Keeper of the Grail

by Michael P. Spradlin

  “Maryam,” I said. “I think this is where we should say good-bye.”

  Sadness flitted across her face, but then she nodded.

  “Thank you for guiding us here. I hope that you will make it safely to wherever you are going next,” I said.

  “Good-bye, Tristan. Good-bye, Archer. I hope our paths will cross again sometime,” she said.

  I felt like I should say more, but I had no idea what. She looked at me expectantly, but then turned her gaze on Robard. No matter what she was, I no longer felt like she was my enemy. And I don’t think Robard did either, although he was probably loath to admit it.

  “Yes. Well. Good-bye. Nice knowing you. Thanks for not killing us while our backs were turned,” he said.

  To my surprise Maryam laughed. Her hand darted out, and she briefly squeezed Robard on the forearm. Robard’s face turned red at her touch, and he was suddenly consumed by a coughing fit.

  With a smile Maryam turned and strolled off down the street.

  Robard and I watched her go, then turned toward the guard.

  “State your business,” he ordered as we approached.

  “I am Tristan of St. Alban’s, squire to Brother Knight Sir Thomas Leux of the Dover Commandery most recently deployed in Acre. I have a report for the Marshal,” I answered.

  “I know of Sir Thomas, but I don’t know you. Do you have proof of this?” he asked.

  “I do. I carry his sword,” I said, turning so the sergeanto could see the battle sword that I carried across my back. I also showed him the Templar seal carved into the hilt of my short sword. The sergeanto nodded but wasn’t completely satisfied.

  “Who is this?” he asked, pointing to Robard.

  “This is Robard Hode, formerly of the King’s Archers. He has accompanied me from Acre. Please, sergeanto, we saw Saracen patrols not more than a day away. I have urgent news for the Marshal. May we enter?”

  His eyes flew open when I mentioned the nearby Saracens. He considered us a moment longer, then stepped aside and opened the gate.

  “You will find the Marshal in the office off the meeting room in the main hall,” he said.

  This Commandery was quite similar to the one in Dover, with only minor differences in the construction of the buildings. It was made of mud bricks and once inside smelled like wet dirt, but the layout was almost identical.

  Entering the main hall, it felt unusually quiet. I was used to the hubbub of the barracks and grounds in Acre, but perhaps the knights were off on patrols or performing other duties. A squire sitting at a table mending a harness directed us to the Marshal. He pointed to the left where a corridor led away from the main hall.

  There was a small room at the end of the corridor, and as we approached, I could see through the doorway a man, dressed in a Marshal’s tunic, sitting at a wooden table writing on parchment. A sergeanto stood next to him holding several more sheets, waiting for the Marshal’s signature.

  I knocked on the doorway.

  “Sire, I beg your pardon for the disturbance, but I bring news from Acre and the knights there,” I said.

  Both men looked up. The Marshal studied me for a moment. He was a small man, balding and round faced. His eyes were dark, and it looked like a permanent frown was etched on his face. As he regarded me, his face was expressionless, but I could see cunning in his eyes. Something told me to be careful with what I said.

  “You may enter,” he said.

  Stepping before his desk, I was about to begin my report when a voice from the corner of the room interrupted me. “I was wondering when you would show up.”

  A voice, contemptuous and full of hate, that I would know anywhere. My knees trembled and the blood rushed through my ears, and for a moment I thought I might faint.

  My eyes needed to see to be sure that my ears did not deceive me, so I turned to look and there he was, standing in the corner, near a window that bathed the room in soft light.

  Sir Hugh.

  27

  This is the one I spoke of, Marshal Curesco,” Sir Hugh said. His smile told me all I needed to know. It was a spider’s smile, if spiders were to actually smile. He could barely contain his glee at finding me here. But how could this be? How could he have escaped from Acre? And more important, did he know what I carried here?

  Sir Hugh’s tunic looked freshly cleaned. He appeared fit and rested. True, he hadn’t done much fighting in Acre, but now to see him up close, I was astounded to find him free of any signs of warfare or battle. No wounds or scars. Not a bruise to be seen. Just his pinched face and that same scraggly beard.

