Deus Militis - Soldiers of God

by Jonathan A Longmore

  De Paganel closed the door behind him. The shuttered windows were open and allowed enough light for him to see what he was looking for as he approached the table, littered with the debris of a man of war trying to be an administrator. Part of Leopold’s tasks were the duty rosters for the gate, castle sentries and the servants, even with Efrayim’s help de Capo could not be expected to undertake all the administration. He sneered as he looked around, this should have been his quarters. He hoped Leopold had made one mistake with his orders, a wounded man in pain did not always think clearly and de Paganel smiled when he saw the message lying on the table amongst some carelessly dropped parchments. He picked it up, and moving closer to the window read the orders signed by de Chauvigny and countersigned by the Grand Master.

  He spun round, parchment in his hands when Leopold burst in with a look of fury. He dropped the parchment and reached for his sword but only managed to partially draw it before Leopold’s gauntlet covered fist smashed into his face. Falling backwards he struck the floor with blood spraying from his battered nose and split lips. Leopold moved fast and the point of his arming sword rested firmly against de Paganel’s throat, ‘What are you doing?’

  De Paganel sprawled on the floor as he wiped the blood and fluid from his nose and mouth, only managing to smear it across his face. His eyes watered with the pain, ‘I read the orders.’ He slowly pushed the blade away from his throat and spat blood onto the floor before looking back up at Leopold, ‘You should have told me!’

  Leopold kept his blade steady and pointing at de Paganel’s face, keeping his eyes on the prone man he spoke over his shoulder to Finus, ‘Leave us.’

  Finus closed the door as he left and Leopold pointed to de Paganel’s sword belt with his blade, ‘Remove it and push it towards me.’

  De Paganel looked disgusted but faced with the unspoken promise of the blade carving a bloody gash across his throat he sighed, and using one hand undid the belt and slid sword and belt towards Leopold who pushed it behind him using his feet, ‘Now stand,’ he ordered, ‘and for the love of God wash your face.’

  De Paganel pushed himself to his feet with wet eyes, an involuntary reaction to the fast and powerful strike to his face by his superior. He turned to the bowl on the stand beside the table and splashed water onto his face to wash the blood away.

  Leopold replaced his sword in his scabbard and bent down to retrieve the parchment containing the orders for his eyes only. He knew why de Paganel was not included as a recipient. De Paganel was reckless and he would kill Erasmus before allowing him the time to reveal the location of the scroll, and he would kill de Capo as soon as possible, leaving the Order open to expulsion from the Kingdom. The Pope still believed Jerusalem would be reclaimed, and for that he needed this Order to remain here. The Grand Master would never relinquish the belief they would reclaim their holy city and the sacred home of their order. If not this Pope, the following one would force the King to allow him and the entire Order back to Acre to fight for what they believed was rightfully theirs, ‘You have read the orders, but remember they are my orders, not yours.’

  De Paganel turned to face Leopold, his face already starting to swell, ‘The orders are to kill the Saracen loving bastard and find this scroll from Erasmus and return him to Cyprus,’ he snorted and spat a globule of blood into the bowl, ‘I think you’ve gone soft Leopold, a few weeks ago you would have carried out those orders immediately, and now you hesitate, I saw how you looked at the traitor earlier!’

  ‘Do not question what I do my friend,’ Leopold spat the last word out contemptuously, ‘do you think anyone here will care if I open your throat?’

  ‘Martel de Fribois will care,’ retorted de Paganel.

  Leopold smiled, ‘You assume too much of your own importance, the Grand Master holds only two things dear, God and Jerusalem.’

  ‘That’s blasphemy,’ snarled de Paganel. He struck out at the bowl of water sending it flying, leaping at Leopold’s throat and drawing the dagger strapped to his lower back.

  Leopold had returned from the battle wounded, once in the thigh and once in the arm, and a lesser man might have fallen for the distraction and seen his throat ripped open. Leopold was not that man and he had been prepared for the treachery de Paganel was famed for. As the blade swept towards him, he twisted on his good leg spinning his body away from de Paganel’s attack. The sudden movement threw de Paganel off balance as he slashed wildly past Leopold’s face. Before he could regain his stance Leopold smashed both fists into the side of his head as his body spun round like a revolving battering ram. De Paganel fell to the floor with thud and the dagger slid across the floor as his fingers lost their grip. He grunted and tried to push himself to his feet until Leopold stamped on his head smashing it into the floor with a sickening thud, ‘Stay down,’ he snarled, ‘you bastard English oaf!’

