Baron's Crusade

by Griff Hosker

  He pointed to a stall where a man was selling religious artefacts. “If she could have a piece of the true cross then she would be happy.”

  I shook my head, “The things he sells were made last night in some back street.” I pointed to a stall which sold brightly coloured, fine cloth which was superior to any to be found in England. They were used to make garments which were to be worn in a house as opposed to outside. “How about that, made into a dress?”

  “Lord, that is too fine for my sister!”

  I smiled, “That has decided me! She shall have it and I will have it made into a dress.” I went to the stallholder and negotiated for the material and for it to be made into a dress. “I will return tomorrow. It will be ready.”

  It was not a question and the man understood that. “Of course, my lord.”

  We had clothes to buy for Geoffrey. He needed a surcoat and we bought that material and, again, arranged for it to be made up. At the same time, I bought four more surcoats for the men who had chosen to follow me. We had coins enough and the promise of another manor back in England meant I would be rich!

  It was as we were walking back to the hospital that Mark said, “Lord, we are being followed.”

  I did not turn but said, “You are certain?” Part of me was annoyed that if he was right then I was becoming lax.

  “I think so, my lord, he is good but he is there.”

  “Then let us get back to the hospital. We should be safe there; although why I should be followed, I do not know. We are leaving!”

  “Lord, since John and Sam were attacked, we have been watching. The Baron de Montfort hates you and your father and his men watch us wherever we go although this one is not a Frank.”

  “And you are sure it was not a Frank you saw following?”

  He shook his head, “No, lord, it was a cloaked man, a Turk.”

  We headed back and went into the hospital. I told Padraig and the others that I had been followed. Three went to the roof to see what they could see while the rest scurried around the outside. They saw nothing.

  When they returned Padraig said, “We keep you here now, Sir William, where we can watch you closely.”

  Fate, however, sometimes intervenes and makes man’s plans disappear like morning fog. Henry Samuel returned, “Sir William, your father asks that you use the men to carry the Earl’s belongings to the castle.”

  Padraig shook his head, “Tell him we cannot for Sir William is in danger.”

  Sam looked terrified, “Danger!”

  I smiled, “Padraig exaggerates. I promise I will not leave this bench. Now go obey the Earl’s orders.”

  “Us too, lord?”

  “Yes Mark, you and Geoffrey too. I will sit here and you shall see me as you carry the chests and the like from the ships. I can see who slacks!”

  Padraig was still not convinced but he nodded, “Let us hurry. The sooner the Earl’s war gear is off the ship then the sooner we can be aboard.”

  Although it did not sit well with me, I rested on the bench. Our men were good workers and soon had disappeared like ants, burdened with boxes, chests and weapons. A beggar shuffled towards me and I took out a copper coin. It did not pay to ignore such requests for the alternative was thievery. Had my men been there then they would have scrutinised him far more closely than I did.

  “Alms, lord.”

  I flipped him a coin and he lifted his head so that I could see his face. It was Al-Shama and he spoke urgently, “Sir William, I do not have long for if I am seen then I am a dead man. There is a price upon your head. An-Nasir Dawud was angered when you humiliated his men, he has hired the assassin brotherhood. You must leave this land now for they always do that which they promise.”

  “How did you learn this?”

  Al-Shama shook his head, “Let us say that there is a Hashashin fortress not far from Damascus and the Emir is no fool. We are not troubled by the assassins and information came to us of the contract. There is an assassin and he will kill you.”

  “My ship leaves in two or three days.”

  He bowed and backed off, “Them Sir William, you are a dead man walking. I will pray for your soul.”

  And just as suddenly as he had arrived, he was gone. I had been told of the order of Assassins or the Hashashini as they were sometimes called. They had once infiltrated Saladin’s sleeping quarters and left a poisoned cake on his bedside table and a note was pinned to his bedding. If Al-Shama could get this close to me then the assassin could too. There was little point in telling my men. They were already suspicious of strangers and excessive scrutiny would not help. I would seek the advice of my father. From what I knew these were precise killers. Although poison was a weapon of choice, they would only poison their victim. They had a code which they abided by. They were also happy to die in the commission of their contract. However, as Saladin had discovered, they were more than capable of slipping into a room and using a knife. I had thought my war was over but I was wrong.

  I did not see my father again until the evening. He looked tired. He had spent the afternoon helping the King’s brother to acclimatise to the country and the politics of the Holy land. It was many months since his wound but he had yet to fully recover. He still had no touch in his hands and while his memory had returned, he found himself weary after long periods of talking. In a perfect world, we would have spoken with Conrad von Schweistein but that was out of the question. My men had not let me out of their sight for they were unsure if the follower was after me or my father. When my father arrived, I shooed them away.

  Although weary he knew there was something wrong. “What is amiss, William?”

  I told him all. He was remarkably calm about it but he knew the power of the order. He nodded, “The poison threat we can deal with. We will cook our own food and only our squires and pages will touch it. It is the knife in the night which I fear but I have an idea about that.” My father was calmness personified. It may have been that he had almost died and been brought back to life but since his wound, he was much calmer. His ideas were simple and I saw how they might work. When he had finished outlining them, he said, “You are right not to warn the others. Let them think that someone follows you. That will keep them alert without making them fear their own shadows. I will speak with Captain Jack. It may be that he can expedite our departure.”

