Order in Chaos

by Jack Whyte

  “Look you,” he said. “You will establish a new community here on Arran. It will have a new chapter, new appointments, and new rules befitting the new reality you face here. Believe me, there will be nothing sinful or slothful in what results from banning tonsures and forked beards as part of those new rules.” He bent farther forward. “It is your community that is important here, Sir William, your very survival that is at stake. Your community will not fall about your ears because its members grow hair on the crowns of their heads. Discuss it with your chapter if you like, but if you explain the situation as it stands, and then propose your solution and its goals, I am certain that few complaints will be uttered. And if any are, I am equally sure you will rise to the task of meeting them. Prior to that time, though, King Robert and I will be long gone from here, and we’ll require an answer ere we go. What say you?”

  Will looked from Moray to the King and shook his head, still unsteady from the shock of what the Bishop had proposed. King Robert spoke.

  “There is pasture aplenty on the high moor, inland, the one called Machrie. Your horses would thrive there, I think, and there is ample space to separate them and stable them apart, in glens and woods. And to the north of that, the forest stands. It is no Ettrick Forest, but it will furnish logs enow to help you with your building. The moor is bottomless peat, rich fuel.”

  Will barely heard him, though he recognized the kindness in the voice. “But our weapons,” he began. “We will need—”

  The Bishop cut him off again, his voice dry and matter-of-fact. “What about them? I said nothing about weapons. You’ll need those. I said that you should conceal the visible signs of who you are—the white mantles and the sergeants’ surcoats and all your visible badges and emblems of Temple rank. Conceal them, Sir William. Paint over the crosses on your shields and on your helms, but there is no need to destroy any of them. Store them away until you have a need for them again, on your return to France. Then your men may shave their heads and even fork their beards again before riding home with fresh new crosses painted on their gear.”

  Will thought more about it, seeing the possibilities, the shape of it at last. A vision of the fleet grew in his mind, de Berenger’s mighty galley at its front, and then he nodded, all at once convinced. “Aye, I can see that. Hide ourselves in plain view. And the same must go for our sails.”

  Bruce spoke up again, smiling now. “Angus Og will help you there. He’ll have no emblem but his own on any sail that goes with him. He will provide you with new sails, never fear. And at no cost.”

  Will felt as though a great weight had been lifted from him. “So be it, Robert, King of Scots. I will make it so.” He turned to Moray. “My lord Bishop, I can scarce find words to thank you. I believe your solution may be perfect to all our needs and I am deeply, personally in your debt.”

  “Then here’s my royal hand on it, if we’re agreed,” Bruce said, standing up and stretching out his hand. The others laid their own upon his and they shook once, twice, and thrice. “Done!” said the King.

  “Aye, but there’s still a lot to do.” Moray was already turning towards the door. “We have to arrange to ship your first contingent of men to join King Robert when he needs them—the where of it, if not the when—and we have yet to broach the matter of your galleys and your presence to MacDonald. We’d better see to that now. Come with us, Sir William, and we’ll row you out to meet Angus Og. He’ll send you back in a boat.”

  “I’ll enjoy meeting him. But I must ask, where is Sir James today? He was gone long before I awoke this morning.”

  “He’s hunting,” the Bruce answered, clasping a hand over Will’s shoulder. “Hunting for information, it seems, somewhere at the north end of the island. He left word with de Hay before he went, sometime in the dead of night. Something about a French-speaking spy, he said. Not one of your men, though. This one, whoever he is, was among our own. Anyway, Jamie will tell us all when he returns. Now, let’s see what Angus Og has brought for us.”

  He made to leave, then hesitated. “Wait, though. One more thing has just occurred to me. I will not have the opportunity to thank my lady Randolph, the Baroness St. Valéry. By the time she arrives tomorrow morning, I will be long at sea, and mayhap even ashore again. Will you, therefore, thank her sincerely on my behalf? You need ha’e no fear of being too effusive. My gratitude in this matter would be impossible to overstate. Assure the lady of my personal gratitude and tell her I will look forward to thanking her in person and at great length in days to come.” He paused, thinking deeply. “And ask her, if you would, to consider returning to her home in Moray. I will have Jamie prepare a strong escort for her, and they can drop off her treasure for me at St. Andrews as they pass by. Now, Davie, let’s away.”