  Leopold was breathing heavily and his lips curled to reveal his teeth, his eyes blazing with an intense anger that a comrade could attack him. He knew de Paganel’s motives were for the benefit of the Order to the exclusion of all else, and he understood he believed him, Leopold, to be a traitor by not carrying out his orders immediately, but he attacked him, something he could never allow to be repeated. Leopold pulled the falchion from the scabbard at his side and knelt gingerly beside the semi-conscious de Paganel resting the blade against the back of his neck, ‘You’re a fool Englishman, you attack a better man for a stupid reason, a better man who is your superior, that, my friend, is a death sentence!’

  De Paganel groaned and his eyes flickered open, ‘Bastard,’ he whispered, ‘traitor!’

  Their code was simple, you attack a brother knight, you’re flogged, you attack a superior; you’re dead. Leopold stared at de Paganel and realised how much he hated him, he had to die, he had no choice, the circumstances of the last few weeks had made him vulnerable, and as brave as he was, he was not prepared to die just yet.

  De Paganel’s face showed nothing but scorn and hatred as he slowly regained full consciousness. The floor was sticky with his blood that oozed from the cut to his head caused by Leopold stamping on him, and blood trickled out of his ears and ran down the side of his face, ‘Do it, oath breaker,’ he hissed, ‘and may God forgive your betrayal!’

  Leopold raised the falchion and his expression remained apathetic as the muscles of his sword arm tensed.

  ~

  ‘Well?’ De Capo glared at Leopold who sat in a chair opposite with a face displaying both anger and frustration, ‘Is this to do with the arrival of Finus?’

  Leopold’s eyes twitched and he glanced at Hashim, who stood behind and to the side of de Capo, ‘What do you know of Finus?’

  ‘He is a messenger sent by Martel de Fribois with a message to be seen only by you, at least that is what I have been told.’ De Capo remained focused on Leopold’s face, ‘Is that correct?’

  Leopold nodded slightly, ‘It is.’

  ‘And you are ordered to kill me,’ de Capo said as he took a deep breath, ‘or have me killed?

  Leopold twitched again, ‘Those are my orders.’

  De Capo sighed in frustration as Leopold dropped his gaze momentarily, and he knew there was more, ‘The fact you have admitted that is strangely comforting, but there is more is there not?’

  Leopold looked bewildered, ‘More? Why do you think there is more?’

  ‘There is always more,’ de Capo said as he continued to stare at Leopold, ‘reading a man’s face can be complex, but it is an art most men have, even if they don’t know it, fortunately I do know it and I can read yours, there is more.’

  ‘I promised you would not be harmed,’ Leopold stated firmly, ‘what else do you want from me?’

  ‘I want the truth,’ replied de Capo leaning forward across the table, ‘and I want to see those orders.’

  ‘You made a mistake today,’ Leopold said, ‘you stopped me killing the one man you should be afraid of.’

  De Capo sighed, ‘Not so long ago you would h
ave killed me without hesitation.’

  ‘And de Paganel still will!’

  The disappearance of de Paganel from the burial service hadn’t been missed by anyone, but de Capo had seen an Arab enter and speak to Leopold. That Arab was Finus. For Leopold to leave before the ritual was completed was abnormal and de Capo decided to follow, bursting through the door in time to stop the falchion falling and beheading de Paganel. Before he could say anything, Leopold smashed the flat blade of the falchion onto de Paganel’s head. He now lay in the infirmary unconscious with wounds to his skull that could still end up killing him.

  ‘De Paganel is in no position to kill anyone, and the wounds you have caused him might still mean his death,’ de Capo was getting frustrated, his anger starting to become apparent, ‘and I want to know why, or by God I will drag you before the Constable and he will have his own methods!’

  Leopold flinched at the threat; the Constable had a very clever inquisitor and men had lasted several weeks in horrific pain before they were even allowed to talk, ‘There are things you cannot know,’ snapped Leopold, ‘things you must not know!’

  ‘I know why this order was formed,’ said de Capo with a malicious smile, ‘I know about the scroll and all the other artefacts….are those the things I must not know?’

