Knight Assassin

by James Boschert

  Talon smiled as they teased his newfound friend; it seemed common knowledge that Claude hated hard physical work. Claude bantered good naturally with them and it was clear to Talon that despite his aversion to work, Claude was respected and liked, as was Pierre.

  “We receive our olives from Provence and farther south. The olive tree cannot grow here, Talon. It is too cold. It is easier to bring the olives to the press than to trust the oil that comes by way of the merchants who sell it.” Pierre laughed.

  Talon came away from the machinery of the monastery impressed, noting that the monks did most of the hard labor; there were few work animals about that he could see. The Templars had had no such inhibitions about using whatever animals they could.

  He asked Claude about slaves and received a very odd look. “There have not been slaves in this country for generations, Talon. Are they then plentiful in the Outré Mere?”

  “Yes, they are, mostly taken from battle or successful sieges. They are then put to work on building castles for the Christians. The Saracen does the same thing with our people. It's a very hard life.”

  “I see,” Claude said, shaking his head. “It would seem that there is much for us to understand about that part of the world. Slavery goes against the tenets of our religion, but castles have to be built.” He shook his head again.

  Soon they were told that the abbot wanted to see them and they hurried up the stairs again to meet him. He greeted Talon cordially and then after bidding them to be seated he plied him with questions as to how he had lived in Persia and how he had survived. Talon had learned to keep certain things to himself so he bypassed the fact that he had been well trained by the Assassins in Persia. He told them about the Saracen castles and the time on the way to and from Isfahan. He described the huge caravans of camels with the merchants and talked about Al Tayyib the caravan leader and made them laugh at the manner in which he controlled the caravan and its many differing peoples.

  He could tell that they were almost disbelieving when he described the opulence and advanced state of medicine in the College of Isfahan, but they held their peace politely, not wanting to be rude. He told them how the Persian water ways and systems worked, borrowed from both the Romans and their own ancestors. How water was made to travel vast distances underground from mountain springs to cities. He spoke of baths, fountains, and gardens.

  The abbot was a keen listener and Brother Claude and Pierre were awed by what Talon had to tell. When he spoke of the great city of Baghdad past which he and his friends had ridden they shook their heads in wonder.

  He bemused them with tales of the vast spaces and the impossibly high mountains. He told them of Jean the Priest and how he had been martyred. By the time he had finished telling them about Jean‘s sacrifice of death, Claude was in tears and promised to make a devotional prayer especially for him at the chapel. They fell silent when Talon told them about his adopted uncle and aunt, Farj’an and Fariba, who had given him so much. How they had educated him and his companions in the art of music, medicine and other sciences and made them think for themselves instead of blindly following the words of others.

  The abbot nodded his head and said kindly, “You have been blessed to have known people such as these, my son.”

  The abbot called for refreshments and then continued to ask him questions and listened raptly to his replies.

  Finally Talon came to a halt; they had passed most of the day talking. Talon was tired but also realized that he had made some friends. They had shared something of his life.

  Finally it was time to go to dinner. The abbot came around to Talon. “You are a remarkable young man, Talon. I shall do all in my power to help you and your father to solve this mystery.”

  “Father, I have one more request of you.”

  “Speak, my son.”

  “I was told I had to go to confession by the priest who came to our house the other day. He implied that I needed to come to him to confess. Should I do this? I would rather not.”

  The abbot’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “I have already heard what I could call a confession. Indeed, it would take a book to tell it all. Let us say that I have heard the first part. I absolve you, my son.” He made the sign of the cross over Talon’s bowed head. “The penance is that you have to visit us regularly to tell us more of your time in those far-off lands.”

  Claude and Pierre chuckled at that and they all left for dinner, smiling.

  That night Talon woke to the sound of the Midnight mass. The tolling bell calling the monks to Vigils reverberated in the silence of the night. He lay awake. Listening, until it finally stopped and the night was quiet again. Then he heard the faint sound of the monks singing in the chapel. For some reason the tone of the bell had made his heart heavy and he felt a deep loneliness within him.

  He got up, pulled on his trews and walked quietly out of the cell into the balmy night. He paused by the courtyard and sat on the stone wall of the well. Somewhere in the distance across the fields a fox barked but otherwise the night was silent. The monks were finished and gone to bed.

  Despite his earlier sense of aloneness, Talon found the buildings and smells of the monastery comforting. This was a very different land and in many ways threatening to him, but at the same time he felt a certain kinship to the monks.

  He heard the slap of sandals coming across the yard.

  It was Claude, who had noticed him and recognized him despite the darkness. “I saw you walking and assumed it was you, master Talon.”

  “Are the prayers over now?”

  “They are, and we should all be abed but the night is warm and I am restless, too. You have told me so much of this Persia that I cannot sleep for thinking of it.”

  “It was my home,” Talon said simply.

  “And yet you were a prisoner there and it killed your friend.”

  “That world and this are not so different when it comes to men fighting other men for unclear reasons.”

  “I hope that you do not feel that this cannot be your home.”

