Crusade

by Robyn Young

  “And with you.”

  Will watched Simon go, before moving off. As he passed the Gate of St. Lazarus, his eyes caught sight of large black words that had been scratched in charcoal across the wood.

  Non nobis, Domine, non nobis, sed nomini tuo da gloriam. Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto Thy name the glory.

  He stood there for a moment, an image of his father clear and sharp in his mind.

  Somewhere in the distance, beyond the walls, a drum began to pound.

  THE VENETIAN QUARTER, ACRE, 18 MAY A.D. 1291

  Garin reached the blue door and halted, straining for breath. He went to rub the sweat from his forehead and realized that his hand was trembling violently. The drink had soured in his system and was now a poison, working its way through him. If he had stopped to think, he could have looted one of the abandoned taverns, perhaps even found some coins, but all his thoughts had been fixed on getting here. He clenched his fist and banged on the painted wood. The sound echoed in the quiet street. A man pulling a handcart filled with pots and pans loped past. He glanced suspiciously at Garin and kept on going. Garin scowled after him, then heard a bolt slide back. Quickly, he smoothed his filthy hair and straightened his vomit-stained cloak. The door opened.

  Rose appeared. Her hair was scraped back under a cap, and she wore a yellow and green traveling cloak over a white gown. She looked tired. As she saw Garin, she frowned. “What do you want?” she murmured, holding onto the door, not opening it any further.

  “Rose, sweetheart,” said Garin, trying his best to smile, “is your mother here?”

  Rose didn’t respond. Behind her, Garin heard rapid footfalls.

  “Rose!” came a sharp call. “Why is the door open? Who’s there?”

  As Rose looked around at Elwen’s voice, Garin pushed her inside as gently as he could and forced his way in, knowing that if Elwen locked him out, he wouldn’t have another chance to get inside. He pushed it shut and shoved the bolt home. Rose stepped away, staring up at him as he loomed over her in the passage, where there was a stack of chests and a few sack bags. It looked as if they were about to leave.

  “Get the hell out.” Elwen was down the stairs and in the corridor, her gaze locked on him. Her face was fierce with anger in the glow of a lantern hanging from a hook in the passage. “Rose, come here.” She went forward and put her hands on her daughter’s shoulders, pulling her back. “I mean it, Garin. Leave.”

  Garin shook his head slowly. “I can’t do that.”

  “Why?” Elwen’s voice was still harsh, but Garin heard a note of fear slip into it.

  “The boats aren’t taking men unless they have money, and there aren’t enough ships left for everyone.” He shrugged. “I’ve got nowhere else to go.”

  “I can’t help you.”

  “I think you can.” Garin cocked his head to one side and studied her. He was feeling more confident now. “You owe me, Elwen.” He smiled at Rose and gave her a wink as if this was a game.

  “Our guard, Piero, will be back any minute,” said Elwen.

  Garin frowned and glanced at the door. “Is that so? Well, I suppose we shouldn’t stand around here then. Upstairs,” he said, walking toward them.

  Elwen stepped in front of Rose and held her ground. “If Piero finds you here, he’ll kill you. Just go.” She lowered her voice. “Please, Garin. You’re scaring my daughter.”

  Garin’s eyes flared with anger. “Our daughter!” he hissed, taking hold of Elwen’s arm and propelling her toward the stairs.

  “Run, Rose!” shouted Elwen, struggling wildly in his grip, kicking out and hitting him with her free hand. “Go!” she screamed, turning to look at her daughter.

  Rose staggered back a few steps, wide-eyed, then ran to the door at the end of the passage.

  Garin’s hand flew to his belt. His fingers curled around the dagger that was sheathed there and pulled it free. “Rose, sweetheart!” he shouted, twisting Elwen viciously around and putting the dagger to her throat. “If you run, I’ll kill your mother.”

  Rose stopped dead. She spun around and cried out in horror as she saw the dagger at Elwen’s neck. Outside in the distance, a deep-voiced drum began to sound, low and ominous.

  “You bastard,” murmured Elwen, going still and trembling against the blade.

