The Master of Muscigny (The First Admiral Series Book 5)

by William J. Benning

  “Could we sort of not tell Rebekkah about all this? It’s just that she’ll be very angry with me knowing that I was fighting with men with swords. She won’t be at all happy with me, Master.”

  With a broad smile and a laugh, Billy put his right arm around the wall builders’ shoulders as they trudged onwards.

  “Lothar, I hope you can run as well as you can fight, because the story of this battle will be round the estate several times before we even reach the Hospital Deck.”

  “Oh,” Lothar mumbled resignedly.

  “Come on, let’s get you two a meal fit for heroes.” Billy smiled, laughing once again at the outraged and concerned anger of the little Hebrew girl with the tall, strapping wall-builder.

  And, as he walked, Billy wondered silently just what kind of situation they had gotten themselves into.

  Chapter 23

  The Star Cruiser Aquarius

  That afternoon, Billy Caudwell strode into the War Room, with an air of quiet determination, to lead the strategy conference. Around the War Table the departmental heads waited to discuss how First Admiral Caudwell was going to respond to the plotters who had just failed in an attempt on his life.

  “Gentlemen,” Billy announced as he arrived, taking his traditional place at the head of the War Table, “it appears we have landed ourselves amongst some very unsavoury activities.”

  In the Holding Cells of the Disciplinary Deck, the four battered and bruised knights who had attacked Billy, Lothar and Hassan were being held under close arrest after having had their injuries treated by the Medical Technicians. The application of Interrogation Disks had revealed everything that the four uninvited guests knew about the plot that was unfolding around the unwitting and unwilling inhabitants of the Muscigny Estate.

  “Officer Garn, what have we found out from our new guests?”

  “Well, sir, we have interrogated the prisoners and have found that they are in the service of someone called Raymond of Pallon.”

  Unfamiliar with the name, Billy surmised that this Raymond of Pallon probably worked for some much more powerful and higher up the feudal heirarchy.

  “And, who does this Raymond of Pallon owe allegiance to?”

  “Well, sir, it’s a primitive feudal set up where everyone owes loyalty to someone further up the pecking order for the right to hold and exploit bits of land, this Raymond of Pallon has a boss named Guillaume of Marcroi who reports to a Geoffrey of Saligny, who happens to be the nephew of one Amalric of Lusignan.”

  “You mean THE Amalric of Lusignan?” Chief Medical Officer Radkor asked. “The High Constable of the Kingdom of Jerusalem?”

  “Yes, Doc, second in command of the army, big name in the High Council, political power broker, and major land owner.”

  “Which would imply the possible involvement of the King?” Billy asked, unable to believe he was actually posing the question.

  “No, sir, it appears that the King is the likely target of this particular adventure.”

  “I knew it!” Radkor burst out, thumping his fist on the top of the War Table. “Baldwin would never break faith with us!”

  “You know, Ullit.” Billy smiled. “If I didn’t already know your true democratic leanings, I’d swear you were turning into a Royalist.”

  “Well…it’s just...it’s...well...” Radkor blushed and stammered awkwardly. “King Baldwin would never turn on us, sir.”

  “I tend to agree, sir,” Officer Garn added his opinion. “Baldwin has an idea of what this ship is capable of and what we can potentially do. Whoever sent these assassins has no concept of the power we possess; this was someone who hasn’t been here to see what we’re doing.”

  “Which rules out Joscelin of Edessa as well, although, if he thought he could get his hands on more of what we took to Jerusalem…”

  “No.” Radkor shook his head again. “Joscelin wouldn’t do anything without the King’s say so. These courtier guys don’t sneeze without Royal permission.”

  “So, we have Amalric the Constable in the frame for this? We now need to know why?”

  “The prisoners have told us that the Templar contingent marching from Acre, the one we’ve been monitoring, is most likely some attempt to replace Baldwin.”

  “With our friend Amalric at its head?”

  “We have no new information on the Templar contingent except that it marched from Acre last week and that part of it is still heading south along the coast with some forces marching inland to form a second column.” The Landing Trooper initiated the two-dimensional View Screen.

