The Secret Crusade

17

Jabal was right, thought Altair, as he made his way through hot, crowded streets tangy with sea air, to the citadel market. There were many more guards about, perhaps double the number since his last visit. Some wore the colours of the Crusaders, and were in full armour. However, if he knew one thing about soldiers it was that they liked to gossip, and the more there were, the more indiscreet they were likely to be. He took a place on a bench, and sat as though to admire the grand citadel with its fluttering pennants, or as if simply to watch the day go by. Not far away an entertainer tried to drum up trade, then shrugged and began anyway, tossing coloured balls into the air. Altair pretended to watch him but was listening to a conversation taking place over the way, a couple of Crusaders chattering like washerwomen about William’s sword skills.

As Altair watched, a soldier’s eye was caught by a friar, a tall man in brown hooded robes, who was signalling discreetly to him. The soldier nodded almost imperceptibly, bade his friend goodbye and moved across the market. Watching from beneath his cowl, Altair stood and followed as the two men met and moved away from the hustle and bustle to talk; Altair positioned himself close by, straining to hear as the friar spoke.

‘Perhaps it was unwise to embrace William. He is old and thinks too much of himself.’

The soldier pursed his lips. ‘His army is large. We’ll have need of them. For now, I’ll go and visit the other brothers. Make sure they have everything they need.’

‘Aye. They must not fall,’ agreed the friar.

‘Fear not. The Master has a plan. Even now he prepares a way to turn our losses to his advantage, should it come to that.’

Master? Altair wondered. Brothers? Just who did these men answer to? Acre had more layers than an onion.

‘What does he intend?’ asked the friar.

‘The less you know, the better. Just do as you’ve been instructed. Deliver this letter to the Master.’ He passed it to the friar and Altair smiled, already flexing his fingertips. He stood from the bench and followed. One lift later the scroll was his, and he sat once again to read it.

Master:

Work continues in the Chain District of Acre though we are concerned about William’s ability to see this through to the end. He takes his duties a bit too seriously, and the people may reject him when the time comes. Without the aid of the treasure, we can ill afford an uprising, lest it recall the King from the field. And then your plan will be for nothing. We cannot reclaim what’s been stolen unless the two sides are united. Perhaps you might prepare another to take his place – simply as a precaution. We worry that our man in the harbour will become increasingly unstable. Already he talks of distancing himself. And this means we cannot rely on him should William fall. Let us know what you intend that we might execute it. We remain ever faithful to the cause.

He folded the letter and pushed it into his robes. Something to show Al Mualim, perhaps. Then again, maybe not. So far Altair felt Al Mualim had been less than open with him regarding his targets. Perhaps this was part of his test. Perhaps.

A group of servants hurried past. The juggler juggled; he had a bigger crowd now. Not far away a speaker had taken up position in the shade of a tree and was talking against King Richard.

Next Altair’s attention was arrested by a young man with a close-trimmed black beard who seemed to be appealing to citizens as they passed, at the same time keeping an eye on a pair of city guards stationed a short distance away.

‘William de Montferrat cares nothing for the people of Acre,’ he was saying. Altair loitered to listen, careful not to catch his eye. ‘While we starve, the men inside his keep want for nothing. They grow fat upon the fruits of our labour. He brought us here to rebuild, he said. But now, far from home, and the grace of our king, his true plan becomes apparent. He steals our sons, sending them into battle against a savage enemy. Their deaths are all but guaranteed. Our daughters are taken to service his soldiers, robbed of their virtue. And he compensates us with lies and empty promises of a better morrow – of a land blessed by God. What of now? What of today? How much longer must we go without? Is this truly the work of God – or of a selfish man who seeks to conquer all? Rise up, people of Acre. Join us in our protest.’

‘Be quiet,’ called a woman passer-by, gesturing in the direction of guards who were peering along the street, perhaps aware that rabble-rousing was afoot.

‘You’re a fool,’ agreed another, harshly. He turned away with a dismissive wave of the hand. Nobody in Acre wanted to witness William’s anger, or so it seemed.

‘Your words will see you hanged,’ whispered another, who slunk away.

Altair watched as the rebel cast a wary glance, then stepped into the crowd and joined another man there. ‘How many have you called to our cause?’ he asked.

‘I fear they are all too afraid,’ answered his companion. ‘None would heed the call.’

‘We must keep trying. Find another market. Another square. We must not be silenced.’

With a final backwards glance at the soldiers, they moved off. Altair watched them go, satisfied he had discovered all that he needed to know about William de Montferrat.

He took a final look at the citadel, towering over the marketplace, the black beating heart of Acre. In there, somewhere, was his target, he thought, and with William dead, the people of Acre would know less tyranny, less fear. The sooner that happened, the better. It was time to revisit Jabal.

The Bureau leader was, as ever, in a jovial mood. His eyes twinkled as he greeted Altair.

‘I’ve done as I was asked,’ said Altair. ‘I’ve armed myself with knowledge. I know what I must do to reach Montferrat.’

‘Speak, then, and I will judge.’

‘William’s host is large and many men call him master. But he is not without enemies. He and King Richard do not see eye to eye.’

Jabal raised an eyebrow. ‘It’s true. They’ve never been close.’

‘This works to my advantage. Richard’s visit has upset him. Once the King has left, William will retreat into his fortress to brood. He’ll be distracted. That is when I will strike.’

‘You’re sure of this?’

‘As sure as I can be. And if things change, I’ll adapt.’

‘Then I give you leave to go. End the life of de Montferrat that we may call this city free.’ Jabal handed him the feather.

‘I’ll return when the deed’s been done,’ answered Altair.