Galloglass Book One the Templar Page 9

  Henri was smiling at me as rivulets of water from the rain cascaded off his helmet. Lifting my hand palm side up I said, "Unless you want stay out in this tonight?"

  "Not particularly," he replied.

  I could tell he was not happy about entering the village this late, with no idea about what was awaiting us. I liked Henri and valued his opinion. Like most of the column, he was a longtime veteran of the Holy Land. Big boned, dour and taciturn, he could be difficult. Yet, he had taken a liking to me, and we had become good friends. "You will ride forward with me while Himbert brings the column?"

  "Of course," he said, while kicking his horse forward.

  We trotted off through the rain and slowly approached the village. On the way, he chided me for not avoiding danger. "You know, we could have ridden around this place?"

  "And sleep in the rain?"

  "No, there are plenty of villages lining the coast. We just move on to the next one."

  I shook my head, slinging water about my face. "We need to see what is going on here. Something is not right."

  Henri shrugged and said nothing. We entered the village at a walk. The rain was no longer falling like a gray curtain, and I could look down the main street to the far end. Windows and doors were closed to us. Even what passed for an inn had barred its gates. In the late afternoon gloom I could barely make out the silhouettes of Rolf and his men waiting our arrival. As we approached, I noticed there was a body strapped to a horse in the midst of them.

  Henri and I kicked our mounts into a trot and closed with them at once. Looking down, I realized it was my missing Turcopole. There was an arrow through his throat, and even in all the rain he had stained the coat of the mount he was tied to. "Can you tell what happened?"

  Rolf shook his head and spat. "Found him here in the middle of the street. His horse was beside him. He was already dead when we got here."

  I looked to Marcus and he pointed northeast. "There are several of them. They slipped out through the village before we blocked the road. We could not have missed them by much."

  "Mamluks?"

  "Hard to say, definitely Saracen. You can tell by the hoof prints. Could be bandits. They are not armored."

  "Brave of them to kill a Turcopole if they are merely bandits," I said. Looking at the tracks I asked, "Can we catch them?"

  Marcus shook his head. "If it were not raining, or if this was earlier in the day I would say yes. As it is, doubtful."

  I shook my head. "Take men. Follow them. I want to know who they are and where they are going. An eye for an eye."

  Marcus looked at me and then nodded. With those few words, I had insured the loyalty of my Turcopoles. He pulled away and rode back through the town toward the column to find his men. Himbert and the others moved up. We spent the night there in Botron, the men finding shelter in the village church and a few surrounding outbuildings.

  The next morning Himbert pulled me aside. "You know, if we continue on this trail, we will ride beneath the gates of Puy du Connetable."

  "Why does this concern us?"

  "Several years ago, the Embriaco's turned the fortress over to the Hospital. They have a garrison there now. They will alert their superiors in Tripoli of our coming and the Embriacos, if they don't already know."

  "Correct me if I am wrong. The War of St. Sabas is over though the rivalry between Genoa and Venice is not. The Hospital no longer openly supports the Genoese, especially after their blockade of Acre. So what am I missing?"

  "Never forget the Embriacos are Genoese. Bartolomew's sympathies will lie with whoever will let him control Tripoli. Though he has been allied to us in the past, he should not be trusted. Neither can we trust the Hospital. They are our rivals in all things. Anything that causes the Temple distress helps them advance their position here in the Levant. Besides, you yourself now have enemies within the Hospital."

  "So the relations between our Orders' grandmasters in Acre are merely a front?"

  "Not at all. You simply need to be aware that not everything nor everyone is as it seems. The garrison at Puy du Connetable will most certainly question our coming north by land."

  "It seems to me that you have your work cut out for you, Himbert. After all, it is you who must convince Bartolomew not to side with Genoa, not I. I am here simply as a veiled threat."

  "Perhaps, but it is you who must get us to Tripoli without undue trouble."

  "To ride around their fortress will add at least another day to our journey. Is that what you are suggesting?"

  Himbert sighed and looked at me as though I were his child. "No, I am suggesting that you not be pulled into an unnecessary confrontation, especially one that could do us more harm than good."

