Crusade (78 page)

The man gave a cry. Garin wrenched the blade out, spun him around and sliced the dagger across his throat, severing the artery. The man slumped to the floor amidst the debris. Garin, panting and soaked in greasy sweat, looked down at him. Piero, he guessed, wiping the blade on his cloak and sheathing it with a forceful stab. He went to head out, but paused as something caught his eye. On a shelf was a row of jugs above pots of herbs and oil. Stepping over Piero, Garin went to them. He felt relief go through him as he saw that they were filled with wine. Taking two, he went out into the passage and bundled the sack with the blankets under one arm. Grabbing the lantern off its hook, he climbed the stairs.

Elwen stared at him in shock as he entered. She was where he had left her, standing by the window, holding Rose to her. “What was happening? What was that noise?”

“Piero came home,” muttered Garin, kicking the door closed. Putting the lantern and jugs on the table, he locked the door and stowed the key in the pouch at his belt.

“My God,” whispered Elwen, staring at a smear of blood that glistened darkly on his cloak. “What did you do?” Her voice was numb, but her eyes were filling up with real fear now as she realized what he was capable of.

“Here,” said Garin gruffly, looking away from her appalled stare. He threw her the sack. He pointed to Rose when Elwen didn’t move. “She’s cold, Elwen.”

Moving slowly, her fingers rigid, clumsy, Elwen pulled two blankets from the sack as Garin perched on the edge of the table and drank greedily from the jug. Elwen, wrapping the blanket around Rose’s shoulders, watched him. Through the fog of terror, she saw a chance, a small window of hope. If he continued to drink like this, he would become slower, weaker. She might be able to fight him, get past him. Holding onto that thought, feeling some of her strength come back to her, she pulled a blanket around her own shoulders.

Garin finished drinking, belched and put the empty jug on the table. He half-closed his eyes at the feeling of the alcohol coursing through him, soaking into every part of him, making his limbs heavy and solid. The fog in his brain cleared. “I’m sorry about Piero,” he told Elwen, opening his eyes. “I wouldn’t have killed him if he’d given me the choice.”

“Why did you come here?” she asked him, her voice quiet. “The city is about to fall. You are putting all our lives at risk by keeping us here.” She paused. “If you care so much about Rose, you wouldn’t do this.”

Garin sat forward, his eyes growing sharper. “It’s because I care about her that I’m doing this. It isn’t fair on her, not knowing who her real father is.”

Rose stared at him belligerently from under the folds of the blanket. “I know who my father is,” she said in a hard voice.

Garin shook his head. “No, sweetheart, I don’t think you do.”

Elwen closed her eyes. “Please, Garin. Don’t do this. I’ll give you whatever you want. Just don’t do this to us.” She took a step toward him. “We have money downstairs in one of the bags. Take it. We don’t need it, we have a ship secured. If you go now you’ll be able to buy yourself passage.”

“You’re trying to bribe me?” he demanded.

“No, I ...”

Garin pushed himself off the table and went toward her and Rose. Halting halfway as they cowered back against the wall, he thrust a finger at Elwen. “Who’s going to take care of her, of you, when this is over?” The drink was in him now, building its fire. He was alive with emotion, blazing with it. “Will isn’t going with you, is he? He’d rather stay here and play the hero than make sure his own wife and daughter are safe. He doesn’t deserve you, Elwen, either of you. He never has.”

“Will stays because he has a duty to do so.”

“To the Temple?” demanded Garin, incredulously. “He doesn’t even believe in the pissing Temple!”

“If he deserts the order, he deserts the Brethren, you know that. The Anima Templi cannot exist without the resources the Temple provides. If he leaves, he loses all chance for peace. I understand that. I
admire
him for that.” Elwen’s voice was hardening. “That is the difference between him and you, Garin. Will does what is best for everyone around him. You only do what’s best for you, and damn the consequences!”

“So he’s better than me, is he?”

“More than you’ll ever know,” she replied with a defiant laugh.

Garin shook his head. “If that is so, Elwen, why did you come to me that day? Answer me!” he shouted, as she turned away. “If Will is so damn good, why the hell did you spread your legs for me?”

“Shut up!”
she screamed, whirling on him.
“Just shut up!”

Rose had clapped her hands over her ears and was sliding down the wall. She squeezed her eyes shut. Neither Elwen nor Garin were looking at her; all their attention was focused on each other.

