The Seal(22)

Gideon grunted. ‘That is why I keep my magic for fighting.’ He had lost interest and was bent upon inspecting his bloody acquisitions. He shook his head and threaded the dead things onto a rope he wore around his neck. ‘They will need the sun or they will perish.’

It did not seem fitting to Etienne to let this savage mutilate the bodies of Christians, even if they were no longer brothers, but Etienne’s head was full of strangeness. This had been an odd day, and more oddities, he knew, were sure to find him before it was over, and so he stood unable to make a resolve when a noise coming from the body of the olive press made him turn away from the spectacle. It was Iterius moaning. Etienne took hold of him by the neck and threw him to the ground at his feet, snapping one end from the arrow and driving the other full into his calf.

The man gave a yelp and seemed to lose the power in his limbs. He let his head fall to the dirt and from that position he said in a whisper, ‘Please,’ his long face contorting into a grimace of terror. ‘I have done well, I have saved your life, will you not save mine?’

Etienne stared into that face and put a boot on the chest. ‘So, you serve me like a labourer in expectation of your wages! Or is it from Ayme d’Oselier that you should seek payment?’

The Egyptian shook his head and shook his head again. ‘No . . . you are my master, I will serve you and I shall ask for nothing in return, for I am useful . . .’ He paused to touch the calf lightly as if to assess what needed to be put together. ‘I alone can make the antidote for . . . the Grand Master’s poison.’

Etienne squinted in the light. All around seemed suddenly very still, all sun, haze and heat. ‘What are you saying? What poison?’ he said with suspicion.

‘They must have guessed your plan . . . Lord Etienne, to remove the Grand Master . . . and they desired to poison him before he left . . . I only knew of it afterwards but then . . .’ There was an added pressure from Etienne’s boot and he continued, ‘Then . . . I didn’t know where the Grand Master had been moved to ... that is why I came to you ... He may live only a day at the most . . . without the unction.’

Etienne narrowed his eyes and wiped the sweat from his brow and the corners of his eyes. ‘When did it happen, this poisoning?’

The Egyptian panted.

‘Answer!’

‘I think it was yester-eve, after compline – they poisoned the water in the Grand Master’s cell.’

‘How do you know? And why have you not told me before now?’ he shouted, God’s righteous anger bearing down upon Iterius, whose pathetic effort to get away only brought the seneschal’s boot harder on his chest.

‘Please . . . please . . . I saw it!’ he said. ‘The stars divulged their knowing to me . . . but I did not know the accuracy of the portent until this very moment . . . when I realised I had been right about the ambush.’

‘You mean you do not know for certain? You are relying on the stars?’ Etienne stared and stared into those downturned eyes. ‘It is my guess that you are a liar or a sorcerer or both . . . each way I should have killed you before, so I shall kill you now!’ He took out his sword and raised it over the man’s head.

‘No!’ Iterius put out his hands. ‘Please, if you do this you shall condemn the Grand Master to certain death!’

Etienne stood poised upon this pressing thought, and began to wonder if he were once again dreaming a strange and terrible dream. He harnessed his mind. If the Egyptian was not lying, and assuming his portent accurate, which for now he must, his Grand Master could have had recourse to drink from his flask at any time after compline and before being moved to Salamis. Etienne had to calculate then, from an hour after sunset the previous night – just to be sure. That being the case it was now much past noon and they needed to circumvent Famagusta or risk meeting more supporters of d’Oselier. That would take two hours at least. All things going well it would take them a further hour riding slow in the hot sun without stopping until they reached the bay where the galley waited. In this case they had barely enough time to get to Salamis and have Iterius prepare his unction.

There had been too many things to think of these last hours and Etienne was beginning to feel his bewilderment taking shape in the form of despair and he could find no logic in anything.

‘What do you need for this antidote?’ he shouted, angry at the man and at the day.

Iterius soothed his leg and rolled his eyes in his head. ‘All I have is here.’ He patted his breast. ‘I have brought what I need.’

Etienne kicked him in the side. ‘Take this to your profane heart, Iterius.’ He bent down with a knee extended from its hurts. ‘If I find you to be two-faced, I will see to it that you shall observe one of them resting upon the palms of your hands before you are sent to the hell that awaits you!’