Templar's Acre

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

When the messenger arrived the following morning, Baldwin and Ivo responded immediately.

‘Marshal, how may we help you?’ Ivo asked as they were brought into the large chamber of the Temple. Two men sat at a big table, both hooded, wearing the white habits of the Order.

‘It was not he who asked for you, it was I,’ Guillaume de Beaujeu answered, standing. Slowly, the Marshal followed suit. Baldwin thought Sir Geoffrey looked as if he had aged a great deal in the last hours. His face was haggard.

Pulling down the hood of his habit, the Grand Master eyed Baldwin. ‘I have heard good reports of you, Master Baldwin.’

‘I hope I’ve justified them.’

‘You heard the comments of that primping foumart, Mainboeuf. What do you think of his words?’

‘Me?’ Baldwin responded with surprise. ‘Grand Master, I do not think I am in any position to comment.’

‘You are old enough to judge a man. Would you judge him as honourable or not?’

Baldwin opened his mouth to prevaricate, but catching sight of a quick frown on Ivo’s face, he considered the Grand Master’s question. This was not, apparently, a time for false modesty.

‘I do not know the man. From what I have seen, he is keen to give the benefit of any doubt to the Muslim leader. I find that strange, for he must know that the Mameluks have destroyed the other Christian cities. He seems convinced that the Muslims will allow this city alone to remain.’

‘Do you have any impression of his honesty?’

‘I would not cast a slur upon him or his integrity. He made arguments that sounded rational. Beyond that, I could not say.’

‘Well, I suspect him,’ Guillaume de Beaujeu said. He bent his head, deep in thought, and paced the room.

Ivo looked from him to the Marshal. ‘What is the matter, Grand Master? You have more news to alarm you?’

‘Other than the news of the greatest army Qalawun has yet mustered against us?’ the Grand Master asked bitterly. ‘Yes, I suspect that there is a traitor amongst us. It greatly concerns me that we may fail to defend our city, and if that is so, we will fail to save the Kingdom!’

‘Do you think that Mainboeuf wants the Kingdom to fall?’ Ivo asked. He could not believe that any Christian could wish for such a terrible thing.

‘I don’t know what to think. It is possible that he has been deceived. But he is no fool. I know Mainboeuf of old.’

‘For my part, I don’t think him a traitor, if that is what you fear,’ Ivo said. ‘Philip Mainboeuf is a fair enough merchant. He is a true Christian, and would not willingly see Acre fall.’

‘Is there anyone else who can speak for him?’ the Marshal asked. He wiped a hand over his face. ‘We must know whether he has been deceived, or. .’

‘Or whether you have,’ Ivo finished for him.

‘Yes,’ the Grand Marshal agreed.

‘How can you tell what is passing in a man’s heart?’ Baldwin wondered.

‘One way is to send an embassy to Cairo to speak with the Sultan,’ Guillaume de Beaujeu said heavily. ‘We need to learn whether our news is true or not.’

‘If he says he intends nothing of the sort — what then?’ Baldwin asked.

‘We will be no worse off,’ Sir Geoffrey said. ‘But I doubt he would say so. If he sees we are keen to learn the truth, he will not be slow to try to profit from us. He will demand money to leave Acre free, I would expect.’

‘I will go to him, if you want,’ Baldwin said.

‘You?’ There was a smile hovering on the Grand Master’s lips. ‘Tell me, how much of the Muslim tongue can you speak? How would you tell what was in his mind?’

‘I am not an expert in the language, but I could watch and listen,’ Baldwin said. ‘I can understand men’s faces, and I would be able to tell much from how they look and speak.’

‘I think not,’ the Grand Master said.

‘Who will go?’ Ivo asked.

‘I have two messengers. I will send a small guard with them.’

‘Templars would be killed as soon as they arrived.’

‘Yes — I intend sending secular members of our Order.’

‘Then let Baldwin join them. He can do little harm, and his extra eyes and ears may just help,’ Ivo said.

The Grand Master glanced at the Marshal. Neither spoke for a moment, and then Sir Geoffrey gave a faint nod. Guillaume de Beaujeu turned back to Baldwin.

‘So be it. You will ride with my men to Cairo, and there you will listen carefully and watch, to see if there is any clue you can pick up that tells us what the Sultan plans. Be careful and beware! There are many dangers in Muslim cities for men who are friends of the Temple.’

That night, Lucia’s back was still sore from the beating, but she had no broken bones. She had not cried, she had not wept or sobbed. That satisfaction she refused them.

A week ago, she would have welcomed death. The toil during the day was bad; the fumbling rapes at night worse, but now she could at least hold her head high again. She only regretted not having pushed the stick further into the Kurd’s good eye until it found his brain. With luck he would develop gangrene and die.

She had expected death. Even as she thrust the stick into the Kurd’s eye, she welcomed the thought. For a slave to harm another was punishable by death. But the overseer made it clear that she would not escape her torment so easily. Her life itself was to be her punishment.

She rolled over, the pain in her back agonising as the weeping scabs pulled where the whips had lashed. The overseer had used every ounce of malice in him. No matter that it was he who had brought the Kurd to her each night. She was a slave, she had no rights.

Her hand on her belly, she prayed not to bear a child. There was no sign of it — only a deep soreness that seemed to start at her brain and ran through her body to her groin. He had hurt her so much, than Kurd; more in the mind that between her legs. It made her want to vomit, remembering his hand grabbing her, wrenching her knees wide, smiling down at her.

She had no regrets about blinding him. It had felt good. Never again would she sit back and endure. Even if it meant death, she would gladly accept it as the price of her freedom.