Standard of Honor (57 page)

“Gerard de Ridefort.”

“Yes, him … and that made all the difference, because once Guy had the support of the Templars behind him, others kept drifting in to join him, and soon he had several thousand under arms, all of them eager for a fight, and in the month of August he marched them south and set siege to Acre. A little while after that, fearing to lose the advantage to Guy, Conrad led some of his own people to join the siege. He and Guy managed to cooperate for a while, and to his credit, Guy held his end up really well in the one big clash they had with Saladin's forces outside of the city. But the army soon split up into factions—Guy's people against Conrad's—and that's the way it remained for more than a year …”

“And? There's more. I can hear it in your voice.”

“Aye, there is … And then King Philip showed up with his half of the army … He met with both several times, weighed one up against the other, and chose Conrad. That's why King Guy is here. He decided he couldn't wait for Richard to come to him, because Philip's been telling everyone that Richard is more interested in dallying with his friends than in reaching
the Holy Land. So Guy left Philip and Conrad in front of Acre and he sailed here with the pick of his best knights, hoping to convince Richard of the need to hurry to Acre and bring Philip to heel.”

“And will he, think you?”

“Will he convince the King, you mean?” Nickon twisted his face. “King Richard's advisers might tell you he will … Personally, I think he already has, because Richard listened very carefully to all he had to say, and when he had finished talking he gifted him with new clothes and armor … Guy's old clothes were threadbare and his chain mail rusted and falling apart. He also gave him fifteen hundred pounds in silver marks and various other treasures to replace what he had lost ... Now, I've been in attendance on the King for many years, and I've never known him to do a thing like that for someone he doesn't like, or doesn't intend to help.”

“Hmm. And based upon that familiarity and experience, what d'you think he'll do now?”

He never did receive an answer, for even as he asked it, one of Nickon's friends came striding urgently towards their fire with word that brought both men to their feet. Isaac Comnenus, he told them, had sent envoys to Richard, suing for peace and a settlement of their differences, and Richard, precipitate as ever, had already agreed to a truce and committed to meet the Emperor outside the gates of Limassol at mid-afternoon. The King would ride out in full panoply, and Nickon and his fellows were recalled to duty immediately, to escort him, dressed in full parade armor. Within
moments, Nickon had vanished in the direction of the city gates, and André was alone again, mulling over what they had discussed and trying to decide what to do next. He knew that he did not want to miss the confrontation between his King and Isaac Comnenus, so he went back on board his ship, collected his crossbow against the possibility of finding time to practice later in the day, and set off on foot, his crossbow and quiver dangling from his shoulder, towards the appointed meeting place on a slightly elevated plateau on the flatlands slightly to the west of the city gates.

FIVE

A
ndré St. Clair arrived at the chosen venue in time to find himself a good vantage point atop a large, solitary boulder, close enough to the activities to watch both parties approach and to see and hear everything that happened.

Isaac arrived first, in what he must have supposed was full and impressive splendor, riding on a magnificent stallion that made André raise his eyebrows in admiration. But when Richard arrived astride an equally splendid mount, he was so sumptuously bedecked in gold weaponry and jewelry, with magnificently worked garments and priceless accoutrements, that the Cypriot Emperor was stricken dumb by his grandeur and so abashed that he positively groveled in front of the English King.

The proceedings went swiftly. Isaac begged, with great humility, to be forgiven his transgressions. Humbly he offered all the castles in Cyprus for the billeting of Richard's soldiers and promised to contribute knights, mounted archers, and infantry to the Frankish campaign. He offered fifteen thousand pounds of gold in retribution for the moneys he had stolen from the wrecked dromon and offered to surrender his only
daughter as hostage to his future good behavior. Richard, still disposed to be magnanimous, for whatever reasons, accepted Isaac's capitulation graciously and then, summoning the captain of his own guard, ordered the immediate return of the magnificent pavilion that he had captured from the Emperor's abandoned camp at Kolossi. The two rulers sealed their truce with the kiss of peace, and Richard returned to his castle in Limassol, while Isaac remained to watch over the erection of his grand pavilion on the spot where they had signed their truce. André left him there and set out for the archery butts, thinking that, for a man whose reputation in such matters was that of an impetuous hothead, Richard had handled the Cypriot Emperor extremely well.

