The Master of Muscigny (The First Admiral Series Book 5) (21 page)

The Templar Camp, North of Muscigny

Amalric of Lusignan slid wearily from the saddle of the horse he had requisitioned from one of the villages that lay between Muscigny and the sea. It had been easy enough for him to acquire the animals for himself and his Templar companion. The seal of the Constable of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, combined with the sharp edge of a sword, made refusing Amalric of Lusignan a very dangerous occupation. Having fled Jerusalem through the Catacombs; Amalric, his servant, and his Templar companion had boarded a boat and sailed, landing at a fishing village to the north of Muscigny the following morning. Having had no sleep for a full day, Amalric had wanted to stay at the village and rest. However, his Templar companion had urged that they push onwards to find safety in the camp of Arnold of Torroja.

And, despite his weariness, Amalric had agreed, riding almost twenty-five kilometres until they met one of Arnold’s forward picket patrols. With an escort of four mounted Sergeants-at-Arms, the two men had sped across the countryside to be safely delivered into the presence of Arnold of Torroja.

Arnold of Torroja was eating his meagre luncheon as Amalric and the Templar were ushered into his presence. Seated on the folding leather chair at the small campaign table, Arnold picked at some bread, apple, and cheese from a wooden platter. Not known for his large and wasteful appetites, Arnold was a fastidious eater of simple tastes. And it was just as Arnold was dabbing the corners of his mouth with a pristine white napkin that Amalric and his companion appeared amidst the chaos and confusion of the camp. Arnold rose to meet his new guests.

“Greetings, My Lord Constable.” Arnold of Torroja smiled insincerely at the newly arrived Amalric as he rose from the small table.

Immediately, Arnold’s servants removed the table and chairs from their master’s presence, allowing him to move freely around his open-air dining area. With the hustle and bustle of the Templar camp around them, Amalric and the Templar bowed to the Grand Commander. In the distance, horses neighed, donkeys brayed, and men shouted orders amidst the heat, flies, and stench of an army on the march.

“Greetings to you, Grand Commander,” Amalric responded with equal insincerity.

“Brother Jean.” Arnold nodded his recognition to Amalric’s companion who bowed politely in response. “We did not expect you until we met at Muscigny?”

“Things have not worked out quite as we expected, Grand Commander,” Templar Jean said calmly.

“How so?” Arnold smiled weakly as he carefully folded the pristine napkin and handed it carelessly to one of his servants.

“We have been betrayed, Grand Commander,” Amalric exclaimed angrily, “the Outlanders at Muscigny betrayed us to the leper. We were barely able to escape with our lives…”

“So, you fled Jerusalem, My Lord Amalric?” Arnold asked speculatively. “How many men did you bring with you?”

“I regret to say that we had no opportunity to reach our men in the hills of Jerusalem,” Templar Jean answered.

“Hmm, most unfortunate.”

“However, I did manage to convince the leper that your main force was coming by sea. He was preparing to march to the coast when we left.”

“Ah, so not a total loss then? Baldwin marches to the coast with his whole army?”

“No, Grand Commander, I was to lead ten thousand men from the Jerusalem Garrison to hold you at Muscigny whilst the King marched to the sea.”

“He marches to the coast with twenty thousand men? And, pray tell, what happens to the ten thousand men who were to march to Muscigny?”

“I suppose the King would appoint someone else to...”

“Suppose!” Arnold exploded with rage. “You suppose, My Lord Constable! You think Baldwin is as stupid and as incompetent as you are!?”

“Grand Commander!”

“You have failed to bring part of the Army of Jerusalem to strengthen our ranks as you promised, and, you have gifted the leper whatever forces you have mustered around Jerusalem. Instead of facing Baldwin with close to forty thousand men, we now face his with half the numbers we planned!”

“Grand Commander, we were betrayed!”

“I don’t care!” Arnold hissed, and nodded to Templar Jean. “You failed!”

In one smooth movement, Templar Jean drew the dagger from his belt and approached Amalric from behind. Reaching round Amalric’s throat with his left forearm, Templar Jean dragged Amalric backwards whilst jamming the dagger blade between the Constables ribs. With a look of stunned surprise and brief agony, Amalric tried to pull the Templar’s forearm from his neck, weakly, before his legs gave way and he slumped down to his knees.

“We do not tolerate failure, Constable,” Arnold hissed viciously as blood spurted from Amalric’s mouth, and he fell forward onto his face in the dust.

“The man who would be King?” Templar Jean smiled as he wiped the dagger blade on his sleeve.

“God does not reward failure with Kingly Crowns,” Arnold said calmly as he stepped over the fallen body of Amalric of Lusignan.

“Do we now retreat back to Acre, Grand Commander?”

“No, this setback just inconveniences us very slightly.”

“How so, Grand Commander?”

“We still have time to take Jerusalem, we can hold the city whilst we wait for reinforcements from Giles of Tripoli and the Acre garrison. Then, we crush the leper against the walls of his own city,”

“But we have no figurehead to install as King?”

