Deus Militis - Soldiers of God

by Jonathan A Longmore

  Leopold nodded, his accent was unmistakeably German, ‘I am, and I have been given command by order of Reynaud de Chauvigny, Chevalier and Master of the Imperial Order of Jerusalem, an appointment conferred on him by the Pope himself, an appointment no man, King or knight may remove.’

  De Capo understood the hidden meaning of that statement, aware this was his first test, to enter the castle as the commander without bloodshed, ‘And that appointment will remain,’ de Capo paused before adding, ‘as long as he lives.’

  Leopold’s eyes narrowed at the implied threat but remained silent as the standoff continued.

  De Capo heard his men murmur as the gates opened further and a number of knights and men at arms appeared, half-dressed but all armed with one weapon or another. De Capo’s right hand gripped the parchment bearing his orders and he raised it high so everyone could see it, ‘This parchment bears the orders and the seal of the Constable and the Bailli of the Kingdom of Jerusalem,’ he said loudly, ‘you have all made an oath to protect this Kingdom and obey the orders of the King and his subordinates and you are all bound by the contents of this.’

  As the city woke and the sounds of the day started to permeate through the streets, the silence of the men facing each other and the distrust they conferred towards each other was palpable. De Capo knew there was no retreating from the situation and, without warning stepped towards Leopold who, surprised by the sudden movement stepped to one side as de Capo walked past him and stood between him and his men. He turned and thrust the parchment at Leopold who took hold of it begrudgingly, ‘Read it,’ he ordered, ‘and explain to these men what the orders state.’

  Leopold stared at de Capo venomously as he realised he had been made a party to the situation on the side of de Capo by accepting the parchment, and angry as de Capo referred to his men as these men implying they were his men no longer.

  ‘I trust you can read,’ de Capo asked sarcastically, ‘or should I get one of these men to read it for you.’

  Leopold read it slowly before glancing at de Capo, more in surprise than anything else. He looked at the men he commanded for such a short time and spoke clearly, ‘The Bailli has ordered Sir Ralf de Capo of the Holy Order of St Peter to command the men of the Imperial Order of Jerusalem until further notice,’ he paused and the men stared at him, giving curious looks towards de Capo, ‘and furthermore Sir Ralf de Capo has been made,’ he paused again and seemed unable to find the words as they stuck in his throat like a hunk of rotting pork, ‘he has been made a Master of the Imperial Order of Jerusalem for the duration of his command.’ Leopold stared at the words before handing the parchment back to de Capo and stood shoulders slouched as he recognised any breach of those orders would result in execution.

  De Capo looked closely at Leopold. He knew he needed this man on side and made a decision he hoped he would not regret, ‘As your commander I am entitled to choose my own second in command,’ he watched Leopold’s face, but the German was not going to betray any emotion to the man who was responsible for the banishment of de Chauvigny, ‘Leopold von Eschenberg will continue his duties in that position.’

  Leopold stared stonily at de Capo and gave a small nod.

  De Capo took a deep breath, happy any acknowledgement was better than none, ‘Tell the men to return to their billets, then you can show me the Castle of the Mount.’

  Chapter Seven

 

  It was impressive, but the atmosphere he felt from the men who watched him was stifling and daunting, and he felt a sense of immense unease whenever he turned his back on Leopold. Having been attacked once from behind, he had no way of knowing if he would be attacked again by the men now under his command. Perhaps in some strange way the Constable believed placing him inside the nest of vipers the Imperial Order of Jerusalem was believed to be would somehow make him, as their commander, safer. Leopold was very aloof with him and answered his questions briefly and, when he could, monosyllabic.

  As de Capo entered the castle beside Leopold he was met by the priest who showed deference which was both respectful and humiliating. He had just woken, heard the news and seemed to be desperate to ingratiate himself with de Capo, ‘My lord,’ he began as he bowed his head and clasped his hands together in supplication, ‘welcome to the castle of the Mount, I am Father Erasmus, your confessor and I am happy to hear your confession and bless you now or later…..and as an emissary of our Lord Jesus Christ I will happily join you in morning prayers before…..’

