Henk led the troop through the busy streets to the building that had been assigned to them, the guard room of the Bishop´s old palace building and as well appointed as Henk had promised.
Shortly after dismounting and beginning to unload their pack horses, a stranger arrived. Salvatore noted that he nodded familiarly towards Henk, who stepped forward to introduce the man.
"Sir, this is Father Vocari, the Bishop´s chamberlain. It was he who arranged our welcome."
Salvatore bowed to Vocari. "We are in your debt," he said.
"No, there is no thought of debt. We are pleased to have the chance to show our great affection and gratitude to our warrior brothers. The Bishop himself tells us often that the freedoms we enjoy are only secured by the strength of your sword arms." Vocari had the open, easy smile of a man happy with his lot and secure in his position. "Brother Salvatore," he said, "perhaps I can show you the courtyard we have set aside for you and your men should you want somewhere to train and exercise."
Salvatore bowed and followed Vocari out of the building and across to a small, walled field.
"This will be perfect, Father," said Salvatore. "You show us much consideration. You have made great preparations in a short time."
"We knew you were coming some days ago. As soon as you crossed the pass into the valley, in fact. We are also aware that you entered the Duke´s castle and we know that you will have found the bodies of his garrison."
"Did Henk tell you that?"
"Henk, your sergeant? No, your sergeant has tight lips. You are lucky to have him. The people of this valley can talk over long distances with surprising ease. They have their own form of communication. Perhaps you heard them. It sounds a little like singing. Their voices carry along the faces of the hills."
"We heard them."
"Then you know that there are few secrets here that do not reach us. Constant vigilance is the price we have to pay for our peaceful life in such a troubled land."
"You seem peaceful enough," said Salvatore.
"It takes effort, much effort. In fact we have only recently had to exert great energy in resisting pressure from outside."
"From the Duke?"
"No, from another source altogether. You see we have had some very forceful communications from Rome itself, from our good brothers in the Inquisition. There are voices who call for the rigors of the Inquisition to be brought here. There is a feeling amongst some that the resistance of the people here to the rule of the Duke is not godly, a concern that many have strayed from the path the Church has set out."
"The Inquisition is coming here?"
"No," said Vocari, "but it was not a simple task to divert them. The inquisitor known as Father Massimo has sent several letters. Very strongly worded. He is known as being," Vocari thought for the right word, "very diligent in his work. You understand that having members of your Order here is very valuable to us at this time. What is there to fear from any heretic when the Templars are at hand to defend the interest of the church?"
"Your bishop is a wise man," said Salvatore. "For as long as we are here, we will be happy to be of service."
"Thank you," said Vocari. "We hope that we never need to ask for your help."
Salvatore looked around the walls of the yard. There was no one within fifty yards of them.
"You mentioned that my sergeant, Henk, was a tight lipped man," he said. "How did you reach such an opinion so quickly?"
"It was certainly quick, but not an opinion we came to rashly. Since he rode in we have had four different people engage him in conversation but none got the slightest information from him. He has the great talent of being able to talk and ask questions but say nothing in return. As I say, a man to value."
Salvatore nodded his thanks and begged leave to return to his troop. He walked into the barrack room and summoned Henk to follow him outside.
"I told you that if anything was to stop me reaching this city, you were to take the contents of my saddle to a man."
"Yes sir."
"His name?"
"You told me it was Odo and that he owned a salt mine."
"Do you know where he is to be found?"
"Yes sir, in the yellow house at the foot of the hill that leads to the castle."
"How did you discover this? Did you tell some stranger that we sought him?"
"No, sir. I asked the gatekeeper how the people here lived. He told me that there were many ways to make a living but that the salt mines employed many men. I asked him if there was money in salt and he told me all about the owner of one of the big mines, a man called Odo, and how he had made so much money that he had built a fine new house."
Salvatore looked intently into the face of his sergeant. Trust was something he was sparing with, but it was impossible for him to move forward without having someone to rely on.
"Get some rest, Henk. You will be leaving again in a few days," said Salvatore. "There is something I need you to do."
Turning Points
It took a lot to shake Peter Sparke. He had once launched a lifeboat into the heart of an oncoming tsunami and only a few weeks previously he had walked into a tunnel full of burning asphalt. During his career he had seen trains explode and spill toxic chemical waste into a river, watched a disabled ship pass within a few feet of an oil rig and witnessed that same ship being hit by a missile fired by a Royal Air Force fighter, he had met spies, special forces soldiers and government officials who never explained what their job actually was, and none of those things succeeded in raising his heartbeat. Normally, the greater the stress, the more calm and focused he became. It was what made him a perfect crisis manager. He never lost his cool.
"You must be bloody joking," he said, staring wildly at Karin.
"What is there to joke about?" said Karin, glancing at the last of the meeting’s attendees, still chatting in small groups, several of whom had glanced towards them when Sparke spoke. "It is the most natural thing on the world for us to talk about, surely?"
Sparke knotted his brow and ran through the options of how he might respond, but nothing came to the surface.
