Knight Assassin

by James Boschert

  How could he explain how he had lost it all when he had been captured by the Knights Templar and they had refused to listen to his pleas to release him? That he blamed himself for having lost Rav’an and that he believed her to be dead because that was how it must be for a girl in her world who had loved a man out of wedlock, and then been exposed.

  His mother sat quietly and listened as her son poured his heart out to her. She wept when he told her of his aching love for the beautiful girl left behind in Persia. Eventually, he stopped. It had been a long tale through which his mother for the most part had sat quietly listening.

  The shadows had grown long by the time he stopped and the hound slept at their feet, and he could go on no longer. The dreadful pain of the parting and his utter despair at having lost Rav’an had come to the surface and now it hurt too much. His mother quickly sensed his state of mind. She reached up, cupped his face in both her hands, gently shaking his head and stared up at him. He was surprised at how small she seemed to have become.

  “The Lord works in strange ways. I see the great pain in you and would that it were not so. If God wills it then you may find her again one day. Although I would pray that you could live out your days here in Languedoc with us.”

  “I cannot lie to you. One day I have to go back and find out what has become of her or I shall never rest; I'll never know peace until then. I will avenge her, if she is truly dead, for the reasons I have told you,” he said with tears in his eyes.

  His mother knew then with bitter certainty that while her son had returned to her it was not ordained that he should stay. She could not comprehend the world that her son knew so well; it terrified her and she dreaded the thought of him going back to the dangers there. She resolved to keep him as long as God permitted. She kissed his cheek again, stood up, and with a heavy heart, put her hand on his arm for him to escort her to the Hall. The hound woke and slowly getting to its feet, followed at their heels.

  Three days later as Talon and Max were finished working on the leather of the saddles and making good some repairs on some of the other bridles there was a commotion at the gates. One of the sentries shouted down that there was a party of horsemen coming to the fort.

  Talon walked toward the hall where he met his mother and stood with her. They looked at one another and then she tapped his forearm.

  “I know, Talon. Go and get ready if you have to.”

  He kissed her cheek. “I shall wait here with you to find out who it is.”

  The Welshmen were not going to be caught unawares; they came jogging up to stand with their new master, their bows strung.

  His mother looked at them with a question in her eyes.

  “They are my men now.” He smiled at her, then at the men, who grinned back self-consciously, only half understanding the meaning of the interchange.

  “I see,” she said doubtfully.

  Sir Hughes and Sir Philip came striding out of the hall to hear what the sentries on the gate platform were saying of the visitors.

  “Who is it?" Sir Hughes asked as he straightened his tunic and tightened his sword belt.

  “M’lord, it looks like the Church,” said the sentry up on the walkway. He sounded awed.

  “Then open the gates, man!” Sir Hughes bellowed. He and Sir Philip walked forward to a point where they could greet whoever came through.

  The gates were opened ponderously and in rode a man dressed in fine clothes followed by a small retinue of horsemen. He was mounted on a spirited horse which he seemed well able to ride. The horseman’s clothing was plain, but of rich blue material and had all the symbols of the church. A cross was sewn into the cloak in silver thread and the great velvet cap he wore denoted a man of the Church on business. The priest, for that was what Talon thought he must be, was a middle-aged man not much older than Sir Hughes and obviously enjoyed riding good horses to the hunt.

  There were hunting hounds on leashes held by a man striding behind him. He rode into the yard as though he owned it and doffed his huge felt cap to Hughes and Philip as they bowed to him.

  “Well met, Sir Hughes. I was not aware that a member of the Order of the Templars was your guest? I am honored to make your acquaintance, sir,” he said to Philip.

  Talon heard the remark but somehow he didn’t believe the man was very sincere.

  “You are welcome, Father. May I introduce my brother Sir Philip of the Order of Templars. He is just arrived from Palestine this short while.”

  “I had heard that you had visitors from the Outré Mere, Sir Hughes.” He bowed briefly from the saddle to Marguerite. “Madame.”