  “The ghosts and demons within me are quiet for the first time in many a month, Claude. Perhaps this is possible.” He took a deep breath and bade the monk goodnight then went back to bed where he slept well.

  The next day Talon and his men bade Brothers Claude and Pierre goodbye and waved to the Abbot Matthias, who stood on the second floor of the building, looking down on them. He waved back and then turned away to deal with other business.

  Talon thanked the two monks sincerely. “I have been fortunate to meet you, brothers. I hope to come back soon to share time with you.”

  “As my Lord Abbot said yesterday, Talon, you are always a welcome guest at his humble house and we would welcome another visit. God go with you and may He be your guide in all things.”

  Talon wheeled Jabbar and led his retinue out along the old Roman road toward his father’s fort.

  They arrived late that evening to find the place a hive of activity. After having been greeted by his father and mother and everyone else who saw him, Talon asked what was going on.

  Sir Philip told him that there were two pieces of news. First, a cottage up river from the fort had been burned and the peasant who lived there killed. “Right in front of his wife and children,” Philip said in disgust. “His cottage was on Hughes’ land.”

  The second thing was that there was to be a fair at Albi and did Talon want to go?

  Talon shook his head in dismay. “Uncle Philip, you have just told me that we have been attacked by someone, and then in the same breath you invite me to a fair?” he asked incredulously.

  Philip looked confused. “So I did, Talon. So I did. We are riding out to the cottage in the morning. The news only came this evening just before you arrived, so we're getting ready to leave early. Do you want to come?”

  Talon smiled grimly. “Of course. Why would I not?”

  “But don’t forget that there is a fair in three days at Albi,” Philip added.

  Ta
lon shook his head. His uncle sometimes seemed to think in two places at once. He made sure that Jabbar was taken care of, then found Gareth and Max, who seemed to have become inseparable, and greeted them. They were pleased to see him back and told him the news much as Philip had, omitting the news of the fair.

  “Who do you think did this Max?” Talon asked.

  Before Max could answer Sir Hughes came over and joined them. “Ah, there you are Talon. I did not know when you would be back. Did you find out anything useful from the monks?”

  “Perhaps, Father.” He told them about his discussion with the abbot and mentioned the hint given that the abbot distrusted the fact that the bishop was involved. They discussed the issue over dinner that night, but as before the talk went round and round without any conclusions being reached.

  That night Talon went out to the well, stripped down to his trews and tried to scrub himself clean. The water was cold and he did more to get himself wet than clean but he felt better as he shook his long hair to get rid of as much water as possible. He heard light footsteps in the dark and knew without being told that it was Aicelina. He half turned and watched her form coming toward him in the darkness.

  “Do you always come to save me from the water?” he asked quietly.

  “I heard you were back, Talon. Here is a cloth to dry yourself with,” she said, equally quietly.

  The men standing guard on the gates could easily have heard them talking if they had raised their voices.

  He felt her eyes on him, but was not able to construe their meaning. “I thank you, Aicelina. How are you?”

  “I am well, but you have to spend some time with your little brother, he has been pining for you. What did you do to have him believe you were his hero?” she said this with amusement in her voice.

  Talon smiled in the dark as he dried himself in front of her. “I don't know, but we must change that point of view.”

  He heard a low laugh and saw the gleam of her teeth. He could smell the light scent of herbs, dried in the sun, slightly sharp, but clean and fresh. He wondered how she could remain clean in this place. He yearned for a hot bath and resolved to have one the next day.

  Aicelina stepped back and then turned to leave. “Goodnight, Talon,” she said as she walked away.

  He would have liked to spend some more time with her, but he was not yet ready to call her back. “Goodnight, Aicelina,” he said.

  Behold yon darkened Tower.

  Within a man of tyrant power.

  From which, cursed with evil intent;

  His cruel mercenaries are sent.

  Black of heart and never fair;

  T’is verily a Robber’s lair.

  - Graham

  Chapter 7

  Guillabert’s Lair

  The next day Sir Hughes led a group of armed men out of his gates. In attendance were Talon and his archers, who ran easily alongside the riders. Sir Philip and Max along with five of Hughes’ retainers rode with them; all were armed with swords, bows, or lances.

  They headed for the river Tarn, where Sir Hughes’ land ended. There they turned their horses north along the banks of one of the tributaries that flowed into the larger river and rode upstream for about two miles to where the river narrowed between steeper banks and the water flowed faster. There they came up to a water mill that was on the property.

  Talon was impressed with the size of the building and curious about how the water was used to drive the machinery inside. He could see that a part of the river had been diverted into a channel that could be shut off by dropping a long wedge of wood into slots. Right now it was open and the water boiled down the channel to fall upon the huge wooden wheel placed in its path. The wheel was being turned by the force of the water and a shaft from the wheel led into the dark interior of the building. Talon, who had never seen a mill before, dismounted and with Sir Hughes and Philip went up to the miller, who was standing, waiting for them. He bowed low as they came up. He was covered with flour from the filthy leather cap on his head to the apron held round his waist with a wide leather belt. Even the leggings he wore were gray with flour dust.