He was intercepted by one of Richard's knights before he could reach the butts, and the young dandy ordered him brusquely to attend upon the King immediately, then wheeled away, leaving André to make his own way to the castle. Stung by the younger man's loutish ill manners, André whistled loudly at his back, and when the fellow turned around, he called him to order, tore a strip from him for his high-handed and offensive attitude, and then demanded to know where the King expected to be met. The answer was, as André had known it would be, that he was to come to the King's quarters, but by the time he heard the answer, he had reached the haughty young knight and was within grasping distance of his ankle. He took a firm grip on the ankle and jerked the knight's foot from the stirrup, then thrust the open palm of his other hand beneath the
exposed boot's sole and thrust upward, hard and straight. The knight, caught completely unawares, flew out of the saddle and crashed loudly to the ground, where he lay gasping, unable to catch his wind. Before he could even begin to recover, St. Clair was looming over him, his booted heel pressing gently but firmly into the fallen man's throat, and the point of his bare dagger dangling to trace gently over the man's nose.

“Now, sir,” André murmured, his words quiet but clearly audible. “It is painfully clear that someone needs to talk to you about good manners, comportment, and a proper show of modesty and forbearance. You are a young and foolish knight, who looks at a man like me, dressed as I am in simple tunic and leggings, and sees nothing admirable, nothing noteworthy, nothing to indicate that I might be worth cultivating, or even slightly worthy of respect.” The point of the dagger rapped gently but smartly against the bridge of his nose. “That, sir, is because you are a fool with much to learn, and evidently little in your head with which to absorb any of it.” André inserted the point of his blade into a nostril and tugged gently upward, raising the fallen man's entire body by the nose. “Listen closely, now, Sir Ignorance, to what I tell you. I, too, am a knight, of longer duration, more experience, and probably higher status than you. That makes you even more of a fool, for not being able to see that without requiring to have it pointed out to you. My name is André St. Clair. Remember it. And I am an Angevin from Poitou, vassal and liege to King Richard, who knighted me in person,
five years ago. So, if my lord should ever summon me again, and send you to find me, you make sure you approach me with proper respect, lest I turn you into a hunchback by the simple means of kicking your ill-mannered arse up into the space between your shoulders. Do you understand me, my pretty?” He pulled the knife point harder against the nostril. “Do you?”

It was clear that the fellow wanted to nod eagerly, but could not have done so without cutting his own nose, and so André held him there for a few more moments before stepping away to allow him to struggle to his feet.

“Are you aware that I have not asked for your name?” he asked. “That is because I have no interest in knowing it. But it also leaves you with the knowledge that I will not speak about this afterwards. Be satisfied with that, and do not even think about evening the score on this. Do I make myself clear? For if you do, so help me God, I will cause you great grief. Now go back to the King and tell him I have to dress, but will be in his quarters within the hour. Go!”

“
WHAT DID YOU DO
to young Dorville?”

More than an hour had passed since his arrival in the King's quarters, and from the occasional veiled reference that Richard had made but not pursued, André had suspected this question might be coming in one form or another, and so he was able to keep his face innocent and empty of expression. “Dorville, my lord? I know no one called Dorville. Should I?”

“You know damn well who I'm talking about. The knight I sent to summon you.”

“Ah, that fellow. I merely gave him a small lesson in humility, my lord. It should not go to waste.”

“Humility. Dorville. How did you do that? And don't even think to lie to me. I want the truth.”

“I simply pointed out to him that I believed I deserved more respect than he was showing me, my lord.”

“And where exactly was he while you were pointing this out to him?”

“He was on his back, sir, at my feet. His Adam's apple was beneath my heel.”