  If our men wondered what had passed between us, they did not ask. They knew my father too well. He smiled as he addressed them, “We will be leaving as soon as Captain Jack can manage it. I will speak to him later. In the meantime, we stay close to the hospital and that way we can be ready to load the ships as soon as they are ready. It will be crowded on our ships but we have all seen much hardship on this crusade.”

  Sir Philip was suspicious, “Is there anything I ought to know, Sir William?”

  I shrugged, “I was followed this morning by an Arab. My men are wary in case…well just in case. Our pages have annoyed de Montfort’s men and both my father and I have enough enemies amongst the Muslims to begin a Holy War. It is just a precaution. We will stay in this hospital until our ships leave.”

  He looked relieved. “I confess that I am growing used to not having to wear mail. I fear these new knights will have to learn quickly for the heat in this land doubles the weight of the mail.”

  While my father went to speak with the captain, I walked around the hospital but this time I was looking for ways in which a killer could enter. The exits were not as important for the killer would only have my death on his mind. The hospital was full and although every room was occupied none was overcrowded. All of those within the walls were either English or French; there were no natives. An assassin would stand out if he was seen but, from what I had been told, they were capable of hiding in plain sight! I thought back to the quarry where we had managed that feat, an assassin would find it much easier. My room was next to my father’s. The two rooms on each side of us were occupied by our squires and pages. Opposite were the rooms of Padraig
and Richard Red Leg. I had all the protection I could wish. The rooms were more like cells. Each room which was on an exterior wall had an opening and a wooden shutter. The shutter could be barred from the inside. Even though it would make the room hotter I barred the shutter in my cell. While it was still daylight, I examined the room. The only way in was through the door and I could bar that. I began to breathe more easily. I could evade a killer by locking myself in my room.

  As I emerged from my room, I smiled for there were men watching me. They had taken the report of someone following me seriously. When my father returned, just before the evening meal was ready, he had good news. “The captain has informed me that we can leave in the hours of darkness, close to dawn tomorrow. He says that we can begin to load the ships at dusk and into the night when it is marginally cooler so we have but one night to endure here.”

  “How did you manage to persuade him?”

  “Gold can be very persuasive. However, when I was aboard a messenger came from the Earl of Cornwall. He wishes to speak to the two of us before we leave. He wants to see us now.” My father saw my look and nodded, “Inconvenient, I know. The streets are the last place we wish to be with a killer on the loose. We dress as though for war and wear our mail.” He waved over Padraig, “My son and I have to go to the castle. I want you, the new man, Alan, Rafe and Peter to escort us. Wear mail.”

  “A wise move, lord. I have begun to think that the man who followed Sir William was one of Baron de Montfort’s men. If we go to the castle, they may wish harm to you.”

  When we left, we had one man before us, one behind and one on each side. Alan Longsword was ahead of us and he barrelled his way through the crowds. When we reached the castle, we were taken through to the cool courtyard. Upon reaching it, I saw that Richard of Cornwall was there along with many of his barons but neither of the de Montforts were present.

  “Good of you to come, Sir Thomas. I know that you are keen to leave but it is vital that I speak with you first.”

  “Of course, Earl Richard.”

  “Firstly, I need to thank you for what you have done for England. Everyone, with the exception of Baron de Montfort, sings your praises, both of you. I have drafted a letter for my brother. He needs to know that which you have done in his name. There will be rewards for all concerned; that I swear. What I need is your assessment of the situation.”

  My father began and told him of the new Emir in Cairo and the threat he posed. He told of our friendship with the Emir of Damascus and the need to defend what we had. He spoke of the Mongol threat and how we could use that to our advantage. He concluded by saying, “If I were you, Your Royal Highness, I would confirm the truce with the Egyptians and see that Ascalon is rebuilt.”

  He looked disappointed, “There will be no war?”

  My father touched his head, “My wound should tell you how good these Turks are. Wars are best avoided here.”

  We spoke for a while longer and then left. Earl Richard promised that he would speak to us before we left but he did not mention either of the de Montforts. It was dark when we left and the streets were no less crowded. Our four protectors were even closer than they had been when they escorted us earlier and we reached the hospital safely. Sir Philip had arranged sentries. There were just two doors and he had two men on each door.

  The men had not begun eating and, as soon as we entered the refectory, our pages and squires began to serve the food. As much as I wanted to ask if any local had touched or tainted the food, I dared not for fear of making everyone anxious. I took comfort from the fact that there appeared to be a code for these killers. They took pride in just killing their victims! As we all used our own knives to cut the food then the blades could not be poisoned. We drank wine or beer and there was no way that any would have known which would be my preference. I did not enjoy the meal. I ate and I drank just enough to keep up appearances.

  My father, seated next to me, laughed as he quaffed half a goblet of wine. He put his head close to mine and said, “If I am not dead in a few moments then we can assume the wine is untainted. Then you can drink enough to make you sleep.”