  Leopold opened his mouth to speak and closed it again, for once he was taken by surprise and made no effort to hide it.

  ‘Yes,’ repeated de Capo, ‘I know about the scroll.’

  ‘You know who has it?’

  ‘Aye,’ de Capo leant back and took a deep breath, ‘I know, and he is under my protection.’

  Leopold was incredulous, ‘He has spoken to you?’

  ‘Of course he has spoken to me, I know the secrets Leopold, I know the importance of this thing and if what I have been told is correct, I cannot let you have it.’

  ‘It is God’s will,’ Leopold said vehemently, ‘only God can decide who can have it, and he has decided it is ours by right!’

  De Capo laughed, ‘The Pope decided that, not God,’ his expression became sombre, ‘this is not a time for debate, you are not going to kill me and de Paganel is gravely wounded, so who else knows what the orders say?’

  ‘No one.’

  ‘Not even Finus?’

  Leopold shook his head, ‘He carries the messages, he never reads them but he is expecting me to send a reply back with him.’

  De Capo nodded, ‘Very well, as you said, we cannot be comrades but we can be allies, you want something and I want something.’

  ‘I want the scroll,’ said Leopold.

  ‘No,’ de Capo shook his head and spoke softly, ‘you want command!’

  Leopold narrowed his eyes and looked around as if someone was listening, ‘And you, what do you want?’

  ‘I want to go home,’ de Capo said with a smile, ‘and I want the scroll to come with me.’

  Leopold slowly removed the orders he had received and threw them across the table to de Capo. He stared at Leopold as he unrolled the parchment and read it slowly, looking up at Leopold several times. When he had finished he stood and walked to the window and looked out at the people entering and leaving the city. The room was silent and Hashim poured both men some wine before de Capo turned and nodded at Leopold, ‘Do you agree to give up the scroll?’

  ‘For command of these men? Yes!’

  De Capo nodded and looked at Hashim, ‘Very well, I will speak with the Constable.’

  Chapter Thirty

  They came for him just before sunrise. Erasmus heard them as he lay on his bed in his private quarters which were accessed from a door at the back of the chapel. He was attuned to the slightest noise that was out of place, more so since he had acquired the scroll. The door to his quarters was barred, but the door to the chapel was never locked. This was a house of God and men could come and go as they wished. Even the violence in their hearts did not negate their need to pray and confess their sins.

  He heard the footsteps as they moved along the balcony, more than one person and not seeming to be worried about how much noise they made. As the chapel door opened, he heard the tell-tale creak and footsteps of a number of people entering. Light from torches forced its way through the crack at the bottom of his door and he carefully rolled off his bed in a crouch before moving towards the light and placing his ears against the scratchy wood.

  It was fortunate he no longer had the scroll, de Capo had insisted on it being in his possession and Erasmus had agreed, happy to be rid of the most important article a man could hold, but one that meant a shockingly painful death if anyone else knew what he had done. He squealed in horror as something hard and heavy smashed against the door, causing it to shudder as it was struck again and again. He cringed as the door shook with each strike.

  When it stopped there was a moment’s silence that seemed an eternity until an unknown voice called his name, ‘Erasmus!’ He moved his face closer to the door and the voice spoke again, harsher and with more urgency, ‘Erasmus!’

  ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Open the door!’

  Erasmus grasped his crucifix and fell to his knees as the door shuddered once more.

  The same voice shouted again through the thick wood, ‘Erasmus….open the door!’

  The door was struck again and again, and Erasmus flinched with each strike. He knew it would only be a matter of time and thought perhaps it would be quicker and less painful in the long run if he simply gave up now. He crossed himself, stood, raised the thick locking bar, lifted the latch and slowly opened the door expecting to find Leopold standing there ready to strike him. He breathed deeply to calm his nerves and waited for the blow to come, but there was no blow and he stared, confused and mesmerised as he saw men from the Constable’s garrison standing in the chapel; one man wielding a large hammer that had obviously been used to strike the door.

  Directly in front of him stood Gaubert Levesque, Captain of the Constable’s personal guard and a fervent Christian who aimed to pray at least seven times a day. A handsome man in his mid-thirties he was tall and held his stature well, giving the illusion he was even taller than his actual height. Erasmus looked up at the angry face with its perfectly manicured beard, ‘Gaubert!’