“That’s why you’re still here, isn’t it? Why you haven’t left yet? I’ll bet Will secured you a ship weeks ago when the siege first started. You could have gone, but you stayed. You stayed because of guilt, because you couldn’t bear to leave him here alone, knowing that you left him once, left him so utterly when you lay with me.”

“No,” Elwen said, shaking her head wildly. “No.”

“Believe me, I know about guilt. I can recognize it when I see it.” Garin went back to the table and lifted the other jug. He drank, only taking a few sips this time. He laughed. “We’re all so guilty. You, me. Will. So damned and so guilty.”

“We’re nothing like you, Garin. You’re weak and you’re cruel, and you’re nothing.”

“Will killed his own sister.”

“That was an accident.”

“You slept with me.”

“That was a mistake.”

“And what about me?”
yelled Garin, flinging the jug against the door. Rose screamed and Elwen flinched as it smashed, wine splashing across the boards and up the walls. “Aren’t I entitled to make mistakes? Can’t I be forgiven for the things that I have done?”

“You did them out of selfishness.”

“You have no idea what I’ve been through.” Garin jabbed a finger at his chest. “How I’ve suffered. I was thirteen when Edward found me and lured me into his service with promises to help my family. Do you know the things my uncle Jacques used to do to me? I used to bite my fingernails.” He looked down at his dirty, ragged nails and snorted. “I still do. Jacques hated it. He saw it as a weakness. One day I forgot and did it in front of him. He shut my finger in the door of his solar, took the nail right off. But I still loved him, even after the beatings. All I wanted was to make him and my mother happy. Edward, I thought, could give me that, and so I agreed when he asked me to help take back the crown jewels.”

Elwen had gone still. “What?”

Garin nodded at her expression. “It was me, Elwen, I betrayed the knights. I gave Edward’s men the information they needed to mount the attack at Honfleur. I killed my uncle.” He looked into her eyes. “I killed yours. Jacques and Owein died because of me.”

Elwen had gone white.

Garin let out a shuddering breath. “I’ve never told anyone that before,” he said a little wonderingly. “After it happened, I hated myself, hated what I had made possible. I would have gone back to London, grieved alone, only Rook, Edward’s man, found me and told me that if I didn’t keep working for them, didn’t prove myself useful, he would rape and kill my mother. That much was true. And so I worked for Edward for years, using my position in the Temple to get him what he wanted.”

“The Book of the Grail,” breathed Elwen.

“Edward wanted to use it against the Temple, as evidence of heresy. He thought he could bribe the Anima Templi into giving him the money and resources he wanted when he became king. He was planning to expand his empire even when he was still a prince. He’s always known what he wanted.” Garin lifted his head, hearing the distant sound of drums and horns for the first time. He looked back at her. “Then I came here, to Outremer. I proved myself in battle, saved lives, knew what it was to be a knight, knew what it was to feel proud and good. I forgot Edward. I helped Will track down the Book of the Grail, and when Rook tried to stop us I killed him. But then I was imprisoned.” He spoke bitterly. “I had tried so hard to make amends and still I was punished. It was Edward who got me out.”

“You’ve been working for him ever since?”

Garin pressed his lips together. “For years. Killing and spying, all in his name.” His brow creased as she turned away in shock and disgust. “But all that changed when I saw Rose.” He crossed the room to her. “I swear it, Elwen. Something changed in me. When I saw it was possible for me to create life as well as destroy it.” He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “She’s mine, isn’t she? Just tell me that.”

Elwen stared at the floor. “I don’t know,” she whispered.

“But there’s a chance?” said Garin quickly. The tears that welled up and slipped from Elwen’s eyes as she looked up at him were all the answer he needed. He smiled and exhaled deeply. “Let me come with you, Elwen, on board the ship.” His hands, gripping her, were quivering with emotion. “Let me be a father, a husband even. Let me prove that I can be a better man, that I can make amends. Let Will look after the world and I swear I will look after you, both of you. I can do this. I can make you love me.”

Elwen stared up at him. “You’re a liar,” she said in a voice as cold as the dawn. “A liar and a murderer. I could never love you.”

Garin let out a breath, her words like a slap. Anger rushed into his face, coloring his cheeks. “Well, you loved me once,” he snarled at her. “I was good enough for you then.” Seizing her, he propelled her to the table. “I’m good enough for you now.” He threw her down on the wood. Ignoring her terrified screams, he caught her hands, which clawed and scratched at his face, and forced them above her head, pinning them. “I’ll
make
you love me again!” he gasped, grabbing hold of her gown and ripping it down, baring her breasts.

