Assassins of Kantara

by James Boschert

  Talon thought about this for a minute, then asked, “Where are my captains? Where are all my men? Where are my ships?” Reza put a hand on his arm. He hadn’t realized that he had raised his voice. His anger and confusion were threatening to impair his thinking. He took a deep breath and repeated the question. “My ships, Simon. Where are they?”

  Simon sighed again, clearly this was tiring him. “Henry and Guy are still here in town, but their ships are idle in the harbor. They have no work and no crews. As for Nigel, I do not know where he is.”

  “Do you know where I can find them?” Talon asked gently.

  “They sometimes can be found in their old drinking places. That at least is the same. Sometimes I go there and they give me something to eat. They have a little money, but not much.”

  “They cannot possibly be poor! I left them as men who had money,” Talon said, startled and suddenly uneasy. What had become of his friends during his absence?

  He glanced out of the opening in the ruins. A slight gray light was beginning to show. Turning to Reza he said, “This is not what I had imagined, my Brother. It will be daylight in an hour, so we must stay here out of sight until tomorrow night. I can walk around in the day, but I need to be very careful.”

  Reza, who had been crouching at the entrance, agreed. “We should stay with this old man and keep guard. He looks tired and sick.”

  “I think he does not have long in this world. He used to be a servant of mine at the house. I would give him what comfort I can before then.” They were speaking Farsi in soft tones.

  Simon’s face lifted. “Who are these people with you, Sir? They sound like Saracens.”

  “They are with me and are my friends, Simon. They will not allow any harm to come to you. You are safe now.”

  Simon relaxed somewhat and appeared to doze off.

  Talon addressed Reza. “Men of the Church here have taken all my possessions. They accuse me of witchery, which is punishable by death by fire. But I have friends who need my help. Tonight you should take him,” he indicated Dar’an, “and go back to the encampment while I stay and try to find out more.”

  Reza put out a hand. “I think I speak for both of us here, Brother. We stay and help you with your problem.” He lifted his hand as Talon made to speak. “We will be staying.”

  Talon subsided, then nodded, drawing some comfort from Reza’s words. He looked at Dar’an. “We have been through much together. Perhaps we can show these people what real wizards can do!” They chuckled at that. Chinese powder was a powerful tool, all the more so because it was unknown to their enemies.

  Dawn arrived, and with it the city began to stir. The early risers, the market people, both buyers and sellers, began to move about. The apprentices awoke from their slumbers and called to one another as they strode to work alongside the porters and other people doing menial work. The four men slipped into the dark recesses of the ruins and listened as the bustle of early morning started.

  Finally Talon stood up, brushed himself down with his hands, and adjusted his clothing to look a little less like that of a night burglar and more like someone who had spent the night guarding a house. Universally, men—usually ex-soldiers or mercenaries—were employed for this purpose. He fit the role well; while wearing no uniform he was, nonetheless, to any casual observer just another night guard on his way home.

  His intent was to find some food and drink for Simon and his companions, but also to see where he might find Henry. It was unlikely that he would find his former captain at this time of day, but he could certainly obtain food and scout out the town some more, even to watching the Bishop’s new house to see what was going on.

  He eased his way out of the ruins with care, watching for anyone who might be looking his way, but the rest of the city was preoccupied with waking up. He dusted off his dark brown overcoat, opened it to show a lighter shirt underneath, but not enough to show off his sword any more than just discretely, then strode purposefully towards the by now bustling market place. It was beginning to fill up with women and kitchen servants out to get the freshest food and the best bargains from the meagre supplies that had come in overnight from the hinterland.

  Talon noticed that since the last time he had been here the displays of fruit and other foods seemed poorer. Did that mean that the farmers were unable to till their land as they had before? He he had heard rumors, while on his way to this city, of many fields lying fallow, of derelict vineyards and the lack of livestock. What he saw now bore that out.