  Garin felt bile rise in his throat. Sweat dripped into his eyes and his hands shook. This wasn’t what he had planned. This wasn’t the way he wanted it. He needed to calm things down, but he couldn’t do it here. He had to get them upstairs and then, somehow, get Elwen to listen to him. “Rosie,” he called. “If you do as I say, everything will be fine. I want you to go upstairs for me.”

  Rose hesitated. She stood there breathing hard, looking from Garin to Elwen.

  Garin frowned. He put his face closer to Elwen’s. “Tell her to go upstairs,” he breathed, his mouth hot against her ear, “or I swear I’ll make her watch as I cut you.”

  Elwen felt her legs go weak. “Do as he says, Rose,” she whispered.

  Slowly, Rose walked toward the stairs and began to climb, not taking her eyes off Elwen, who followed, Garin pushing her forward, still holding the blade at her throat.

  When they reached the first floor, Garin nodded to one of the doors. “What’s in there?”

  “Nothing,” said Elwen. “That’s Andreas’s room. It’s empty.”

  “Go in there, Rosie,” he said calmly.

  She pushed open the door and backed in, still staring at him. Andreas’s chambers, with the solar leading into the bedroom, were cold and dark. Just a few items of furniture remained: a table and stool, and the large bed. The wind that blew in through the windows smelled of smoke; the bare boards creaked beneath their feet.

  “Go and sit by the window, Rose.” Garin took the knife away from Elwen’s throat. “Go to her.”

  Released from his grasp, Elwen ran to Rose and wrapped her arms around her. “It’s all right, my darling,” she whispered into her hair. “It’s going to be all right.”

  “Listen to your mother, Rose,” said Garin absently, as he shut the door, pleased to find a large iron key in the lock.

  “Garin, it’s freezing,” said Elwen, looking up at him. “Rose hasn’t been well. She’ll catch her death in here.”

  Garin paused, looking at the pale-faced, shivering girl. “Do you have blankets?” he asked Elwen.

  “Downstairs, in one of the sacks in the hall. I can get them.”

  Garin’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll go.” He wiggled the heavy key out of the lock and waved it at her. “Don’t try anything foolish.” He stared hard at her until he was satisfied that she knew he was serious, then headed out, sheathing the dagger and locking the door. He heard a muffled sob as he walked away and swore bitterly. No, this wasn’t what he had planned at all. He went hurriedly down and searched through the sacks. He found one stuffed with blankets and linen, and was hefting it up when he heard noise through the door at the end of the passage, which he guessed led to a kitchen. Putting the sack down, he padded to it. He heard a man’s voice call Elwen’s name. The footfalls came closer.

  Garin braced himself. As the door opened, he grabbed hold of it and slammed it into the startled-looking man who appeared behind it. The man staggered back, clutching his face, and barreled into a table, the legs of which screeched on the stone floor. Garin followed him swiftly and shoved him down onto it. The man was yelling now, but it was all in Italian and Garin couldn’t understand him. Grabbing a fistful of the man’s hair, he smashed his head on the wood, meaning to knock him unconscious. But the exertion brought a fresh wave of dizziness washing over him and the impact wasn’t nearly as hard as he’d intended. The man cried out in pain, then launched himself into Garin. Ducking out of his grip, the man turned and punched him in the face, sending him reeling into the wall, knocking several pots off their hooks, which crashed down around him. Garin recovered and dove at him. The two of them wrestled together, lurching heavily around the kitchen, sending thi
ngs flying. The man got away and drew a sword that was sheathed at his hip. He lunged at Garin, who sidestepped the blade, throwing his head back at the last minute to avoid its sweeping arc. Drawing his dagger, Garin darted through the man’s defenses and plunged it in, sliding it expertly up between the man’s ribs.

  The man gave a cry. Garin wrenched the blade out, spun him around and sliced the dagger across his throat, severing the artery. The man slumped to the floor amidst the debris. Garin, panting and soaked in greasy sweat, looked down at him. Piero, he guessed, wiping the blade on his cloak and sheathing it with a forceful stab. He went to head out, but paused as something caught his eye. On a shelf was a row of jugs above pots of herbs and oil. Stepping over Piero, Garin went to them. He felt relief go through him as he saw that they were filled with wine. Taking two, he went out into the passage and bundled the sack with the blankets under one arm. Grabbing the lantern off its hook, he climbed the stairs.