  The Marshal looked at Sir Hugh, then at me. “Is that so?” he said.

  “This one has been nothing but trouble since he joined the order. He has no doubt deserted his post in Acre, and it appears he has stolen Templar property.”

  “What? I have not stolen anything,” I protested loudly.

  “Then how do you explain this sword?” Sir Hugh strode across the room, drawing the sword that hung across my back. “This sword belonged to Sir Thomas Leux of my regimento. I would like to know how this boy has possession of it,” he said.

  Marshal Curesco looked at me, waiting for an answer.

  “This is Sir Thomas’ sword, that is true. But he gave it to me when I left Acre. Under his orders.” I turned, staring directly at Sir Hugh when I spoke. He didn’t hold my gaze, walking around behind the table to stand at Marshal Curesco’s side, opposite the other knight.

  “And why did he order you away from Acre, exactly?” the Marshal asked.

  “The Saladin’s forces breached the city walls. We fought hand to hand through the city. The knights prepared to make a last stand in the Crusaders’ Palace. There is a secret passage there. Sir Thomas sent me through it with orders to travel to Tyre as quickly as I could and deliver the news. I met up with Robard a few days’ journey from Tyre and we traveled here together,” I told him.

  The Marshal’s eyes narrowed and he leaned back in his chair, trying to take it all in.

  “When did you leave Acre?” he asked.

  “More than a week ago. Sir Thomas gave me strict instructions to travel only at night. That slowed me down. We had some encounters with bandits, but managed to run them off.” I didn’t mention the Assassins. No sense in giving out too many details.

  “This is absurd,” Sir Hugh cried. “He is obviously a liar and a thief. We should throw him in the jail immediately!”

  Marshal Curesco held up his hand, silencing Sir Hugh.

  “Do you have anything that proves your story?” Marshal Curesco asked.

  For a moment I regretted leaving Sir Thomas’ ring and letter hidden with the Grail. But instinct had commanded me, and no doubt Sir Hugh would have accused me of stealing the ring as well.

  “Just this. If I am the thief Sir Hugh thinks I am, why would I bother to come straight here to the Commandery and report to you, with my ‘stolen’ sword so plainly in sight? Why would I not just slip away?”

  Marshal Curesco glanced at Sir Hugh and seemed on the verge of considering my argument.

  “And there’s one more thing, another reason why I came immediately here. A few days ago we narrowly escaped detection by a patrol of Saracens.”

  Marshal Curesco immediately leapt to his feet. “Saracens? Are you certain?” he asked.

  Throughout this entire exchange, Robard had remained silent in the corridor behind me. He decided now was the time to speak up.

  “Of course we’re certain. I’ve been fighting them nonstop for the last two years. I think I know what a Saracen looks like,” he offered. And for added effect he looked directly at Sir Hugh, as if sensing his natural cowardice, and said, “Do you?”

  Sir Hugh glared at Robard but said nothing.

  “And where were you? Exactly?” the Marshal asked.

  “Not more than forty leagues west of the city. We heard a patrol approaching and managed to hide in the underbrush. They searched for us for a while but then gave up when their comma
nder ordered them to remount. He said they needed to return to camp to ready for the attack on Tyre,” I said.

  “And how do you know what a Saracen commander said?” Sir Hugh cut in.

  I realized my mistake. I couldn’t tell them about Maryam. If I did, they’d never believe me. I needed a convincing lie.

  “We were camped with a trader, bound for Tyre. He spoke Arabic, and he heard the Saracens’ words.” Every time I told a lie, the abbot’s face popped into my head. He would be disappointed in me for all the lies I had learned to tell so easily. A small bead of sweat found a path from my forehead down my cheek. The look on the Marshal’s face was impossible to read. Did he believe me?

  “Marshal Curesco, he is lying. He is trying to concoct some story of an attack to cover up his crimes! I demand we put him in jail right now!” Sir Hugh was obviously excited at the prospect of seeing me in chains.

  Marshal Curesco turned to the sergeanto standing beside him.