  His face was partially covered and he wore a leather cap, so there was little likelihood that anyone other than someone who knew him very well would recognize him, but all the same he was watchful. First things first; he bought a loaf of bread, some cheese and some grapes from a small vendor who was not the least bit interested in this silent man who loomed over his stall and just pointed to what he wanted. He was just glad that he had an early customer with some good coin.

  Talon took the food, along with a skin of water, back to the narrow street where the ruined house stood. He noticed that there had been a fire at some time, and it was hemmed in between some equally shabby, poorly constructed houses on either side. His main fear was that a dog or, heaven forbid, some children would discover them and alert others. This would be disastrous. He racked his mind for a safer place to hide. Finding Henry was now a very urgent matter; it seemed like his only hope at present.

  Before he went hunting for his friends, however, he returned to the lair and left the food with Reza and Dar’an. A brief look at Simon told him the old man was less distressed, and some food made a wonderful difference. He did complain that the people with him did not speak his language, which worried him. Talon reassured Simon that he was safe, and left on his quest to find Henry and Guy.

  Walking casually along the now busy streets, he made his way towards the center of the city and the even more densely packed areas. The stink from the offal and refuse in the street attacked his senses, and not for the first time he pondered why people lived on top of each other, moving about in each other’s filth. His ears rang with the noises of people shouting, even screaming invectives at one another.

  His destination was the inn where he and his former captains had often gone to relax and drink with their crews. He remembered the way, but when he drew near he stopped to scrutinize the area. The inn was quiet this early in the day, but from where he stood he could see men still lounging around inside. Some were sprawled across tables unconscious, while others were muttering drunkenly to one another, deep into their cups.

  Talon was surprised to see Guy, one of his captains, or a man who looked like Guy, seated on a bench, fast asleep and draped across a table. Nearby was a jug, which Talon assumed to be mead; the big man had always preferred mead to wine. He moved cautiously into the inn. He was ignored by the one man overseeing the morning work; the serving maids were absent, having gone to bed in the back, exhausted from their night’s work both as carriers and as whores. Sidling up to the man at the table, Talon looked down at him. Sure enough it was Guy, fast asleep, snoring into his sleeve. He stank of stale alcohol and appeared not to have washed for some time, but it was his man.

  Talon shook Guy gently at first, and then with more urgency. Guy reared out of his stupor with a grunt of annoyance, lifting his shaggy head to shake it, the greasy tendrils of his filthy hair whipping from side to side as he did so. He rubbed his bearded face vigorously with both calloused hands and shook his head again before looking belligerently up at Talon, who was standing beside him. “You’d better have a good reason for waking me, oaf!” he growled.

  Then his eyes widened. He was about to open his mouth when Talon put one finger on his lips and shook his head. Guy was still trying to focus properly, but he got the message and comically slapped a large hand over his mouth. Surprise was written all over his normally bland features. Talon motioned him to get up and to follow him out into the busy street.

  Guy got to his feet and stagger
ed after him. An angry voice shouted from inside; it was the proprietor. “Pay up, you bastard, or I’ll call the guard!”

  Guy chuckled and muttered, “Their accommodation is probably better than mine.” He looked down at Talon. “Talon, I’ve no money,” he said, with a silly grin on his face.

  Surprised, Talon hastily dug in his pouch for a couple of copper coins and flicked them into the gloom of the room they had just left, then grabbed Guy’s sleeve just in time to prevent him from falling face down into a pile of dung as the big man tripped over his own feet.

  “Where do you live, and where is Henry?”

  “Aah’ll show you, c’mon. Aah’ll show you,” he slurred.

  They staggered off, with Talon half supporting the bigger man, making their way along narrow streets for a couple of hundred paces until they came to a wreck of a house made of old, poorly shaped timbers and mud which had cracked, allowing the plaster to fall away. No one paid them any attention; drunks were a common sight in Acre. Maids on their way to the market or other errands scurried by with their eyes downcast, while apprentices striding to work glanced at them with contempt. Not having two coppers to rub together, they were envious of drunks who had enough coin to spend the night carousing. There would be many more hungover drunks on the streets as the day advanced.