  Elwen stared at him in shock as he entered. She was where he had left her, standing by the window, holding Rose to her. “What was happening? What was that noise?”

  “Piero came home,” muttered Garin, kicking the door closed. Putting the lantern and jugs on the table, he locked the door and stowed the key in the pouch at his belt.

  “My God,” whispered Elwen, staring at a smear of blood that glistened darkly on his cloak. “What did you do?” Her voice was numb, but her eyes were filling up with real fear now as she realized what he was capable of.

  “Here,” said Garin gruffly, looking away from her appalled stare. He threw her the sack. He pointed to Rose when Elwen didn’t move. “She’s cold, Elwen.”

  Moving slowly, her fingers rigid, clumsy, Elwen pulled two blankets from the sack as Garin perched on the edge of the table and drank greedily from the jug. Elwen, wrapping the blanket around Rose’s shoulders, watched him. Through the fog of terror, she saw a chance, a small window of hope. If he continued to drink like this, he would become slower, weaker. She might be able to fight him, get past him. Holding onto that thought, feeling some of her strength come back to her, she pulled a blanket around her own shoulders.

  Garin finished drinking, belched and put the empty jug on the table. He half-closed his eyes at the feeling of the alcohol coursing through him, soaking into every part of him, making his limbs heavy and solid. The fog in his brain cleared. “I’m sorry about Piero,” he told Elwen, opening his eyes. “I wouldn’t have killed him if he’d given me the choice.”

  “Why did you come here?” she asked him, her voice quiet. “The city is about to fall. You are putting all our lives at risk by keeping us here.” She paused. “If you care so much about Rose, you wouldn’t do this.”

  Garin sat forward, his eyes growing sharper. “It’s because I care about her that I’m doing this. It isn’t fair on her, not knowing who her real father is.”

  Rose stared at him belligerently from under the folds of the blanket. “I know who my father is,” she said in a hard voice.

  Garin shook his head. “No, sweetheart, I don’t think you do.”

  Elwen closed her eyes. “Please, Garin. Don’t do this. I’ll give you whatever you want. Just don’t do this to us.” She took a step toward him. “We have money downstairs in one of the bags. Take it. We don’t need it, we have a ship secured. If you go now you’ll be able to buy yourself passage.”

  “You’re trying to bribe me?” he demanded.

  “No, I ...”

  Garin pushed himself off the table and went toward her and Rose. Halting halfway as they cowered back against the wall, he thrust a finger at Elwen. “Who’s going to take care of her, of you, when this is over?” The drink was in him now, building its fire. He was alive with emotion, blazing with it. “Will isn’t going with you, is he? He’d rather stay here and play the hero than make sure his own wife and daughter are safe. He doesn’t deserve you, Elwen, either of you. He never has.”

  “Will stays because he has a duty to do so.”

  “To the Temple?” demanded Garin, incredulously. “He doesn’t even believe in the pissing Temple!”

  “If he deserts the order, he deserts the Brethren, you know that. The Anima Templi cannot exist without the resources the Temple provides. If he leaves, he loses all chance for peace. I understand that. I admire him for that.” Elwen’s voice was hardening. “That is the difference between him and you, Garin. Will does what is best for everyone around him. You only do what’s best for you, and damn the consequences!”

  “So he’s better than me, is he?”

  “More than you’ll ever know,” she replied with a defiant laugh.

  Garin shook his head. “If that is so, Elwen, why did you come to me that day? Answer me!” he shouted, as she turned away. “If Will is so damn good, why the hell did you spread your legs for me?”

  “Shut up!” she screamed, whirling on him. “Just shut up!”

  Rose had clapped her hands over her ears and was sliding down the wall. She squeezed her eyes shut. Neither Elwen nor Garin were looking at her; all their attention was focused on each other.

  “That’s why you’re still here, isn’t it? Why you haven’t left yet? I’ll bet Will secured you a ship weeks ago when the siege first started. You could have gone, but you stayed. You stayed because of guilt, because you couldn’t bear to leave him here alone, knowing that you left him once, left him so utterly when you lay with me.”

  “No,” Elwen said, shaking her head wildly. “No.”

