The princess looked at him. ‘But do you not think. . .?’
Hartelius shook his head. ‘No. That would be an impossible hope. The margrave will have his spies on board already. They will have accompanied us all the way from Rupertsberg. That is the way these things are played. These spies will have communicated with him from Venice. Probably using the same vessel that brought you your second marriage chest. The news of our betrayal will precede us, my love. We must prepare ourselves for that.’
‘Then we must return to Famagusta and you must leave the vessel there. There are Templars in Cyprus, are there not?’
‘Not any longer. We sold the island to Guy de Lusignan, and his heirs now rule it. And they are not well-disposed towards us, to say the least. Which is why I kept my men aboard during our overnight sojourn. In any case, I cannot abandon you.’ He took her hand in his and kissed it. ‘I will not leave you.’
‘Then you will be killed.’
‘Sometimes it is better to die than to live in dishonour.’
The princess watched Hartelius for a long time. Then she stood up, forcibly, as if she had made a decision. She pointed to her first marriage chest – the one sent to her by her brother. ‘The Holy Lance is in there.’
‘I know that.’
‘I am to pass it on to my future husband as a token of my brother’s confidence in him.’
‘I know that too.’
‘What you don’t know is that my brother has vouchsafed me a further object he wishes to be handed over.’
‘And what object is that?’
‘The Copper Scroll.’
Hartelius’s chair tipped over as he stood up. His face was pale. His eyes blazed. ‘That is preposterous. The Copper Scroll is the greatest of all the Templar treasures. It holds the key to the secrets of Solomon. It would never be allowed out of Templar hands. Not even if the king himself were to command it.’
The princess, disturbed at having provoked such an unintended reaction in Hartelius, turned sharply away from him. ‘But you haven’t fully deciphered it yet, have you?’
Hartelius reined in his anger. It wasn’t Elfriede’s fault, after all, if her brother was playing her for a dupe. ‘Not to my knowledge, no. But then I would be the last to hear, being no longer a full Templar, but only one of the fratres conjugati. My understanding is that the Copper Scroll is written partly in Mishraic Hebrew, and partly in another, unknown script, that appears neither in the Bible nor elsewhere. Templar scholars have been labouring to decipher this unknown script since the scroll was discovered by our founding knights, on the Temple Mount, seventy years ago. It is only a matter of time before the script is decoded and its secrets discovered. It is therefore impossible that the Copper Scroll could be here and in your possession. Impossible.’
The princess turned back towards him. ‘But it is.’
Hartelius righted his fallen chair. He was stone-cold sober now, despite the quantities of Cretan wine he had been drinking to accompany their game. ‘How can you be so sure we are talking of the same artefact? There must be a multitude of scrolls available to the king.’
‘But still. I am sure. Because I broke the seals on my brother’s letters to my future husband.’
‘You did what?’
‘I broke the Royal Seal.’
Hartelius took the princess’s hands in his. ‘But such a thing is punishable by death, Elfriede. Even as a royal princess you would not be immune. It is called lèse-majesté.’
She looked up at him. ‘And what have we been doing these past few months, Hartelius? What is that called, do you think?’
Hartelius’s expression softened. ‘What indeed?’ He gazed for a long time at the young woman in front of him, prey to a profound sadness. The thought of parting from her overwhelmed him. The thought of another man holding sway over her – a man who would not, and could not, cherish her as he did – filled him with anguish.
Hartelius enveloped the princess in his arms and pressed her to his chest. He kissed the top of her head many times, as was his habit, and then kissed her around the eyes and cheeks, eventually completing the familiar journey to her mouth. When he finally spoke, he spoke over her shoulder, his eyes taking in every corner of the cabin, as if it were the last time he would get to see it. ‘I think the time has come to confront the realities of our situation. We can hold it off no longer. Might I see these letters?’
The princess disentangled herself from Hartelius’s arms. She walked over to her repository. She returned carrying the two letters and handed them to her lover with a rueful smile.
