Templar's Acre

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Roger Flor and Bernat had instructions to go to the port and check on the Temple’s ships. There was concern that the mob could have damaged them.

Nothing loath, Roger took the Templars’ tunnel to the harbour. There, the curved arch of the tunnel’s roof radiated calm with its coolness. It was difficult, down here, to imagine that only yards above, men and women could have been fighting and killing each other.

As they reached the farther end of the tunnel, and Roger walked past the guards at the door into the daylight, the day’s heat was growing more bearable. Earlier, when the mobs first rioted, the heat had been intolerable.

He had with him three Templar sergeants and Bernat. In their brown tunics, they looked less like Templars and more like the peasants who had rioted, he reckoned. There was something about the pure white tunics that sent fear into the bowels of enemies. It was a thought: white and steel — they both petrified. Stand against them, and a Muslim would know he would soon die, because the Templars were known to be the most fanatical fighters in all Christendom.

The ships all looked secure. He ran up the gangplanks to the first three, making sure of their moorings, seeing that nothing had been stolen from below, and then he went to his own ship, the Falcon, in which he had previously concealed a number of items. He had caused a step to be built beside the steering oar to give him a better view of the way ahead. It was a perfect hiding-place. A wooden peg concealed a trapdoor. Taking a quick, lookaround he surreptitiously opened it and he drew out the chest hidden within.

He had enjoyed his time in the Temple. It was harsh and restrictive, but no more so than life in a manor would have been. At least no one knew the seas of the Mediterranean better than him. With his position as shipmaster came freedom. Which was why he was able to ride outside the city. But soon his period of service would be ended, and when that happened, he needed to have money saved so he might start out again. Perhaps buy his own ship and take up a new life as a merchant — if he could cope with the boredom. Fighting was in his blood, and he would find it difficult to give up.

He restored his chest to its hiding-place. A Templar was not permitted to possess anything during his period of service. Even a secular knight serving the Order for a fixed term could not own the horses he brought with him. They must be sold to the Order, and when he left the Temple, he would have to repay the Temple half that sum as a gift. But Roger had no intention of giving up any of his hard-earned money.

He couldn’t be a knight even if he wanted to. Only sons of knights could become knights within the Order; even then only legitimate sons. Bastards from Brindisi were not permitted the white tunic. He didn’t care. The thought of the three vows was not appealing. Instead he would buy a ship and become rich in his own right, trading from port to port, bringing valuable rarities to Genoa and Brindisi, taking pilgrims and crusaders to the Holy Land. That would be a good life, he thought.

Provided Sultan Qalawun left Acre alone.

He put men-at-arms to guard the ships in case of more mob violence, then set off to walk through the city.

‘Have you thought any more about that man?’ Bernat asked as they walked.

‘If Baldwin says nothing, we are safe, and if he does speak, he implicates himself. So he will be silent.’

‘In his eyes there was disgust. He may decide to cleanse his soul.’

‘More fool him! He’ll soon become accustomed to death here.’

Acre had been taken from the Muslims by Richard the Lionheart, and the wholesale slaughter of the people at that time had shocked even Christian chroniclers. The blood of men was set into the very mortar of the buildings here: Outremer was held by force of arms, by strength. The strong vanquished; the weak perished. That was the way of Outremer. Roger knew it. Baldwin would learn to appreciate it too.

‘He may accuse us,’ Bernat went on.

‘If he does, he will be removed.’ Roger didn’t want complications. ‘I told you before, I will speak to him.’

‘When?’

Roger looked at him. Ivo was away at the moment, so now was a good time.

‘Today.’

Baldwin banged on the door and was relieved to see the peephole slide open to reveal Pietro’s suspicious eye.

‘Eh? Who’s that?’ the old man demanded.

‘Open the door,’ Baldwin snarled, and as he pushed Lucia and Edgar inside, he added, ‘and fetch us wine.’ He led the way to the garden, where the air was a little cooler, and indicated a bench on which Lucia could sit.

As Edgar took a quick, appreciative look around him, Baldwin asked, ‘Have you been in Acre long?’

‘A matter of days.’

‘Yet you wear flamboyant, local clothing — expensive muslin and silk. And your sword is of the best Damascus steel.’

Edgar said, ‘I came here to make my fortune. I had tired of baking bread in London.’

‘You were born there?’ Baldwin asked, taking a goblet of wine from Pietro.

‘No. I come from a small village in Surrey called Clopeham. My father sent me to be apprenticed. He thought if I learned my trade in London I would be more valuable, but he forgot one thing: I had no desire to be a baker.’

‘So you left your master and took a ship?’

‘Yes. I studied with a Master of Defence, and he told me of the Fall of Tripoli, and how there should be a new Crusade to protect the Holy Land. A priest gave me money for my journey, so here I am. And I like it,’ he added, staring at the masonry, the roses, the silken cushions on the benches. ‘This is how a man can live in Acre, and how I want to. It’s better than a stinking street near the Bishop of Winchester’s stews.’

‘I wish you fortune,’ Baldwin said. ‘But the man who lives here has been settled in the East for many years. It’s taken him time to earn this.’

‘I will work faster,’ Edgar said with a patronising air, thinking of the gold he had been paid by the woman in the street. ‘All I need is a patron, and I should find one quickly enough.’

‘What makes you think that?’

Edgar gave a quiet laugh. ‘After today? This city is seething with suspicion, fear and hatred. All the rich will want more guards.’

‘You think they’ll trust a newcomer?’

‘They will trust me rather than a dough-faced Lombard peasant with the swordsman’s skills of a seven-year-old.’

‘So I saw. You are competent.’

‘My Master of Defence taught me well.’

‘You learned well,’ Baldwin said and Edgar nodded. He was gifted with the ability to be still.

‘So. . how will you find a patron?’

A small cloud passed over Edgar’s face. ‘I’m determined. I will succeed.’

Lucia said quietly, ‘You should speak with Philip Mainboeuf. He is rich, and has need of guards.’

Baldwin looked at her. She sat quietly, hands in her lap, face fixed in despair. ‘Maid, are you well?’

‘Lady Maria will want to know what has happened to me,’ she said miserably.

‘We will soon have you home, when it is safe.’

‘She will be angry because I failed to stay with her. That makes me deserve punishment, in her eyes. I am a slave, you see. She owns me.’

‘A slave? There are none here in Acre.’

‘I was captured when I was young, and her family bought me. I have been with her ever since.’

‘What of your family?’

‘They were with me when I was taken. I think my mother was sold off. My father would have been killed. It is the way.’

‘It is a hard way,’ Edgar said. ‘Still, if you can stay away from her, you will be free, won’t you?’

‘No,’ she said with surprise. ‘I am hers.’

‘But no Christian can be held slave,’ Baldwin said.

‘I am not Christian. I am Muslim.’

Baldwin’s mouth fell open. ‘I. . I had no idea.’

‘She took me many years ago. If I do not hurry, she will have me flogged. Then set me to work in the kitchen, or send me to the farms to work.’

‘Well, she locked the door against you, so it is not your responsibility, it is hers, that you are not with her now. For now, Lady, I think you had best remain here with me. I will see to your needs. I can help return you to your mistress too.’ He thought, but didn’t add, If you really want me to.

Because looking at her again now, he thought he had never seen such a beautiful young woman.