The Secret Crusade

50

The following day, Altair and Maria were about to make their way from their residence to the main tower when they were intercepted by Swami, who insisted on leading them through the barbican himself. As they skirted the wall Altair wondered why he couldn’t hear the usual noise of swordplay and training from the other side. As they came into the courtyard he got his answer.

It was because there was no swordplay or training. Where once the inner areas of the citadel had hummed with activity and life, echoing to the metallic chime of sword strikes, the shouts and curses of the instructors, now it lay almost deserted. He looked around him, at the towers overlooking them, seeing black windows. Guards on the ramparts stared dispassionately down at them. The place of enlightenment and training – the crucible of Assassin knowledge he had left – had all but disappeared. Altair’s mood darkened further as he was about to make his way to the main tower but Swami directed him instead to the steps that led up to the defence room, then into the main hall.

There, the council was gathered. Ten men were seated on opposite sides of a table with Abbas at their head, a pair of empty chairs for Altair and Maria: wooden, high-backed chairs. They took their seats and, for the first time since entering the room, Altair looked at Abbas, his old antagonist. He saw something in him other than weakness and resentment. He saw a rival. And for the first time since the night that Ahmad had come to his quarters and taken his own life, Altair no longer pitied Abbas.

Altair looked around the rest of the table. Just as he’d thought, the new council was made up of the most weak-minded and conniving members of the Order. Those Altair would have preferred to be cast out. All had joined this council, it seemed, or been recruited to it by Abbas. Characteristic of them was Farim, Swami’s father, who watched him from beneath hooded lids, his chin tucked into this chest. His ample chest. They had got fat, thought Altair, scornfully.

‘Welcome, Altair,’ said Abbas. ‘I’m sure I speak for us all when I say that I am looking forward to hearing of your exploits in the east.’

Maria leaned forward to address him. ‘Before we say anything of our travels, we would like some answers, please, Abbas. We left Masyaf in good order. It seems that standards have been allowed to slip.’

‘ We left Masyaf in good order?’ smiled Abbas, though he had not looked at Maria. He hadn’t taken his gaze from Altair. The two were staring across the table at each other with open hostility. ‘When you left the Brotherhood I seem to recall there being only one Master. Now it appears we had two.’

‘Be careful your insolence does not cost you dear, Abbas,’ warned Maria.

‘ My insolence?’ laughed Abbas. ‘Altair, please tell the infidel that from now on she may not speak unless directly addressed by a member of the council.’

With a shout of anger, Altair rose from his chair, which skittered back and tumbled on the stone. His hand was on the hilt of his sword but two guards came forward, their swords drawn.

‘Guards, take his weapon,’ commanded Abbas. ‘You will be more comfortable without it, Altair. Are you wearing your blade?’

Altair stretched out his arms as a guard stepped forward to take his sword. His sleeves fell away to reveal no hidden blade.

‘Now we can begin,’ said Abbas. ‘Please do not waste our time further. Update us on your quest to neutralize Khan.’

‘Only once you have told me what has happened to Malik,’ growled Altair.

Abbas shrugged and raised his eyebrows as if to say they were at an impasse, and of course they were, neither man willing to concede, it seemed. With a grunt of exasperation, Altair began his story, rather than prolong the stand-off. He related his journeys to Persia, India and Mongolia, where he, Maria and Darim had liaised with the Assassin Qulan Gal, and told of how they had travelled to the Xia province nearby to Xingging, which was besieged by the Mongolian Army, the spread of Khan’s empire inexorable. There, he said, Altair and Qulan Gal had planned to infiltrate the Mongolian camp. It was said that Khan was there, too.

‘Darim found a vantage point not far from the camp and, armed with his bow, would watch over Qulan Gal and me as we made our way through the tents. It was heavily guarded and we relied on him to dispose of any guards we alerted or who looked as though they might raise the alarm.’ Altair gazed around the table with a challenging stare. ‘And he performed this duty admirably.’

‘Like father, like son,’ said Abbas, with more than a hint of a sneer in his voice.

‘Perhaps not,’ said Altair, evenly. ‘For in the event it was I who was responsible for almost alerting the Mongolians to our presence.’

‘Ah,’ said Abbas. ‘He is not infallible.’

‘Nobody is, Abbas,’ replied Altair, ‘least of all me, and I allowed an enemy soldier to come up on me. He wounded me before Qulan Gal was able to kill him.’

‘Getting old, Altair?’ jeered Abbas.

‘Everybody is, Abbas,’ replied Altair. ‘And I would have been dead if Qulan Gal had not managed to take me from the camp and bring me to safety. His actions saved my life.’ He looked carefully at Abbas. ‘Qulan Gal returned to the camp. First he formulated a plan with Darim to flush Khan from his tent. Realizing the danger, Khan tried to escape on horseback, but he was brought down by Qulan Gal. Khan was finished with a shot from Darim.’

‘His skills as a bowman are beyond doubt,’ smiled Abbas. ‘I gather you have sent him away, perhaps to Alamut?’

Altair blinked. Abbas knew everything, it seemed. ‘He has indeed left the citadel on my orders. Whether to Alamut or not, I will not say.’

‘To see Sef at Alamut, perhaps?’ pressed Abbas. He addressed Swami. ‘You told them Sef was there, I trust?’

‘As instructed, Master,’ replied Swami.

Altair felt something worse than worry in his gut now. Something that might have been fear. He felt it from Maria, too: her face was drawn and anxious. ‘Say what you have to say, Abbas,’ he said.

‘Or what, Altair?’

‘Or my first task when I resume leadership will be to have you thrown in the dungeon.’

‘There to join Malik, maybe?’

‘I doubt that Malik belongs in prison,’ snapped Altair. ‘Of what crime is he accused?’

‘A murder.’ Abbas smirked.

It was as though the word thumped on to the table.

‘Murder of whom?’ asked Maria.

And the reply when it came sounded as though it was given from far, far away.

‘Sef. Malik murdered your son.’

Maria’s head dropped into her hands.

‘No!’ Altair heard someone say, then realized his own voice had spoken.

‘I am sorry, Altair,’ said Abbas, speaking as though he was reciting something from memory. ‘I am sorry that you have returned to hear this most tragic news, and may I say that I speak for all of those assembled when I extend my sympathy to you and your family. But until certain matters are resolved it will not be possible for you to resume leadership of the Order.’

Altair was still trying to unravel the jumble of emotion in his head, aware of Maria beside him, sobbing.

‘What?’ he said. Then louder: ‘ What? ’

‘You remain compromised at this point,’ said Abbas, ‘so I have taken the decision that control of the Order remains with the council.’

Altair shook with fury. ‘ I am the Master of this Order, Abbas. I demand that leadership is returned to me, in line with the statutes of the Brotherhood. They decree it be returned to me.’ He was shouting now.

‘They do not.’ Abbas smiled. ‘Not any more.’