‘He’s a damn liar!’ Le Vicomt stated.
De Chauvigny jumped to his feet and automatically went for his sword that wasn’t there,
‘Un menteur? Nous allons régler cela maintenant!’ A liar? Let's settle this now!
The Constable drew his own sword and slammed it on the table, ‘Enough!’ He glared at de Chauvigny, ‘Sit down….and confine yourself to the common language.’
De Chauvigny trembled with rage and his mouth parted as he breathed hard and fast.
‘I said, sit down!’
‘This is ridiculous,’ de Chauvigny stated as he finally sat, ‘what does the Bailli say?’
‘This is not an issue for the Bailli….although he is aware.’
De Capo bit his tongue; he had already agreed not to mention the incident at Baysan, but as it happened he didn’t need to because the Constable did it for him.
‘First the pilgrims,’ said the Constable, ‘and now this.’ He shook his head at de Chauvigny, ‘I know you received those orders because I have the man who delivered them to you.’
De Chauvigny glanced sideways at de Balon who had cautioned him against the venture in the first place, ‘I misread them,’ he insisted.
‘I thought you didn’t receive them?’
‘I was mistaken.’
‘Sir Robert?’ The Constable asked the man sitting next to de Chauvigny, ‘have you anything to add in Reynaud’s defence?’
‘The orders were somewhat misleading.’
‘Explain yourself!’
De Balon looked at de Capo and smiled before continuing, ‘The orders stated the Sultan’s men were to be allowed free passage to fight the Mongols. It said nothing about allowing them free passage afterwards.’
The Constable gaped at de Balon as de Chauvigny smiled and nodded his agreement, ‘Do you mock me?’
‘I do not.’
‘Free passage,’ the Constable stated rigorously, ‘means free passage until I, the Bailli or the King decides otherwise!’
‘There are ways of doing things,’ argued de Chauvigny, ‘and insulting me in front of my men and my enemies is insolent. On what authority does he threaten to arrest me?’
‘On my authority,’ said the Constable instantly siding with de Capo even though an arrest would never have taken place, ‘the Order of St Peter were charged with ensuring the orders for safe passage for the Sultans men were obeyed.’ The Constable shook his head, anger in his voice, ‘Damn your blood lust, after everything that has happened I never thought you would put us in this intolerable position yet again!’ He picked up the parchment he had been placing his seal on when they first entered, rolled it and bound it with a silk ribbon which he dripped wax on and pressed his seal against it again until the wax hardened. He stood and handed the parchment to de Chauvigny who accepted it with a look of incomprehension on his face, ‘We need your men here, but we do not need you.’
‘Qu'est-ce que c'est?’ snarled de Chauvigny rising to his feet, eyes blazing. He held the parchment up and waved it in the Constable’s face, ‘What is this?’
The Constable placed his hand on his sword and replaced it slowly in his scabbard as he replied, ‘These are your orders; you and Sir Robert will depart Acre, never to return.’
‘And go where?’
‘Anywhere, as long as it is not within the Kingdom of Jerusalem, return to your Grand Master in Cyprus and tell him what you have done, if you return here you will be seized and tried for murder, your men will remain here as part of the Kings army.’
De Chauvigny was stunned, ‘You cannot do this; they are de Fribois’ men under my command, ratified by the Pope!’
‘They are no longer under your command…they will have a new commander, one who doesn’t misread orders, and that will also be ratified by the Pope.’
De Chauvigny was speechless and he spluttered as he looked at de Capo, ‘You have made a serious mistake de Capo, a serious mistake!’
De Capo remained impassive and simply watched the proceedings with a small glow of satisfaction inside him.
‘You have three days,’ said the Constable, ‘three days for both of you to get your affairs in order.’
De Chauvigny and de Balon both stood in front of the Constable with unforgiving, angry expressions. They both knew there was nothing to be gained by arguing with him so gave a curt bow, glared at de Capo and le Vicomt and strode out of the office. A nod from the Constable to the scribe indicated the need for him was over and he quickly gathered his writing implements and left.