  Guy stopped in front of the dilapidated place and waved his hand at it. “There! Our palace, mine and Henry’s. Where’ve you been, Talon?” he asked querulously. “We’ve missed you!”

  “Well, I’m back now, Guy, but you are a mess. Come on, let’s go in and find Henry. I have urgent business to discuss.” He all but hauled the heavy man off the street, kicking open the rickety door and guiding him into the dim room that encompassed the whole of the downstairs floor. It did not even have flagstones; instead there were old, shredded rushes that should have been changed years ago, as they stank of old mead, wine and piss. Not for the first time, he wrinkled his nose.

  Henry was snoring loudly on a truckle bed, one of two against the far wall. Talon sat Guy down on the other bed, where he promptly rolled over and went to sleep. Talon glanced up the crude steps to the loft. There didn’t seem to be anyone there, but he checked anyway. The crudely cut boards were strewn with hay and some old bits of leather and rope. He went back down the ladder and shook Henry awake, then stood back.

  Henry came roaring out of his slumber, desperately reaching for his dagger. “Do you want this?” Talon grinned at him, waving the weapon. “That is not a nice way to treat a friend, Henry.”

  Henry gaped, sat up, and stared. “Talon! Dear God, is that really you?” he demanded and shook his head to clear the cobwebs. “Where have you been?” he shouted, as he got to his feet and reached for Talon to give him a great bear hug. “We thought... we thought you must be dead these long years.” He sniffled and stood back to look at Talon, still holding onto his arms as though trying to reassure himself that it was really Talon and not a ghost. There were tears in his eyes, which he dashed away self-consciously with the back of his hand.

  “No, my friend, I am not dead. I am back, and I find that all my friends are in dire straits. You and Guy here,” Talon looked around the dismal room, “Max I hear is in prison, and where is Nigel?”

  He dragged a stool out from under the rough table and sat on it, motioning Henry to sit with him. Henry ran his fingers through his dirty hair and pulled at the unkempt beard that had sprouted on his lined face, and shook his head sadly. Then he leaned onto the table and put his hands to his face in a gesture of utter defeat.

  “Ah, Talon. It has been a disaster and a tragedy. Yes, Max is in prison, but through no fault of his own.” Henry looked up and snarled, “Curse that monk to hell and worse!”

  “Which monk?”

  “That weasel that came with us to Constantinople, Talon. His name is Brother Jonathan, although what is brotherly about him the Lord only knows. Remember him?”

  Talon leaned forward, his face close to Henry’s. “You must tell me all, Henry, for a great wrong has been done here from what I can tell. I need to know if Max is alive, and also Nigel. Where is he?”

  Henry nodded and took a swig of water straight from a jug. “Christ, but my mouth tastes like a Saracen slave’s loin cloth!” he exclaimed. “Indeed I shall, Talon, but then you must tell me where you have been. You look well, my friend.”

  “Well enough,” Talon said, “but you don’t. You look like shit! I am distressed to find my friends almost on the street like beggars, and Simon is a beggar. My house is gone and Max in prison. Tell me everything you can, and tonight you have to help me bring Simon here. He is very ill.”

  “Agreed,” said Henry. “Where to begin?” He tugged at his dirty beard.

  “The last time we set eyes upon you, Talon, you were setting off with Max and Sir Guy to deal with a problem at a fort well to the north of here. Max came home wounded, but he recovered well enough. He told us that you had been kept by Sir Guy to go to Jerusalem to meet with the Grand Master of the Knights, who had expressed a wish to speak with you.” Henry paused, took another swig of water, and grimaced at the taste.

  “Then news came of a great battle in which we heard that you distinguished yourself. They said that you were responsible for bringing the Templars to the battle, without whom all would have been lost to the mighty army of Salah Ed Din.” There was admiration in his tone as he looked at Talon. “Sir Guy brought the news back to Acre, and then it was all over the city.”

  Talon nodded impatiently. “Go on.”

