Galloglass Book One the Templar

by Seamus O'Griffin

  "I have need of good men. I am loathe to lose him." Master de Beaujeu scratched his beard and then smiled. "I offer you this, Ronan MacAlisdair of Clan Donald. You will give me, Guillaume de Beaujeu, ten years of service to the Temple. In return I will knight you and raise you to the position of bodyguard and Turcopole in my personal retinue. As such, you may remain a Secular Knight. You will assist me and be both my shield and my strong right hand when I have a need, and you will answer only to me. What say you?"

  The look on Himbert's face was enough to tell me that I would be a fool not to accept. Ten years. The thought of giving ten years to the Temple was difficult to swallow, yet the opportunity that had been presented me was unquestionable. There were men within the Order who labored a lifetime to rise from the rank of sergeant to that of a Brother Knight and many who never in their life time even caught a glimpse of the Grand Master let alone became his personal bodyguard. I have been foolish in my lifetime but never a fool. "Yes, lord; I would be honored to serve you."

  The master drew his sword and laid it upon my right shoulder. He then said, "Do you, Ronan MacAlisdair, wish to be a serf and slave of the Order and leave behind your own will to do another's for the term of ten years?"

  "Yes, lord."

  "And do you wish to suffer all hardships which are established by the Temple and carry out all orders that will be given to you?"

  "Yes, lord."

  Master de Beaujeu tapped me with the flat of his blade. "Good lords, as thou art my witnesses. Rise, Sir Ronan, and pray to Our Lord and Lady St. Mary that you do your vows well. Welcome to the Order."

  The ceremony, as befitted one performed on a field of battle, was brief. In an instant, I was both a Templar and a Brother Knight. For the ten years that followed, I would be at their service. If I survived, it would be worth the sacrifice. I would owe no man, and I would be a lord, by my own hand.

  Himbert had a sergeant bring me a horse at the same time he brought one to the master. Marshal de Vendac trotted his mount over to where we stood. He stared at me a moment, his face unreadable, and said, "Congratulations on your sudden rise. There will be many of our brothers who will struggle with their pride and feel otherwise. We are not immune to the sins of a secular world even within our Order. You are fortunate in that you have Himbert to guide you. Heed him and beware false friends. They will lead you to perdition."

  I watched his eyes as he spoke. They betrayed nothing and were as unreadable as his face. It remained to be seen if the marshal would be a friend or an enemy. "Yes, lord," I replied. "Himbert has taught me well."

  "Humble are we? Are you sure you were trained by Himbert Blanke?" asked the marshal as he cut his eyes toward my mentor.

  "Of course, he is," snorted Himbert. "Unlike that dolt of yours, Geoffrey. How long have we heard about his dispatching a Saracen bandit? Two months? I am sure he was tough to kill considering he had a Turcopole arrow sticking out of his side."

  The marshal grinned for the first time. "He killed him, didn't he?"

  "My lords, enough. It is time to mount. We are wasting time," said Master de Beaujeu.

  "Then call in your scouts, Guillaume, and lead us to Acre. My bones ache, and I would rest this night in the citadel," responded the marshal.

  Master de Beaujeu nodded his approval, so I mounted and signaled for the remaining Turcopoles to move up and join me. I explained what was needed and quickly dispersed them to our flanks and rear and was about to take the point myself when Himbert halted me. "The Italians who attacked us were most probably either Genoese or mercenaries employed by them. It would not surprise me if they did not try again. Do not take any chances. If something does not look right, halt the column, bring up your riders, and make sure of what is ahead before you proceed. Better to be late than dead. The master does not need to lose a Turcopole so newly appointed. "

  "Yes, lord," I replied as I kicked my horse into a trot. I did not celebrate my good fortune as there was no time. The responsibility of guiding the column into Acre overwhelmed any momentary sense of pleasure I might have had. Luckily we had no more trouble. We moved northward cautiously, and it was well after sunset before we rode through the Gate of the Legate and made our way into the Templar citadel within the walls of Acre.