The Constable sat down and sighed deeply. De Capo and le Vicomt sat silently and waited for Sir William to speak. He poured some water into a beaker and took a long drink before looking at the two men, ‘Why didn’t you mention the assassination attempt?’
De Capo was surprised, ‘You knew about it?’
‘Of Course,’ said Sir William, ‘I am the Constable of Acre, do you really think I don’t know what happens here? He looked at le Vicomt, ‘I also know about the survivors of Baysan and your friend Yusuf ibn Ayyub.’
‘You have my thanks for not mentioning him in front of de Chauvigny.’
‘I may be a fool, but I’m not a damn fool.’
‘Of course not, ‘said le Vicomt, ‘but you had already made your decision, the orders were already written!’
‘Aye, the Bailli wants him out of the kingdom,’ the Constable smiled for the first time, ‘and so do I. He is too dangerous for us and there are rumours of trouble in the Sultanate. We suspect the Sultan is not long for this world. If that happens, we do not want anyone like him here.’ He turned his attention to de Capo, ‘So, why didn’t you mention the attempt on your life.’
‘I couldn’t prove anything, and he was unlikely to admit his involvement.’
‘How is Thomas?’
‘He is still alive, thanks to Yusuf ibn Ayyub, but there was poison on the bolt and this may still kill him.’
‘If you need anything,’ the Constable said with a concerned look, ‘you have but to ask.’
‘I’m grateful Sir William.’
‘What about the Sultan?’ Le Vicomt asked.
‘He’s too friendly with us,’ the Constable pursed his lips in thought, ‘and he has enemies in his own ranks, better we rid ourselves of de Chauvigny now than risk him causing an attack we cannot defend.’
‘What happens now?’
‘Your men are to confine themselves to their compound until de Chauvigny is gone.’
Le Vicomt nodded, ‘Very well, if those are your orders,’ he stood and de Capo stood with him.
‘Sit down,’ said the Constable.
Le Vicomt frowned, ‘Sir William, I think de Chauvigny will have left by now and my men are outside.’
‘This is not to do with your men,’ the Constable looked at de Capo, ‘this is to do with de Chauvigny’s men.’
The Constable gave a wry grin at the confused looks on the faces of both knights before continuing, ‘The men under his command will need someone special to lead them,’ he stared at le Vicomt and raised an eyebrow.
Le Vicomt nodded with an understanding grin and turned to de Capo who simply sat with a furrowed brow and glanced between the Constable and le Vicomt before the realisation dawned on him, he half grinned before a look of complete dismay covered his face, ‘You surely do not mean me?’
‘I cannot think of anyone more suitable.’
De Capo stood and looked at the Constable aghast, ‘You want me to command the men who tried to kill me?’
‘These men need good firm leadership Ralf; they need to be reminded of their honour, they have followed de Chauvigny for too long, killing and murdering when they should be protecting pilgrims and helping to keep our trade routes open and safe.’
De Capo shook his head, ‘They are a rabble Sir William, a rabble that need to be dispersed now the head has been cut off.’
‘They are good fighting men,’ said the Constable, ‘and this kingdom needs good fighting men, they have been led astray by de C
hauvigny and corrupted by his greed and cruelty, a good man at their head could turn them back to something they can be proud of.’
‘I am not part of their order; I am a knight of St Peter,’ he looked at le Vicomt, ‘tell him it’s not possible.’
‘I’ve spoken to the Bailli,’ the Constable said and picked up a scroll as le Vicomt and de Capo stared at him in stunned silence at the revelation the Bailli, the Kings deputy had been approached, ‘he has granted you the unenviable position of being a knight commander of two orders simultaneously.’
The Constable held out the scroll to de Capo who slowly leant forward, took hold of it and unfurled it. He read it in silence before handing it to le Vicomt who read it and sighed as he saw the seal.
‘It appears you have been chosen,’ le Vicomt said, ‘this is not a request.’