Hartelius inspected the seals with a crestfallen expression. ‘Was it not within your capabilities to lever off the seals in such a way that they could be replaced, Elfriede? These are beyond any possible repair. It almost looks as though you brutalized them on purpose.’
The princess shrugged. ‘The seals are designed so. Any tampering is permanent. Any fool knows this. There seemed no point in holding back once I had made my decision.’
Hartelius shook his head in wonder. ‘So you knew exactly what you were doing when you embarked on this madness?’
The princess nodded. But the supercilious mask she had put on for Hartelius’s benefit was beginning to crack, to the extent that she now appeared trapped part-way between tears of regret and tears of outraged virtue. ‘Yes. I knew what I was doing. I wanted to give you no possible choice in the matter. No possible excuse to remain at my side and let von Drachenhertz skin you alive. He is all-powerful in Outremer. Your thirteen Templar knights will not be able to help you. Nobody will. You will be killed if you go ashore at Acre.’
Hartelius took her by the shoulders. ‘So you broke into your brother’s letters to von Drachenhertz, knowing that I would be forced to take the blame on your behalf?’
She nodded. The tears flowed unchecked down her cheeks. ‘Knowing that you would insist on taking the blame on my behalf. Yes. For that is the only way I knew of to get you to leave this ship before it docks at Acre.’
‘But I will not leave you.’
‘You must leave me.’
‘To that monster?’
‘To my future husband. Yes.’
‘But he will know what has happened between us. Probably knows already. You have acknowledged that much yourself.’
The princess dashed the tears away from her eyes with the hanging sleeve of her bliaut. ‘Von Drachenhertz is an ambitious man. You told me this. Marriage to the king’s sister will be crucial to him. Fundamental to his ambitions. An extra string to his bow. If you are not there as a focus for his anger, he will soon come to terms with what has happened. He will not wish to make a public fool of himself. To seem to be a cuckold. No man does. Marriages at this level are political, and not of the heart. Von Drachenhertz is a realist, from what I have heard.’
Hartelius was appalled at the princess’s naivety, despite the surface confidence with which she put forward her point of view. And yet what could one expect from a young woman hauled, if not quite kicking and squealing, then at least unwittingly, from the relative innocence of a nunnery directly into the world of men? ‘Elfriede. Listen to me. Such a man as you describe will invariably suffer from an excess of pride. He is a war leader – not some effete courtier hiding behind his scented handkerchief. He commands the loyalty of thousands. When he finds that you have given your love to another man in every way it is possible to give, he will punish you. Privately, if not publicly.’
‘There is only so much he can do.’
‘He can do anything he wants to you. A woman, even one of high degree such as yourself, has little or no power at the best of times – not even at your brother’s court back in the Frankenland. In the Holy Land your position will be even more acute. I have been there. I know this for a fact. As a direct result of the Crusades, we invading Christians have gradually taken on some of the mannerisms of our enemies in terms of the way we treat our women. Certain of our leaders have even taken to keeping harems. Privately. With few
outside their inner circle knowing of their existence. But such a fact has a carry-over effect. Wives and mothers are not granted the same freedoms they have at home. The same liberty of movement. You will be suborned. Confined. Humiliated. I should never have indulged my desires with you. I am your senior by twelve years. You were placed under my guardianship. What I did was unforgivable.’
‘So you regret it?’
Hartelius threw up his hands. ‘Of course I don’t regret it. You are everything to me. Not declaring myself to you was inconceivable. Not having you was inconceivable. Not having you in the future is inconceivable.’
Elfriede managed a halting smile in response to his words. ‘Then we must both flee. It is the only way.’
‘That is impossible.’
‘Order the captain to turn back to Venice. You have the power.’
‘No, I do not. He will laugh in our faces. He knows that von Drachenhertz would pursue him to the ends of the earth and back again. Our captain may be corrupt, but he is no fool.’
‘Then go alone. Have him set you ashore at Beirut. When I arrive at Acre I will make it my business to seduce my future husband into loving me. If that is the only way to save you, it will be a small price to pay. I am not undistinguished in terms of beauty – you have told me so yourself. If you are susceptible to my charms, might not other men be?’