  “Will you not dismount and take refreshment with us, Father?” Sir Hughes asked politely.

  “My thanks, I think I will,” the man said.

  “It is the Secretary to the Bishop Bohemond,” Marguerite whispered to Talon. The priest dismounted and handed the reins off to one of his retainers, who remained mounted.

  He strode to the two men, shaking the dust from his cloak, and bowed again. He was fit-looking for a man of the church. He had a stern look on his clean-shaven face, with a fleshy mouth overlooked by a beak of a nose and restless, darting eyes that did not seem to miss anything. Talon was unused to seeing men completely shaven and so he regarded the man curiously.

  Then the priest was coming toward them.

  “May I also present my wife and my son, Talon, Father.”

  The priest stood in front of Talon. He was almost the same height although much older. He looked Talon over and then said, “I was not aware that you had an elder son until quite recently, sir. Is this the boy who has come back to us from the side of the unbelievers?”

  “This is my boy who was lost to the Saracen as a captive long ago, my Lord,” Marguerite said levelly.

  The Secretary of Bishop Bohemond ignored her and stared at Talon. “I shall be glad to hear your confession, young man. I do not doubt but that it must be a long one. We shall welcome you back to the fold with a suitable penance and forgive your unfortunate regression over the time you were away.”

  “I do not feel that I did anything that should make me feel like a sinner, Father,” Talon said bluntly.

  The Priest smiled thinly. “You may not realize it in your ignorance, young man, but we have a responsibility to God to ensure that one who has been sullied is cleansed and then taken back into the bosom of God.”

  Marguerite tightened her grip on Talon’s arm so he held his peace.

  A cup of wine was handed to the priest and other mugs were passed around to the family as they stood.

  The priest toasted them then turned to Sir Hughes. “I came here on other business, Sir Hughes.”

  “What might that be, Father?’

  “My Lord the Bishop understands that you continue to disregard the will of your Lady wife’s father, which was that the land should go to his nephew.”

  He held up a hand to forestall the indignant words about to come from either Hughes or Philip. “One way or the other, sir, you should not disregard the words of a dying man. If he did indeed say that the land was his nephew’s on his deathbed, then it must be so. It has been many years since the untimely death of your wife’s father, but it is now time for the law to be observed and God’s will be done.”

  “Why then did the Secretary of My Lord the Count of Carcassonne send us the letter recalling us to this land?” Marguerite asked, disregarding the protocols of the moment.

  It was clear to all the priest was annoyed by her impertinence, but he answered patiently, if somewhat patronizingly. “My lady, it is the Church’s law that protects the last wishes of a dying man. The secretary was wrong; he should and will be chastised for the confusion he has caused. You have no proof of the written kind to present that can counter the claim, is that not true?” He looked keenly at Sir Hughes as he said this.

  Talon’s antennae went up. Why was he so interested in the lack of proof?

  The priest continued without waiting for an answer. “I am sent h
ere by my Lord the Bishop to warn you that you will run counter to the laws of the church should you continue to refuse to honor your father’s wishes. He is gravely concerned that you shall sin against the Church and God in this. I pray you will find reason in your hearts and allow due process to take place.”

  Talon felt that the priest was beginning to sound just a bit too sanctimonious for his liking. He was about to say something, but his father got in first.

  “Father, we have only the word of my wife’s cousin, and that word is suspect to my mind. I have no faith whatsoever in our cousin. I shall, however, be glad to take this to a court that will settle the issue,” Sir Hughes said irritably.

  The priest looked at Sir Hughes for a long moment then shrugged. “Then so be it. My Lord Bishop will be disappointed that you will not see reason, Sir Hughes. I shall mention this to him. If you will answer to a court appointed to review this case, then I cannot stop you. We shall make arrangements to make this so. I regret but I must leave as I have a long ride to Albi before sunset. Thank you for your hospitality, sir. My lady.”

  “From where have you come, Father?” Talon asked innocently.

