Outremer I

by D. N. Carter

  “May I speak candidly?” the wealthy tailor asked.

  “Of course. I am candid, so it is only right you are all afforded the same,” the old man replied.

  “It has been my experience that religion, whatever one is believed and practised, is like a banquet where people take only what they like and ignore the rest. Religion turns, and sometimes forces, others into becoming stupid making them believe all absurdities that can at best be laughed away as the pipedreams of fanatics, lunatics and gullible asses and nothing more!” he exclaimed quietly.

  “Well just tell it as you see, why not?” the Templar laughed.

  “Look, religion breeds only ignorance, stupidity, superstitions, ghosts, ghouls, jinns, angels, devils, phantoms, ogres, et cetera, which are all non-existent and can come only from the brain of an idiot or a conniving rascal conning the gullible to gain power and submission over them! Damn religions and their inane ways!” the wealthy tailor almost ranted.

  “But likewise, do you not consider that your very position and views are just as strongly felt as those you condemn for you do not open yourself to other higher possibilities of the world and heaven?” the old man asked back politely.

  “No not at all. I only believe and trust in the real things that I can see and touch. I am a pragmatist and realist,” he replied defensively.

  The old man studied the tailor for a few moments, whose face was reddened from his verbal outpouring.

  “My friend, you say much more about yourself than perhaps you would normally care to reveal…but for that I am thankful,” the old man nodded.

  The wealthy tailor sat back in his chair suddenly very conscious of everyone looking at him.

  “So how come this picture is still here? Did they not leave after all of that?” the Hospitaller asked, puzzled.

  “Oh, the picture did not leave with them. But as you have seen, Paul’s entire journal… well, that one at least…came back here after many years. But I would be spoiling this tale if I told you with whom and when,” the old man answered and leaned back in his chair and folded his arms.

  “Then please tell us for I am thinking that at this rate I shall be missing my ship come the morn,” the Templar said and smiled as he shot a look at Miriam. She blushed but could not hide her look of sadness hearing him speak.

  “I can say that the following morning, Paul deliberately left the image you all see there upon the main table under Simon’s charge to pass to his father for when he would finally turn up. He also left instruction and details from Firgany of their passage from Marseille to Alexandria so he could follow as soon as he could.”

  La Rochelle, Chapel of Sainte-Marie, late March of 1179

  The sun shone brightly, the air a warm and a comfortable temperature. Flowers were budding everywhere and the apple trees were all awash with blossom next to the chapel. Paul stood with Alisha watching Taqi link up Adrastos to the caravan as Niccolas handed Firgany some sealed parchments. Sister Lucy walked around the caravan checking the wheels, very spritely despite her age.

  Paul looked at the chapel with fond memories. He could not believe it had been a year since he and Taqi had spied upon Stewart’s ceremony. He gently ran his finger down the scar on his cheek and laughed to himself. Alisha saw this and held his hand. So much had happened and changed in just that one short year and now he stood with Alisha and a baby on the way. He would miss this place, especially his many long lessons with Niccolas. His stomach knotted as the realisation began to sink in that this would in all probability be the very last time he would see Niccolas and the chapel. Niccolas approached him, the sadness clearly written across his aged and wrinkled face. He sighed as he stopped in front of them and outstretched his arms. Paul stepped forwards and was surprised when Niccolas leant up, wrapped his arms around him and hugged tightly. Awkwardly Paul hugged him back as Alisha smiled at them. After a few minutes, Niccolas broke away and stood back. Tears were welling in his old eyes and this made Alisha well up too. He saw this and immediately gave her a hug too. He held her hand with his right hand and grabbed Paul’s with his left.

  “You two…I have known you both all of your lives. And it has been a pleasure and an honour I must say. It is people like you two who are our futures…two people from two diametrically opposed ideals and beliefs yet still able to love each other,” Niccolas said and sighed with an emotional smile. “One thing you two will learn…we may all get old, crippled and wrinkly…but the heart never wrinkles!” he said softly.

  Alisha let out an emotional laugh and sniffed as a tear fell.

  “That is beautiful. I shall remember that when I am hopefully old and wrinkled on the outside,” she replied as Niccolas still held their hands.

  “’Tis time we were leaving,” Firgany called over.

  Niccolas just stood still and held their hands for a while longer as Sister Lucy came over.

  “Niccolas…you old bag of bones; I am going to miss you. Probably more than I should,” she said to Niccolas as he let go of Paul and Alisha.

  “And I shall miss you too, you even older bag of bones,” he joked back and hugged her. Sister Lucy went to pull away but he held her tightly, his eyes shut as a tear eased from one; quickly he stood back and wiped it away.