For the first time, de Capo looked crestfallen as he realised there was no way to refuse. The unprecedented step of making him the member of an order he had not chosen to be part of implied the degree of trust the Constable and the Bailli had in him, and he looked at le Vicomt who shrugged. De Capo sat and shifted uncomfortably in his chair, the bitterness in his voice all too evident, ‘I don’t seem to have any choice in the matter.’
‘I knew I could rely on you,’ said the Constable smugly, ‘I will send for you once de Chauvigny has departed these shores and explain the finer details.’
~
Three days later de Chauvigny together with Robert de Balon now sporting a wound on his face which would mark him forever, boarded a ship bound for Paphos in Cyprus, the country where the rest of his Order had settled. The Constable had been at the dockside on the day he left with a score of guards from the castle garrison. As usual the docks were busy loading and unloading cargo, bales of cotton, bags of spices and amphora after amphora of wine and oils, and passengers; knights, soldiers, pilgrims and an assortment of other people, Christians and Muslims all waiting to set foot in a land they hoped would make them rich or famous but would most probably kill them instead. Men in armour with horses, and men on their own, all armed and ready to fight for their cause, be it money, religion or simply for adventure. There were a few women among them, prostitutes and others looking for men who had left them, never to return. There were never any children though. No one bought children here, but there were always priests, every boat that docked had at least one priest. These people, many of them exhausted after weeks of travel, hungry, thirsty and hot, shouted and barged into each other as they tried to find their way through the crowds and into the city. The smells of the docks, the sea and the ever increasing population mingled to make a unique blend that struck the nose like a hammer. The languages were diverse, some guttural and others smooth and fluid and even exciting.
The Constable approached de Chauvigny with a grim look on his face, ‘You are ordered not to return here, if you do you will be arrested and tried for murder.’ He handed de Chauvigny a scroll, ‘This is a copy of the order, ratified by the Bailli and supercedes the first one, the accusations are written down and it has been noted you have been found guilty. The only reason you are both not hanging from the gates is because of your position, now get out of my city.’
De Chauvigny took hold of the scroll without thanks and handed it to de Balon who stood at his side, the red wound on his face looking harsh and swollen as his body fought to prevent any infection. Several of his men who remained in Acre stood nearby, their faces showing the disgust and abhorrence they felt at the loss of their commander. They knew there would be a new man to lead them, what they did not know was who.
‘The Saracens will come and this city will fall,’ de Chauvigny said scornfully, ‘and you will wish you had men like me.’ He turned his back on the Constable, boarded the ship and stood in the bows looking out to sea. The crew dropped oars and the ship pulled away from the harbour to the beat of a drum. De Chauvigny never looked back.
Chapter Six
Leopold von Eschenberg was the son of a Livonian Knight and a whore, a coupling which was officially illegal in the eyes of the church. The Livonian order was an incarnation of the Livonian Brothers of the Sword, a military order founded nearly sixty years earlier comprising of German Warrior Monks. Following their decimation at the battle of Saule in 1236 these warrior monks became incorporated into the Teutonic Order as an autonomous branch known as the Livonian Order.
Warrior Monks! De Chauvigny had laughed at the concept when he first met Leopold because he despised all of the so called warrior monks. The Templars, the Teutonic’s and the Hospitallers, they were all sworn to celibacy and he believed they all breached celibacy on a regular basis, and not just with women.
The order of hierarchy in the Imperial Order of Jerusalem started with the Grand Master in Cyprus, then de Chauvigny, with de Balon as his second in command. Next came Leopold von Eschenberg who was responsible for the training and the discipline, and it was to him de Chauvigny had unofficially given command of his men. Leopold was aware a new commander would be appointed, but the men of the Imperial Order of Jerusalem had been chosen and trained by de Chauvigny and his two lieutenants and they would show allegiance to the men they trusted, feared and believed in. They would not obey any order Leopold did not concur with and had all sworn an oath to de Chauvigny himself. Despite being under the command of another man, they were still de Chauvigny’s men and they all believed he would lead them again. That was his promise to them.