  The tall Frenchman stood with his left hand on the hilt of his sword and a flaming torch in his right illuminating his face and giving the angry expression a ghostly appearance, ‘Father Erasmus, you are under arrest for blasphemy and sedition.’

  As Gaubert took a step back, two men entered the room and grabbed Erasmus by both arms as he started to croak a reply, ‘Blasphemy! But I have done nothing wrong….where is Sir Ralf, he will vouch for me.’

  ‘Your accomplice has already been arrested, he will vouch for nothing, except your guilt,’ he stared at Erasmus and shook his head, ‘you will be damned for this…..take him back to the Castle.’

  Erasmus was led out of the chapel to meet the stares of men from the Order who had been woken by the stamping of feet along the balcony. A number of men were in the courtyard including soldiers from the Constable’s garrison. Leopold stood in the centre of the gate having been woken by the sergeant of the guard who had been compelled to allow Gaubert in, or risk being arrested himself.

  By the time Leopold had been roused and listened to the sergeant explain what was happening, Gaubert and half his men had made their way up the steps to the chapel. Leopold ordered one of his men to rouse de Capo, but the only person he returned with was Hashim who had clearly been woken from a deep sleep.

  Leopold stared at Hashim, ‘Where is de Capo?’

  Hashim looked around at the men watching with confused expressions at the unheard of trespass of the Constable’s men and he shrugged, ‘The Sayyid went to see the Constable.’

  Leopold pressed his face into Hashim’s and growled loudly enough for everyone to hear,

  ‘Don’t you think he should have been back by now?’

  Hashim shrank back from the physical presence of the Germa
n, ‘He said he would be late.’

  Leopold stood up straight, his eyes glinted anger in the light of the torches and he hissed loudly at his men, ‘Prepare yourselves!’

  They all knew what he meant and swords were drawn, within seconds they formed ranks in front of the gate and faced those of Gaubert’s men who had been left to keep the exit clear. Those men were heavily outnumbered and they took a few paces back, their faces showing their nervousness at being in the Castle on The Mount. The fighting skills and ferocity of the men in the Imperial Order of Jerusalem were legendary. The recent fighting at the ravine proved that and they knew only these men would have charged an enemy outnumbering them more than five to one.

  It was a silent standoff and Leopold waited for Gaubert to reappear. He didn’t have to wait for long and he watched as Erasmus was led down the steps into the courtyard. The men escorting him stopped when they saw the line of men blocking the exit and they drew swords and waited for Gaubert.

  The Frenchman would yield to no one, and he strode purposefully from the steps towards Leopold and stopped within striking distance, ‘Move your men,’ he demanded, ‘move them now or this Order will be severely punished!’

  Leopold spat on the ground between himself and Gaubert before replying, ‘By what right do you and your men trespass here and drag our priest away?’

  Gaubert raised an eyebrow, ‘Trespass?’

  ‘You come here uninvited,’ said Leopold loudly, ‘you and your men are trespassers!’

  ‘This is the Kingdom of Jerusalem,’ Gaubert said in a steady voice, ‘there is nowhere the Constable’s men cannot go….and any man who stops them is guilty of treason!’

  Leopold knew that was true, but he wasn’t going to back down that easily, ‘What is he accused of?’

  ‘It is no secret,’ Gaubert said, ‘he and your famed commander are accused of Blasphemy and Sedition.’

  ‘You have proof?’

  ‘This is not a court Leopold,’ Gaubert stated, ‘stand aside or men will die here today.’

  Leopold took a step closer to Gaubert and the two men could breathe the other’s breath, ‘I ask you again, do you have proof?’

  Gaubert took a step back and looked at Leopold’s men, ‘It is common knowledge,’ he began in a clear voice, ‘that you wanted to kill de Capo for ridding us of the murderer de Chauvigny and taking his place as your commander.’ The jibe did not go unmissed and men murmured and grew restless at the accusation. ‘Is there a man here who does not know of de Capo’s dislike of the church and its solemn duty in this land?’ Gaubert paused and looked around before continuing, ‘And his friendship with our enemies?’ Men looked at each other and nodded as they knew all this was true. ‘Did he not consort with the enemy alone recently?’