit."

  He was right, yet I was not going to give up so easily. "Lord, I am no diplomat. As Brother Marin said, I or rather we, are simply messengers. My talent lies in other areas." I then indicated the box.

  Ascheri inclined his head to the guard beside him who pulled the box across the table. He flipped up the gold latch and opened the lid. The Arab's eyes widened in surprise as he realized what was in the box. Looking at his master, he withdrew the head far enough for the Admiral to identify it.

  Ascheri's eyes hardened to black pin points. I could hear the sharp intake of his breath. "You are either very brave or exceedingly foolish. Does your master think to threaten me?"

  I shook my head. "Lord, I am sure you are not a man to be intimidated by anything so crude. Rather, it is meant to show you that your efforts to this point have been fruitless. You are locked out of the port. Your attempt at assassination has failed, and the Orders are still firmly in control of the city. Such a situation could go on almost indefinitely. Perhaps there is another way?"

  He smiled, yet there was no warmth in his eyes, "Perhaps." Pointing at the box he asked, "Who is it that managed to slay Andre de Bruges?"

  "I must confess, lord, it was me."

  Ascheri looked up then and straight into my eyes. Marin could not contain himself. He blurted, "Impossible. De Bruges has killed over twenty men in duels and tavern brawls, let alone on the field of battle. You take credit for Himbert's doings."

  It was as though the admiral was seeing me for the first time. "You?"

  I shrugged not bothering to defend myself from Marin's accusations and continued to study him. Ascheri turned to Wolfram, "Were you aware of this?"

  Wolfram shook his head. "No, lord, though I must confess, I am not surprised."

  Ascheri raised an eyebrow and tilted his head as if to say continue.

  Wolfram grinned. "I know that this boy was knighted on the field of battle by de Beaujeu himself. Our sources have confirmed this. It would not surprise me if what he claims is true."

  Ascheri nodded. "How refreshing. A Templar that does not lie, and a Hospitaller who is both uninformed and lacking the manners of a peasant." He turned from Marin and looked at me once again, weighing his thoughts. After several moments he said, "Tell your masters Admiral Spinola and I will meet with them. Tomorrow, mid-day, at the Tower of the Flies. See that they are not late."

  "By your leave, my lord," I replied while bowing my head.

  Ascheri waved us out. A sailor was waiting to take us to our skiff, and within the hour we were on our way back to Acre. I was waiting for Marin to say something, but he held his tongue. Though I could see he was angry. The voyage back was uneventful. I fell asleep sitting in the shade of the ship's rail and caught some much needed rest. Brother Wolfram woke me when we reached the harbor. As I stood and adjusted my mantle, he said, "You realize you have made an enemy."

  "If you mean Brother Marin, I was expecting it," I said while pulling on my gauntlets.

  "Marin does not like to think that there is anyone who might be smarter or more lethal than he is. The fact that you killed de Bruges in such a casual manner and were unaware of what you had done will gall him. He does not fear the papal injunction concerning the killing of fellow Christians nor the wrath of his own Grand Master, and he certainly does not fear for his soul."

  "And you tell me this be
cause?"

  Wolfram laughed, "Because now there is someone in Acre whom he hates more than me."

  I nodded and looked past the big German to see the Hospitaller scowling in our direction. "It is said the quality of a man is measured by the greatness of his enemies. I see nothing great about Marin de Montcalm."

  Wolfram shook his head. "He was one of the best tournament knights in France before a rather scandalous situation arose between him and the Duke of Burgundy's wife. Taking the cross was his only salvation."

  "Well at least we have that in common," I replied.

  Wolfram gave me a puzzled look.

  "He and I took the cross for similar reasons, a weakness for married women."

  The German knight raised his eyebrows, and I shrugged. "It was take the cross or be outlawed. Ten years is not so long. This is my second summer in Outrémer, and the time seems to have passed quickly."

  "Will you return home in ten years or stay and take service with one of the great nobles here in the Levant?"

  It was a good question, one that I had not time to really consider. "I will tell you that there is a part of me that longs for the cool summers and gray waters of my home. Yet I am certain only God knows our future. I am here, and for the time being, I will do as my Order commands, and I will try to follow the Rule to the best of my ability. And you?"