  “From your... from the forest where we have hunted today,” the priest answered.

  Talon noted that the man’s face flushed for some reason.

  The man bowed shortly to them and then turned and mounted his horse. After a brief salute he wheeled his horse and led his party out of the gates and down the dusty road toward Albi.

  There was silence as everyone watched his departure.

  Then Sir Hughes slapped his hand on his thigh. “What is the Bishop of Albi doing sending his lackey here to warn me to comply with the wishes of your cousin, Marguerite?”

  “It comes too closely to the quarrel of three days ago, Hughes.” she said bitterly. “Somehow my cousin has reached the bishop and he has decided to force us to agree to his terms. I wish I knew what was going on.”

  “I think he has just come from the Guillabert’s home. Did you hear him when Talon asked him outright?” Max, who had been listening, said.

  Talon looked at Max. “Yes, I agree, I think we caught him in a lie, Max.”

  “Maybe, Talon, but it doesn’t change our situation. I still don't know what they're up to,” Sir Hughes growled.

  Talon thought he might know but he was silent. His parents’ agitation was concern enough. He recalled that the monk Claude was at the Abbey of Saint Marc; he decided he needed to talk to him. Perhaps he could help bring some kind of reason to this situation.

  It was a subdued group of people at dinner that evening as they discussed the new twist to the situation. There were no conclusions to be drawn; they were all nervous because the Church had seemingly weighed in on the side of Sir Guillabert. He obviously had a very powerful ally in the bishop. Talon went to bed wondering why a powerful bishop would be so interested in this kind of land dispute.

  The next day he told Sir Hughes of his decision to visit the monastery and see what he could find out from the monks. Being a well established monastery there might be some clues as to the status of the land.

  He took with him Anwl, Belth, and Drudwas, and one man Sir Hughes gave him to show them the way. It was almost a full day’s ride according to Hughes. He asked Gareth to stay at the fortress with the other two men and ensure that his father and Sir Philip were well protected. He did not think that there would be any trouble at this point, particularly now as there was every likelihood that the bishop would convene a court to hear the case.

  Just before they set off that morning, Aicelina came up to him and gave him a leather bag which she told him held bread and cheese for the journey. He thanked her solemnly and took the food gratefully. Mounting Jabbar, he looked down at her.

  She was squinting up at him, one hand protecting her eyes from the sun. Her look was quizzical but all she said was, “God speed, Talon. Come home safe.”

  He murmured his thanks, a little surprised at the attention. She had seemed to have avoided him since their last encounter.

  He thought about the food he was eating in this foreign land. In many ways it was completely different from that which he had become used to in Persia. He had already eaten hare stew with root vegetables and herbs. He had taken a liking to this soft matter that they called butter and spread all over the bread which he had also come to like very much. He had watched butter being made once. The maid had poured cream from the milk of the cows into a long wooden barrel and then closed the lid and then beat a long stick with a flat end up and down inside it making a loud sloshing sound. He had been very surprised to come back within the hour to find this slick, fatty-tasting stuff sitting on a board instead of the cream. Talon remembered the way yogurt had been made in Persia. There they used a skin full of goat’s milk that they shook back and forth on ropes for some time until it separated and then they took the cream and hung it in cloths from beams, after which they shook the skin until its contents became a soft, very sharp cheese.

  He had come to love cream, too, and had once gone with his mischievous brother Guillaume to steal some from the cool of the pantry near the kitchens. They had been caught by Aicelina with the white stuff all over their chins. She had laughed at their guilty looks, scolded them and then chased Guillaume off while she took a cloth and wiped Talon’s face for him. It had been a curiously intimate gesture and he had felt himself getting hot. She simply smiled at him and then left wagging an admonishing finger at him at the doorway, while he had grinned guiltily after her.