  I left Himbert and rode forward to find my scouts. Sometime later, after briefing my Turcopoles as to the possibility of a confrontation with Hospitallers out of Puy du Connetable, I returned and struck up a conversation with Henri d'Avignon. It was not until we were in sight of de Connetable's tower that trouble reared its ugly head.

  Puy du Connetable sat atop a rocky outcrop in the mouth of the valley of Nhar El Jawz. The coastal road that we followed wound directly beneath its heights and then proceeded through the valley and on to Tripoli. My Turcopoles topped a rise in the coastal road and pounded down to the column just as the battlements of the castle came into sight. I halted the column and waited until Marcus and the others closed the distance and then trotted forward to meet them. "Problem?"

  "Do you call fifty Hospitallers blocking the road a problem?"

  "Depends on their intent."

  "We did not wait to ask."

  I looked off to my right at the line of steep hills bordering the coast. "When we move forward, can we be flanked?"

  Marcus shook his head. "No, lord."

  I pointed at Dominic, one of the other scouts. "Are we being followed?"

  "Yes, lord. Not many. They picked up our trail yesterday about mid-afternoon."

  "Franks?"

  He shrugged his shoulders, "Turcopoles I think. Hospitaller."

  Himbert rode up as I wheeled my horse to face him. "I am going forward to greet our Brothers in Christ. Bring the column to the top of that rise," I said while twisting in my saddle and pointing to where the Turcopoles had just ridden down from. "Maybe I can talk our way through."

  "And if not?"

  "We backtrack ten miles and take that cut in the hills leading inland. Then we ride thirty miles out of our way."

  "No fight?"

  "Beneath the walls of their castle and us within reach of their bows? Not a chance."

  Himbert grinned and nodded his approval. I loved a good fight but not one that would be suicidal. It was time to talk. Marcus and I turned our mounts and trotted back up the coastal road toward Puy du Connetable.

  To be honest I did not know what to expect. I knew enough about the rivalry between the two Orders to know that there was no love lost here. On the other hand, it had been quite awhile since the two sides had openly come to blows. I was hoping that was not about to change.

  Marcus and I rode to a point that was just beyond bow shot from the castle. Himbert brought the Templar column up to the slight rise in the road, still well behind me. And then we waited.

  Two mounted Hospitallers walked their horses forward to meet me. Both were big men, though one was at least a head taller than the other. The knights were in full armor, their hauberks and chausses gleamed in the sun. Both men wore the red mantles and white crosses of their order plainly visible. When they were within speaking distance, the one on the right, the smaller of the two, asked, "Why does the Temple trespass on lands controlled by the Order of the Hospital?"

  I shrugged. His tone was demeaning and meant to offend. "Master De Beaujeu ordered me to lead this troop north to reinforce our garrison in Tripoli. I did not know he needed the permission of the Hospital to do so."

  The knight removed his pot helm and edged his mount a step closer. "We should have been informed that you would c
ross our lands." The Hospitaller was broad, thick in the way of some western knights, with a wide back and large shoulders.

  I crossed my hands and rested them on the front of my saddle. "What is it that you would have me do, messier, return to Acre?"

  "That is your choice," he grinned. "I know that you will not be passing beneath the walls of Puy du Connetable."

  I smiled back at him, noting the grey flecks in his dark beard and the humorless blue eyes that bored a hole in me. "That is not possible. We are expected in Tripoli within the next day. I am sure, brother, that we can come to terms. There must be another way. "

  "Your name, sir?" he asked.

  "I am Brother Ronan MacAlisdair, Turcopolier of Acre. And you are?"

  "Brother Eudes Fitzmaurice," he replied while turning to his companion. The larger of the two edged his horse up even with the other Hospitaller and nodded.

  "We have heard of you, Brother Ronan, and your reputation," he added.

  I knew at once that this was not going to be good. I shook my head. "You must have me confused with someone else. I have no reputation."

  The larger of the two Hospitallers now removed his helm and pointed a mailed gauntlet in my direction. "You are a base-born liar and assassin. You defeated my cousin Marin through treachery and deceit, and you will die for it."