  “You daft so and so,” Sister Lucy said and hit his arm. “Now come on, you two, we can’t be hanging around all day,” she said loudly as she walked for the caravan.

  Niccolas shook his head smiling bemused as she walked away. He looked again at Paul and Alisha.

  “My job and my time are done. These are your times now and may your gods go with you always,” Niccolas said softly, closed his eyes, bowed his head, placed his hands together, turned and slowly walked to the small side door that led into his office. Alisha could see Paul was saddened and she held his hand tighter as Niccolas closed the door behind him, the latch sounding out as it clunked shut.

  “Come on…we need to leave now. I wish to get as far ahead of Gerard as possible,” Firgany said as he climbed up into the driving position. Taqi checked the other horse tethered to the back of the caravan as Paul helped Alisha up the rear steps into the caravan, Sister Lucy offering her hand to help pull her up.

  Le Pont du Diable (Devil’s Bridge) à Thueyts, Ardeche

  After several days’ travelling, Paul was becoming increasingly concerned for Alisha’s comfort as the caravan shook constantly on the stony track. He held Alisha in his arms, as both sat inside upon the bench seat, the small rear door locked open to let in the warm air. Firgany guided the caravan down the steep track towards the picturesque bridge that spanned the clear blue waters of the river below. Birds were singing everywhere and the rugged steep edged ravine walls were covered with greenery. Alisha had been quite moody with Paul the past several days of travel. She was uncomfortable and still a little annoyed at him for having tried to hide the attack. She knew she was being silly about it but she could accept anything from Paul, but not lies; though Paul protested he had not lied…just omitted to tell her the truth. Taqi walked ahead down the narrow path towards the arched bridge known as ‘Le Pont du Diable’, the Devil’s Bridge. Firgany had often travelled this route as it was far more secluded and safer to travel along than the main direct routes which had been prone to bandits. Without an escort, this route afforded some security. Plus he knew it was not suited for fully armoured horses so Gerard’s troops would not be following them, preferring to use the wider and faster direct route to Marseille, plus the Hospitallers often used this route to steer clear of the Templars.

  Sister Lucy lay asleep on the main bunk. She had gotten into the habit of staying awake most of the night and sleeping during the day. The caravan stopped hard as Firgany pulled up just fifty feet short of the steeply arched bridge ahead. The path widened slightly as it led down, curved to the left, the path following over the bridge and swinging a hard left, the path then widening and continuing along the side of the ravine beside the river.

  “Father,” Taqi called out.

/>   Paul looked at Alisha as Sister Lucy sat up wearily, rubbing her head.

  Paul quickly got up and leaned around the end of the caravan to see what was happening. He could see down the steep side of the ravine towards the river below. His eyes followed the stone bridge arched over to the other wider track and then followed it along until he saw dust being kicked up as a full convoy of Templar Knights cantered towards the bridge. Puzzled, Paul looked at Alisha briefly then jumped down, immediately walking to stand with Taqi. Both watched as the Templar column came to a halt at the opposite end of the bridge. Firgany shook his head, concerned. This was not a route for heavy horse columns and he knew it was mainly light cavalry of the Hospitallers who frequented this route.

  “Boys…get back up here with me,” he ordered.

  As Taqi and Paul climbed up next to Firgany, he moved the caravan slowly down towards the bridge. The bright blue sky reflected just as blue in the clear waters below. The column opposite was mainly in shadow from the steep rock face their side of the river. As the caravan drew near the start of the stone bridge, Firgany halted Adrastos. Paul jumped down to calm him as he was snorting his head vigorously, uneasy. Just as Paul grabbed his side rein, he noticed Gerard was sat resting forwards on his horse smirking and blocking the way over. Stewart was to his right. The bridge was only wide enough to take a small caravan or two horses maximum. Paul looked back at Firgany, puzzled, as Taqi jumped down and ran to stand beside him.

  “They must have taken the main route round and doubled back this way to have got ahead of us,” Taqi whispered.

  “Yes…but why?” Paul replied as Firgany approached them from behind carrying two short swords part hidden down his open tunic.

  “Take these, boys. I sense trouble afoot here,” he whispered as he leaned nearer and passed them one each, which they held behind their backs. “Act normal and say nothing.”

  Alisha appeared alongside the caravan with Sister Lucy.

  Gerard sat up straight and shielded his eyes to see them better as the sun shone almost directly from behind the caravan.

  “And there she is. And here we are at the Devil’s Bridge…How fitting!’ Gerard shouted loudly and smirked.

  Paul quickly looked at Alisha as she placed her hands over her tummy and Sister Lucy stood in front of her protectively.

  “Why do you block our path?” Firgany shouted across the bridge.

