by Jack Whyte
While the transfer was taking place, Douglas, for his part, would delegate a handpicked crew of his most capable and trustworthy men to act as escorts and bodyguards to Jessie and her women until they were safely lodged within the security of her own family lands, for he and they would probably have to part company as soon as they made landfall on the mainland of Scotland, dependent, of course, upon whatever concentration of English soldiery and military readiness they found nearby upon landing.
Will had made but little contribution to this discussion aside from his comments on the weight of the treasure. He was content to leave it to the other two, who were more closely involved than he, to work out the details. He merely listened and nodded his agreement from time to time, staring steadily into the fire for the most part in order to avoid looking at Jessie Randolph, for although he had grown inured, to a minor degree, to dealing with Baroness St. Valéry on a surface level, it was her disconcerting alter ego, the mercurial Jessie, who confounded him and set his pulse racing while his chest constricted and butterflies of tension fluttered beneath his ribs.
When their conversation lapsed eventually, all arrangements concluded, they sat silent for a while, enjoying the soporific heat of the fire in the brazier, until Jessie turned slightly sideways and spoke to Sinclair in what he thought of as her “baroness” tone.
“And you, Sir William, what will you find to occupy your time here in this lonely place once we are gone and you are alone and fancy-free at last?” The question was so ludicrous in its banality that Will was shocked into responding openly. “My time? You ask me how I will spend my time? I have no time, madam. No time to spare, I mean, for any other purpose than that to which I stand committed—the care and sustenance of our Order in these difficult times.”
“Ah! Of course. I should have known that without asking.” Jessie was almost smiling at him, her lips barely quivering at the edges, her eyes alight with mischief. “The great and massy responsibilities to which you are forever tied. But surely, after several hundreds of years, your men and your people are sufficiently set in their ways that they are able to function successfully under any circumstances? I should have thought that, once safely delivered here to their new premises, they would be able to set themselves up and establish their disciplines afresh without the need for direct supervision. Am I to understand that this is not so, that they require your stern and guiding eye at every stage?”
Will knew she was trying to goad him into anger, and so he bit down the retort that first sprang to his lips and forced himself to sit silently as he shaped an appropriate response, one that she would not be able to rip apart and ridicule at first exposure. Douglas sat silent, too, watching both of them and awaiting developments.
Will finally nodded. “You are partially correct, Baroness,” he said, still stiffly. “Under normal circumstances, matters would proceed as you describe. But the circumstances in effect today are most unusual, and I may speak of them to you because you are already aware of what I mean. The recent events in France have created havoc among our normal means of doing things, and I am faced with a situation that has no precedent … to call it novel would be gross understatement. And I am the one who must adapt to it and deal with the outcome, since I appear to be the highest-ranking member of the Order here. King Robert and Sir James have both informed me that there is no Master in Scotland today, and no official Temple outpost, since most of the knights of the Scottish Temple were in fact English, adherents of the former king, Edward, and withdrew to London during the wars. Thus, it appears that I am in sole charge of our Temple affairs here.”
You poor man, can you not see how hopeless your case is? What will you do when you discover that you are not merely the sole commander but the last? Where will you turn? Jessie allowed nothing of her concern to show on her face as she continued, solicitously, “And what will that involve? I know there are many things of which you cannot speak, but there are other matters that are more open … things that even I can see. What are the tasks that face you here on Arran, to demand all your time?”
“Housing and feeding my men and livestock, first and foremost, madam, although, thanks to Sir James, that will be much easier than it might have been.”
Jessie turned to Douglas. “What does that mean? What did you do?”
The young nobleman smiled, showing his strong white teeth. “I merely gave Sir William the use of a place here on the island, one forfeited this very day by its owner, who has plotted against King Robert and been caught. It is the other castle, Lochranza, on the northern coast, and it will suit Sir William’s needs. It has a fine harbor, deep and safe, and ample grazing for his beasts in the mountain valleys.”