  ‘Erasmus!’

  The priest fell silent as Leopold snarled at him, ‘Enough!’

  De Capo wanted the thank Leopold as Erasmus shrank into the shadows giving a number of small bows as he backed away, the last thing he wanted to do was listen to the grovelling of a priest.

  They entered the main courtyard, bordered on all sides with an open pillared gallery covered by a tiled roof. Behind the gallery, the entire ground floor was taken up by stables, a smithy, store rooms, kitchen, armoury, dining room, a communal privy and the infirmary. The men themselves slept on the second floor which was accessed by two sets of stone steps leading to the roofed balcony. This ran along the top of the ground floor with doorways leading to the dormitories, offices, armoury and a small chapel. There seemed to be no distinction between the knights and men at arms who supplemented them, indeed the only difference was the title given to them. Whatever else de Chauvigny was, he knew how to organise and run an Order. Uniformity and cleanliness was without question one of the most impressive aspects of the Castle of the Mount and de Capo was surprised an Order with such a brutal reputation appeared so well run.

  The communal privy was set at one end of the castle and the buckets used for the human waste were emptied twice a day, a task completed on a rota system by the grooms who seemed to double up as makeshift squires and general servants. They were up early and tending to the horses and de Capo watched as they carried buckets of water and began the daily task of feeding and cleaning the stables. Unfortunately there was no well to supply the occupants with water, however one corner of the castle housed enormous barrels full of the precious liquid, kept cool in an area the sun never breached.

  ‘How do you replenish the water supplies?’

  ‘We carry the empty barrels on a wagon to the wells and refill them daily,’ replied Leopold.

  De Capo stood in the centre of the courtyard and looked around, noticing the fighting posts used for sword and axe practices were well worn. The battlements were the roofs of the first floor, accessed from steps leading from the balcony. The whole structure was simple in design and practicality and he nodded in approval. The main gate was steel bolt reinforced oak with heavy locking bars, and once the doors were closed, the iron portcullis could be lowered into place behind it. A second portcullis could also be lowered at the end of the short tunnel leading into the courtyard, and although it had never been attacked, it was clear this castle would be easy to defend.

  With the sun starting to climb and the coolness of the night already becoming a memory de Capo turned to Leopold, ‘Show me my quarters.’

  Leopold turned and called out, ‘Hashim!’

  From the shadows of the stables, an Arab appeared, a man a few years older than de Capo, with a finely sculpted beard decorating a face with subtle lines extending outwards and eyes so dark they held the promise of a mystery never to be revealed. Wearing a turban of the palest blue de Capo had ever seen and a deep blue belted kaftan under a long sleeved white cotton robe. He approached both men and his movement was graceful as he gave the impression of gliding across the ground. He stopped and gave a courteous bow, ‘As-Salaamu `Alaykum’.

  De Capo returned the greeting with a small bow of his head, ‘Wa-Alaikum-Salaam,’ he said as Hashim stood upright and looked at de Capo with curiosity.

  ‘This is your man,’ Leopold said by way of explanation, ‘we have no squires here.’ He looked at Hashim, ‘This is Sir Ralf de Capo, the new Sayyid,’ he said, using the Arabic word for lord,
‘show him his quarters.’

  Hashim glanced at de Capo again and gave an almost imperceptible nod of the head before turning and gliding across the courtyard to the steps on the eastern side. Ignoring the stares of the men who watched, de Capo followed him to the first floor balcony and towards a door on the east side. He tried hard to shrug off the feeling of unease as Leopold walked behind him and half expected to feel the strike of steel in his back. As they approached the door, Hashim opened it and stood to one side to allow de Capo to enter first.

  De Capo turned and looked at Leopold and gave a wry smile, ‘After you.’

  Leopold shrugged and entered followed by de Capo, and Hashim who quickly walked across the room and pulled open the shutters before retreating to the corner. The light from the rising sun flooded through and temporarily blinded de Capo who automatically stepped back into the shadows and pulled his sword partially out with his left hand before his vision cleared.

