‘Hist!’
A dark face full of pant and sweat was bearing down upon them.
Etienne went over the wall and held the boat steady while the Norman, Gideon and Jourdain helped Jacques de Molay to climb to the top. The boat began to strike hard and the Egyptian said, ‘I will come?’
Etienne sent his voice full of condescension over the wall, ‘Stay!’
Delgado, all smiles and fidgets of enthusiasm, stood before the three Templars and his comrade and told them his story. ‘I have waited until I saw you come from the galley. The horses are hid beyond the trees . . . I have a message . . .’
‘You saw Geoffrey de Charney at Richerenches?’ asked Jacques de Molay.
‘I have a message from this Geoffrey,’ Delgado said. ‘I am told to tell you: the shepherd has turned wolf and Richerenches is not yours. That is what he said. He gave me horses and food and a guide and told me to tell you to use . . . “soft feet”. What does this mean, soft feet?’
‘It means,’ Etienne answered with impatience, ‘that we are not to announce our arrival . . .’
‘And Aubert . . . ?’ asked Gideon, ‘He is with the horses?’
Delgado shook his head. ‘No, my Gideon, your country¬man is dead. Some way from the house we were followed, we had another with us, a man called Amenieu as a guide. He recognised one of them that followed us – he said the man was a knight in the service of the visitor.’
‘The visitor? De Pairaud?’ Etienne broke in.
‘Yes, two I killed with my sword. Aubert, he took the friend of this visitor with his knife but another man came behind and put an axe through Aubert’s head like a melon! Then this man Amanieu, who was our guide, was all in a rage to kill him but his sword split on the man’s axe and he was killed. After that I made this other man wish he were dead for a while.’ Etienne thought he saw a smile spread across the face. ‘I come alone, with the horses . . . Look Gideon,’ he said, ‘I buried your friend and took the sacs from the enemies.’ He held up the shrivelling pairs tied together.
‘Aubert is dead?’ The Norman had something close to an emotion caught in his throat.
The Catalan nodded gravely. ‘His head is half and half . . . Still . . .’ his voice brightened, ‘I have good horses, and I was careful.’
The Norman nodded and took the bloodied articles from Delgado. He gave them a sniff. ‘They will cure quickly in this wind.’ He slapped the Catalan on the back. ‘I will add them to my rope. You have done well, for you are not dead and we have horses,’ and there followed some friendly banter as they walked on ahead.
When they were alone Etienne leant in to his Grand Master. ‘These mercenaries,’ he confided, ‘I do not wish to trust them . . . and Iterius . . . I think I trust that Alexandrian less still.’
‘We must keep those whom we distrust closer than a wife,’ Jacques said to him. ‘Iterius, well I don’t know what use he is to us, but he saved my life; besides, he is more useless under our noses. The other two . . . well . . . time will tell . . .’
Jourdain, on his other side, whispered, ‘It is as we thought.’
‘Hugues de Pairaud . . .’ Jacques was watchful. ‘The visitor of the Order in France works against us, I was afraid of it . . . The galley will be safer at Portugal, and our small number shall travel unnoticed by those who seek a Grand Master and his entourage.’
‘They chose you against him in the election,’ Etienne pointed out, ‘and now he seeks a reversal of his fortune. He must have spies at Richerenches to know we were coming.’
‘Raimbaud the Caron, the Preceptor of Cyprus,’ Jacques sighed. ‘He must be in league with Hugues and since the visitor directs the Temple bank he will be hard trying to prevent us from going to Poitiers to speak with the Pope lest we change his mind about a Crusade . . . that is certain. Well, well, we have the Pope beckoning us, and the bankers wishing to prevent our arrival. It is a pretty trouble in which we find our¬selves, a pretty trouble. We must have a change of plans . . .’ He paused a moment. ‘We cannot go by way of Richerenches, but we can go by way of Languedoc. That is your country, Etienne?’
Etienne gave a reluctant nod.
‘And you have countrymen there?’
‘It is a life behind me,’ he said.
Jacques de Molay nodded. ‘All the better.’
The Egyptian was helped from the boat as his injured leg had left him with a limp, and the party, led by the Catalan, walked through the sand to the line of trees and the horses. When each man had mounted, the party headed north-west,