Hartelius watched the play of emotions across the princess’s face with awed respect. This one was truly a woman among women. The princess’s lower lip was trembling. Her eyes were beseeching him to hearken to what she was saying, while her heart was breaking at the possibility that he might. Hartelius understood only too well, after the months of intimacy they had shared, just what her words were costing her. She was willing to sacrifice everything for him. To barter her honour for his life. The least he could do was to offer her the same consideration. To return her sacrifice and make things right for her again.
He cupped her chin in his hand. ‘There is one way, perhaps. One way that you might be protected from the evil I have done you.’
‘You have done me no evil, Hartelius.’
‘From the evil, then, that I have brought down upon your head.’
‘And how is that? Speak. Please. Do not leave me hanging like this.’
Hartelius lowered his head. It was as if he feared being overwhelmed by the sheer weight of the words he was about to utter. ‘Very well then. I do as you suggest. I order the captain to set me ashore at Beirut. But I take the Holy Lance and the Copper Scroll with me when I go. Also these private letters from the king, your brother, to von Drachenhertz. This would formally exonerate you from any possibility of lèse-majesté. You could say, too, that in the absence of any priest in our party to safeguard you, I forced myself upon you. That you had no choice in the matter. That you were entirely in my power. That you succumbed to me for your own protection.’
‘But no one would back that up. My servants. My handmaiden. Your Templar knights would—’
Hartelius shook his head. ‘Nobody credits what servants or handmaidens say. And my Templar knights will not be staying aboard. They will be coming with me. When they discover that the Copper Scroll, the brotherhood’s most precious artefact, is being bartered to von Drachenhertz simply in order to get him to embark on a fourth Crusade, they will not hesitate. This I can promise you.’
‘I do not believe you. They would not turn against their king.’
‘They would. Believe me. There are secret reasons why I know this to be true.’
‘What secret reasons? You are saying this just to placate me.’
Hartelius sighed. The acuteness of Elfriede’s mind could sometimes be a hindrance, not a help. ‘There is something you must understand. Something you must swear to keep to yourself.’
The princess nodded. Her eyes held the first faint vestige of hope. ‘I swear. I swear it on my love for you.’
The force behind her words almost caused Hartelius to falter. To go back on what he was about to suggest. But he knew that he must not. For her sake he needed to be firm. ‘The issue of King Solomon’s legacy was the driving force behind the formation of the Templars seventy years ago. And it is still the driving force behind each and every one of our actions. Each Templar feels that he and his brothers are the direct heirs of Solomon on this earth. Our formal title is Pauperes Commilitones Christi Templique Salomonis – ‘The Poor Fellow-soldiers of Christ and the Temple of Solomon’. Only in our case the word Christi – Christ – does not refer specifically to Jesus.’
‘But that is blasphemous.’
‘To some eyes, perhaps. But it is true nonetheless. The word Christi, according to our usage, is taken from the Greek word khristos, meaning the ‘anointed one’, which is, in turn, taken from the Hebrew word mashiach, meaning Messiah. And our Messiah is not, and never was, Jesus Christ. Our Messiah is John the Baptist. The first anointed. The one who baptized Jesus. The one who Herodias, through Salome, ordered slain. And the new Messiah – the one foretold by Malachi with the words “Behold, I will send my messenger, and he shall prepare the way before me: and the Lord, whom ye seek, shall suddenly come to his temple” – will make his mark by the creation of a New Jerusalem, a new Temple, established exactly on the pattern of the old. And it is the Copper Scroll alone which contains within it the blueprint for the rekindled Temple of Solomon – and also the location of the treasure with which the building of the Temple is to be funded. That much is clearly written in the Mishraic. It is unequivocal.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘Because I wish you to understand the seriousness of what you have discovered. The only possible answer to the Copper Scroll being in your possession can be that it has been stolen from us by agents of your brother. Neither Gilbert Horal, our Grand Master, nor any of our Seneschals or Marshals, would ever have handed such a thing over voluntarily. They would rather die. So it must have been forcibly taken from us, and is intended to be used, alongside the Holy Lance, as a gathering focus – you may call it a recruiting aid – for the fourth Crusade. I will know more when I peruse these letters. But there can be no other possible reading of the situation. And once von Drachenhertz has the scroll in his possession, who is to say that he will not get his Arab scholars to decode it and steal the hidden treasure – to enrich himself or to fund his crusading army – before it can be used for the purpose King Solomon intended? Namely, to rebuild the Temple as the basis for a New Jerusalem.’