  Two

  Over the next several days, I was introduced to my duties. Mostly I was the master's shadow. I was expected to be with him constantly from before Prime to after Compline unless dismissed or sent on one of several errands. The only exception to this was the time granted to me every morning to practice my skill at arms. Master de Beaujeu saw to it that all of the commander's weapons-masters worked with me daily. During this period, I also met the Templar hierarchy stationed at Acre, most of whom I already knew because of Brother Himbert. It was here that I began to understand why de Beaujeu chose me. He needed someone who had no ties to anyone in the Temple, excluding Brother Himbert. I had no allegiances either through lineage or promotion. As I discovered over the next several months, the Temple was every bit as political as the Papal court.

  Four days after my promotion, I was ushered into a meeting between Master de Beaujeu, Marshal de Vendac, Under Marshal Peter de Severy, our Seneschal, Henri de Poitiers, and Brother Himbert. We met in the master's chambers in one of the towers of the citadel.

  Master de Beaujeu sat at one end of a long, oak table. To his right sat Henri de Poitiers, flanked by Under Marshal de Severy. On his left was Marshal de Vendac and behind to his left stood Himbert. Upon my entering, with all eyes focused on me, I thought at first that I had done something wrong.

  "Come in," said Master de Beaujeu. "The Order has a need for you."

  "My lord?" I responded, confused.

  Henri de Poitiers drummed his fingers on the table. All were silent as he cleared his throat to speak. De Poitiers was a tall man, a full head taller than Master de Beaujeu. High cheek bones and narrow, close set, gray eyes mirrored his look of disdain for all things common, including me. "The master has decided to send you as our emissary to the Genoese. You will be accompanied by a representative from the Hospital and the Order of Teutonic Knights. You will take the first available Templar ship, sail to where the Genoese fleet now mans their blockade, and demand an audience with admirals Thomas Spinola and Orlando Ascheri. You will inform them that in two days' time, they are to meet beneath the walls of Acre with the Grand Masters of the three Military Orders to discuss a resolution to this war between the Genoese and our allies, the Pisans and the Venetians."

  Like all residents of Acre, I was aware of the naval war between the Italian trading states. Riots had broken out several weeks before between the rival communes within the city itself. The three Military Orders, the Temple, the Hospital, and the Teutonic Knights, working together, suppressed the fighting. However, the Temple's siding with her ally, the Venetians, had caused the Genoese to attack and defeat a Venetian fleet just off the coast and then attempt to force the harbor at Acre. They were unsuccessful and currently maintaining a blockade in an attempt to strangle the port. That was also the reason for the attack on our party south of the city. "Forgive me, Lord Seneschal, but what makes you think they will listen?"

  A look from Master de Beaujeu suppressed de Poitiers' need to be waspish. Instead he took a different tack, treating me like an ignorant novice. In a voice filled with tedium he explained, "The old saying, 'Time is money' applies here. The longer this war lasts with no decisive conclusion, the more money Genoa loses. They have no trade agreement with the Sultan of Egypt. The port of Acre is closed to them. They have no access to the Far East unless they trade through Byzantium, who will be sure to take their pound of flesh for the service. No, they will listen."

  "Are we sure they have no agreement with the Sultan?"

  "That is not your concern. It is as I have told you."

  Master de Beaujeu cleared his throat and waved away de Poitiers' concerned look. "Ronan, I tell you this because you will become privy to many secrets as my envoy. We know there is
no agreement because our spies in the Sultan's court have told us so, and they are quite reliable. It should come as no surprise to you that we have sources close to the throne of Egypt. It is vital to our survival."

  At that moment, a sergeant entered the room and announced the arrival of the grand masters of both the Hospital and the Teutonic Knights. They were awaiting Master de Beaujeu's pleasure in the chapter hall of the citadel. Master de Beaujeu took the opportunity to say to all of us, "Brothers, we are entering dangerous times. Our support from the thrones of Europe is dwindling as each king weighs the needs of his kingdom verses the needs of his soul. The pope has problems as well, and while we can count on his support, he can give us little in the way of men and less in the way of money. Therefore, we must look to ourselves and the support of our fellow Orders if we are to survive and possibly wrest Jerusalem back from the control of the infidel. If I seem to give in to the suggestions of our brothers in Christ, it is because I see that unity of purpose is what we need now, not the resumption of old rivalries. Therefore, I ask you to give me your full support in this."