  “Believe me, I know about guilt. I can recognize it when I see it.” Garin went back to the table and lifted the other jug. He drank, only taking a few sips this time. He laughed. “We’re all so guilty. You, me. Will. So damned and so guilty.”

  “We’re nothing like you, Garin. You’re weak and you’re cruel, and you’re nothing.”

  “Will killed his own sister.”

  “That was an accident.”

  “You slept with me.”

  “That was a mistake.”

  “And what about me?” yelled Garin, flinging the jug against the door. Rose screamed and Elwen flinched as it smashed, wine splashing across the boards and up the walls. “Aren’t I entitled to make mistakes? Can’t I be forgiven for the things that I have done?”

  “You did them out of selfishness.”

  “You have no idea what I’ve been through.” Garin jabbed a finger at his chest. “How I’ve suffered. I was thirteen when Edward found me and lured me into his service with promises to help my family. Do you know the things my uncle Jacques used to do to me? I used to bite my fingernails.” He looked down at his dirty, ragged nails and snorted. “I still do. Jacques hated it. He saw it as a weakness. One day I forgot and did it in front of him. He shut my finger in the door of his solar, took the nail right off. But I still loved him, even after the beatings. All I wanted was to make him and my mother happy. Edward, I thought, could give me that, and so I agreed when he asked me to help take back the crown jewels.”

  Elwen had gone still. “What?”

  Garin nodded at her expression. “It was me, Elwen, I betrayed the knights. I gave Edward’s men the information they needed to mount the attack at Honfleur. I killed my uncle.” He looked into her eyes. “I killed yours. Jacques and Owein died because of me.”

  Elwen had gone white.

  Garin let out a shuddering breath. “I’ve never told anyone that before,” he said a little wonderingly. “After it happened, I hated myself, hated what I had made possible. I would have gone back to London, grieved alone, only Rook, Edward’s man, found me and told me that if I didn’t keep working for them, didn’t prove myself useful, he would rape and kill my mother. That much was true. And so I worked for Edward for years, using my position in the Temple to get him what he wanted.”

  “The Book of the Grail,” breathed Elwen.

  “Edward wanted to use it against the Temple, as evidence of heresy. He thought he could bribe the Anima Templi into giving him the money and resources he wanted when he be
came king. He was planning to expand his empire even when he was still a prince. He’s always known what he wanted.” Garin lifted his head, hearing the distant sound of drums and horns for the first time. He looked back at her. “Then I came here, to Outremer. I proved myself in battle, saved lives, knew what it was to be a knight, knew what it was to feel proud and good. I forgot Edward. I helped Will track down the Book of the Grail, and when Rook tried to stop us I killed him. But then I was imprisoned.” He spoke bitterly. “I had tried so hard to make amends and still I was punished. It was Edward who got me out.”

  “You’ve been working for him ever since?”

  Garin pressed his lips together. “For years. Killing and spying, all in his name.” His brow creased as she turned away in shock and disgust. “But all that changed when I saw Rose.” He crossed the room to her. “I swear it, Elwen. Something changed in me. When I saw it was possible for me to create life as well as destroy it.” He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “She’s mine, isn’t she? Just tell me that.”

  Elwen stared at the floor. “I don’t know,” she whispered.

  “But there’s a chance?” said Garin quickly. The tears that welled up and slipped from Elwen’s eyes as she looked up at him were all the answer he needed. He smiled and exhaled deeply. “Let me come with you, Elwen, on board the ship.” His hands, gripping her, were quivering with emotion. “Let me be a father, a husband even. Let me prove that I can be a better man, that I can make amends. Let Will look after the world and I swear I will look after you, both of you. I can do this. I can make you love me.”

  Elwen stared up at him. “You’re a liar,” she said in a voice as cold as the dawn. “A liar and a murderer. I could never love you.”

  Garin let out a breath, her words like a slap. Anger rushed into his face, coloring his cheeks. “Well, you loved me once,” he snarled at her. “I was good enough for you then.” Seizing her, he propelled her to the table. “I’m good enough for you now.” He threw her down on the wood. Ignoring her terrified screams, he caught her hands, which clawed and scratched at his face, and forced them above her head, pinning them. “I’ll make you love me again!” he gasped, grabbing hold of her gown and ripping it down, baring her breasts.