"I´m trying to think of what to say, but my mind is a total blank," he said. "I have literally been struck dumb."
"Perhaps it would be an idea to find somewhere for a drink?" said Karin.
"I can´t imagine how drinking will help me think any better. Just to make sure I didn't misunderstand. You want to talk about us as in, 'us', like an item type thing, is that right, I mean, I didn't get you wrong?"
Karin smiled and leaned across the table to pick up her briefcase, then draped her coat over her arm. "You understood me well," she said. "Is it really such a shock that we should talk about us?"
Karin placed her hand on Sparke´s elbow and guided him out into the car park.
"Again," said Sparke, "I will say that I am unable to think of any possible answer to that."
"Can we take your car? I had a lift in from General Defarge this morning so I didn't bother with a rental." Sparke found himself standing next to his car, then inexplicably, a few moments later, driving Karin down the hill towards Lake Geneva.
"I think there is a little bar in the next village," she said.
"Where is your hotel?"
"I´m staying in Lausanne tonight."
"Let's go to Lausanne," said Sparke.
"All right," replied Karin calmly. "How are you settling in to Switzerland?"
"Fine, but that's not what we're talking about, is it? I mean, what do you really mean when you say you want to talk about ´us´?"
"Oh, don´t be coy, Peter. We both know that we have a connection, more than that. Isn't it at least worth discussing things?"
"Which hotel are you in?"
"Hotel? The Lausanne Palace."
Sparke reached out to a button on the dashboard. "Navigation, Lausanne, Hotels, Lausanne Palace." A voice from the car said, "Do you mean Lausanne Palace Hotel, Rue de Grand Chene?"
"Yes," said Sparke.
"What a clever car," said Karin, "but a little large for Swiss streets, no?"
The Range Rover sat at least a foot higher than any other car on the road and the apparent Swiss belief that parking spaces need not allow for the act of actually opening doors did, in fact, make it an impractical choice.
"It´s the best car in the world and I've wanted one for my whole life, so it´s fine thanks. Anyway, the car doesn't matter and neither does my life in Switzerland. We're talking about your amazing idea that there is an 'us' that needs to be discussed."
"Did you enjoy the meeting today?" asked Karin.
"Today? Sure, of course I did."
"Don't you think you might be happier if you were doing that kind of thing more often? I mean, I know you don't have to work now, but don't you think it would be something more fulfilling than your history hobby?"
Sparke focused on the road for a moment.
"It is a hobby as you put it, but I enjoy following my interests in history. It's a challenge and it looks as though I have a little bit of skill in the area. But forget that. What about you and Dieter from Compliance? As you might remember, you dumped me by sending me an invitation to your engagement party. The amazing thing is that I am such a dummy that I actually turned up."
"Oh yes, with your little Scottish friend, the teacher."
"She's a professor."
"Dieter and I decided that it wouldn't work out. We had too many other parts to our lives. I suppose we share less than we first thought. His name is just 'Dieter' by the way, you don't have to say ´Dieter from Compliance´ every time you know."
"Who decided that it wouldn't work out, you or him?"
"It was mutual," said Karin, flicking a piece of nonexistent dust from her skirt.
"Let me guess, you scheduled a meeting and worked it out on a spreadsheet."
"We looked at the situation calmly if that is what you mean."
"And Tilly thinks I am too logical."
"Tilly, right, that's her name. Are you together, I mean romantically?"
Sparke focused on the road again, navigating his way through the steep Lausanne roads up to the high ground where the hotel stood.
"No, we're not together romantically, no."
"She's very good looking. Do you think anything will happen between you? I mean is that why you seem to be nervous about discussing us?"
"Nervous? I'm not nervous about it, just gob smacked that you raised it."
"Peter, if you have feelings for her I understand. But look at things reasonably. All I am suggesting is that you and I see if there is something for us to work out, if we might be right for each other."
Sparke swung the car into the stone portico of the hotel. A doorman stepped forward and opened the passenger door and Karin slipped out of the car and looked at Sparke as the doorman walked round and opened the driver's door. After a brief pause, Sparke got out and walked round to where Karin stood. A smiling parking valet held out his hand for Sparke's car keys. Sparke looked at the keys in his hand, then at Karin and the revolving door that led into the hotel.
"Karin," said Sparke, “Tilly and I are not a couple. But right now I can tell you that I wish we were. I know that I stand virtually no chance with her since I am probably the most boring person I know and everything I do to try and make myself less boring makes her laugh out loud. Most likely she'll never see me as anything more than a friend but I would rather be her best friend than your second choice for a husband. Good night."
Sparke climbed back into his car and drove out of the hotel’s stone portico, forcing himself not to look into his rear view mirror at where Karin stood.
New Allies
"Why would you care?"
"Does that matter to you?"
"What matters is that you are an outsider and you want to involve yourself in our business. We do not know each other, so I ask you again, why would you care?"
Salvatore looked around the simple, but beautiful room. Wood paneling covered every wall and they sat in the sort of chairs that Salvatore had only ever seen used by bishops and the nobility. The man he was talking to was neither. Odo had asked his question twice now, and showed no inclination to ask again. Salvatore paused and thought deeply for a moment, recalling his many conversations with the Mason.