  I was not certain if I wanted to sleep but I poured half a goblet and sipped it. Geoffrey frowned when he took away my platter for it was just half-eaten. “What is wrong, Sir William? I have tried to give you that which you enjoy and yet you have eaten little and drunk less. Shall I go and buy another jug of wine?”

  I shook my head, drained the goblet and poured more into it. “No, Geoffrey, but I rarely eat a great deal before a sea voyage.”

  The answer seemed to satisfy him. To take my mind off the killer who waited outside the hospital for me my father spoke of de Montfort. “He is a good soldier; others told me that, and I had no reason to doubt their word. He is supposed to be a good general but I do not like the man. He is too much of a plotter.”

  I laughed and drank half the goblet, “Then he is in the perfect place. I thought court was bad enough but this is like a nest of vipers. Here the Muslims are preferable to the Christians for you know they will try to kill you while the lords here will smile at you as they stab you in the back.”

  My father shook his head, “Let us change the subject; knives in the back is not the right topic for this night.”

  Instead, we spoke of home and what we would do when we reached home. We talked of Geoffrey and Alan Longsword and, inevitably, we spoke of the dead. I had just had three goblets of wine but I could already feel the effects. Some had retired to bed already and so I bade farewell to my father.

  Padraig was enjoying the ale for the alewife was English. He raised his beaker, “There, lord, we have kept you safe from de Montfort and tomorrow we head for the cleaner and clearer air of England!”

  That set off a heated debate between the French and the English about the merits of their respective countries. My father rose, “And I will retire too.” We stopped outside his cell, “I will pray tonight, my son, and I will keep one ear and eye half-open.”

  “Do not worry. I intend to bar my door! I will be safe!”

  Once in the room, I barred it before I did anything else. Then I undressed. I had already lit a good candle which would burn all night. I went to the shutter and checked it was still barred. My room might be hot but none could enter. Before I lay on the bed, I took the precautions my father and I had discussed. They felt foolish now but I did them anyway. I then prayed to God before lying on the cot. I did not think I would get to sleep; for one thing, I was hot and for another, I fretted that, despite all of the precautions, the assassin would get through. Amazingly I slept. It was a dream and nightmare filled sleep which would not refresh me but then I suddenly woke. It was the need to make water. I rose and went to the large pot which stood in the corner. It was not there. I know it had been there before I visited the castle. Had one of my men emptied it and failed to return it? Then I remembered Geoffrey had emptied it earlier in the morning and he had returned it. I went back to my bed. I would wait until morning. When the cock crowed then I would rise. Sleep would not come and worse, the need to empty my bladder grew until I was convinced that I would burst and wet myself. I shook myself and stood, “William, this is foolish! There are guards on the doors and you have taken preparations. Take a piss!”

  I stood and put my dagger in my belt. I slowly and silently slid back the bolt. I listened but could hear nothing from outside. I pulled the door open slowly. The sentries at the front door had shut it but I saw no one in that direction. This was a Hospitaller hospital and there was a garderobe at the end of the corridor. I just had to pass my father’s room, Mark and Geoffrey’s and I would be there. I saw the glow from the candle behind the closed door of the garderobe. I decided to risk it; where was the harm for the doors were guarded and the shutter secured? Twelve steps never seemed so far to me. I kept whipping around in case my killer was behind me. When I reached the garderobe I entered and bolted the door. It was stiff for few men bothered to bar it. It was a relief to empty my bladder
and with that relief came a sense of foolishness that I had been so worried. I pulled back the creaking bar and opened the door.

  The long needle-like dagger that came towards my throat was like a snapping snake. The half-naked assassin was small but he was quick. My right hand came up instinctively and managed to catch the edge. If this was a poisoned blade then I was dead for it scored a cut along the back of my hand. Even though I had deflected it he was strong and the end went into the links on my coif and hauberk. I had felt foolish when I had dressed for war but my father had been right. I punched as hard as I could with my right hand as he tried to pull back the blade for a second, more successful strike. I connected with his jaw but he was a tough man and he barely flinched. The coif and the hauberk’s links conspired to hold the blade and allowed me to drag my dagger from my belt. I drew it upwards and the razor-sharp edge tore through the assassin’s left arm. It did not slow him and he wrenched his hand free. I suddenly realised that I had been silent.

  “Help! Assassin!”

  For the first time, this cool killer began to panic. He lunged at my left eye with his dagger and I barely blocked it. The edge sliced across my cheek and blood began to flow. He pulled his hand back for a third strike and then Padraig’s sword appeared from the man’s right shoulder. Padraig had rammed it up under the ribs. Even though he should have been dead already he still tried to stab me. I sliced down with my dagger and hacked through his fingers. The dagger fell to the ground and he died.

  By now every door was open and the sentries at the door had entered. We all looked at the killer. The sentry from the door said, pleadingly, “He did not come from outside on our shift, lord! I swear.”

  My father took a couple of steps from his cell and looked first at the floor and then at the ceiling. He pointed upwards. “He has been here for hours. He hid up there in plain sight.”

  “Impossible!”