The Templar Inheritance (8 page)

‘You have done me no evil, Hartelius.’

‘From the evil, then, that I have brought down upon your head.’

‘And how is that? Speak. Please. Do not leave me hanging like this.’

Hartelius lowered his head. It was as if he feared being overwhelmed by the sheer weight of the words he was about to utter. ‘Very well then. I do as you suggest. I order the captain to set me ashore at Beirut. But I take the Holy Lance and the Copper Scroll with me when I go. Also these private letters from the king, your brother, to von Drachenhertz. This would formally exonerate you from any possibility of
lèse-majesté
. You could say, too, that in the absence of any priest in our party to safeguard you, I forced myself upon you. That you had no choice in the matter. That you were entirely in my power. That you succumbed to me for your own protection.’

‘But no one would back that up. My servants. My handmaiden. Your Templar knights would—’

Hartelius shook his head. ‘Nobody credits what servants or handmaidens say. And my Templar knights will not be staying aboard. They will be coming with me. When they discover that the Copper Scroll, the brotherhood’s most precious artefact, is being bartered to von Drachenhertz simply in order to get him to embark on a fourth Crusade, they will not hesitate. This I can promise you.’

‘I do not believe you. They would not turn against their king.’

‘They would. Believe me. There are secret reasons why I know this to be true.’

‘What secret reasons? You are saying this just to placate me.’

Hartelius sighed. The acuteness of Elfriede’s mind could sometimes be a hindrance, not a help. ‘There is something you must understand. Something you must swear to keep to yourself.’

The princess nodded. Her eyes held the first faint vestige of hope. ‘I swear. I swear it on my love for you.’

The force behind her words almost caused Hartelius to falter. To go back on what he was about to suggest. But he knew that he must not. For her sake he needed to be firm. ‘The issue of King Solomon’s legacy was the driving force behind the formation of the Templars seventy years ago. And it is still the driving force behind each and every one of our actions. Each Templar feels that he and his brothers are the direct heirs of Solomon on this earth. Our formal title is
Pauperes Commilitones Christi Templique Salomonis
– ‘The Poor Fellow-soldiers of Christ and the Temple of Solomon’. Only in our case the word
Christi
– Christ – does not refer specifically to Jesus.’

‘But that is blasphemous.’

‘To some eyes, perhaps. But it is true nonetheless. The word
Christi
, according to our usage, is taken from the Greek word
khristos
, meaning the ‘anointed one’, which is, in turn, taken from the Hebrew word
mashiach
, meaning Messiah. And our Messiah is not, and never was, Jesus Christ. Our Messiah is John the Baptist. The first anointed. The one who baptized Jesus. The one who Herodias, through Salome, ordered slain. And the new Messiah – the one foretold by Malachi with the words “Behold, I will send my messenger, and he shall
prepare the way before me: and the Lord, whom ye seek, shall suddenly come to his temple” – will make his mark by the creation of a New Jerusalem, a new Temple, established exactly on the pattern of the old. And it is the Copper Scroll alone which contains within it the blueprint for the rekindled Temple of Solomon – and also the location of the treasure with which the building of the Temple is to be funded. That much is clearly written in the Mishraic. It is unequivocal.’

‘Why are you telling me this?’

‘Because I wish you to understand the seriousness of what you have discovered. The only possible answer to the Copper Scroll being in your possession can be that it has been stolen from us by agents of your brother. Neither Gilbert Horal, our Grand Master, nor any of our Seneschals or Marshals, would ever have handed such a thing over voluntarily. They would rather die. So it must have been forcibly taken from us, and is intended to be used, alongside the Holy Lance, as a gathering focus – you may call it a recruiting aid – for the fourth Crusade. I will know more when I peruse these letters. But there can be no other possible reading of the situation. And once von Drachenhertz has the scroll in his possession, who is to say that he will not get his Arab scholars to decode it and steal the hidden treasure – to enrich himself or to fund his crusading army – before it can be used for the purpose King Solomon intended? Namely, to rebuild the Temple as the basis for a New Jerusalem.’

‘And you believe in this New Jerusalem?’

Hartelius shook his head. ‘I used to. I do not now. But I believe that others believe it. My Templar knights for a start.
They may not remain loyal to me. But they will, without question, remain loyal to their vows. Each Templar knows of the secret contained within our name. Each has vowed to guard that secret with his life. If I tell them that I have taken back the Copper Scroll, which was unlawfully stolen from us, they will follow me to the ends of the earth if by that means they can ensure that the scroll is returned to its rightful owners.’