"Our Order is strong," he said. "We are rich in land and in money, but we have enemies, people who wish us ill and who would take what we have. We seek friends, neighbors, amongst whom we might live."
"You seek to rule us like the Duke of Savoy. You seek a kingdom." Odo's comments were not a question, but an accusation.
Salvatore nodded silently before saying, "Your concern is reasonable. There would be no reason to exchange one foreign ruler for another, but that is not our aim and it is not in our interest. We know that if we came here as occupiers, we would come to a land of war. I saw the castle of the Duke in the valley. I saw what happened to his garrison. There is no place for us in a land where we have to watch our backs constantly."
"So, we are to invite you and an army of Templars to live here amongst us, to tax us and make laws for us."
"We seek land, which we will buy, we seek neighbors with whom we can live and we seek allies who are in as much need of defense as we may soon be. Every spring the Duke's men come to your valleys and ever winter you slaughter his garrisons and repair the damage they have caused. With our support, you can stop him coming."
"You seem very sure of that," said Odo.
"I am very sure of that."
The two men sat facing each other for a moment, then Odo took the long walking staff that leaned against the wall behind him and rapped sharply on the floor twice. A servant appeared at the door within seconds.
"Hot wine," said Odo.
The servant disappeared, bowing slightly. Salvatore had noticed that here, people, even servants, rarely bowed and when they did it was the slightest gesture.
The wine arrived and the servant left the men alone again. As he left the room, the servant turned and walked out directly, not backing out as was common with servants elsewhere.
Odo poured the wine which steamed gently in the cool room.
"I have a small token for you and your friends," said Salvatore, lifting a heavy leather bag from under his cloak and placing it on the table. The sound of coins clinking against each other was unmistakable.
"And what will this buy you?" asked Odo.
"Us? Nothing. We hope it will buy you a better means to defend yourself than you already have. I saw a village a short distance from here trying to defend itself from the Duke's men with farm tools and kitchen knives."
"Drink your wine," said Odo. "I will talk to some friends. If they want to talk to you I will arrange it. If they don't, then I won’t. Amongst us there are no lords or barons. Men decide for themselves and then we decide together."
"A strange way to make decisions," said Salvatore.
"The Duke would agree with you," nodded Odo.
"He will come back soon?"
"It will be at least a month before the road is dry enough for large groups of men, but they are slow and lazy, so we will have another month after that before they try again."
"Two months."
"A lot can happen in two months," said Odo.
Salvatore left the large yellow house of the salt miner and walked back towards the barracks through streets bustling with people who all seemed to be in a rush to get somewhere. He had never seen people so busy.
Henk and one of the younger sergeants were busy in the tack room preparing their riding mounts, war horses and pack animals.
"You know your task?" asked Salvatore.
"Yes, sir," said Henk.
"I need to know if you succeed and I need to know if you fail. There is only one man you can give the message to and I need his answer immediately. You understand?"
"Absolutely."
"What else do you understand?"
"That this task is to be spoken about to no one."
"You will leave in the morning?"
"There will be three hours of light today if we leave immediately," said Henk.
Salvatore nodded, saying, "Go carefully, but go quickly. We know you can be relied on."
Leaving Henk and the other Templars in the barracks, Salvatore saddled and mounted his own horse and left Sion, back out onto the valley road. He knew what he was looking for, but not where he might find it. A mile beyond the outskirts of the city, Salvatore rode his horse up a small hill and looked around the valley.
He had been told that the valley ended where the river ran into a great lake about sixty miles west. The valley formed a single great bend to the right that blocked the view of its full length and at this bend stood a large town. Like ever town of any size, it was guarded by a castle nearby.
The town was a two hour ride for Salvatore and the time passed easily. His men were well quartered and busy, the sergeant, Henk, was taking his message, critical to the success of the mission, back over the pass, and he had already made contact with the man he had come all this way to speak to.
On the outskirts of the town stood a carved wooden sign giving those who wished to enter the basic laws they were expected to obey. Salvatore noted that it was not signed in the name of any overlord, or even in the name of the town, but by "The Syndics of Martigny". He walked his horse under the low archway into the town and spoke to the guardsman who stood watching the traffic.
"What is a Syndic?" asked Salvatore in pidgin Latin.
"Syndics make the laws," answered the man.
"Syndics are lords, knights?"
The guardsman shook his head. "Syndics are men of the town. They talk, collect taxes, make laws. Decide things."
"No Lords here?"
The man shrugged. "What do lords and dukes do? We do everything that needs to be done ourselves."
Salvatore nodded and walked into the town, struggling to understand this place where people saw no reason why they should not rule themselves. He found three blacksmiths in the town, one had a large stone barn building lying unused next to it. He dismounted outside and ducked as he entered the cramped, but tidy, building. An iron-master and two assistants worked quietly at a bench, but the forge was unlit.
The Templar Tower: Peter Sparke Book Five Page 17