  A GATHERING ON ARRAN

  ONE

  Will Sinclair was sitting on the edge of his cot, rubbing his eyes, when Tam came to rouse him the next morning. Tam carried a lit candle in a sconce in one hand and a ewer of warm water in the other, a towel folded over the arm holding the candle. He grunted a greeting, used the candle to light another on the room’s single table, and set the ewer inside the earthen bowl on the tabletop before arranging the candles one on either side of the bowl and dropping the towel beside one of them. Then, his duty done, he turned and left the room again, well aware of the folly of attempting to talk about anything with Will before his friend had had time to collect himself and wash the sleep from his eyes.

  On this particular morning, however, Will was wide awake and preparing to meet a very busy day. He had met the MacDonald leader, Angus Og, aboard his galley the previous afternoon and had made the necessary arrangements to secure permission for his vessels to sail unchallenged in these waters, in return for the loan, ostensibly through the medium of King Robert, of five of his galleys. He had then borrowed writing materials from Bishop de Moray before making his farewells to the King of Scots and returning ashore. There he had met with the dour Lowlander who was Douglas’s quartermaster and made arrangements with him for a group of cooks to travel to Lamlash the following morning, to cook a simple hot meal for the incoming Temple fleet. After that, he had returned to the upper room assigned to him and worked alone late into the night, acting as his own scribe and making list after list of things that needed to be done this day. When he was satisfied that he had forgotten nothing, he had rolled into bed and slept soundly and peacefully, recouping all the losses of the night before.

  Downstairs now in the anteroom of the main hall, surrounded by sleepy men who paid no attention at all to his knight’s mantle or the heavy silver chain he wore beneath it, he poured goat’s milk over a bowl of the daily porridge made by the garrison’s cooks and ate it in silence at a table shared by a group of Highlanders as quiet as himself. When he was done, he crossed to the serving table again, where he cut a slice from a cold joint of meat, sprinkled it with salt from a jar, and wrapped it in a slab of bread that was still warm from the ovens.

  “That looks good,” Tam said from behind him. “I’ll have some o’ that, too. Here, I’ve brought your things.”

  Will nodded his thanks and bit off a mouthful of the bread and meat before setting it down and taking the sword and shield Tam was holding. He shrugged out of his mantle and settled the sword belt across his shoulders, adjusting the hang of the long, sheathed weapon, then replacing the mantle over it while Tam looked to his own feeding.

  “Did you sleep well?” he asked as they headed for the main doors.

  “Aye, well enough. I’m still enjoying having a bed that doesna move under me. We’ll ha’e much to do this day, I’m thinking?”

  “More than enough. Sir Edward should be here waiting for us by the time we reach the water. He was to come in last night, under cover of the dark.”

  It was still dark when they reached the beach, but the admiral’s longboat was waiting for them, its prow drawn up on the pebbles, and the two men barely had time to seat themselves before four of the rowers jumped into the waves a
nd hauled the boat out into deeper water again. Ten minutes later, Sir Edward de Berenger himself welcomed them as they climbed aboard his galley, then issued orders to get under way as soon as the longboat had been hauled aboard. Once the rhythmic sweep of the oars had settled into a steady beat, Will finally saw the admiral relax.

  “Well, Commander,” de Berenger said eventually. “How was your visit with the King of Scots?”

  “Good enough. We have permission to stay here, with certain provisos. What about you? Any difficulties, going or coming?”

  The light was strengthening now, and De Berenger was clearly visible as he turned to face Will, twisting his mouth into an expression that brought a swift frown to Will’s face. “No difficulties going either way,” the admiral said. “But there were difficulties nonetheless. They were brought to my attention, and I was very glad that I could leave them for yours.”