‘So you agree that I must marry von Drachenhertz?’

Hartelius threw up his hands. ‘I wish you to live as free a life as you are able. I owe you that and much more besides. When I first met you, you told me what you thought was the meaning of your name. That it meant “to be free”.’

‘But you told me no. That it means “strength in otherness”.’

‘I did. But to you the symbolical changing of your name betokened freedom. Freedom from the confines of the abbey, where you had been known as Agnes – the sacrificial lamb. And freedom from the whims of men. This, I believe, is why you gave yourself to me. Because there was no formality in my request to you. No outside pressure. It was a question of free will. And free will is precious in direct proportion to what one is prepared to lose for its sake. And you have been prepared to lose everything. I cannot sanction such a sacrifice on my account.’

‘It is not your choice to make.’

‘But it is my right to try and convince you of the good sense inherent in my future actions, is it not? I possess such a right, do I not? Thanks to my love for you? A love which I have demonstrated, and will continue to demonstrate, until my
death. There will be no other woman for me beyond you in my lifetime. You are my one and only love. You are everything to me. To the extent that I would rather see you in the arms of another man than that any hurt should befall you. With von Drachenhertz you will become a queen. You will have the protection of that title.’

‘And my child will too?’

‘Yes. Any child of yours will thereby be protected.’

The princess put out her hand and touched her lover lightly on the arm. ‘Any child of ours, Hartelius.’

Hartelius flinched, as if her touch had scalded him. ‘I do not understand. What are you saying?’

‘I am saying that despite my regular use of the douche syringe, and lily root, and extract of rue, just as my handmaidens instructed me, that nature, and the fact that you are already the father of four live children and one dead, has conspired to quicken you in me. That I am carrying your child, Hartelius, probably since our sojourn on Murano.’ The princess cocked her head to one side, the ghost of a smile on her face. ‘Are you quite sure you withdrew from me when you raised my shift behind that haystack, Hartelius? For I seem to have no memory of it.’

Hartelius stared at the princess. ‘You are carrying my child?’

‘Nobody else’s. My menses were due twelve days ago. They have not come. They always come. I am as regular as the seasons. I have been so since I was eleven years old. You understand the menses, don’t you, Hartelius? Their significance to women?’

‘Yes. I have been married. As you well know.’

‘I thought as much.’

Hartelius led the princess over to their shared bed. He sat down with her and took her hand in his. Gently he kissed it. Then he laid it firmly in his lap, still grasping it with both hands so that she could not escape him. ‘Listen to me. This changes everything. A man such as von Drachenhertz may conceivably accept, through sheer ambition and venal greed, the deflowered sister of the king. But he will never accept another man’s unlawful child. We have no choice in the matter now. We must somehow persuade the captain to put us ashore at Tortosa. Tortosa is a Crusader citadel that the Count of Tripoli put in the hands of the Templars in 1152. The city was besieged by Saladin in 1188 but the keep never fell. We will be safe there. We can be married at the Cathedral of Our Lady of Tortosa, which the count has now rebuilt after its plundering by Saladin’s men.’

‘You wish to marry me?’

‘Yes. I would never have dared ask you before now. You are a princess. I am a recently ennobled baron of notably low effect. Our stations in life are absurdly different. But no child of mine will be born without a name. If you don’t agree to marry me, I will kidnap you against your will, like one of the Sabine women, and forcibly wed you.’

The princess laughed out loud. A broad, infectious laugh that seemed to echo from some exalted place deep within her. ‘I believe I should like to be kidnapped, Hartelius. You have your princess’s express permission so to do.’

SIXTEEN

The captain of the nef ran his hand down his beard in the way a man might caress the flanks of a horse he has acquired for well below the asking price. His eyes twinkled with the knowledge that the conversation he was about to have might prove significantly to his advantage.

He had seen the two lovebirds together – how could he not? He had heard the gossip about them from his crew and from amongst the princess’s paid attendants. And he had heard that gossip confirmed by the cabin boy, who had been surprisingly easy to persuade once the mate had threatened to accidentally smash his fingers with a belaying pin.

There were ways in which he envied Hartelius, of course. What man would not like to spend a month aboard a vessel in the Mediterranean fucking someone else’s eighteen-year-old intended bride? But the consequences were vertiginous. No woman on earth was worth what von Drachenhertz would do to Hartelius once he got hold of him.