If it is so fine, then why are you giving it to a stranger? She turned back to Sinclair. “And what will you eat there?”
“We can survive for the coming month on the rations we brought with us, and there are fish in the sea, wildfowl in profusion, and plenty of fresh water. After that we will be supplied regularly by our own trading ships. We will send a number of them out at once, with gold and silver coin, to purchase supplies for the short term in Ireland and in England and explore opportunities for future trade. Others we will send farther afield, to purchase trade goods in the English ports, and then to go and trade legitimately elsewhere.”
“Elsewhere?”
“In France, most particularly, where their primary task will be to bring back information on what is happening to our Order there.”
“But surely they will be denounced and thrown into prison as soon as they start asking questions.”
For the first time since she had met Sinclair a month earlier, Jessie saw him smile easily and spontaneously, sure of himself and full of confidence in what he was saying to her, and the transformation in him that the smile generated almost made her exclaim aloud, for his entire being seemed illuminated by its radiance and his habitual sternness vanished instantly, making him look ten years younger. “Who will denounce them, Baroness? And for what, curiosity? How will their questions stand out, when the entire country will be abuzz with talk of what is happening? Bear in mind that our people will not be recognizable as Templars. Nor as anything else, for that matter, other than mariners new into port and hungry for gossip and the latest news.”
“But … months will have passed by then. The story will be old. Surely, then, to bring it up again will attract attention?”
Sinclair’s smile remained in place as he glanced at Douglas and then shook his head. “Bring it up again? Baroness, the Order of the Temple has been a pillar in France, supporting and strengthening it for nearly two hundred years. Next to the Church, and the monarchy, of course, it is the most prominent institution in the country. The Temple and its influence—in land holdings, trading centers, buildings, estates, manufactories, farms, orchards, equipment, and livestock—are everywhere, flourishing throughout the countryside in every duchy, county, and region. I can imagine no circumstance under which the Order’s demise—even should it amount to total dissolution or annihilation—could be brought about, let alone that the Order be forgotten from human memory, within a matter of mere months. It is simply inconceivable.”
He waited for a comment of some kind, but when Jessie remained silent he continued in the same matter-of-fact, confident voice. “Which means that, no matter what has happened to our Order, no matter what fate might have befallen our brethren in France, the scope of the events of October thirteenth and the period that followed must be sufficiently significant to remain uppermost in the minds of Frenchmen and most worthy of discussion for a long, long time to come. Our mariners will land in ports around the coast, on both littorals, the Atlantic and the Mediterranean, and they will be perceived solely as mariners, behaving as mariners always do, and avid for information on what has been happening ashore while they were at sea.”
He said nothing of his plans to send envoys and messengers to make contact with the Brotherhood of the Order of Sion, but he had already discussed that
matter with de Berenger and the few other members of that Order who had accompanied him here. The ancient Order would continue to function as it had for fourteen centuries, sacrosanct in its secrecy, and no more than slightly inconvenienced by the vicissitudes of the Temple and its adherents. Indeed it would already have begun to adjust to the loss of the public interface provided by the far younger Order of the Temple, and to revert to its time-proven system of functioning smoothly beyond the ken of ordinary men. It was guidance from the Sion fraternity that Will required most urgently.
Jessie had been observing him closely, watching the play of emotions on his face, and now she nodded slowly. In the face of his earnest sincerity she found she had lost all desire to bait him. Instead, and to her own great surprise, she found herself gazing at him with a new stirring of interest, a pleasing sensation of warmth and affection akin to her feelings towards her brother-in-law Charles. She was honest enough, however, to admit even in that moment that the affection was bolstered by a considerable attraction of the kind Charles would never inspire, and she took hold of herself sharply, shying away from the thought, vestigial though it was.