“Oh, but we do,” Arnold smiled putting his arm around Templar Jean’s shoulder. “We have you, Brother Jean of Valois. I’m sure your, albeit distant, cousin, the King of France would support your candidacy.”

“But, Grand Commander...”

“You will be released from your oath to the Order, obviously,” Arnold continued as he led the stunned knight away from Amalric’s corpse, “and, you can continue the close cooperation I am sure we can achieve between the Order and the most holy Kingdom of Jerusalem.”

“Grand Commander this is...”

“This is no time for questions, Brother Jean. You must prepare yourself with prayer and contemplation. I will send you my personal Confessor to prepare you. Now go and eat, my priest will find you.”

“Thank you, Grand Commander,” Jean stammered, and set off in search of the communal mess tent.

When Brother Jean of Valois had gone, Arnold bunched fist and drove it into his own gauntleted hand. The fool Amalric had handed Baldwin nearly twenty-five thousand extra men to add to the twenty-thousand of the Army of Jerusalem. But, perhaps, Amalric was right, and Baldwin would still believe that the ships sailing down the coast were the main strength of his expedition.

The only hope now was to get into Jerusalem and lock the gates against Baldwin.

The five thousand men of the garrison would add to his forces whilst Giles of Tripoli’s seventeen thousand, plus another seven thousand Templars from Acre, would give Arnold at least a chance against Baldwin’s troops. Slamming his fist, angrily, into his own hand again, Arnold of Torroja cursed Amalric of Lusignan. The well-crafted scheme to remove Baldwin was now unravelling before his eyes. Instead of the precise and well-planned operation, over which he had maintained supreme control, Arnold now had to gamble that Baldwin believed his ships carried his main force. If Baldwin didn’t fall for the ruse, then the whole expedition was over, and everything Arnold had planned; the new Christian Kingdom, the puppet King and the Grand Master’s Chair, would be gone.

Forever.

The Muscigny Estate

“Here they come!” shouted the Landing Trooper sentry standing on the low wall at the north western edge of the Muscigny estate.

Turning quickly, Billy Caudwell watched as the first of the Templar scouts trotted into view. The three horsemen, unmistakable in their white coats and red-crossed shields, halted just on the crest of the rise and scrutinised the make-shift position Billy had created.

To Billy’s mind, his make-shift position looked weak and unimpressive. However, the part of him that was Teg Skarral Portan knew that the three hundred Landing Troopers who crouched behind the low wall and ragged line of hovering Personnel Carriers could make the Templars pay dearly for attacking the position at Muscigny. On a good day, he knew that he could take the fight to the Templars and smash into their flanks whilst bombarding them from the air with Eagles and Personnel Carriers. But, a bloodbath was something that Billy wished to avoid unless he had no other alternative. Billy was not prepared to allow the Templars to run amok in Jerusalem, slaughtering every non-Christian that they could find. He was also not prepared to allow the Templars to pass through Muscigny, where hundreds of refugees were now gathered and receiving whatever help Billy could provide.

Senior Security Officer Garn, the experienced Landing Trooper, was ready, willing and able to take on this Templar force at a moment’s notice. But, Billy was determined to find a non-lethal resolution. King Baldwin had marched from Jerusalem with over twenty-five thousand men yesterday morning and would be arriving within a few hours. Billy knew that he had to stall for time and deny the Templars access to the roadway through Muscigny.

“Looks like we’d better get the welcome mat out for them,” Billy said quietly to Officer Garn.

“What about the civilians, sir?” Garn asked, indicating the last straggle of refugees who were making their way towards the Reception Centre.

“Get as many of the non-combatants into the Aquarius as possible, animals as well, the force-shielding should be able to protect them. Get the rest into the Citadel.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Let’s get a white flag rigged up and bring our friend Odo down here, Garn” Billy ordered as he watched the Templar scouts turn their horses and disappear behind the rise. “We might just get away with jaw-jaw rather than war-war,” he paraphrased one of his great heroes; Winston Churchill.

“I hope you’re right, sir.”

“Scanners,” Billy broke into the Communications Network via the Thought-Command on his PES, “how far away is their main body?”

“Sir, we’ve got advanced units forming up just behind that rise in front of you.”

“Any heavy cavalry?” Billy asked calmly despite being startled by the news that troops were already forming up.

“Not yet, sir, but they are starting to be drawn in from the flanks.”

“Very well, keep me updated,” Billy terminated the link and opened a new one. “WATO?” he summoned the Weapons and Tactical Officer.

“Yes, sir?”

“Launch the two Eagles and keep them circling until I give the signal. They are not to attack until I personally give the order, is that understood?”

“Crystal clear, sir.”