  He was surprised when Talon told him that he wanted to have a look inside. Begging their forgiveness for the state of the building, he edged backward and then bowed them into the main room. It was noisy inside. The water wheel was turning outside with a loud growling sound while inside there was a lot of machinery in action, and, as the miller explained in a shout, the wheel was now connected to the system inside. Looking up, Talon saw long and wide leather belts moving over huge wooden wheels that in turn drove long wood shafts.

  Finally, the miller, who had regained some of his composure as he proudly showed off his technical knowledge, pointed out the great granite wheel itself seated in a wooden frame that enclosed it all around. Talon estimated the wheel to be at least four feet across. It rested upon another that did not move. There was an urchin, Talon assumed he was one of the miller’s children, also covered in flour dust, stooped over the slowly turning wheel, trickling grain into a small hole on its exterior. The miller then showed them where the powder came out in a grayish-white stream into a sack being held by another child standing below.

  The noise of the outside water wheel turning on its bearings, the slap and whirr of the wide leather straps and the creaking of the wooden wheels combined with the slow grinding sound made by the mill stone on its anvil made talking difficult.

  The miller, now well into his stride, took some of the powder and sifted it between his fingers. He showed them how soft it was and free of stones or husks. Talon took a pinch and agreed. He put a little on his tongue and was impressed at how fine the powder was. The miller grinned and pointed to the stone.

  “These stones are granite, m’lord. They come from Brittany and are the finest in the world. Even the English buy these. You will not break your teeth on this powder like some of the lesser stones.”

  Talon, who had only seen grain crushed in the crudest fashion up to now, was impressed.

  They were remounting when he asked about this mill and was surprised to hear that there was another, both situated along tributaries of the Tarn. That river, his father told him, gave him fishing and boating rights, although it had been some time since he had collected any real revenue, he said glumly.

  “I have been unable to enforce the law regarding my rights as yet because I don't have the manpower to do so.” He then cheered up. “But we're realizing some revenue from these two mills. The people from Albi even come here and the miller is supposed to take a coin for a bag and two-thirds of that coin is mine.”

  Talon thought about that. He agreed the mills were substantial and represented a considerable value. He wondered if his father appreciated that fact. “So, how much do we take in earnings from the mills, Father?” he asked as they trotted their horses by the building.

  “Why, I shall have to ask my huntsman, Domerc, that question, as he's the man who collects for me,” said Hughes vaguely.

  Talon looked at him. Did his father really not know the sum of the revenue that two mills could give him if carefully managed? His instinctive dislike of the dour huntsman made him skeptical that the man was as honest as his father thought. He knew that he was not a great calculator of figures, but at least he had had the basics of arithmetic taught to him in Isfahan and could recognize that there was some real potential in these mills. He decided to ask his mother about this.

  They rode along the banks of the river, enjoying the morning and the view. Here the land was spectacular. The river flowed past slowly as though content to be within its banks for the moment. Then the trees closed in again and they were forced away from the river into single file on a crude track that headed toward the hills.

  The relaxed mood of the riders changed when they came at last to the cottage of the man named Brunhild who had been murdered. It was more of a hut with low stone walls which supported a badly burned roof that had caved in as the fire consumed the thatch. This had no
t been a tiled roof. That was for wealthier men. The hut had been built against the bank on the rise of a low, wooded hill. The trees gave some shelter from the north, and the door opened toward the west.

  Hughes and Philip were enraged at the ravaged property.

  Philip said loudly, “It is easy to guess who did this foul deed, Hughes. We should ride over there and confront Guillabert in his nest and demand reparation. I am surprised he did not burn the mill while he was at it.”

  Hughes nodded. “I agree with you, but I don't think that a confrontation will work in our favor. I'll ride over there today and let him know that if I catch any man doing this again on my property he shall hang where he stands.” His face set in anger as he wheeled his horse and galloped hard along the track toward the east. His men followed him.

  They arrived at the stone fort of Sir Guillabert early that afternoon. It was substantially larger than Sir Hughes property, and the walls were of coarsely dressed stone. The gates were of heavy log, studded with iron nails and bands. To Talon’s eye it looked as though it might withstand a short siege. But his eyes were on the walls. They were only twenty feet high and looked badly maintained. There was a ramp held up at the gates by stout ropes that could be dropped across a moat only half-filled with stinking water and the rest offal.

  They were challenged as they rode up by men on the walkway above the gate.

  Sir Hughes bellowed his name and then they waited.

  Before too long a man came onto the walls and called down. “Sir Guillabert will see you, Sir Hughes.”

  “About time, too,” Sir Hughes grumped, who didn’t like to be kept waiting.

  They heard the winches inside being turned and the ramp was lowered slowly to land with a thump on their side, then the gates were opened inward equally slowly. They rode across the ramp with a clatter then on into the courtyard. Talon searched the untidy yard and the large keep situated almost in the center, which was actually a small cluster of crudely joined towers. This was a substantial keep. He wanted to know how many men were housed and turned to Gareth, standing at his side, and whispered to him to get his men to count everyone they saw. Max heard him and nodded his head.