“What did you enjoy most about doing that to him?”

“The expression on his face when he realized where he was, my lord.”

“Hmm. And what did you like least about him?”

“His smell, sir. It was too … sweet, too womanly.”

“I shall have him change it. I will enjoy doing that, too. You realize he is not one of us?”

André frowned. “Not one of us? I don't understand.”

“No reason why you should, but he is one of Philip's men, born and bred in the Vexin, during my father's occupation of it. I believe he detested my father, the old lion, even more than I did. Anyway, he was left here with us, when Philip flounced away, to act as messenger and liaison between France and us should the need arise. He is supercilious, tends to be overly … critical. Seems to believe that everything we do and everything we have is not quite to the standards that he would impose, given the opportunity. But then he is very
young. I find him occasionally hard to stomach, but he is pleasant to behold. Now, I need you to take the ladies hunting in the morning.”

André stood motionless, caught off balance by what he had heard and rendered incapable of responding, but then he found his voice and his mind started working again and he shook his head. “No, my lord, forgive me but I may not do that … I am forbidden, as a novice of the Order, to consort with women. It is expressly forbidden, one of the strictest requirements of the Order. Failure to observe that would disqualify me for acceptance.”

“Aye, it might. But would that really trouble you? I have work enough to keep you employed on my behalf forever, if you but say the word.”

“No, my lord, that cannot be ... although I realize that even saying such a thing is unforgivable. But I cannot, in honor, withdraw from my situation now. I am already committed, not yet under oath but clearly understood to be within an inch of committing fully. Besides, I cannot understand your objections now. It was your idea that I should join the Order.”

“Aye, it was. But that was before I'd had the choice to think things through—and those damned priests were yet alive. Everything has changed since then, and now I need you.”

André began to shake his head, but Richard held up an imperious hand. “Enough, say no more now. I was but jesting, although not completely so. Perhaps half jesting. And perhaps testing … Take some time and
think this matter through thoroughly. You yet have time before anyone expects you to take formal vows, and that means you have time to change your mind for good and sufficient reason. In the meantime, I still need you to take the women hunting in the morning. I can arrange a special dispensation for you, through the Master of the Temple in Poitou, the man de Troyes, and I will. You have no choice in this, André. It is not a request, it is a command. I can't take much more of this, being surrounded constantly by women … it will make me mad. Joanna has decided that she wishes to go hunting and I know my sister. She will not stop harping on it now until she has her way, but I want her to go hunting, and to take my lady wife Berengaria with her. She hunts well, I'm told—rides like a man and kills like a fox, as does Joanna. You will enjoy them, I believe, once you overcome your monkish reluctance, but that is the way it has to be …

“I offered to send my guards with the two of them, but Joanna would hear none of it. She wants someone she can converse with, someone with sufficient brains, as she put it, to walk and talk at the same time without tripping over his foreskin. The main thing is, she wants no guards at all. She simply wants to hunt—no pomp, no panoply, and no visible presence. She will dress as a huntsman, as she always does, and no one seeing her from more than ten paces' distance will ever suspect she is a woman. Berengaria will do the same, apparently. She has her own hunting armor, Joanna tells me. Joanna says, and I agree, that they have no need of any
massive escort. But at the same time, Berengaria is my wife, the Queen of England, so I cannot allow her to go off into the countryside unattended, at the utter mercy of the gods. There must be someone with her, someone trustworthy and responsible, in case they encounter an emergency or have an accident.” He shrugged. “So you became my natural choice as custodian of my bride.”

André spread his hands in protest. “But why me, my lord? There must be—”

“Joanna asked for you by name, André, so there's an end of it. You obviously impressed her greatly.”

“Impossible, sir. I was with her and the lady Berengaria for less than an hour.”

The King smiled slightly, his eyes crinkling. “That, my young friend, is far more than enough time for women to weave plots and make plans. I shall inform my sister that you will await her at the stables at dawn. You will be there, will you not?”