Despite all this, the captain weighed his words with care. It wouldn’t do to spook the golden goat. Or to alienate him utterly.

‘Landing you at Tortosa is an impossibility, Commander. The harbour is restricted. And three years ago I fell foul of a merchant there – a merchant with the power to make my life a misery if I ever again ventured into his waters. No. I shall take you on to Acre as I was commissioned to do. I am sure our war leader will reward me well when I hand the princess over to him as arranged.’

‘And what if we were to take over your ship, Captain? I have thirteen knights at my command. You could not resist us. You could then claim that we forced you to comply with our wishes.’

The captain threw his head back and laughed. ‘That would be one answer. It might exonerate me. Possibly. But it probably wouldn’t. Von Drachenhertz will imagine you bribed me, and that I wanted to disguise it by affecting to be taken prisoner. No. He would hang, draw and quarter me, along with my entire crew, when he got hold of us. As he inevitably would. So it is unlikely that you and your men would be able to prevail upon us to sail this ship for you. And such a ship is no easy vessel to sail. You would likely dash yourselves on the Margat rocks if you tried to put into Tortosa. And how, pray, would you navigate? You would probably end up missing Tortosa entirely and beaching us back on Cyprus, where Guy de Lusignan’s brother, Amalric, a close ally of the margrave as you may remember, would no doubt take keen pleasure in
throwing you into his deepest dungeon, and then entertaining your mistress upstairs while you rot. After all, who can tell if a once-ridden mare has been mounted twice?’

Hartelius reined in his anger. He needed this man. Needed him on his side. And to hell with his insults. ‘So what do you suggest? You are clearly a realist. I will not belittle your intelligence by implying that you do not understand the position the princess and I find ourselves in.’

The captain grinned. ‘No. I understand it very well. You are between a meltemi wind and a lee shore. It must be excruciating to be in your position. I would not want it for the world.’

‘I asked you for your suggestions. Not for your opinions.’

The captain clapped his hands lightly together and smiled. ‘My suggestion would be that you compensate me royally for the loss of my ship, and that we scupper her in a bay I know just south of Beirut, from where your horses can easily swim ashore.’

Hartelius shook his head. ‘Could you not contrive to put both them and us ashore without the necessity of sacrificing your ship and making us damnably wet in the process?’

The captain shrugged. ‘Unfortunately not. The ship must seem to founder naturally. And I must seem to be ruined. Only then will von Drachenhertz believe that I was not instrumental in depriving him of his princess’s cunny. It is a tricky time of year. The weather is changing on this coast. And I have always wanted a twin-sailed ship with a central rudder.’

Hartelius closed his eyes. He had never come nearer in his life to hacking a man to death with no warning and with no possibility of mercy. ‘How much?’

‘Five thousand gold bezants.’

‘That is grotesque.’

‘So is your tupping of von Drachenhertz’s ewe. A man must pay for his pleasures in this world. That is my final price.’

Hartelius turned his back on the captain. It was either that or skewer him to his own mast with a marlinspike. ‘I will give you your answer tomorrow. Will that suffice?’

‘Well enough. I will try to rein in my excitement in the interim.’

SEVENTEEN

‘Five thousand bezants is an outrage,’ said the princess. ‘The man is mad. One could purchase a city state for less. What does he want to buy with it? A fleet?’

Hartelius laughed. ‘Never fear, my love. He will take less. Far less.’

‘How can you know that?’

Hartelius gave a shrug. ‘Because I have decided to call his bluff. I have instructed my knights to take over his ship tonight, under cover of darkness. When we have the ship secured I shall offer him fifty gold bezants, which is ample reward for what we need him to do. Which is not to scuttle his vessel, but rather to set us ashore, dry, and with all our goods and horses intact, somewhere north of Tripoli, so that we can make for Tortosa unannounced. After that he can do whatever he wants. Go wherever he wishes. If I were him I would convert to Islam and join the Abbasids. They always need ships. At least he would keep his head that way. For if
von Drachenhertz ever gets hold of him, it will end up on a spike on the Acre waterfront.’

The princess shook her head in wonder. ‘You really are a warrior knight, aren’t you? People always underestimate you, don’t they? You have such a quiet, calm exterior. But underneath it all you are a killer. I remember you running at those three
banditti
in the Alps. Sometimes, because you are so gentle with me, I am apt to forget the scars you carry about your person, and that I caress with my fingertips every day and every night.’