  Leopold looked at de Capo with raised eyebrows and for the first time since de Capo’s guard had returned to the compound of St Peter’s, he voiced de Capo’s suspicions, ‘You fear the men here will attack you?’

  De Capo pushed the blade back fully into the scabbard and glanced about the room, ‘Is there any reason I should not have that fear?’

  Leopold turned away and looked out of the window, ‘This is the commanders quarters, the sun rises in the morning and heats the room and gives light, from here you can look out onto the gate and watch the people coming and going, in the afternoon and evening the room is cool.’

  As the room slowly became brighter, de Capo noted the table and chair, the wooden cross piece where he would hang his mail and plate, the writing implements, a pile of scrolls and parchments relating to the day to day business of running an order and the partition, behind which was a raised bed with a padded mattress and a pot to piss in. Any personal items had been removed and de Capo felt a chill as he thought about the previous occupant, ‘You didn’t answer my question.’

  ‘You are the commander,’ said Leopold bluntly, ‘this is now your castle.’

  ‘And as long as I stay within the castle I will be safe,’ de Capo thought, ‘outside I am fair game!’

  Chapter Eight

  Standing at the window, de Capo looked down at the gate, now his responsibility. The sun streamed onto his face and for once he was glad of the brightness and warmth. The coldness shown towards him was expected, but the animosity was still a strange sensation for a man who was usually respected by all his peers and subordinates.

  Leopold had given him the key to the chest containing the records relating to the day to day running of the castle, the rota systems, arms, names of the men and their station within the order from the lowliest stable hand to the commander; he knew he would have to add his name to the roll. Other documents explained the finances, who was owed what and who still owed the Order for services given. Lists of supplies purchased, orders received and given and punishments meted out to men for the smallest infraction. The list included punishments from extra guard duties up to and including execution, although there were no details of anyone being executed. He expected to find flogging and branding as the most common severe penalties, but an unusual penalty of ‘sweating’ seemed to be used more than anything else, something he had not heard of before. He looked up at Leopold quizzically, ‘There are several instances of men being punished for insolence with sweating!’

  Leopold nodded, and when de Capo stared at him for an answer he relented, ‘Reynaud thought it a better punishment than flogging a man half to death, gives him time to think things through and no one has suffered the sweating twice.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ de Capo said, ‘what is this sweating?’

  Leopold walked out onto the balcony and looked down into the courtyard. De Capo followed and stood beside him as he explained, ‘The prisoner dresses in full armour and stands in the centre of the courtyard from dawn to dusk, no water, no food, no rest. If he falls he does it again the next day, and the next, until he either dies or completes the day.’

  De Capo didn’t try and hide his surprise, a punishment that was also a test, ‘Clever,’ he thought. It was hard enough to wear armour and mail on a horse and drink when they needed to, but to stand in the searing heat in full armour would be like standing in an oven, ‘How many men have died?’

  ‘None,’ replied Leopold with a grin, ‘these men do not die that easily.’

  ‘Neither do I,’ said de Capo as he turned to walk back into his new quarters. He stopped and looked back, ‘Where are all the men?’

  ‘I will find them,’ said Leopold as he continued to look down into the courtyard.

  ‘They are to parade at midday,’ ordered de Capo, ‘ready to fight; no horses.’

  Leopold raised his head and replied without turning round, ‘As you wish.’

  ‘Leopold!’ De Capo stared at the chest containing all the manuscripts and parchments and tried to imagine de Chauvigny sitting at the desk spending hours poring over the names and figures. Leopold turned, stood in the doorway of de Capo’s office and waited.

  ‘Do I have a scribe or does Hashim do that as well?’

  Leopold seemed detached as he replied, ‘I’ll send him to you.’

  De Capo stepped across to the window and looked out at the gate he was now responsible for and thought about the danger he was in as he listened to Leopold walking along the balcony. He had been at the castle for less than half a morning. After the initial showdown outside, the guard from St Peters had marched away and the men of the Imperial Order of Jerusalem had filtered back into the castle muttering angrily.