  “Well, then there was nothing,” Henry said. “You just disappeared. Vanished into the deserts of the East. Some rumor that you had gone after a Princess. Sir Guy was reticent about that, and Max even more so. Nothing at all after that. Max did once tell us that the Jews of the city had mentioned some kind of transaction, which meant that you had to be alive, but no other news at all.”

  “Then what happened here?” Talon raised his voice just a little. He was angry and frustrated. “What has Brother Jonathan got to do with all this?”

  Henry stared at him. “Everything, Talon. That devil is responsible for all of it. But wait, there is more. Max recovered well enough and continued to send us three captains out on trading missions. The papers that you received from the emperor in Constantinople made a huge difference, and we did well. But then one night there was a battle at a place called Jacob’s Ford.

  It was a disaster of huge magnitude for the Templars. They lost their Grand Master, I forget his name, Odo, I think it was, taken prisoner; and Sir Guy de Veres was killed.” Henry paused and looked at Talon with bloodshot eyes. Talon merely nodded. He had been overcome with grief at the loss of his mentor when the Duke of Tripoli had told him, but now he was quiet. He shifted on his uncomfortable stool and said, “Go on, Henry, I know about that incident. Max was not with Sir Guy, I take it?”

  “He was with the Templars who came to lift the siege. They were ambushed, but he managed to escape in the darkness and made his way back to Acre with some other knights. Again he was wounded—they all were. What a sorry sight that was.” Henry stopped and stared over at Guy reflectively. “That was about the time that Brother Jonathan made his move.”

  “What... happened!” Talon could barely contain his impatience by now.

  “Why Talon, he came to your house with a patrol of armed men, and in the name of the Bishop he threw out every person in the place. Everyone! Even poor Simon, who is now a beggar, as you appear to have found out. They placed our ships under a restraint and told us that we no longer worked for the Templars. You see, Talon, your Sir Guy had enormous influence and as long as he lived we were under some kind of protection. But with him gone we lost it all. The men are gone, the ships are gone, and Nigel has not been heard of for almost two years now.”

  There was a long silence in the room as Talon digested this information. “How was it that Max was thrown in prison?” he finally asked.

  “I hastened to find him at the citadel the very s
ame day that cockroach took over your house, but when I asked for him at the gates they told me that he had been arrested. Something to do with witchery you were supposed to have been charged with in your homeland. Max was indicted for being associated with you!” Henry looked at Talon questioningly with bleary eyes.

  “Do you know where he is, exactly?” Talon asked, ignoring the implied question.

  “Pretty much. In the citadel for sure. The Knights had the balls at least to resist the church and that vindictive old bishop who clamored for his skin. He would have burned Max without a fair trial, Talon.” Henry shook his head with a grimace of anger.

  Talon nodded his head in agreement. The church would have tortured Max until he was insane with agony and ready to confess to anything. Then they would have mutilated him some more before putting him to the stake.

  Henry continued. “The Knights might well have saved his life, but he has been in prison these long years now, and we have not seen him. Brother Martin, remember him? God bless him for his kindness. He has been to see Max from time to time and has kept us informed of his condition, which is deteriorating from the confinement.”

  “All the coin and wealth that was accumulated? You and Guy were well off the last time I saw you. What happened?” Talon exclaimed.

  “They were after your treasure, sure enough, but Max is a canny one. Every time we brought coin back from our travels he would place it with the Jews, who hide it God knows where.

  The Bishop, what a black soul he has, would love to steal from them. When the soldiers came they ransacked the entire place. They nearly set it on fire, they were so careless and frustrated. They had expected a treasure house. I also feared that they would come after me and Guy and torture us for the information. So we fled and disappeared for a long while.

  “Of course they found some coin, but nowhere near as much as they had hoped. Still, all our money was in that house. It had seemed safe enough! One of the servants, Will the Norman, showed them the place where we kept it. He is now working for Jonathan and the Bishop as their lackey. I will cut his throat in broad daylight if I ever catch him.” Henry had worked himself into a rage and pounded his fist onto the table.