  “Brother Lewis, please gather a few men-at-arms and escort these young men to the jail. Hold them until I return from the King’s headquarters. We will sort this out later. If indeed there are Saracens nearby, we will need to discuss our strategy,” he said.

  Brother Lewis shouted out a command, and I heard the corridor behind me fill with men-at-arms.

  “What?” Robard yelled. “You’ll not lock me away!”

  He began pushing his way down the hallway, but the men-at-arms blocked his path.

  I turned back to Marshal Curesco.

  “Marshal Curesco! You cannot do this. I am telling you the truth! Please!” I pleaded.

  “That may be. But I cannot discount the word of another Marshal of the Order. I promise you that you will be held there only until I return from conference with the King. We must attend to this news of the Saracens. Then we will sort out the facts of your story,” he said.

  Sir Hugh glared at me, but his lips curled into a self-satisfied smile. I knew we would never see Marshal Curesco again if Sir Hugh had his way.

  The men-at-arms led Robard out of the hallway. They had relieved him of his bow and wallet. Two others entered the room and relieved me of my short sword, each taking an arm and leading me toward the corridor.

  “Sire, please!” I shouted, struggling against their grip. But Marshal Curesco was already talking busily with Brother Lewis. He gave me a dismissive wave.

  We were led out of the main hall and through the gates of the Commandery past the startled guard who had let us enter only moments before. Robard was shouting and cursing, making a very big commotion, but with no weapon there was little he could do. The men-at-arms ignored him.

  “So, it would appear that your protector has abandoned you,” Sir Hugh said tauntingly.

  “Sir Thomas has likely died a hero’s death, fighting with his comrades to the end. Unlike you, who seem to have made a very convenient escape from an embattled and surrounded city. How did you do it? How did you flee Acre?” I asked.

  “My activities are no concern of yours,” he said. “I can’t tell you how it pleases me to see your fall from grace. Sir Thomas was an officious, pompous fool. Countermanding my orders in front of the men, doing anything he could to undermine and embarrass me…”

  “You don’t need anyone’s help to embarrass yourself,” I interrupted. Sir Hugh reacted by angrily shoving me forward into the street. I staggered but didn’t fall.

  “Well, it appears he misplaced his faith in you. Look at you now. A failure easily captured and likely to hang, if I have anything to say about it. Which I will,” he said.

  I didn’t respond, though I would certainly have voted against being hanged.

  As we were dragged along toward the jail, small crowds of people formed in the streets to watch us pass by. For a moment I thought I saw Maryam. Here and there I caught a glimpse of a black tunic, but then I wasn’t sure. It could have been anyone.

  The jail was perhaps a half league from the Commandery, and shortly we entered a large earthen building. Inside was a single room holding a table and bench along the far wall to the right. Along the back wall were the cells—three of them built like cages in the room, each enclosed by iron bars, with a small barred window.

  Our weapons were laid on the table. Robard was taken to the far left cell. The men-at-arms pushed him inside, shutting the door with a clang. Robard turned at the sound, spitting at them, cursing in very specific ways about what he thought of them and their mothers, but they paid him no mind.

  “Now, young squire, you will answer my questions or you will spend the rest of your days in there,” Sir Hugh said, pointing to the cell next to Robard. “Where is it? Do you have it with you?”

  “Where is what?” I asked.

  “Don’t toy with me, squire,” Sir Hugh said. “I give you marks for bravery, but now, tell me!” He ripped the blanket and satchel from around my shoulder. He walked to the table in the middle of the room, shaking out the blanket and dumping the contents of the satchel on the table.

  “Where is it?” he snarled.

  “I haven’t any idea what you’re talking about,” I said.

  “Do you think I’m joking, squire?” he sneered. His fist flew out and backhanded me across the face. I tasted blood in my mouth, but did not cry out.

  Rubbing the blood from my lip, I vowed not to allow him to gain any advantage over me.