Looking at the rise in front of him, Billy knew that this was wonderful terrain for heavy cavalry. They had the advantage of the slope and the lovely open ground that led to the wall of the estate. When the estate was originally drawn up, the defensive position was the Citadel on the rise behind him. No one ever envisaged having to defend the actual roadway itself from the north. The large number of refugees now meant that the roadway had to be held with the Citadel as a secondary position. Silently cursing, Billy could imagine the Templar knights sweeping down the slope, lance points glinting in the sun as their horses charged to the wall. And, just as silently, Billy prayed that it wouldn’t come to repulsing a cavalry charge with pulsar-rifles.

“Sir,” the voice of Masthan Gummell broke into Billy’s thoughts, “can you come up to the Citadel? The estate workers want to fight too, and we may have a ‘mutiny’ on our hands here.” Billy heard the smile in Gummell’s voice.

“Oh, give me strength! Very well, hold them where they are, do not let them near the Landing Trooper position.”

“Understood, sir.”

Clambering into the Command Chair of one of the nearby Personnel Carriers, Billy cursed the estate workers. The last thing that he needed was the barely trained workers getting in the way of the Landing Troopers, and, more especially, getting themselves killed or injured in the process.

“Citadel!” Billy snapped to the pilot as he slumped into the seat.

The anti-gravity generator whined for a few brief seconds before the Personnel Carrier rose smoothly into the air. It was a brief hop to the unfinished Citadel, however, when Billy arrived his anger was still very much on the boil.

With another whine of anti-gravity generators, the Personnel Carrier dropped down just in front of a large group of the estate workers. Two Landing Troopers ensured that they did not progress any further from the makeshift fortress towards the battle position.

“So, Ibrahim, what is the meaning of this!?” Billy blazed as he approached the Steward who stood forward from the rest of the workers; a sword at his waist and a shield on his left sleeve.

“F…F…Forgive us, Sidi,” Ibrahim stammered nervously as he bowed, “but, we desire only to fight by your side...”

“Ibrahim! Don’t be so ridiculous! You’re barely half-trained with those weapons and those Templars out there will give you no quarter!”

“We do not ask for quarter, Sidi!” the normally cowed Ibrahim replied with an edge of defiance in his voice. “We want to fight at your side, Sidi, and your black uniforms…”

“No! Ibrahim! Impossible! I don’t need you getting in the Troopers’ way and getting yourselves killed!”

“But, this is our home, Sidi!”

“Then go and stay in them! That’s an order!”

“No, Sidi,” Ibrahim said calmly, rebelling against everything his lifetime of service had taught him. “When a jackal sniffs around my door, I do not run away and hide from it!” he said, meeting Billy’s gaze determinedly and threw his shield down. “You dishonour me, Sidi, as a loyal servant to the estate, a husband, a father and as a man!” he hissed angrily, drawing the sword and jamming it, point first, into the ground. “I have lived, worked and served here all of my life! And if I am to die this day, it will be standing up, fighting at the place of my choice, next to my Sidi, with my friends beside me!” He stared defiantly at Billy as he crossed his arms on front of his chest.

“And, is this the view of you all!?”

Behind Ibrahim, a woman stood in complete silence and jammed the end of her bow into the ground. Beside her, a man shoved his spear point into the soil. Singly, others drove their weapon points into the ground and stood resolutely behind the Steward. Then in pairs, and in groups, the estate workers at Muscigny showed their defiance and determination until all the weapon points were grounded.

“We fight for our homes, Sidi,” Ibraham said, “whether you want us to or not.”

In the long strained silence that followed, Billy Caudwell knew that he could not shake the workers’ resolution without setting Troopers onto them. And, in his heart of hearts he knew he could never do that. With a sigh, Billy let the anger flow out of his body. He knew that Ibrahim was right; all they wanted to do was defend their own homes. Even the most loathed of animals were allowed to do that, Billy reminded himself.

“Pick up your sword, Ibrahim,” Billy sighed wearily. “No one is dishonouring you, my friend,” he added. “If you must fight, then defend the people in the Citadel. Do not under any circumstances get in the way of the Landing Troopers,” Billy ordered.

“But, Sidi!?”

“No! The Citadel must not fall! Stay away from the Troopers! If the Templars get past us, you must hold the Citadel, and deny them the road until King Baldwin arrives. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Sidi.”

Good!” Billy praised them. “Go and make your preparations,” he dismissed the estate workers who retrieved their weapons and trudged determinedly towards the half-finished fortress.

There was no way in the world that they could hold the unfinished Citadel, Billy knew, but he had to keep them out of the way of the Troopers. At least they’ve got a leader now, Billy considered as he watched Ibrahim trudge after his workers. It had taken Ibrahim a lot of courage to stand up to him, and Billy had to acknowledge that.

“Sir?” a voice broke into the Communications Network. “We’ve got Templars forming up on the rise,” the Scanner Technician announced.

“Very well, back to the north west wall,” he ordered the pilot, as he jumped back into the Personnel Carrier.

As the Personnel Carrier sped away, Billy wondered just what the Templar commander was planning to do.

And, could he stop him without killing thousands?