Hartelius searched the princess’s face with his eyes. Was she faltering? Was she regretting their attachment? When he realized that she was not criticizing him but complimenting him, he inclined his head. ‘War has been my profession since the age of fifteen. I pretend to nothing else. The time to be gentle is in the bedroom. Only a fool placates his enemies in the field.’

‘I am glad I am not your enemy then.’

Hartelius smiled. ‘No. Not my enemy. My only friend.’

That night Hartelius’s thirteen remaining knights took over the ship with no loss of life – not even a single injury amongst the crew. Later, Hartelius decided that the captain must have realized this was what he would do, and briefed his men not to resist. That the man’s insane request for five thousand bezants had merely represented an amused acknowledgement of their relative positions, and had never been meant to be taken seriously.

‘Fifty gold bezants are better than nothing,’ said Hartelius, when the ship was secured.

‘Indeed they are,’ said the captain. ‘And more than I had hoped for. I shall use them to have a false head made out of copper to replace the one von Drachenhertz will no doubt deprive me of the moment he sees me.’

‘If you are ever foolish enough to pass near Acre.’

‘There is that. But I comfort myself with the thought that he will be so busy pursuing you and the princess that he will have no time left to expend on me.’

The offloading went well. Thanks to the shallow draft of the nef, the ship was able to beach itself relatively close to the shore. With the aid of ropes and planks and rafts and rattan mats, all thirty horses were debarked without incident, as were the princess’s accoutrements and her two marriage chests. They had been forced to leave her carriage back in Venice through lack of space, but she had been a horsewoman since the age of five, and she found no difficulty in adapting her clothing so that she could sit astride one of Hartelius’s spare mounts. She was so early on in her pregnancy that Hartelius decided that no evil could come of it.

Once on shore, he explained to the remainder of the princess’s followers something of the quandary they found themselves in. Namely, that from henceforth he would be a marked man, but that he would nonetheless allow them free choice in whether to follow him and his knights northwards, towards Nicaea, the Latin Empire and possible freedom, or to turn south towards Beirut and Acre and whatever that might entail.

All chose to turn south, bar the princess’s remaining handmaiden. Hartelius was hardly surprised at the mass
exodus. No servant in their right mind would attach themselves to a patron who would very soon be the subject of a royal death warrant both in Outremer and upon the European mainland.

‘And why are you, too, not going south?’ he asked the girl. ‘And please forbear to tell me that you have made your decision out of loyalty to the princess. Because I will not believe you.’

The girl looked down at her feet.

‘Is one of my knights your lover?’

She said nothing.

‘Ah. So you fear that if the other knights find out, they will turn on him, because he has broken his vow of chastity?’

The girl nodded.

‘Then when the princess’s tent is set up, secretly point your lover out to me and I will instruct him to be her personal guard. This way you can both meet without causing suspicion. Will that be satisfactory to you? I am doing this not out of the goodness of my heart, you understand, but because the princess will have need of female help at some point in the future, and I might find it hard to recruit a suitable candidate en route to wherever we finally go.’

The girl pressed his hand to her cheek.

‘Good. That is settled then.’

Hartelius watched the nef’s crew levering their ship back off the strand. Now that the dead weight of the knights, their armour and their horses were discounted, together with the princess’s fickle followers and their accoutrements, the ship
rode much higher in the water. The captain soon managed to put back to sea, thanks to the adaptability of his single lateen sail. As the nef pulled away, the man raised an ironical fist towards Hartelius from his roost near the stern, and drew one finger slowly across his throat.

Hartelius waited until the ship was out of sight. Would the captain betray them? Would he put into the next suitable port and send word to von Drachenhertz that Hartelius and the princess were heading for Tortosa? Of course he would.

Hartelius abandoned his Tortosa plan without further ado. He would head instead for the Crac de l’Ospital, a Knights Hospitaller stronghold high in the Syrian mountains behind Tripoli. The Hospitallers, he knew, were in open dispute with the Templars, but it was nonetheless likely that, as an expedient nod to the chivalrous behaviour both societies nominally adhered to, they would allow him to borrow against his Templar letters of credit just so long as he accorded them a suitable profit margin.

For Hartelius knew from bitter experience during the Third Crusade, that the quickest way to lose knights – even nominally committed ones – was to fail to feed, fund and re-equip them when they felt it was their due.