The twin wall protecting the north suburb of Montmusart extended from the gate of St Anthony in the south east to the Templars gate in the North West. Between, there were two more gates with defensive towers, one under the command of the Hospitallers and the other being the tower defended by the Order of Jerusalem. Their castle had been built against the inner wall and was in arrow range of the compound of St Peter’s, although a quirk in the design of the city and its cramped buildings meant they could not see each other.
At dawn on the morning after de Chauvigny had sailed from Acre, de Capo and a guard of men of St Peter’s marched the short distance to the Castle of the Mount as it had been named. With one side defended by the inner wall surrounding the city there were only two towers at the front, a design similar to the Castle of the Kings Constable. Although not as big, there were still two floors and a courtyard baked daily by the sun.
De Capo had never been inside the castle and he approached the locked gates with some trepidation, fully aware the men inside still had no knowledge of who their new commander would be. His left hand gripped the hilt of his sword while the right held the parchment containing the orders signed by the Bailli and the Constable.
Acre never fully slept. The docks were a hive of activity day and night and the street corners had more than their fair share of beggars and prostitutes always ready to seek alms or ply their trade. A curfew within the city walls had been tried and rejected very quickly when it was clear with the high population a curfew was unenforceable. People were murdered every day in Acre and the friction between people was almost a physical presence, so with the failure of a curfew the patrols of soldiers within the walls were constant and permanent. It was therefore not surprising the sight of a score of armed soldiers with a knight at their head was ignored by the people who were starting to rise to begin another day in the city which had become the capital of the Kingdom of Jerusalem.
As the Muslim call to prayers floated across the city, so too did the bells of the Christians as the first prayers of the day were chanted by the faithful. De Capo hated the sound, he was in Acre to fight for his beliefs but they had been shattered by what he had witnessed in the name of God. He was still a man of faith but he was also a man of conscience and his convictions were being tested by the day.
The guards who stood on the two towers guarding the Castle of the Mount watched with interest as the small column of men approached the main gates. One guard turned away and shouted down into the castle before turning back to watch the proceedings. De Capo stood and waited pa
tiently while the gate was slowly opened, a knight appeared and walked towards de Capo, stopping a respectful and safe distance away.
The sun was rising slowly in the east. The shadows that started as one dark blanket across the earth would slowly break into fragments belonging to anything that deflected the rays of the everlasting source of unbearable heat. The coolness of the night would soon be gone; a distant memory by the time the sun reached its zenith and started its downward journey as it had done since the earth was formed.
Before the heat reclaimed the land, and darkness was finally pushed into the recesses of the day, the torches still burned in the castle and outside on the walls. In the flickering light of those flames de Capo looked closely at the knight who stood before him and recognised him as a knight who had stood next to de Chauvigny a few days earlier in the gully. One of the men who had attacked the Mameluk cavalry and slaughtered them, an act that could have bought the entire army of the Sultan screaming as they swarmed over the walls of Acre to put everyone to the sword….or worse!
Leopold, sporting close cropped hair stood an equal height to de Capo, with a firm, solid stature, the muscles hidden beneath the mail he wore were hinted at by the thickness of his neck. Clearly wearing a steel breast plate under his red surcoat which displayed the black cross, he also had plate protecting his upper arms, and with greaves protecting his lower legs he was clearly ready to fight on horse or foot. He carried an arming sword on his left, as well as a Falchion on his right, the short, heavy, wide bladed weapon designed for hacking, similar to a butcher’s knife but larger. Two swords were unusual but on this man they looked normal. His eyes were slits as they roamed over de Capo and the men behind him, ‘Sir Ralf de Capo, welcome to the Castle of the Mount.’ Although the welcome was spoken, the tone of his voice and the expression on his face was anything but welcoming.
‘It seems you were expecting me,’ de Capo said as he saw the man was fully dressed and armed, ‘unless of course you sleep ready for battle!’
Leopold gave a cold grin, ‘I expected someone, but I did not expect you!’
De Capo glanced up at the two towers as more men appeared and looked down at the small column of men, ‘I assume you are von Eschenberg,’ he said as he met Leopold’s unwavering gaze.