  The master was looking at Henri de Poitiers when he said this. To his credit, de Poitiers acquiesced, bowing his head. "Brother, if I am at times obstinate, it is my way of ensuring that you do what is for the good of the Order and ultimately our faith. Is that not my duty?"

  "It is Henri, and I would have it no other way."

  "At least in this, we are agreed. Shall we go?" asked the seneschal.

  The others voiced their agreement, and in moments we were on our way to the chapter hall to meet our guests. Himbert hung back and waited for me. Quietly, so that we would not be heard, he said, "For whatever reason, it seems that de Poitiers has decided you are his enemy. I have been around him long enough to know he has taken a dislike to you. Do not give him a reason to act on it. He has powerful friends outside of the Order, friends who can exert enormous pressure on the master and the pope."

  "May I ask who?"

  "The King of France, Philip le Bel."

  It was a sobering thought for a young man, yet at the same time, I did not truly understand how dangerous de Poitiers was. I was more concerned with meeting two Italian admirals and not acting like an oaf. I nodded to Himbert but made no comment.

  The chapter hall was well lit with torches when we entered. Near the far end, where Master de Beaujeu had his seat upon a raised dais, stood the masters of the two largest military orders outside of the Templars. The nearest to us was Burkhard von Schwanden, Master of the Teutonic Knights. Von Schwanden was a big man, broad in both shoulder and girth. Thick necked, with a florid complexion and white blond hair. His cloak looked large enough to be a horse blanket. He was flanked by two brothers of his order. They were easily two of the largest men I had ever seen. All of them were wearing bleached white mantles with the black Teutonic cross of their order emblazoned on their chests. Both of them were a full head taller than their master and just as wide with the same blond hair.

  In contrast to the Germans stood the Master of the Hospital, Jean de Villiers and his attendant. Their surcoats were bright red and emblazoned with a white, eight pointed star in the center of their chests, the symbol of the Order of St. John of the Hospital. Master de Villiers was one of those men who overwhelmed the personalities of those around him. He was not a tall man, yet he seemed as large as the Germans who towered above him.

  Master de Beaujeu smiled as he greeted both men in turn. "Brothers, I asked you to come so that we can agree on a solution to our present problem, namely the Genoese and their fleet, which even now blockades our harbor and halts our trade with the rest of Europe. I assume you read the proposal that I sent to you."

  Both men nodded. "We have no fleet Guillaume. We can't drive them away," said de Villiers, stating the obvious.

  "Nor will they attempt to force the walls. We are at an impasse, gentlemen. Would you not agree?"

  "And you think they will be moved by threats?" asked de Villiers.

  "Gentlemen, think on this." Master de Beaujeu raised a finger. "One, if they do not end this trade war, we will unite the forces of three military orders and seize all of Genoa's assets in the Holy Land." He raised another finger. "Two, we burn their warehouses in Acre, Tyre, and Tripoli, turn out their communes, and drive them from those cities. Three," and another finger was raised, "we take our grievances to the pope and apply for a dispensation to wage war on them with impunity." A final finger went up, with thumb bent across the palm. "Four, we trade only with Venice and Pisa and use our influence at the court of Qalawun to keep them out of Alexandria as well. This effectively strips them of all trade in the Holy Land." He looked at each of the masters in turn and smiled. "Yes, I think threats will work."

  De Villiers rubbed his hand across the cropped hair of his scalp. "The question is, will the Genoese believe that we will be able to accomplish all of this?"

  De Beaujeu shrugged and lifted his hands. "Perhaps not, but there is enough to force them to consult with Genoa before making any more moves."

  "And if they agree to withdraw, what then?" asked Von Schwanden. "What else do we want? Do we ask for a return to the status quo or is there more?"

  "I think that is the very least that we ask for," replied de Villiers. "Yet what do we gain?"

  De Beaujeu smiled, "Four things, my lord. Time, peace, and a resumption of trade. It also gives us a reason to send a delegation to the sultan to enlighten him on the folly of allowing a Genoese trade monopoly of the Levant."