  “What I think is that a nun hits harder than you. Other than that, I have no idea what you are talking about.” Seeing Sir Hugh had started a fire in me again. I thought of Sir Thomas dying at his post. Then I saw this coward standing before me. He had slunk away before the last fight began, most likely. I could not bear it. Quincy and Sir Basil, some of the bravest men I knew, were likely dead, and this vermin thought he would break me? I swore that no matter what he did to me, I would tell this man nothing.

  Sir Hugh’s eyes bored into me, but I held his gaze, determined not to blink.

  “You will tell me where it is. Now,” he said.

  “Sir Hugh, Sir Thomas sent me here to warn the Commandery that Acre had fallen. As I explained to the Marshal…”

  Sir Hugh grabbed me by the tunic, pulling my face close to his. His voice was a whisper of barely contained rage.

  “You have it. The Grail. Sir Thomas had it. He would not have left it in Acre. So he must have given it to you. I tell you so you understand me. I will have it! Now you will tell me where it is, do you hear me?”

  “I’m sorry, what did you say?” I said to Sir Hugh, my face only inches from his mouth. His fist drew back again, but he stopped himself, releasing his grip on me as if some outside force had suddenly caused him to regain his composure. He rubbed his hands over his face, pacing back and forth before me a few times.

  “All right, squire. You win. You have what I want. But I believe I possess something you will find far more valuable than the Grail.”

  “You have nothing I need, Sir Hugh,” I said.

  “Don’t be so quick to judge, boy,” he said.

  He looked at me, his face almost gleeful, taking great joy in drawing out the moment. I waited, silent, determined not to let him bait me.

  “I know who you are, where you were born, your parents, everything.”

  I tried not to let my face show anything, but failed miserably. I felt as if I’d been punched solidly in the stomach. My vision narrowed, and it was suddenly difficult to breathe. Then I remembered who I was dealing with.

  “Liar. You lie,” I said.

  “No, I really don’t,” he said, his voice low enough so that only I could hear him. “I know everything, you see. We suspected you had been left at an abbey or a nunnery as a babe but weren’t sure which one. We searched and searched for you for months after your birth, but the monks did a good job of keeping you hidden. Isn’t it rich that I just stumbled across you fifteen years later? It was Sir Thomas who insisted that we stop at St. Alban’s that night as we rode toward Dover. I thought nothing of it at first, but when you injured my ho
rse and he took such an immediate interest in you, it aroused my suspicions.

  “Interested now?” he asked, his face still only inches from mine. I said nothing.

  “It took me a while, but I pieced it all together. I followed you to the stables that night intending to give you the thrashing you deserved. But that stupid monk showed up. Lucky for you. Then Sir Thomas invited you along with us and I knew there was more to you than met the eye. Sir Thomas would never take on such a doltish, incompetent squire.

  “The next day I sent riders to the abbey. And I learned some interesting things,” he gloated. I remembered seeing Sir Hugh with the King’s Guards outside the Commandery gates. He had sent his men to the abbey? For what purpose?

  “I learned a great many things. It’s interesting what men will tell you when their fingers are being broken. Now I know everything, and I’ll tell you everything. You just tell me where you’ve hidden the Grail. The knight you swore allegiance to has played you for a fool.”

  I felt dizzy and disoriented. I couldn’t breathe. Sir Hugh had sent riders to the abbey to torture the monks and question them about me? Why? How could I possibly be that important? Now he claimed to have knowledge of the one thing I’d wished to know my entire life. Then Sir Thomas’ words came back to me and I remembered the cretin who stood in front of me. A liar, a coward and a cheat. Even if I told him what he wanted, he would kill me anyway. I would need to find my answers elsewhere. He was probably lying about everything.

  “No,” I said. “I came here carrying news of Acre—”

  Before I could finish, Sir Hugh bellowed in rage, grabbing my tunic in his fist and drawing his other hand back to strike me. Just then another man-at-arms burst into the room, saving me from another blow.

  “Sir Hugh, Marshal Curesco has requested your presence at the King’s headquarters. We have other confirmed reports of Saracen patrols in the surrounding countryside. Battle orders are being drawn as we speak!” he said.

  Sir Hugh’s face paled at the mention of the Saracen patrols, his cowardice revealing itself again.