Assassins of Kantara

by James Boschert

  The man looked very well fed, his corpulent body was topped with a large head and bulbous nose, his big mustache looked well tended and his clothing was expensive. By contrast the other man, the Templar, was lean, heavily bearded, with severe lines etched into the corners of his mouth. His weathered features denoted a man well used to the harsh climate, hardship and the mantle of command.

  “I took the opportunity of telling these gentlemen of my suspicions regarding that heretic, Talon de Gilles. I think he is on his way here to Acre, and that might well have been what Will was coming to inform me about,” Jonathan told Martin.

  “We will have extra guards on all the gates,” Pierre said. “I am very sure that he will not be able to slip into the city without us catching him.”

  “I shall place extra guards on the harbor to stop and search any ship with suspicious passengers, should he try to enter the city from that direction.” The Templar rasped. Jonathan seemed pleased that he was being treated as an equal by these officials. Martin watched as he almost preened at the attention.

  “Then the trap is set,” he said. “May I offer you more wine, gentlemen? I only take water, but you are my guests; please avail yourselves of my hospitality.”

  Sir Rufus stood up with a disdainful look on his face. “I do not drink wine, and I cannot stay, Bother Jonathan, but I thank you. I must go and ensure that my people are informed and take the necessary precautions. Please give my respects to the Bishop.” He gave a curt bow and stamped out of the room, his cloak swirling and his sword sheath rattling against his boots.

  The Constable watched him go with a sardonic smile on his face. “Those are a stiff-necked people,” he observed. “No wonder few like them.”

  “As you well know, Pierre, there is little love lost between us, but they serve their purpose,” Jonathan remarked with a smirk. “I will catch that Talon, and then I will have his friend too, despite the Templars. Both shall burn.”

  Martin spent several hours that night on his knees by his bed praying. He prayed for the wayward soul of the dead man; he prayed for Simon, who had disappeared he knew not where; and he prayed for himself, because he could not but think that he might have had something to do with the death of Will. He also sent a plea heavenwards for the protection of Talon.

  What course of life should wretched mortals take?

  In courts hard questions large contention make.

  —Posidippus

  Chapter 9

  A Hurried Departure

  Wearing dark clothing and carrying their bows and swords, Talon and Yosef left the house and slipped into the night, their destination the house where Brother Jonathan now lived. This was a mission of revenge, but also Talon needed to find out if Max had placed anything inside the hiding place near the chimney before he had been arrested.

  It took little time to gain entry. The large guard dogs came rushing up as the two men were climbing over the wall, barking excitedly—until they found the fresh meat. Gulping it down, the animals continued to snarl and leap at the two shadows perched on the wall. Then they began to whine and stagger about. Moments later, both animals were fast asleep. A guard who had been alerted by the noise came running up. He gasped when he found the two inert hounds lying on the ground, but that was all he managed. A blow on the head put him to sleep alongside his animals, while Talon and Yosef ran silently towards the darkened house.

  Wary of any other guards, they slipped up to the main door with great caution, and found it unlocked. Jonathan clearly considered himself safe here within his compound. By prior agreement, the two shadows split up. Yosef went towards the stables, carrying a small package wrapped in wax paper, while Talon slipped into the main dining room. The sour smells of dinner and old candle wax were strong here, but he was more interested in the stonework of the fireplace. Standing still for a long moment in the darkness, he listened for any sound of movement. There was none; the house creaked from time to time, and he could hear the squeaks and rustling of mice in the walls, but otherwise it was very quiet.

  He walked up to the masonry of the fireplace. There had been no fire as it was warm at this time of year, and felt inside the cavern of the fireplace on its left side. A stone at about waist height rocked lightly. He smiled in the dark and carefully pulled the stone away from the others. Placing it gently on the flag stones at his feet, he felt inside the cavity. He gave a small sigh of relief as his fingers came into contact with the smooth surface of a wooden box, and he drew this out. It was heavy, and the contents rattled slightly when he shifted it. This was the one place where no one would think to find the papers that Max would have put aside for future use. The Jews had been adamant that Max had not given the papers to them.