  Gerard smiled and looked behind him at his troops then back to Firgany.

  “For you…we are here to arrest you!” Gerard shouted.

  Alarmed, Alisha let out a gasp as Paul and Taqi looked at each other. Both immediately raised their swords and stood shoulder to shoulder at the start of the very edge of the bridge. Gerard raised his right hand whilst still smirking. Several mounted turcopoles raised their crossbows immediately, aiming at Taqi and Paul. Both looked at each other hesitantly but stood their ground as Firgany moved behind them. Alisha started to run towards them but Sister Lucy grabbed hold of her arm hard, stopping her. Sister Lucy simply shook her head no, her firm grip on Alisha’s wrists surprisingly strong. Open mouthed, Alisha looked down towards Paul, Taqi and Firgany as they blocked the bridge. Several Knights Templar dismounted and began to walk towards the other end of the bridge.

  “We cannot win this fight…we are too outnumbered,” Firgany whispered.

  “We can block their path for they cannot get their heavy horses across more than one at a time and any knights coming across, surely we can stop them,” Paul whispered back.

  “No…that would be guaranteed suicide for all of us. Whatever Gerard’s plan is, I think this day I shall have to go along with it. You two must promise me you will not engage in fighting unless they threaten Alisha directly. Is that understood?” Firgany asked as seven knights began to walk across the bridge towards them squinting from the sun. Gerard moved his horse onto the bridge behind them.

  “And you a party to this?” Paul shouted to Stewart.

  Stewart pulled his horse sideways and moved the Beauseant banner aside so he could look at Paul directly.

  “Yes I am, brother…on this one…for Niccolas is dead…at his hands,” Stewart shouted and pointed towards Firgany.

  Paul and Taqi looked back at Firgany in shock.

  “What lies spout you?” Firgany shouted back.

  “’Tis true, brother. Brother Niccolas was killed in his crypt by fire and Firgany was the last one to see him alive,” Stewart answered back.

  “Rubbish. Utter lies, for we were all with Firgany and bade farewell to Niccolas together,” Paul shouted back as Alisha gasped for breath half crouching over as near panic began to overwhelm her. She struggled with Sister Lucy and flounced her arm down, Sister Lucy losing her grip on her. Instantly she ran down to her father and stood beside him holding his arm as the knights rapidly approached. Paul and Taqi raised their swords defensively, which resulted in the front knights immediately drawing their swords aggressively.

  “Do not worry, young things…just let the Great Firgany come with us without trouble and he will receive a fair and proper trial,” Gerard shouted, still smiling broadly.

  “Stewart…for heaven’s sake…this is nonsense and all lies!” Paul shouted back.

  “Boys…lower your swords for it will end badly for all of us,” Firgany ordered.

  “No…this is wrong!” Paul shouted and took up a defensive posture, his sword raised high. Taqi copied him. Firgany stood himself in front of Alisha as Sister Lucy rushed to stand by her exposed side.

  “Stand down, young Paul, for my men will cut you down where you stand. It is Firgany we want and the parchments back he stole from Niccolas before killing him,” Gerard shouted and began to follow the knights across the bridge.

  “No…you stand down your men now for this is all lies,” Paul shouted back.

  Stewart looked on apprehensively.

  Gerard looked back at Stewart.

  “Brother Stewart…remember what I told you. That woman is the Devil’s own spawn. Do not be beguiled by her outer beauty for she does not fool me. Islam is the Devil’s very own faith and the fools do not even see it themselves,” Gerard said closely as he struggled to hold his horse steady.

  Suddenly items started to be thrown from the rear of the caravan as two Templar sergeants had somehow managed to cross the river and crawl up the steep side of the ravine and enter it. The horse tethered to the rear of the cart kicked and bucked. Sister Lucy ran back towards the caravan. Just as she arrived, one of the Templar sergeants jumped down waving a large sealed tube of parchments. Sister Lucy grabbed it but the sergeant knocked her down hard, hitting her across the face. She fell to the floor, blood instantly seeping from the corner of her mouth. As the sergeant began to walk down towards the group at the bridge, his colleague joined him. Both withdrew their swords and smiled menacingly as they approached.

  “Boys…as I said, we cannot win this fight and now we are surrounded. Lower your swords and pray to Allah ’tis just I Gerard wants,” Firgany whispered.

  Alisha looked at Gerard hard and then Stewart, his face scowled up and angry. Alisha shook her head confused and scared. Two Templar turcopoles rushed past the knights on the bridge and immediately knelt in front of them and aimed their crossbows as the knights stood shoulder to shoulder behind them. The two sergeants now stood just feet away from Alisha. Firgany eased her behind him and nearer to the sheer stone ravine side.