  “What happened?”

  “Some of your garrison knights decided that they wished to go ashore, on the peninsula behind the island. They overrode the opposition of the ship’s captain, a good man but a mere sergeant, awed by four bullying knights. Fortunately he had the sense to send word by boat to de Narremat, who sent de l’Armentière after them at once. He caught them in the channel between Sanda and the peninsula and threatened to run them down if they did not turn back upon his order. When they defied him, he sank their boat with that wicked ram of his. None of them were lost, for they were in the shallows at the time and de l’Armentière was very skillful, but they were four very wet and angry ranting knights when they were hauled aboard and taken straight to de Narremat’s galley. He confined them belowdecks, in chains, and they are still there, rusting in their hauberks.”

  “Damnation. Who are they, do you know?”

  “No, I did not think to ask their names. But they are Temple knights, cooped up too long at sea and little liking having no voice in their own affairs. It is fortunate, perhaps, that there were only the four of them aboard that ship. There were no other incidents among the knights aboard the remaining vessels.”

  “Nor will there be from this time on, for I intend to bring all of them to heel again and remind them of who they are and the vows they took.” Will reached into his scrip and pulled out the folded sheet of vellum that he had written his lists on the night before, and held it up for de Berenger to see. “This arrogant nonsense of your four knights was foreseen yesterday, or some version of it was, by Bishop Moray, and I set myself to thinking how to deal with it before anything serious can develop. How long to reach the others from here?”

  De Berenger looked forward, to where the Temple fleet could already be seen crowding the waters of the bay of Lamlash, which were motionless as a sheet of glass in the still morning light. “We are almost there now … a quarter of an hour.”

  “And you bade them wait for our arrival before starting to disembark?”

  “I did. Look! What’s that over there on the island? There are people there. Who in blazes are they?”

  Will picked out the small procession wending its way across the hills towards Lamlash Bay, perhaps forty men in all, pulling an assortment of lurching, high-wheeled handcarts loaded with cargo.

  “Cooks and workmen,” he said. “Douglas’s men, courtesy of his quartermaster. They’ll set up fires and prepare food for us to eat later, after the ceremonies.” De Berenger raised an eyebrow at Will’s mention of ceremonies, but said nothing. “Before we do anything else, we need to find the ship my brother is on and summon him to join me here. I’m going to need his hundred men ashore before anyone else moves towards land. Can you take us within hailing distance?”

  The admiral smiled. “I can do better than that. With the water as still as it is, I can lay us alongside and he can jump down to us. I know his ship. In fact, I can see it from here.” He turned to the shipmaster behind him and issued quiet instructions, pointing out the vessel that held Kenneth Sinclair, and the man moved quickly away and began issuing orders.

  “My thanks, Edward,” Will said. “Now, look at this.” He bowed his head to the parchment and began to run a finger down his long list of things to do, directing de Berenger’s attention to the items that concerned him and explaining what he needed to have done and in what order, and as they drew steadily closer to the waiting fleet, Sir Edward, too, became absorbed in the importance of the day that stretched ahead. Before he did anything else, however, de Berenger had one question to ask, and it was one Will had been anticipating with some discomfort.

  “What will you do with the Baroness while all this is going on?”

  “Do with her? I shall do nothing with her, or to her. She will remain aboard her ship with her women until our business ashore is complete. After that, I care not what she may do … she may disembark, if she so wishes.”

  “You would deny her the privilege of attending Mass?”

  “Aye, I would, in this instance. The lady lives surrounded by priests and may have any one of them celebrate Mass for her at any time, in her own quarters, if she wishes. But today’s Mass on the island will be a chapter Mass, the first such event celebrated by the brethren since we left La Rochelle. It will be a solemn ritual, its content dictated by the Rule of the Order, and you and I both know there is no place for women in any element of the Rule’s applications. Her ladyship may be displeased, but there is no alternative open to any of us. She remains on board ship until we are done, and there’s an end to it. Now, let’s go and find my brother.”