  De Villiers turned to Von Schwanden. "Burkhard, what think you?"

  The squat German stroked his mustache a moment and said, "Guillaume is right. Acre needs a truce between the Italians. We must never forget that the Mamluk are our true enemy. My information coming from Cairo indicates that Qalawun is looking for an excuse to break the present truce. His taking Lattakia earlier this spring has emboldened certain factions at court. This should be our warning. An embassy of our own in Cairo would be most advantageous."

  Both de Villiers and de Beaujeu quickly digested this piece of information. It was obvious by their faces that they were not aware of this latest intelligence. Master de Beaujeu turned to Brother Himbert, "How soon can we have a galley ready to sail?"

  "De Flor is taking on stores as we speak, my lord."

  De Beaujeu nodded, "Good." Turning back to de Villiers and von Schwanden he asked, "Who should we send?"

  "A representative from each of our Orders, I should think, perhaps our marshals," said de Villiers.

  "I think not. It would be too tempting. The Italians might risk taking hostages," answered de Beaujeu.

  "We send our personal attendants, our bodyguards," suggested von Schwanden. "The Genoese will recognize them and know that the offer we deliver is genuine."

  I noticed Master de Beaujeu hid his smile well. This was exactly what de Beaujeu had planned for all the while. The fact that von Schwanden suggested it made the idea easier for the other Orders to agree upon. The three masters quickly hashed out the details, and the meeting broke up. The representatives were to meet before dawn on the docks and board the Templar galley Drachen. The galley would leave with the tide and bring them to the Genoese fleet at once. When the guests had left the chapter hall, Master de Beaujeu called me to his side. "Ronan, you will attend me, please."

  "At once, my lord." I waited as he dismissed the rest of the Templar brothers including de Villiers, who gave me a long look, and then followed de Beaujeu back to the tower and up to his chambers. He ushered me in and offered me a seat on a bench by a low window that overlooked the ocean. He poured himself a cup of wine from a ewer on a nearby table and took a swallow before speaking. "Do you know of the House of Two Sisters?"

  I was worried that this was a test. The House of Two Sisters was both an inn and a brothel. To admit that I knew of it was to implicate myself in a moment of weakness. To lie to the Master would be worse. "Aye, lord. It is an inn located against the outer wall in Monmusart. It has an unsavory repu
tation."

  De Beaujeu smiled, "Indeed, and I assume you would know."

  Before I could plead my case, he held up his hand and shook his head. "There is no need. I have known of your penchant for women for some time. There are those in our Order who would not be so tolerant were they to know of your indiscretions. Such things will remain between us, though I would suggest you be more careful. Your vows are between you and God. Do not put them on display."

  I was surprised but had the good sense to keep my mouth shut. I did wonder how he knew and resolved to be much more careful in the future, for it was obvious that I had been followed. "Thank you, lord."

  "Do not thank me yet. You will go to the Two Sisters. There is a man there. His name is Andre de Bruges. He was the leader of those mercenaries who attacked us several days ago. I want you to bring me his head."

  I was surprised, shocked in fact. The look on my face must have showed it. That was something I was going to have to overcome if I was to be made privy to the master's secrets. Unsure I had heard correctly I asked, "My lord?"

  "I said I want you to bring me the head of Andre de Bruges."

  "Is he not a Christian? What of our injunction not to kill our brothers in the faith?"

  "That did not stop you from killing mercenaries, did it?"

  "Forgive me, master, but they were trying very hard to kill me."

  De Beaujeu chuckled, sipped his wine, and then became serious. "Do you fear for your soul? If so, do not. What I ask of you is for the good of our Order and, by extension, the Church as well. This is not a revenge killing. This is politics. To allow an attack upon me or any officer in the Temple go by without punishment would be viewed by many as being weak. That is one thing in this land that we never appear to be."

  I shrugged, indicating my indifference. I had killed before and was sure I would do so again. Christian or infidel mattered not to me. The master had honored me, made me a knight, and given me position and trust. "I do not fear for my soul any more than any other man, my lord. It shall be as you asked."