  Sure that he had what he wanted, he glided up the dark stairs towards the bedroom where he hoped to find his victim. This was something he would do personally. There was no mercy in his heart for Brother Jonathan. The man had destroyed Talon’s world in Acre—stolen it was nearer to the truth—and had caused the imprisonment of Max, his close companion of many an ordeal, a man who had done no wrong. This time there would be no messages or warnings left behind for a man to wake and find.

  He found the room where Brother Martin slept the sleep of the just and continued towards the master bedroom. Sure enough, there was a figure lying on the bed. Standing in the darkness by the door, Talon could not tell whether it was Jonathan or not, and he needed to be sure. Silently he approached the bed and stood over the figure, lying on its back asleep. It was Jonathan. As Talon leaned over Jonathan to deal the blow, his enemy must have become aware of his mortal danger, for he woke suddenly and his hand shot up to seize Talon by his wrist.

  Talon was surprised, but his strength was far greater than the monk’s. His left hand clamped down on Jonathan’s mouth, muffling a scream, and with a twist of his wrist he broke free and his blade struck deep. Jonathan’s eyes opened wide with recognition and agony just before they went vacant. Talon waited until the body was completely still, then set about preparing a fire. If he could not have the house, then neither would the Church. First, however, he set aside a large pot of water for future use. Then he went to the dark and silent kitchens and obtained a container of olive oil. It took but a moment to get a fire prepared, the center of which would be the bed. He ignited the oily cloth all around the bed and on the body with a candle.

  When the flames were well started and the bed completely engulfed in fire, he strode down the corridor to Martin’s room and doused the sleeping brother with the water. Then he shouted, “Fire!” and sped down the stairs to join Yosef, who was waiting for him in the courtyard,

  “Everything ready?” Talon asked his friend.

  “Oh yes, there will be a big noise when the time is right.” Yosef’s teeth gleamed in the light of the fire above them. “Come, it is time we were not here. Will your monk be all right?”

  “Wet, but alive,” Talon remarked, as they slipped over the wall and sped towards the harbor.

  By the time they arrived at the gates to the harbor much had happened. Looking back, Talon could see a tower of fire in the city, while all along the street frightened people were running towards it, shouting. The great fear of the citizens of this city was fire. The densely packed, badly constructed houses, made of wattle, wood and mud, were as dry as tinder. A fire like this could spread like the wind and destroy much of the city unless it was controlled. Talon was satisfied that a large part of the city and its guards would be very busy for the rest of the night.

  While Talon and Yosef were engaged at his former house, Reza and his men had been busy. They had no difficulty gaining entrance to the harbor. The gates were guarded by men who claimed to have once been soldiers but were completely unaware of the intruders until it was too late. Talon had asked that no one should be killed unnecessarily so Reza and his men simply crept up behind the guards and whacked them on their heads with cudgels. Talon hadn’t said anything about broken heads Reza reasoned.

  The unconsci
ous guards were trussed up and gagged then tossed unceremoniously into a shed not far from the gates and then Reza and Dar’an turned their attention to the potentially more difficult task of taking the ships. The two captains and their men who had been hiding in the shadows with the donkeys and the women came running lightly onto the docks where they found cover while Reza and his men contemplated their next objective.

  “Wait until we have the ships before you bring the donkeys in,” Henry told his lead hands.

  Reza’s men split up into two teams and stole some slim row boats which were bobbing alongside the quay then rowed into the cluster of shipping anchored in the harbor pool. Henry went with Reza on the one boat and while Guy and Dar’an went with some of their crewmen on the other. Both captains knew very well indeed where their former boats were anchored.