Suddenly, he felt fists pummelling at his back and legs. It didn’t exactly hurt, but it was distracting. Turning with a snarl, he lashed out, blind with drink and fury. He caught Rose on the side of the face, sending her spinning. She fell to the floor and stayed there. Garin’s vision slammed into focus as he saw her crumpled form. Letting go of Elwen, he dropped down beside her. “Rosie,” he cried hoarsely. “Rosie! I’m sorry.”

Elwen pushed herself off the table and launched herself at him, grabbing the empty jug. She slammed it down on his head and it shattered. Garin lurched forward on his hands next to Rose, who jolted awake. But even as Elwen, sobbing, her hands shaking madly, tugged at the pouch on his belt with the door key in it, Garin recovered and pushed himself to his feet. Forcing her off him, he shoved her away. She fell hard against the table, hitting her forehead on the corner of it as she went down. She slumped to the floor beside Rose, who cried out.

“Mama!”

“You think you’re leaving?” roared Garin, his shame gone as suddenly as it had come. “Think you’re leaving me? You’re not going anywhere!” Seizing the lantern, he threw it against the door, where the wine had pooled. The glass smashed and oil spattered out. The flame fluttered, almost disappeared, then flared in the oil and wine.

Garin staggered back as Rose bent over Elwen. “Mama, wake up!”

The fire spread quickly, leaping into life across the boards, alive and hungry. Garin watched it, mesmerized.

Elwen stirred and woke, looking dazedly up at her daughter. Her cap had come off and her hair hung around her shoulders. A bruise was swelling on her forehead. “What ... ?” she murmured, raising her hand to it. Suddenly, she sat up and looked aghast at the fire that was now burning merrily up the door, crackling and spitting into life with every patch of oil and wine it found. Garin stood there dazedly, a trickle of blood oozing from the back of his head where the bottle had cut him. “My God!” she shouted. “What have you done?”

He turned to look at her, his face slack and gray. “We’re staying here now.”

ST. ANTHONY’S GATE, ACRE, 18 MAY A.D. 1291

It was a scene from hell. Smoke billowed in black choking clouds as clay pots of Greek fire exploded across the street. Horses screamed and reared as their flesh burned, tossing riders into the boiling mass of men. One man, an English knight whose mount had been slain beneath him, burst into flames as one of the pots smashed against him, the fire setting his cloak alight. He thrashed blindly as the flames roared up around him and his face began to burn, his skin melting and running like tallow. The Mamluk lines were a seething wall of men and spears and shields, those in front forced forward, pushed by those behind. The first soldiers held tall shields, from behind which archers launched volleys of arrows into the Christians. Others threw javelins, and still the pots of Greek fire kept coming, until it seemed the whole world was burning.

Will was on his horse, alongside Guillaume de Beaujeu. His arms were throbbing and his mantle was torn and blackened, soaked in blood, his and others’. As another javelin was hurled at him, he lifted his shield to deflect it and crashed against the high back of his saddle with the impact. Robert and Zaccaria had been close by, but he could no longer see them through the smoke and bedlam all around him. He didn’t know if they were alive. The sound of three hundred kettledrums rang insanely inside his helmet, along with the screams of the dying scattered all around him. The white cloaks of the Templars were joined by the black of the Hospitallers. Jean de Villiers was fighting valiantly beside Guillaume as if the two grand masters had been comrades in arms all their lives and there had never been an ounce of rivalry between them or their orders. The soldiers of Cyprus, under King Henry II, were there, surcoats flashing red and gold in the sunlight that appeared through breaks in the smoke as dawn broke.

Following the beating of the thunderous drum that had continued to reverberate as the Templars gathered outside the church, the Mamluks had launched their assault. They had come as a single, solid mass. Many had fallen, crushed beneath the stones slung from the city walls or burned alive in the boiling oil that was poured onto their ranks. But many more kept coming, striding over the dead. The clouds of arrows flying up at Acre’s troops were simply too thick for the Christians to stand against, and within a short time, the Mamluks had taken the Accursed Tower. They poured in through the breach, pushing back the troops that tried to halt them, and entered the outer enceinte between the double walls. Some broke left and charged along the channel toward the Pisans’ camp, where the siege engines of the Italians were doing terrible damage to the rest of the army outside the walls. Another company, made up of several thousand, surged right through the outer enceinte to St. Anthony’s Gate. But the warning had gone up and the Templars and the Knights of St. John were there to meet them.