  On the Screen, a map of the Holy Land indicated the major landmarks of Jerusalem, Damascus, Acre and the cities of the coastal plain with Muscigny indicated as a red dot where the major roads converged. The Mediterranean coast flanked the left of the image whilst the Dead Sea and River Jordan stood to the right. On the Mediterranean coast, the slow progress of the Templar fleet was indicated in yellow.

  “We have the Templar land contingent moving south, by road, from Acre,” Garn indicated the movement of Arnold of Torroja’s forces by a blue line down the coast and one further inland. “Plus, his ships also moving down the coast.” Garn indicated the slow yellow line’s progress.

  “So, somehow these twenty-odd thousand Templars are the reason someone was sent to kill me?

  “Yes, sir, the prisoners also told us of a Christian force marching from Jerusalem in the next forty-eight hours. That was why they were sent to Muscigny; to take control of the Citadel.”

  “So, some, if not all, of these Templars and an unknown slice of the Jerusalem army are on the way here. We have a very big problem on our hands here, Gentlemen,” Billy said.

  “Yes, sir,” Garn replied. “The new information about the rendezvous makes it likely that the main attack on Jerusalem goes through Muscigny.”

  “But, why Muscigny?” Radkor asked.

  “It is the logical choice,” Billy replied, thinking strategically. “The Templars do seem to be reinforcing and re-supplying their force from the sea. They’re moving fast and will want to have as large a force as possible before hitting Jerusalem, if that’s their objective.”

  “They’ve been moving troops by sea around here for centuries, Doc,” Garn said. “But, I’m surprised the Templar Commander doesn’t transfer his entire force by sea?”

  “Maybe that’s what everyone else expects him to do, sir?” the Senior Engineer weighed into the conversation.

  “Well, whoever he is,” Billy speculated, “he’s either a genuine logistical genius or a complete lunatic, and if they reach Muscigny they’ll destroy everything we’ve built here with our people. And, that Gentlemen, is completely unacceptable.”

  “Sending his ships down the coast is a marvellous diversion,” Garn said. “Baldwin has to defend against the threat from the sea and also the land. Split his forces.”

  “In all likelihood, Baldwin doesn’t know exactly where the land contingent from the north really is,” Billy said.

  “Do we tell him, sir?” Masthan Gummell asked.

  “Well, I think we do. We’ve become embroiled in whatever this is through no fault of our own, and I see a very real and direct threat to both ourselves and the estate, and its people.”

  “Is that wise, sir?”

  “Do we interfere in the internal political machinations of the Kingdom? To be honest, Masthan, I’d prefer not to. But, we’ve already had to incapacitate those four idiots in the brig, and I feel that I cannot guarantee the safety of the people on the estate if these Templars are heading for us.”

  “These prisoners have already forced our hand, sir,” Garn said. “The prisoners also talked about plundering the city and clearing the Jews and Muslims out of Jerusalem when all this was over.”

  “Oh dear, that usually means killing everyone who doesn’t convert to their faith. In ten ninety-nine when the Crusaders took Jerusalem, there was a massacre of non-Christians. Some say thousands died in the slaughter,” Billy said with a shudder.
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  “Then it looks like we have no alternative, sir,” Gummell’s said. “We have to protect those people in Jerusalem.”

  “I think we are in agreement, gentlemen?” Billy asked, and was greeted with nodding heads and affirmative responses.

  “Very well, the next question must be; what do we do about it?”

  “Launch the Eagles and tear the Templar column up, then turn them on Amalric?” Garn responded.

  “Yes, it would be really simple to do that, Officer Garn, but we’re here trying our best to save lives, not slaughter vast swathes of the local population. We need something a bit less lethal.”

  “Pre-emptive Landing Trooper strikes?” Gummell suggested. “Stun them all and hold them prisoner.”

  “Nice idea, Masthan, but, we don’t have the manpower resources to handle thousands of prisoners and all their animals until someone sorts out the mess.”

  “Yes, we want to be gone from here just as soon as the repairs get completed,” the Engineer added.