  With great care the two row boats were skulled between the dark hulls of the great Templar ships looming over them that creaked and groaned in the darkness as the boats ghosted by. In Reza’s boat Henry strained his eyes for the galley that had once been his home, finally he saw it and gripped Reza by the arm and then pointed. Even in the darkness the starlight was sufficient for Reza to see the direction of his arm and then whisper to his men.

  There was no sound from the galley but they could not take any chances. The oars made small creaking noises that sounded like claps of thunder to their ears as they eased their way towards the silent hull.

  A man in the front of the boat grasped a hanging rope from the bows and then held them as they drew alongside. With a low grunt Reza led the way up the side of the galley and stepped onto the deck. His men followed him like shadows and then sped to the corners of the ship searching for anyone on deck. He heard a snore from the steering deck and slipped like a phantom up the steps to stand over the recumbent sentry who stank of alcohol. A blow to the head and the man was unconscious. Glancing around Reza made very sure that there was no one else on deck. Leaving one of his men to gag and tied the sentry he went to the side and waved the boat around to the steps on the ship’s side. The two men with him having checked the top deck carefully for more people and finding no one moved like wraiths to the gangway that led down to the lower deck and disappeared.

  Henry and the rest of the men in the rowboat appeared on deck at the same time as Reza’s two men reappeared and signaled that they had taken care of the other man.

  “There were only two of them, Master Reza,” one whispered.

  “Good but make sure, search everywhere for any one else who might be sleeping somewhere below. One shout and we are lost,” he told them. Turning to Henry he grinned and waved theatrically about him as though to say. “The ship is yours, Captain!”

  Henry beamed at him and grabbed him into silent bearhug. Only then did Reza realize how important was this ship to the captain.

  Talon and Yosef passed through open gates to the harbor less than ten minutes after leaving the burning house; apparently, someone had forgotten to shut the gates in the excitement of the distant event. It was no surprise for him to find the quayside very busy. Henry’s and Guy’s crewmen were busy unloading the donkeys, which had arrived some time ago.

  Henry came hurrying out of the dark, whispering urgently to his men on the quayside. “Get into the boats, and hurry! There is no time to waste. Stop staring at the fire; it has nothing to do with us.” He shook one of the seamen by his broad shoulders and sent him to join the men carrying loads from the donkeys to the boats waiting in the water.

  Talon could see that Henry had not wasted any time. They were almost done with the cargo and just needed to ferry the remainder of the men quietly out to the ships.

  “Any problems, Henry?” he asked his captain, who was again dressed in the garb of a Templar. Henry chuckled. “I am having difficulty believing this, Talon, but your plan is working. Reza and his men took both ships without even a murmur. They are ours!”

  “What about the harbor officials?”

  “They were asleep! Once we were all inside the gates there were only five men to deal with, and your man Reza and his evil friends took them down. They didn’t kill them, just overpowered them and tied them up. They are all in that small shed over there, including the guards on the ships. There were only two on each ship.” He pointed along the quayside.

  “Where are the women and my son?”

  “They are on my ship, Talon. Don’t worry, they are safe.”

  “Then I must change into my uniform and join you. We’ll need one of the boats.”

  “I have one ready. Guy will join us shortly; he is seeing to his ship. He wants to make sure it has the equipment necessary to sail out of here.”

  Talon nodded. That was sensible. The ships had been anchored for a long time in the harbor, and he doubted if much maintenance had been carried out since they had been impounded.

  By this time the furtive bustle on the quay had been reduced to a couple of men leading the donkeys out of the way, their final loads now in the last of the boats. Reza appeared out of nowhere and confirmed that the two ships were ready and manned. Talon grinned at him. “Looks like you had a good night, Brother.”

  “So did you, by the look of it. Was that fire your work?”

  “Yes, all has been dealt with. Yosef did well.”

  Just as he said that, they all heard a muted explosion, like a small clap of thunder, but the skies were clear, and the fire swelled. “Yosef did very well,” Talon commented.