‘And you believe in this New Jerusalem?’
Hartelius shook his head. ‘I used to. I do not now. But I believe that others believe it. My Templar knights for a start. They may not remain loyal to me. But they will, without question, remain loyal to their vows. Each Templar knows of the secret contained within our name. Each has vowed to guard that secret with his life. If I tell them that I have taken back the Copper Scroll, which was unlawfully stolen from us, they will follow me to the ends of the earth if by that means they can ensure that the scroll is returned to its rightful owners.’
‘So you agree that I must marry von Drachenhertz?’
Hartelius threw up his hands. ‘I wish you to live as free a life as you are able. I owe you that and much more besides. When I first met you, you told me what you thought was the meaning of your name. That it meant “to be free”.’
‘But you told me no. That it means “strength in otherness”.’
‘I did. But to you the symbolical changing of your name betokened freedom. Freedom from the confines of the abbey, where you had been known as Agnes – the sacrificial lamb. And freedom from the whims of men. This, I believe, is why you gave yourself to me. Because there was no formality in my request to you. No outside pressure. It was a question of free will. And free will is precious in direct proportion to what one is prepared to lose for its sake. And you have been prepared to lose everything. I cannot sanction such a sacrifice on my account.’
‘It is not your choice to make.’
‘But it is my rig
ht to try and convince you of the good sense inherent in my future actions, is it not? I possess such a right, do I not? Thanks to my love for you? A love which I have demonstrated, and will continue to demonstrate, until my death. There will be no other woman for me beyond you in my lifetime. You are my one and only love. You are everything to me. To the extent that I would rather see you in the arms of another man than that any hurt should befall you. With von Drachenhertz you will become a queen. You will have the protection of that title.’
‘And my child will too?’
‘Yes. Any child of yours will thereby be protected.’
The princess put out her hand and touched her lover lightly on the arm. ‘Any child of ours, Hartelius.’
Hartelius flinched, as if her touch had scalded him. ‘I do not understand. What are you saying?’
‘I am saying that despite my regular use of the douche syringe, and lily root, and extract of rue, just as my handmaidens instructed me, that nature, and the fact that you are already the father of four live children and one dead, has conspired to quicken you in me. That I am carrying your child, Hartelius, probably since our sojourn on Murano.’ The princess cocked her head to one side, the ghost of a smile on her face. ‘Are you quite sure you withdrew from me when you raised my shift behind that haystack, Hartelius? For I seem to have no memory of it.’
Hartelius stared at the princess. ‘You are carrying my child?’
‘Nobody else’s. My menses were due twelve days ago. They have not come. They always come. I am as regular as the seasons. I have been so since I was eleven years old. You understand the menses, don’t you, Hartelius? Their significance to women?’
‘Yes. I have been married. As you well know.’
‘I thought as much.’
Hartelius led the princess over to their shared bed. He sat down with her and took her hand in his. Gently he kissed it. Then he laid it firmly in his lap, still grasping it with both hands so that she could not escape him. ‘Listen to me. This changes everything. A man such as von Drachenhertz may conceivably accept, through sheer ambition and venal greed, the deflowered sister of the king. But he will never accept another man’s unlawful child. We have no choice in the matter now. We must somehow persuade the captain to put us ashore at Tortosa. Tortosa is a Crusader citadel that the Count of Tripoli put in the hands of the Templars in 1152. The city was besieged by Saladin in 1188 but the keep never fell. We will be safe there. We can be married at the Cathedral of Our Lady of Tortosa, which the count has now rebuilt after its plundering by Saladin’s men.’
The Templar Inheritance Page 8