  Marcus edged his horse away from mine to give himself room to flee if necessary. I remained outwardly calm, though I could feel the anger rising in me. "I took Marin's hand in a dual, which he provoked. I could have taken his head, although as I recall, it was clearly attached to his body when they dragged him away."

  "I say again that you lie. You are a base-born coward."

  I looked at Eudes who was grinning from ear to ear. It was obvious they had come to pick a fight, but I had more important matters to attend to, namely pushing the column on to Tripoli.

  "Is it a fight you want, my friend?"

  "I am no friend of yours."

  "Let the column pass and move on into the valley. I will meet my friend here, as he pleases," I said while looking at Eudes.

  Eudes continued to smile. He had accomplished what he wanted. Considering how important our mission was, it occurred to me that de Beaujeu had most likely informed the Hospital upon our departure from Acre, especially given our route north. He and de Villiers, the grandmaster of the Hospital, were on good terms. This show of force was orchestrated by Marin. Eudes and his companion had no real intention of stopping us, only me. The thought struck me that I should have slit Marin's throat when I had the chance.

  "Send your man back and have them come on. You, of course, will remain here with us."

  I looked at Eudes and then at my antagonist and said, "I expect that when I kill this large lump of shit, you will let me pass as well. After all, you are supposed to be a warrior of Christ and a man of honor."

  Eudes scowled, his ever present grin fading. "Have your man bring your helm, lance, and shield as your men move forward. We shall see if there is anything to your bold choice of words."

  Marcus rode off at once and returned to our column. I said no more and waited with the two Hospitallers as my men came down the track and turned toward the castle of Puy du Connetable. As the column neared our position, I watched as Himbert broke off and made his way toward us. He was leading my destrier, and I noted that he carried my helm and shield hooked to his saddle and held my lance as well.

  "You keep poor company, Ronan," said Himbert as he closed within speaking distance.

  "Do you know our brothers here?" I asked as he pulled up and sat back in his saddle.

  "Eudes Fitzmaurice and Phillip de Rouen. Yes, I know them both. Rouen, from what rock have you slithered out?" he asked, quite cheerfully I thought.

  "Be careful, old man, lest you have an accident upon returning to Acre."

  Himbert turned to me as I dismounted and exchanged my reins and took Dagda by his halter. "Is this who challenged you?"

  I nodded as I mounted my war horse. The animal was ready for action. I had to rein him in hard to hold him in place. He nipped at Himbert's horse and finally settled as Himbert laughed. "I only wish I could see this, Rouen. You have picked the wrong one to fight, but then you always were dumb as a shire plow."

  "And you talk too much, Himbert. Go back to your men. Perhaps we will meet again in Tripoli?" snarled Eudes.

  "As you wish," smiled Himbert. Turning his horse away from the Hospitallers, he handed me my shield and then my helm and waited until I had put them on before passing me my lance. My great helm was of a new type called a sugar loaf helm, as it was rounded at the top like the loaves of sugar sold to bakers in the market. It was hot, and it fit snugly overtop my arming cap, making my face sweat at once. "When he charges, he will bring the tip of his lance up at the last instant and strike for your helm."

  "Pray God he does not wait long then. This helmet is insufferable."

  "You will be glad of it when it keeps that melon you call your head safe."

  Had I a way to set down my lance, I would have taken my helmet off. As it was, I kept it on and watched Himbert through the eye slits as he galloped back with my saddle horse in tow. I watched for some time as the Templar column wound its way through the Hospitallers, blocking the road and then moved on into the valley beyond without incident. Frankly I was surprised that the two across from me had not attacked once they were certain Himbert was too far away to help. Such was their confidence in Philip de Rouen's ability. I suppose it never crossed their minds.

  "Come, Templar, we will settle this beneath the walls of Puy du Connetable," said Rouen with contempt.