“I see you have thought this matter through. And it is plain that you will have much to occupy your mind and hands here in Arran, so I will wish you well with all of it, Sir William, and remove myself from your affairs.” She rose smoothly to her feet and nodded first to Will, then to Douglas. “Sir James, I thank you for your courtesy and consideration. If you will send a man in search of me tomorrow morning, I shall have my belongings brought ashore and will place myself at your disposal while you make the arrangements for our journey to the mainland. And now I will bid you both a good night.”
Will stood up wordlessly, feeling once again like an awkward, tongue-tied boy. But as James Douglas began to walk with her towards the entrance of the tent—a courtesy Will recognized as one he should have tendered—he pulled himself together.
“Wait!”
She stopped at once and turned back to him, one eyebrow slightly raised and an unreadable expression on her face, and he felt his own face suffuse with blood, appalled by the madness that had induced him to call out to her so brusquely. But he had done it, and now she was waiting, the woman and Douglas both unaware that his tongue had turned to dry wood. And then a memory stirred and inspiration touched him and he gestured vaguely towards the depths of the pavilion at his back, using the movement to counteract the urge to sway on his feet.
“There is …” He cleared his throat, willing his voice to steady itself. “I have a … a kindness I would … would ask of you, if you would honor me with your favor.”
Jessie had to stifle the unkind urge to grin at him and so increase his difficulties, for she had no doubt of what an unexpected smile from her would do to his stern demeanor. Instead, she inclined her head demurely. “It would be my pleasure to grant any favor you might ask of me, Sir William.” There, and think upon the subtleties of that, if you will, Will St. Clair, while you lie on your hardwood cot tonight.
Will stood blinking at her for several more moments, and then she watched as he moved into the dimness at the rear of the great tent, where he stopped by a table of some kind against the rear wall. She thought she saw him open the lid of a small chest, and then he bent over, rummaging inside it. He came back to them, and she knew he had something clutched in his hand and her curiosity was difficult to control, but she willed herself to stand still and wait for him to approach. When he reached them, he kept his eyes fixed on Jessie as he reached out awkwardly and opened his hand to show her what he held. It was a small amulet, looking as though it might be made of gold and very old, buttery ivory, and it lay atop a long curl of gold chain, part of which was looped around one finger.
“You are for Scotland, Baroness, to see your own people, and it came to me that you might see your good-sister—my own sister, Peggy—while you are there. I have no wish to impose upon you, but this is … I bought this bauble for her some years ago in Navarre. She had recently written to me, and when I saw this I thought she might enjoy it … but then we became involved in campaigning against the Moors there, and I neglected to send it to her when I returned to France. It is but a trinket, purchased upon a whim, and in truth I had forgotten it until I found it recently, when preparing to leave on this journey. It is Arabian, I believe, but it is well made, and the colors are those Peggy has ever loved. If you would take it to her as a gift from me, I would be greatly obliged.”
Now Jessie smiled. “I will be happy to do so, Sir William. That is no imposition at all. And Peggy will love it.” She held out her hand.
On the point of dropping the pendant into her open palm, he hesitated, frowning, then quickly reached deep into his tunic and pulled out a folded square of cloth. It was a simple kerchief, clean and white, and he shook it open in his left hand, then dropped the pendant into the center of it and folded the thing into a compact package that he passed to Jessie, who took it from him without touching his fingers. It was warm with his body heat and she closed her fingers over it tightly, feeling his warmth. She was about to tuck it demurely into a concealed pocket in her bodice, but on the spur of a sudden thought she moved to lodge the little packet securely between her breasts, highly aware that both men followed the movements of her hand beneath the fabric of her shawl.
There now, Master St. Clair! I have you close to my breast. And see how you flush with the mere knowledge! Remember it, poor monk man, though it stir the need in you to seek confession. She smiled at him again, knowing he was seeing the narrow dimple in her left cheek, and then dipped her head in salute and left him there.
