Templar's Acre

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

For Baldwin, it was a relief to feel a horse beneath him, the comforting weight of a sword at his belt, the hot air flowing past his face. He felt whole again, a man again. For the last weeks he had been little more than a labourer, like a peasant on his brother’s estate.

He had worked with the masons at the base of the Lazar Tower, helped construct new ramps and walkways, and once dangled over the walls with terror in his heart, helping to hang the hoardings. And all the while, Lucia was never far from his mind. Often, while on the walkways, he would stop and stare out eastwards, wondering where she might be.

It was the dearth of information which tormented him. He worked to empty his mind, but his mind refused to be distracted from endless speculation: where she might be, what she might be doing, how harsh her life was now that she had been exiled.

When the Templar Marshal Sir Geoffrey de Vendac had appeared yesterday and asked Baldwin if he would like to join today’s reconnaissance, the young man had leaped at the chance.

‘But leave your dog behind; he would never survive in the desert,’ the Marshal said, looking down at Uther with distaste.

Baldwin had taken his advice and left Uther with Ivo.

He glanced now at the knights of the troop. While he had always considered knighthood to be the pinnacle of human achievement, some of the knights he had met had not impressed him half so much as Ivo. The latter was not a member of the chivalry, yet he had depths of integrity and honour to which many knights could only aspire.

In the same way, Baldwin now realised that women were not merely chivalric ideals, nor decorative adornments for knights: they could be dangerous, too. Women like Lady Maria were powerful and intelligent. Baldwin feared her more than Buscarel.

Thinking of Lady Maria and Lucia, Baldwin felt a curious emptiness in his throat. He had experienced shame and despair when he realised that Sibilla did not love him, and that was what had impelled him to kill her lover, leave his country, and travel all this way: embarrassment at having been made a fool. But he hadn’t expected to find a woman here like Lucia, who could erase his misery with a smile.

And now she was taken from him.

‘You are thoughtful?’ It was the Marshal. He had slowed, and now rode at Baldwin’s side.

‘Where do we ride?’ Baldwin asked, instead of answering.

‘We ride south and east for a day, and then we shall ride north. We are looking for signs of warlike preparations.’

‘In the desert?’

Sir Geoffrey grinned — which totally transformed his features. Up to that moment, Baldwin had only ever seen him look introspective and austere. With a smile on his face, he was more like a kindly old uncle. ‘No! But I have spent long enough in the Temple worrying over ledgers, and you have spent too long slaving in the heat. I thought a few days away from the city would be good for all of us.’

Baldwin smiled. He doubted that the ride was for his benefit, but as he studied the Templars around him, he thought they already looked less worn down.

They were a mixed group, consisting of five knights in white, each with a squire in a black tunic with the red cross, riding a spare destrier or charger, and each with a sergeant, who was responsible for the sumpter packhorse. Baldwin had heard how these men would fight in the same manner as squires at home. As the knights crashed into the enemy, their squires would be behind them in a second wave, bringing the destrier as a remount, and fighting while the knights reformed, ready to charge again. The Turcopolier would rally the sergeants and the lightly armoured turcopoles, and they would ride in support, or charge together as a fresh rank and shatter any resistance.

‘You are impressed?’ the Marshal asked.

‘With the troop? Your Templars are an awesome sight. I only hope I might see them fight.’

‘I think that is all too likely. What do you think of the defences?’

‘At Acre? Strong,’ Baldwin said. ‘I have never seen so magnificent a city.’

‘Let us hope that we may keep it.’

‘With so many knights, and such a committed population, I don’t see how we can fail.’

‘I am glad of your faith, my friend,’ Sir Geoffrey said. ‘God will permit us to hold it, or force us to relinquish it, at His will.’

Baldwin nodded. ‘God alone can bring success.’

‘But men can occasionally guarantee failure,’ the Marshal added wryly.