  "I have given my life to the Order of Teutonic Knights. I will remain until my death."

  "Get in my way, Wolfram, and it will be sooner than you think," hissed Marin as he stalked to within a few feet of where we were standing.

  I turned so as to present the big knight with only my left side while reaching for the dagger I kept in a sheath on my belt. He had tried to approach us while we were deep in conversation, but I had noticed him long before he spoke. "I know you are a Norman, hence your impossibly bad manners. It must be something you practice; otherwise you would not be so good at it."

  He rounded on me, his face flushing crimson while the sword scar that ran from his temple across the bridge of his nose and down his left cheek went white. He brought up his fist and pointed it at me. "Speak to me again, boy, and I will forget there is a truce between our Orders."

  I have always been fast. Speed kills and it is not something that can be taught. It has kept me alive when I should have otherwise been killed. That day I was beyond fast. My dagger was out, and I closed with Marin in a heartbeat. I was inside his guard before he could react, and my dagger's point was in his throat. "I am growing tired of your threats. I am no boy. I killed my first man at fourteen, and I can't count the number I have slain since then. The only reason I don't push this blade home and dump you into the sea is because Master de Beaujeu gave me no license to do so. Threaten me again, and it will not matter. You should have cold steel in your hands. I would also suggest you learn how to defend a simple slide by or else this boy is going to gut you like a fish when next we meet."

  I shoved him away so that he stumbled back and bumped the rail. He pulled his sword and would have come at me but halted when he saw Roger de Flor and two sailors armed with crossbows standing behind me. "Give me an excuse, Hospitaller," smiled de Flor.

  Marin scowled and then sheathed his sword. "This is not over."

  "I am tired of this already. Not only are you ill mannered but you are stupid as well. Choose the place, shit bag, and bring a witness," I said.

  Marin smiled thinking I was the one who was stupid. "The courtyard of 'The Five Fingers.'"

  "Tomorrow, after Vigils, swords and gambesons."

  "How will we explain your untimely death? A tavern brawl? Of course, one always returns to the gutter from whence he has come," snarled Marin.

  I shook my head. "Just be there. Do not disappoint me."

  Marin turned away and walked amid ship. I looked over my shoulder and asked, "You will accompany me?"

  De Flor's smile was huge. "Why, I would not miss it for all the virgins in Acre. You realize he will come there with more than a mere witness."

  "Of course," I laughed. "That is why I invited you."

  "Brother Wolfram, would you do me the honor of being there as well?"

  The big German grinned and slapped de Flor on the back. "Mein Gott, I thought you would never ask."

  Four

  The meeting between the grand masters of the three Orders and the two Genoese admirals took place as scheduled the next day in the Tower of the Flies. I was there and stood guard as the two sides hammered out an agreement to end the blockade of Acre and the subsequent trade war between Genoa, Pisa, and her ally Venice. Ascheri and Spinola's fleet returned to Tyre within a fortnight. The three masters were well pleased, but trouble was brewing to the north in the city of Tripoli. At the same time, the truce between the Mamluk Sultan and the Kingdom of Acre held but was coming under increasing pressure as the Genoese sought to control all the trade between Italy, the Levant, and Alexandria.

  I saw Marin at the meeting but ignored him. Himbert had asked me numerous questions about the discussion with Ascheri. I answered as truthfully as I could, never mentioning my conflict with Brother Marin. I knew that Himbert would prevent my fight with Marin if he were aware of it.

  That evening, as usual, I accompanied Master de Beaujeu to vespers and then shadowed him to his apartments in the great tower of the Temple Citadel. Waiting until I was dismissed, I then made my way through the castle, first to my cell on the floor beneath Master de Beaujeu where I discarded my mail, keeping my gambeson. My sleeping cell was one of the advantages of my new position. I no longer had to sleep in the barracks with the other knights as that could interfere with my instant availability. I noted that Himbert had already retired for the night, so it was easy to slip through the castle to a postern leading out to the street of St. Ann. The fact that I was leaving this late was not questioned by the sergeant guarding the gate as he was used to seeing me slip out at all hours on missions for Master de Beaujeu. Roger De Flor was waiting for me on the other side with horses and several men, cloaked and hooded in black, including Brother Wolfram. I exchanged my mantle for a hooded cloak and then followed my companions through the streets of Acre.