Douglas moved quickly to escort her again, and when they reached the main entrance he dispatched two of his own guards to escort the lady and her two companions back to the beach, to where they could find a boat to take them back to the admiral’s galley for the night.
When he returned, and saw Will standing forlornly by the fire, he grinned.
“She’s a well-made woman, that one, eh? A fine lady. More French than Scots, though … probably because she has spent so much time in France, married to a Frenchman. Don’t you think?”
Will Sinclair, as was usual in his happenchance dealings with Baroness St. Valéry, did not know what to think, so he merely nodded and sank back into his chair, feeling slightly deprived, although he could not have said why.
“So you’ll sail tomorrow?”
“Aye, on the high tide,” Douglas answered. “But tonight I have to take Menteith into custody, and it’s already dark. So, if you’ll forgive my discourtesy I think I’ll go now, and strike overland with my small band of guards. It’s only two miles, and the men I have with me will suffice for the task at hand. I can be there and have Menteith in chains before he has time to finish dining.” He adjusted his sword belt before tugging his cap with its blackcock feather back into place on his brow and adjusting the hang of his cloak, shaking out its thick folds in anticipation of the chill of the evening. Then he nodded in salute and turned to leave, but stopped before reaching the flap to the outer door.
“The Baroness was right,” he said over his shoulder. “You do have a wealth of matters to keep you busy here. You will no’ be bored. A good night to you, Sir William, and I’ll return for my galley in the morning.”
Those parting words came back to Will the following afternoon, as he watched the vice-admiral’s galley bearing Douglas and the Randolph woman eastwards across the narrow waters of the Firth of Clyde towards the Scottish mainland and the Bruce lands of Ayr and Carrick: You do have a wealth of matters to keep you busy here. You will no’ be bored.
Will knew Douglas was right. He would have no time to be bored; no time to waste at all; and certainly no time to waste in thinking about that Randolph woman, who was now safely, and definitively, gone from his life.
OBEDIENCE
ONE
The upheaval took Will Sinclair completely by surprise, although, looking back on it, he could see that all the signs of i
ts imminence had been there and he had merely chosen not to see them. Some of the brethren muttered about it afterwards as a revolt, or a mutiny, but Will himself was never sure what to call it. If revolt it actually was, it was not widespread, and it was quickly quelled, but its ramifications were profound because it ran counter to the Temple’s centuries-old traditions of brotherhood, tolerance, and obedience to authority within the Order, and it demonstrated the extent to which discipline had declined in the preceding years. Those truths alone made the events of that day, the Eve of the Feast of the Epiphany, significant enough to trigger an explosion of displeasure from Sir William Sinclair the likes of which none of his chapter had ever seen.
He literally walked into the fight that began and ended the affair, and for several moments he stood blinking, unable to come to terms with what he was seeing. But then, as awareness swept over him, so too did anger, and the unexpectedness of both combined to propel him instantly from deep concentration into cold and implacable fury.
He had been awake since the wee hours of that cold January morning, roused long before Vespers with the news that Sir James Douglas, newly arrived from the mainland in pitch darkness and a raging storm, sought urgent audience with him. Those words had banished all sleepiness from his mind, and within the quarter hour he had created a stir that had serving brothers bustling everywhere—lighting fresh fires and refueling old ones against the bitter winter chill; preparing tables, chairs, candles, and tapers for instant use; and arranging for hot food and dry clothing to be provided for the famished newcomers. Douglas’s visit would be brief, Will had learned, for his ship had not come to Arran apurpose. He and his men were on their way to Ireland, carrying messages for King Robert’s brother Edward Bruce, who was there attempting to raise mercenaries and create alliances on his brother’s behalf with some of the Irish kings. But they had run afoul of a squadron of English ships soon after leaving the sea arm of Loch Awe, and although they had evaded them with relative ease, the maneuvers of the night chase had left them at the mercy of the storm in the Firth of Clyde, with little option but to run for Arran, which they had expected to visit only on their return journey.