  “Fair point,” Billy added. “Sorting this out could take months.”

  “We could eliminate their ships on the coast?” Gummell indicated the View Screen where the yellow line crept slowly southwards. “Stop them reinforcing and supplying?”

  “No, the ships are a diversion. The real blow is coming from the land to the north of Jerusalem, I’m sure of it.”

  “We can deny them the road through Muscigny,” Garn said confidently. “The Citadel is still incomplete, but we can pack the ramparts with Troopers and pick them off with pulsar-rifles all day long.”

  “That’s one option for maybe delaying them, but I don’t think we have enough Troopers. We need to be a bit more positive and aggressive in our actions.”

  “If these are rebel armies, sir,” Gummell said, “then Baldwin would be best placed to deal with them.”

  “I have to say that I agree with you, Masthan, but what we have to try to avoid is large-scale pitched battles.”

  “Maybe we just won’t be able to avoid it, sir,” Garn had to concede.

  “There’s something. There has to be some way of avoiding a bloodbath with thousands of men sent to be slaughtered like cattle…that’s it!!” Billy suddenly sprang up from his seat at the War Table.

  “Sir?” an astonished Garn asked.

  “Ullit, what was it you said about rigid, hierarchical societies and how the Garmaurians controlled them?”

  “I think I said something about the Garmaurians not needing to micro-manage everything. The Garmaurians only needed to control the top one or two percent, because they controlled all the others.”

  “That’s right! Everybody’s tied to each other by this feudal obligation thing, they go where their Lords and Masters send them and do what they’re told to do!”

  “So, if we can target the leaders…” Garn joined the speculation, “we can eliminate the threat?”

  “That’s a very distinct possibility.”

  “Yes, sir,” Gummell responded. “If only we knew who the leaders were.”

  “A very good point, Masthan, we don’t know for sure who’s behind all this, but I suspect we may well know someone who does.”

  “We do, sir?”

  “Yes,” Billy smiled secretively. “Chief Medical Officer Radkor?” Billy turned to the Medical Officer.

  “Sir?”

  “I think it’s about time we started paying some house calls, don’t you?” Billy smiled wickedly.

  Chapter 24

  The Citadel, Damascus

  That evening, the great Sultan of Egypt and Syria was not sleeping well. He tossed and turned fitfully in his overly comfortable bed amidst the splendour of his Royal Apartments. Giving up on sleep, the Sultan rose and walked to the balcony that overlooked the great south courtyard. It was on nights like this, when the stars shone in the night sky and the moon was full, that Saladin wished he was out in the desert alone with his thoughts and dreams. Wrapping his heavy robe around him against the cold, he pondered the pressures of being the ruler of an empire. It was so much simpler just to be a soldier and have others tell you what to do, he thought as he enviously watched the sentries walk their quiet and lonely vigils.

  But, he had chosen a path that had set a crown on his head, and with that high honour also brought the terrible responsibilities of State. And now, he knew he had to live up to those responsibilities and try to govern as wisely as he could. Looking out onto the courtyard, the Citadel was peaceful and quiet except for the patrolling sentinels. It was a silence and calm that belied the huge turmoil in the Sultan’s mind. The information from Jerusalem, newly delivered that afternoon, was ominous and disturbing for the sleepless Sultan.

  The rumours of Baldwin’s miraculous cure had been confirmed. Reports had arrived from Jerusalem that the young King had been seen in fine health and clean of all leprosy scars. The mask which had shielded his subjects from his hideous face now hung on his Bed Chamber wall as a reminder of what he had been spared. The Christians now had a strong and vigorous young King with a brilliant tactical and strategic mind. And, Saladin knew that many Muslim lives would have to be lost to contain this potential new threat to his empire.