  Osmond le Vicomt had been insistent about the guard when de Capo refused to allow him to send a personal bodyguard into the castle.

  ‘I need to gain their trust and respect fast,’ he said, ‘how can I do that if I have my own men there?’

  ‘You’re a damn fool Ralf,’ le Vicomt stared at his second in command and shook his head, ‘I should have refused the Constable, made him disband the order.’

  ‘Only the Pope can do that, as you well know.’

  ‘Aye,’ le Vicomt sighed and stared across the courtyard from his quarters, ‘but he could have disbanded it anyway, then sent a message to the Pope for him to ratify the decision.’

  ‘And if he hadn’t?’

  ‘It would have been too late by then, a lot of these men would have moved on or been killed,’ he sighed again, ‘this is a damn fool thing to do.’

  ‘Being in Acre is a damn fool thing, and staying here is even more foolish.’

  ‘You’ve been thinking of leaving,’ le Vicomt stated and as de Capo looked at him inquisitively he added, ‘Thomas told me, he thinks your faith has been tested and found wanting.’

  De Capo hadn’t replied but had agreed to take the guard to escort him to the castle. Now he stood at the window of his new quarters and thought back to the day with the Mameluk prisoners and wondered if there was anything else he could have done.

  A knock on the door brought him back to the present and he turned to find an old man standing there squinting through the rays of the rising sun, ‘You called for me my Lord?’

  De Capo stared at him, the lines on his face, the grey of his eyes and the stooped frame betrayed his age, something de Capo dared not guess at. He wore a leather skull cap with loose fitting dark coloured robes hanging down to his ankles. A leather pouch was slung over one shoulder and his beard was snow white and dropped to his waist, ‘Who are you?’

  The old man smiled, ‘I am the scribe my Lord.’

  De Capo stepped away from the window to get a closer look at him, ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘I am called Efrayim Ben Makarim.’

  ‘You’re a Jew?’

  Efrayim nodded slowly, ‘I have that honour my Lord, although there are some who would call it a curse.’

  ‘And you were de Chauvigny’s scribe?’

  ‘Another honour I had,’ Efrayim s
hrugged, ‘although there were some who would call that a curse also.’

  De Capo suppressed a grin at the comment, ‘You know about all these and what they contain?’ He glanced about at the plethora of scrolls, manuscripts and parchments.

  ‘Of course,’ replied Efrayim, ‘I am employed to maintain the records and ensure payments are correct, stores are ordered and all ledgers are accurate.’

  De Capo raised his eyebrows, surprised a man with de Chauvigny’s reputation would employ a Jew to look after the records for the day to day running of his order, ‘So de Chauvigny didn’t actually mark up or write any of these?’

  The old man shook his head and nodded towards the chest, ‘If I may!’

  He moved to one side as Efrayim entered the room with a fluid movement that belied his age. He gave a small but respectful bow to Hashim, who returned the compliment while sitting on the stool in the corner near the door.

  Until late morning Efrayim went through all the records which were kept and explained the intricacies of running the Castle of the Mount, how the income was obtained and how it was dispersed in pay to the men and the tradesmen who supplied the goods they needed on a daily and weekly basis. Although de Capo had been second in command to Osmond le Vicomt he never had to worry about such matters, his prime purpose was military, the training, discipline and the leading of patrols outside the city, ‘Much,’ he thought, ‘as Leopold does.’

  ‘Who is responsible for paying the men?’

  Efrayim opened his palms and shrugged, ‘I am also the paymaster.’ He grinned, ‘I appear to have been cursed a number of times.’

  ‘Aye,’ said de Capo, ‘perhaps we both have.’ He watched and listened to Efrayim with interest, he seemed to be at odds with the men here and hoped he would have at least one ally in the old man. It was clear he was no lover of de Chauvigny. He looked round when he heard the footsteps on the balcony to find Leopold standing in the doorway glaring at Efrayim who quickly looked away, an act that did not go unnoticed by de Capo.

  ‘Your horses and chest are here,’ growled the German.

  De Capo thanked Efrayim, ‘Your duties will remain as they were. We will talk some more.’