  I was always surprised by the amount of activity that occurred in Acre at night. Soldiers and sailors constantly moved about making their way from the harbor to the walled suburb of Montmusard. It was here that most of the inns and brothels plied their trade. It was also where one of the larger souks in Acre was located. We moved through the large gate west of the headquarters of the Hospital. That gate was always open and its drawbridge across the dry moat was rarely up. The guards there passed us through without notice and soon we neared the Inn of "The Five Fingers". De Flor sent his men ahead to position themselves as unobtrusively as possible throughout the building.

  De Flor noticed the handle of my greatsword sticking up from my cloak and shook his head. "You would be better served with a sharp dagger than that giant pig sticker for tonight's work."

  "No, I mean for him to meet me sword to sword. Knifing him while he sits would be much too easy."

  De Flor shook his head. "I like easy."

  We entered the gates of the inn on horseback. "The Five Fingers" was laid out in a similar fashion to the "Two Sisters." The main courtyard led to the stables and to the inn itself. A wall connected the two structures. A doorway in the wall indicated the possibility of another, smaller courtyard beyond. De Flor dismounted as did I, and we handed the reins of our mounts to a groom who suddenly appeared from the stable. The door to the inn was open, and light from its hearth spilled out. I watched the shadows for signs of a problem and noticed, for the first time, one of de Flor's men. He pointed to the door in the wall.

  Roger went first, plunging ahead as though there was nothing to fear. I followed him into a small garden with high hedges that lined a path much like a hallway. Roger led the way as we followed the path for a short distance to some stairs. We descended to an open plaza illuminated by torchlight. In one corner was a small stone fountain. I
could hear the soft gurgling of water. Before us stood Marin de Montcalm and his second, grinning.

  "I am surprised you came, boy," said the big Norman. "I see you brought your pet pig with you. Forgive me pigs," he indicated while pointing to Wolfram as the German descended to the plaza.

  I must confess, the very sight of him made my blood boil, and I had to fight hard not to launch myself at him at once. "You must have been part of a traveling show before you took your vows. How else could you come up with such poor jests?"

  De Flor snorted and his faced flushed at once. Pointing at de Montcalm he said, "I doubt there will be much left, but if so, consider yourself challenged. I'm going to enjoy slitting you from crotch to gullet."

  Marin laughed, "One at a time. Robert here," he said while nodding with his head, "will make sure you do not interfere, de Flor." Turning to Wolfram he asked, "What business is this of yours?"

  Wolfram grinned and held up his hands, "Unlike my friends here, I am only here to observe."

  De Flor scratched his balls and looked at the Hospitaller next to Marin like a hungry dog looks at a piece of meat. Though he was a head taller than de Flor, he was not nearly as thick nor as wide. De Flor nodded in his direction. "By the way, whoever else you brought with you will do you no good." He pointed to the rooftop overlooking the courtyard and waved his hand. A crossbow bolt appeared between Marin's feet. "He's there to keep you honest. There are others nearby as well, just in case."

  Marin cursed at de Flor. He was not happy. "I will not forget this."

  "You will have to win for that to be a problem," Roger grinned.

  The Hospitaller threw off his cloak and drew his sword. I dropped my cloak as well and drew my longsword from its sheath on my back. It was the first time Marin had seen it. In his arrogance, he laughed at it. "A long blade for a small man. Are we compensating for a lack somewhere else?"

  I ignored him and slid my right foot slightly forward, dropped my sword point, and assumed a position the Italian masters now call the tutta porto di ferro or "open iron door." The fencing instructors I had on Islay simply referred to it as a low guard. I was inviting Marin to attack me, knowing that his arrogance would overcome his reason. Jongleurs sing of men "fencing" as though they engage in a dance. There is this impression that affairs of honor last quite a long time because men who are trained in the art of war are experts in swordplay. They are fools and have never faced a man who intended to ram a foot of cold steel through their chest. I had spent a lifetime mastering all manner of weapons from a simple stick or dagger, to sword, mace, and war hammer. I could kill with spear, halberd, or axe and could fight armored or unarmored, and in all that time, never once had I been taught to play with an opponent. Put him down as quickly and ruthlessly as possible.