Valence half-drew his dagger. “Give me leave, lord, to slay these old goats,” he snarled. “Let us send their heads and hands back to Damascus as a token of our esteem.”
Edward raised a hand. “Peace, uncle. There will be no more bloodshed.”
He fixed his gaze on the trembling envoys. “You come to pay me worship but have no love for me. Begone. Tell your master he will be called to account, one day. If not by my hand, then the hand of another. He is feared by all and loved by none. Eventually, God himself will abandon the Father of Conquest.”
The old men salaamed again and bowed their way out. When they had gone, Edward was suddenly overcome with fatigue. Father Godfrey and other physicians had warned him not to do too much, and that it would take time for his strength to return.
Two more figures appeared in the arched doorway. Edward, who wanted to rest, decided he would see them another time. He opened his mouth to order them to go away.
The words died on his lips. One of the newcomers was Hugh Longsword, whom he had virtually given up for dead. The other was a slender, olive-skinned young woman dressed in loose grey silks. He could guess at her identity: Sybilla, the Armenian spy who had penetrated the Qussad. Edward envied King Hethum his servants.
He beckoned them closer. Hugh looked well enough, if a little thinner and older. The Holy Land had left its mark on all of them. The woman – Sybilla, now he recalled her name – was more striking than beautiful, with a form like deadly sin. Mindful of Eleanor’s jealousy, Edward was careful not to look at her too much.
Hugh knelt at his bedside. “Lord,” he said, bowing his head. “I heard of the attempt on your life. I could have stopped it. I failed. Maymun got the better of me.”
“Don’t blame yourself too much,” replied Edward. “He made fools of us all. You did good service, and I am glad to see you in one piece.”
He reached down to clasp Hugh’s hand, then released it. “You may go.”
The spy looked up in dismay. Edward’s voice was deliberately hard, dismissive. He knew Hugh was intelligent enough to realise the implication. There would be no consequences for his failure, but no reward either. Edward needed men about him he could trust. Men who were not so easily fooled.
It was harsh, but Edward would soon be king, and had to make harsh decisions. Someday Hugh would be given a chance to redeem himself. For now, he was no longer in favour.
“You may go,” Edward repeated when the other man failed to move. He was not in the habit of repeating his instructions.
Hugh slowly got up. His face, plain and forgettable as ever, was a carefully blank mask. The thoughts behind it, Edward knew, would be ugly.
“Lord.” Hugh bowed stiffly and walked away. Sybilla, with a far more nonchalant bow and a glance at Edward that made him shiver, strolled out after him.
The doors closed behind them. Edward put Hugh Longsword out of his mind and let sleep take him.
END
AUTHOR’S NOTE
The Ninth Crusade (sometimes grouped together with the Eighth Crusade) was the last major effort by the Christian kings of Europe to save the Holy Land. Most of them turned back at Sicily after the death of Louis IX, otherwise known as Saint Louis, at Tunis in North Africa. The only Western prince to carry on to Acre was Prince Edward, later Edward I of England, who was said to have proclaimed that he would fulfil his oath, even if he had no other companion save his groom, Fowin. Fowin’s opinion on the matter is not recorded.
Edward’s adventures on crusade, including the famous assassination attempt, provided fertile material for the latest tale of his spy, Hugh Longsword. The long journey of Edward’s envoys to the court of the il-khan, Aqaba, is based on fact, though I have meddled with a few of the details. Father Rossel, who meets a sticky end at the hands of John de Montfort in my story, in reality arrived at Aqaba’s court, safe and sound. Sharp-eyed readers will also notice that my description of Maragheh is suspiciously similar to Saturiq, Aqaba’s summer palace in north-western Iran, known these days as Takht-e Soleymān. This was purely down to personal preference: Aqaba is known to have sent his reply to Edward from Maragheh, but the details of the summer palace (the remains can still be seen today) were too exotic and interesting to ignore. Any other errors are entirely my own.
The third chapter of Hugh’s story ends with him out of favour with Edward, who has little use for servants who cannot guard his back. It remains to be seen how (or if) Hugh fights his way back into Edward’s good graces…
Holy Warrior Page 17