The Seal(16)

There was the movement and shadows of a barge loaded with men and slaves. It pulled into shore and let down a ramp into the soft sand.

A figure came off the barge and began to walk towards the Templars. Etienne guessed it to be Roger de Flor. When he heard a voice giving instructions to the slave master he recognised it.

‘Grand Commander,’ his voice sounded fulsome and active.

‘It is I.’

‘I will need your men to help the slaves with the shipment. The sun will come over that rise in a short time and it befits our going before we are seen. Well!’ A boot hit the side of a barrel. ‘You seem to have enough here to buy a kingdom!’

Marcus answered with stiffness, in no dilemma, his voice indicated, as to which of them stood in the more favourable position before God. ‘Cyprus was at one time bought and sold by the Temple.’

‘And now, Commander, the Temple flees from the island once more like ducks seeking shelter for the winter.’

‘I am glad to leave this place since it suits me ill to live among spies and thieves!’ Then he was gone, headed for the beach and the barge.

Roger de Flor made a laugh, hearty and loud, and searched the night. ‘What passion!’ he said. ‘Where is Etienne? Is that you in this darkness?’

‘They said you died at Adrianople.’

‘I?’ Roger gave another laugh. ‘I am immortal! Andronicus should have known as much. Now he will have to keep not only Turks but his own son from cutting out his tongue and gouging out his eyes. That is his payment for contriving to have me killed. In any case, I was sick to death of those treacherous Greeks – they would kill their own bed-ridden grandmother if it were to their advantage. For my part I paid highly to keep them in their fine illusion that I am in God’s heaven, and I must say, Etienne, being dead to the world brings a new sweetness to life! Tell me, truly!’ He pulled the Templar away from the goings-on at the shore towards the scraggly trees bent by years of wind. ‘Your friend seems not changed since last I saved his life,’ he said. ‘He continues reserved and gloomy and I suspect he leans his heart against the pinions of his pride – not a health-some activity these days.’

It seemed to Etienne an unhappy event when a mercenary could so easily discern the complex state of mind of a Grand Commander of the Order of the Temple. Such a thing left it open and defenceless and it left him without a word to say in return.

Roger changed the subject. ‘On a different tack, tell me, did you meet with trouble?’

‘No trouble.’

‘Good. Then perhaps this fool’s game of hide and seek shall yet succeed. The Grand Master awaits you. The other galley is to the north at Salamis and I will give you three men to take with you in case of mischief. You see how I lay my thoughts upon your cares? These men are smart and their word is sure. Best of all they are disinterested in loyalties since they are paid to render good service – while the money lasts.’ There was a white smile in the darkness.

‘Who are they?’

‘Gideon is one, the other is Aubert. They are Normans – strange, dangerous men, their blood is tainted with Viking.’

‘What! More than your own Teuton blood, Duke of Romania?’

There was a laugh. ‘Yes, by God! Even more than mine! They are Christian by a hair’s-breadth and this means they hold fast to their old customs, but apart from that they are as solid as a wall and as steady – and the best part is, they do not feel pain like the rest of us.’

Etienne thought of Jourdain’s previous words concerning pain and courage and realised that once again the boy was filling his head with thoughts he did not need.

‘There is also a Catalan,’ Roger de Flor continued, ‘my best man. He was with me at Adrianople and fought valiantly in the

fortress of Gallipoli to avenge me, his dead master! His name is Delgado – he is a cunning creature who laughs while he cuts your throat from ear to ear – a more agreeable assassin you shall not encounter!’

‘Mercenaries . . .’ Etienne said it as if the word was poison in his mouth.

‘I prefer to use a different language, to me they are warriors without faith.’

Etienne thought this through. ‘And the Grand Master has agreed?’

‘He agrees that you are short on loyal men and I have an abundance. Take it as a gift. You may return them to me at Tomar.’

This concern increased the burden upon Etienne’s shoulders. Andrew was right: all things were disordered and out of temper when Knights of the Temple had no other recourse than to rely on the charity of a renegade and the protection of mercenaries.

‘What are you going to do?’ Roger asked him.