  Talon was handed a bundle by Henry and began to get ready for the next stage. He glanced towards the city again. The fire, larger than before, would provide the best kind of diversion; he didn’t want to wake up the entire garrison at the citadel. Time was becoming precious.

  He heard a boat grind against the quay and a low mutter, then Guy arrived at the top of the stone steps. “Ah, there you are, Talon. I was beginning to worry,” he said from behind his nose guard. He, too, was dressed like a Templar. He handed Talon a roll of parchment. “You told me to take care of this and give it to you when you arrived. Did you do that?” he jerked his head towards the flare in the sky.

  ‘“Yosef and I started it. My old house is no more,” Talon responded.

  “Well, I know it is bad of me to say so, but I hope that Brother Jonathan was inside it,” Henry said gruffly.

  Talon said nothing except, “We must hurry.” The three men hastened down the steps and climbed into the boat. Guy pushed off and they rowed silently towards the pier that led to the rear gate of the Citadel.

  Martin woke, gasping with a shock. A bucket of cold water had been thrown over him! He was drenched and chilled, but the cry that followed chilled him even more. “Fire!” someone shouted.

  He leapt from his bed and rubbed his face to clear the water from his eyes. Then he smelled the smoke, tendrils of which were creeping into his chamber. He struggled into his habit and snatched up his sandals, then ran barefoot to the doorway. A wave of heat from the left side made him gasp. The room where Jonathan slept was an inferno. He couldn’t even see past the roaring flames.

  “Jonathan!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. Instead of a human reply, the flames roared louder and the floorboards he was standing on began to smolder. The crackling and hissing of the fire was now so loud that Martin could barely hear the panicked shouts from below as the few servants who slept in the house woke up and began to realize their lives were in peril.

  Martin started toward Jonathan’s room, but the flames drove him back, singeing his clothing and his hair, and then following him as though intent upon devouring him. Martin put a hand over his mouth and nose and fled down the stairs to join the servants, who were clustered helplessly watching from below.

  “Get out! Get out of the house! God help us! There is nothing we can do here!” Martin shouted at them, hopping about on one foot as he struggled to put on his sandals. They needed no further persuasion. Everyone jostled through the doorway into the courtyard and the night air. Turning, Martin could see flames greedil
y licking at the dry eaves of the house, then a beam fell inwards, followed by a shower of sparks that lifted high into the night air. All around Martin, the servants were chattering excitedly; some of the maids were wailing, but no one attempted to put the fire out. Indeed, as he watched the fire take hold elsewhere in the house, Martin knew that there was little point in trying. He shook his head and wondered about the person who must have thrown water over him. Had he not, Martin surmised, he, too, would be trapped in the house with Jonathan.

  Then one of the servants clutched his sleeve. “Look! The stables! They are on fire!” the boy wailed.

  Martin spun around and, sure enough, he could see flames beginning to lick at the doorway. “Save the animals!” he cried. There were only two horses in the stables, but they were beginning to whinny with fear. Some men rushed to release them and drag them out of the smoking building onto the street.

  “We’ve got to prevent it from getting to the hay and stores!” Martin yelled, and he ran towards the well to seize a leather bucket and pump water into it. The water seemed to take forever to splash into the bucket, by which time a small line of men with more buckets had formed. Martin rushed towards the stables and tossed his load of water over some hay near the entrance, but he knew with bitter resignation as he did so that they would not be able to save it. Smoke was drifting off the roof-high pile of hay already. Once that took, it would be all over. Nonetheless, with a small prayer he rushed back towards the well, passing others with full pails as he went.

  “Its no use, we are lost,” cried one of the older men. “We have to get out of here or we will perish in the fire!”

  Others joined in the call to abandon the property. Suddenly, there was a flash and a deafening bang from the area of the hay barn. Flaming debris from the explosion flew in all directions, landing on neighboring houses, and the fire spread, becoming a raging inferno.