  With a bright summer’s day ahead of them, the small troop of riders were on their way along the well-worn tracks that led to Albi, but which would eventually take them north into the foothills where the old abbey was located. The journey passed uneventfully along forest tracks where the trees towered over them. Talon was still getting used to trees that made a man on horse seem insignificant; the lack of a distant horizon still bothered him and he felt enclosed. They would come out of the forest and ride across open country, avoiding the cultivated fields where peasants worked the ground. He enjoyed the warmth of the sun on his back, and the men with him seemed to enjoy it too. The Welsh chattered incessantly, leaving Talon to his thoughts, which revolved mainly around the predicament his family found itself in.

  His thoughts also drifted for the hundredth time to the Holy Land and what might have happened to Rav’an and Reza, his Persian brother. If anyone could keep them alive, he thought it had to be the resourceful Reza.

  He was deep in these not-so-cheerful thoughts when they came within sight of the buildings just before sunset. Talon was impressed with the layout of the monastery. Situated on the crest of a lightly wooded hill, the abbey was walled and seemed defensible. It was composed of a large, rectangular building surrounded by stables and barns. On one of the sides of the stone building was a square tower with red tiles on its roof and long windows, giving it the look of a watch tower. Talon noted many fields surrounding the abbey, some of them vineyards. There was an air of careful cultivation and quiet wealth about the place.

  Their presence had been noted as they came up the gentle slope toward the buildings where they were met by a monk in a gray-brown habit. Much patched, as were, it seemed to Talon, everyone’s clothes in this region.

  The monk politely asked them what their business would be, and when Talon said that he had come to visit Brother Claude and perhaps talk to the abbot, the monk hesitated, but then asked his name.

  “I am Talon, son of Hughes de Gilles.”

  “Please come with me and we shall look to the horses, Sir. I think Brother Claude is in the fields nearby.”

  “I would like to go and meet him, if you have no objection, Brother,” Talon said politely. He dismounted, gave Jabbar’s reins to Drudwas, and got directions as to where the field might be. In fact it was one of the vineyards on the slope to the south of the buildings; as he made his way there, he saw Claude and several of the monks who had come with them from Mas-Dieu, working along the row
s.

  Someone saw him coming and nudged Claude, who stood upright from his hoeing. He straightened his back painfully and stared at Talon. Then recognition dawned and he beamed and called a welcome. He leaned his hoe against one of the dense vines, and, calling to Pierre who was also there, he hurried up the slope toward Talon.

  “Well met, young sir,” he said as he came up, panting and wiping his brow with his sleeve. “I had not expected a visit so soon. I hope you are well and found your family in good health?” He beamed his pleasure at seeing Talon.

  Talon smiled. “Indeed, Brother Claude, it is a pleasure to see you again, and you Pierre,” he said as he clasped their hands firmly. “This monastery is far larger than I had imagined,” he said as he gazed about.

  “It is founded upon an old Roman villa that existed hundreds of years ago,” Pierre said proudly.

  “It was in ruins many, many years ago when the order bought it and rebuilt it along much the same lines as formerly. You will note it is situated on this hillock. That was to provide some means of defense, as in those days life was even more precarious I think than it is today.”

  “I just wish we did not have to work so hard in the fields,” Claude said with a rueful grin on his round, sweating face. “My back aches more each time we have to go out there; I think I am getting too old to do that all the time. I much prefer to spend time in the Scriptorium where I can hunch over a book and read.”

  “It is all God’s work to be done and you know that you are one of the slowest at the hoeing in any case, Claude. You came along just in time, Talon—he was about to fall over from exertion,” Pierre said, with a laugh.

  Talon smiled at the friendly banter.

  Brother Claude stood back and looked at him carefully. “What brings you to this place, Talon?” he asked quietly.

  “Much and perhaps nothing, good sirs. It will take some time to explain however.”

  “Then we must take you to meet the Abbot Matthias. I have told him of you and he would be very keen to meet with you. Later when it's dinner time we shall eat together and also I hope Audric, our vintner, is feeling generous so we can have some of the better wine tonight.” Claude said hopefully. Talon shuddered.