  TWO

  Sir Kenneth Sinclair clung grimly to a rope on the bulging side of the ship that lay alongside the galley, face taut as he gauged the timing of his leap, and then he launched himself outwards, between the vertical sweeps of the galley’s port-side oarsmen, the fingers of both hands spread wide in the hope of catching something—anything—to break his fall. There were willing hands aplenty to catch him, and he landed gently, his knees bent and his shoulders sagging with relief. He let out his breath with a great whoosh and stood upright, bracing himself for a moment before stepping forward to embrace his brother and pay his respects to Admiral de Berenger. As soon as the greetings were over, he swung back to Will.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing is wrong. Why would you think otherwise?”

  Kenneth’s eyebrows rose up in mock delight. “You mean you came all this way just to wish me well, and tied your ship to ours with grappling hooks only to make me risk my life leaping down here for an embrace?” He sobered and his voice dropped to a lower register. “There’s something happening—something in the wind, Brother—and I suspect that I’m a part of it.”

  Will nodded. “Right. You are. But nothing is wrong. I merely need you to do some things for me. Important things.”

  “I’m your man, then. What d’you need?”

  Will glanced at de Berenger, then looked around to see if anyone else was listening. No one was close enough to hear, and he took his brother by the elbow and turned him to face the land above Lamlash Bay. “I want your men ashore within the hour, Kenneth, every one of them, in full mail and surcoats. Sir Edward will see that you have everything you need in order to do that. You see that shelf of land there, just above the bay? It stretches back for almost half a mile and most of it is level, and there’s a knoll in the middle of it, a round-topped outcrop of rock, not high, but high enough to serve our purposes. Can you see it?”

  Kenneth nodded.

  “Good. That knoll will hold our altar. By the time you arrive on the beach, there will be a work party there from Brodick—that’s where I have been staying, in the next bay to the north. The head man’s name is Harkin and he is expecting you. He has an extra table for you, with trestles, for an altar. Set it up on the knoll there. All the altar cloths and vessels are aboard one of the other ships, and Bishop Formadieu will see to their disposal. But you’ll need to find a site close behind the altar to hold the tocsin—” He turned to de Berenger. “Admiral, can you supply a party of ships’ carpenters with rope
and spars to erect a tripod for the tocsin? It might tax their skills, but we’ll need the bell in place before noon.”

  De Berenger nodded, and Will continued his instructions to Kenneth. “I’ll want your men in a perimeter around a space that’s large enough to hold all our people in an orderly assembly, with room enough to stand comfortably but not to encourage movement or commingling. Define the area yourself, then mark it, sides and rear. Leave the beach end open. Post twenty of your four score sergeants on each of three sides—rear, right, and left. The score remaining, plus your score of knights, will serve as ushers. I will permit no one else to go ashore until you have marked the bounds and posted your men, but waste no time. Mass will begin as close to noon as may be. Have your people marshal the others as they come ashore.” He told his brother how he wanted the men arranged in front of the altar.

  “What then?”

  “Then we will celebrate our first Mass as an assembled community in weeks, and I will address the brethren.”

  Kenneth was looking down at the massive medallion on his brother’s chest, smiling again. “I’ve never seen one of those before, though I know what it is. But aren’t you supposed to wear it over your mantle?”

  “I am, and I will, and after today you may never see it again. Now, away with you and do what I’ve told you. Some of the admiral’s lads will hoist you back up to your ship, and as soon as you get there your every minute will be precious.”

  Ropes and grappling hooks were being cast loose even before Kenneth was hauled back aboard his ship, and the forward oarsmen of the right banks were straining to push the galley’s bow around and away from the other vessel, a widening gap spreading between the two craft. Normally, Will would have been watching the operations avidly, for he was endlessly fascinated by the skills of the Temple’s seamen, but on this occasion he had neither time nor interest and was already scanning his lists again, allocating a degree of importance to each item and deciding upon how to proceed.