  Further troubling news had arrived from spies in the port city of Acre, where a fleet of Templar ships had landed a huge military force. The purpose and the intent of this force was still unknown, however, twenty-thousand armed Templars presented a major headache to the Sultan. Their devotion to their Jesus made them courageous and cruel warriors in battle. It was a combination that most enemy commanders, including Saladin himself, feared. Their colonies on the Egyptian frontier were sprouting up like weeds, and as quickly as his soldiers burned them out, a new community would spring up. Having captured their Great Leader, Saladin believed that the Templar menace would recede. Time and this huge battle force from Acre were proving him wrong. With their Leader rotting in a Cairo dungeon, Saladin had hoped never again to see the white surcoats with the red crosses charging at him.

  Perhaps, he considered, the force of Templars was a rescue expedition. The ships that were hugging the Mediterranean coast, seemingly heading south for Egypt, would be an ideal foundation for a major attack on Cairo and Alexandria to smash through the defences and liberate their Leader. Almost as quickly as the idea surfaced in his mind, Saladin dismissed it as fanciful. The Templars never ransomed, exchanged, or rescued their hostages. And, if they did attack Cairo, their Leader would be killed within minutes, his throat slit by one of the jailers. Shaking his head, Saladin had to dismiss the idea. So, what were all these Templars doing in Jerusalem? Again, Saladin searched his memories for any scrap of information that would help him make sense of the puzzle.

  The Templars had marched from Acre, and, at least, he mused, they had not turned east to attack Syria. They had landed at Acre and marched south, he wracked his brain again. Why? He pondered. Surely, if Egypt was a target, they would stay on their ships and force a landing somewhere on the Nile Delta, not trudge through the whole Kingdom of Jerusalem?

  And what was Baldwin doing? Saladin puzzled. So far he had stayed in Jerusalem and done nothing about what was effectively an invasion of his Kingdom. What was he playing at? Saladin added this other piece to his complex and confusing jigsaw. Was he in league with these Templars; planning an attack on Egypt? It didn’t make any sense to Saladin. The Templars hated Baldwin as much as he despised them, but conquest did make some strange bedfellows, Saladin considered. And, where did these strange people from the flying ship fit into this situation?

  Staring up at the shining moon, Saladin knew that he had more questions than answers, and the sheer scale of the puzzle frustrated him. The Templars were in Jerusalem for a reason, and that usually did not bode well for Muslims. That being the case, Saladin knew that he really had only one course of action. In the morning, he would summon the messengers and put them on the fastest ships for Egypt.

  And, tell them to prepare for war.

  Chapter 25

 
The Royal Palace, Jerusalem.

  Outside the heavy wooden door to the King’s Private Apartment, Amalric of Lusignan drew an anxious breath before stretching forward his gauntleted hand and rapping three times. The heavy knock seemed to echo all along the dark and dingy corridor.

  “Enter!” a young, strong and confident voice announced from within the Royal chamber.

  Opening the heavy wooden door with a loud squealing of rusting hinges, Amalric entered the equally gloomy private world of King Baldwin the Fourth. Despite the riches bestowed upon the Royal Treasury by the strange Outlanders, Baldwin liked to keep the simple things in his life. Whilst he had been ill, the young King had avoided lavish expenditure. There was no need for him to build churches and cathedrals; God had made his displeasure of him known to the world by striking him down with leprosy. And, Baldwin had seen no need for finery and expensive trinkets when he had so little time left in the world. The frugality of his illness was something that young Baldwin had never seemed to get away from.

  In the dark gloominess of the Royal Apartment, Amalric’s heavy-shod boots scuffed loudly on the bare stone floor as he approached the simple pile of cushions upon which the young King perched as he worked at the small table.

  “Majesty,” Amalric bowed lowly to the young man who laboured with the administration of the kingdom beneath the solitary, guttering candle.

  “My Lord Constable, what brings you to our Chamber at this time?”

  “Grave news, Your Majesty,” Amalric began his carefully rehearsed cover-story.

  “I know that look, My Lord Constable.” The King’s mood suddenly shifted from relaxed confidence to concern.

  “It appears that the Templars of Acre are on the march to Jerusalem, Your Majesty.”

  “But, why? There are no religious festivals and no Muslim armies.”

  “I don’t know, Your Majesty, but there appears to be a body of nearly twenty-thousand...”