  I made no reply but simply followed the two as they trotted their mounts down the road to where the other Hospitallers were gathered. When we reached them, I halted. Eudes addressed the gathering telling them that the dispute between De Rouen and myself was grave and longstanding and could only be settled by the "Judgment of God." There was quite a bit of grumbling from within the ranks. Brothers of the military orders were not supposed to kill other Christians and certainly not participate in duals. This was highly unusual to say the least. For Eudes to be able to pull this off, he must have had considerable power within the Order.

  De Rouen kicked his mount into a trot and rode about twenty yards down the road before turning to face me. His horse kicked up a fine cloud of dust that drifted slowly between the two of us. I had to fight to control Dagda. The destrier could sense my tension, and I could feel him respond, the great muscles in his shoulders and flanks tensing in anticipation of impending action.

  Rouen gave me no warning. He simply spurred his war horse into action and charged. Dagda responded at once. Like a bolt from a crossbow, he thundered forward without any urging from me. Himbert was correct. Rouen's lance tip went from the center of my chest to my face at the last instant. A slight elevation of my shield caused the lance tip to pass overhead while my own lance shattered on De Rouen's shield. The impact threw me back into the cantle of my saddle, and it took my several moments to right myself and saw back on Dagda's reins to turn him.

  Once turned, I noticed De Rouen had roughly a foot of my lance sticking out from his shield. I could not tell if it had penetrated his arm but noticed at once that he still retained his lance. Cursing, I charged him immediately, this time spurring Dagda into motion. The animal was magnificent, launching himself forward once again in a cloud of thundering hooves and dust.

  De Rouen must have been elated to see I had lost my lance. In the great halls and courts of Europe, I have heard troubadours sing of chivalry. I must confess that I never saw it practiced on the field of battle. Mercy, occasionally, but never did I see anyone give up an advantage to make a fight fair. De Rouen leveled his lance and came at me again, fully intending to impale me on its point.

  I drew my sword from its saddle sheath and we closed again. Again De Rouen aimed for the center of my chest. There is always the possibility that in battle a knight may meet someone armed with a lance while he h
imself has none. As a Templar and a knight, this was something I trained for regularly. Rather than catch the lance on my shield, I intended to avoid it if possible. As we closed, I forced Dagda to cross in front of De Rouen's mount at the last instant. Standing in my stirrups and twisting my body, my sword deflected the lance tip to my right and then slid down the shaft as he rode by. The edge caught him directly across his right shoulder and chest. His mail held but the blow, backed by the momentum of my horse, caused him to drop the lance.

  My destrier's hooves scrabbled in the hard packed, rocky sand of the roadway as I sawed back once again on his reins in an effort to turn him before my enemy could recover. I wheeled around while De Rouen fought to draw his sword and get his mount under control.

  Dagda shot forward once again and this time I steered him right into the Hospitaller's mount. He hit de Rouen's mount behind the shoulder just as he was turning to face me. The impact knocked the animal off its feet and hurled de Rouen from his mount. I followed at once and as the Hospitaller struggled to his feet, I leaned from my saddle and stuck him in the helm with my blade. It sounded like the clanging of a bell. De Rouen collapsed like a felled ox.

  I turned Dagda around and walked to within a safe distance of my opponent and dismounted. There was no sound from the ranks of the Hospitallers behind me. It was my right to finish this as I pleased.

  De Rouen had not moved and was lying face down in the roadway. What can I say? I was young and arrogant and supremely confident in my ability as a warrior. It damn near cost me my life. As I dismounted, I took off my shield and hung it from my saddle. When I went to toe the Hospitaller over, he reached out and grabbed my ankle, yanking me off my feet. I lost my sword and he was on top of me at once, dagger in hand.

  Grabbing for my throat, his first thrust went straight for my stomach. I turned on my side as the blade skittered across my mail. I managed to get a grip on his dagger hand and stopped another thrust for my mid section. The hand he had on my throat had worked its way into my coif, and he was digging his fingers in my throat, making me gag. Once again I shifted, this time to my back, and brought my free hand under the rim of his pot helm and shoved with everything I had. I forced his head back and twisted violently to my side once again, this time bucking my body hard. He lost his mount and rolled off me coming to his knees. I scrambled back at once and then drew my own dagger. We both came to our feet and then closed.