Standard of Honor (64 page)

St. Clair swallowed. “And if I … do this, this
thing
, as you suggest … will I then have access to you, too?”

The look she gave him then was open, wide eyed and serious, with no hint of amusement. “Of course you will. Did I not say so? It will fall to me to be your chaperone, the Queen's senior companion, elder sister by marriage, and lady-in-waiting, present in her royal company at all times. I am a widow and a dowager, expected to be physically dried up and spent. But I am thirty-four years old and in the full flow of my womanhood. I have no need for undying love, nor for any bright-eyed, lovelorn eagerly panting young man to flatter me by pretending to swoon at my feet, but I have great need of straightforward carnal pleasure. Keep me smiling that way and I will be your dearest friend, my friend, for who would ever dream that you would rut with the Queen of England while she shared her bedchamber with the Queen of Sicily? You will live like the Sultan himself, in your own seraglio, with two crowned queens as your willing odalisques.”

“And … you say Berengaria knows of this?”

“She does. She has not quite decided to proceed, and she believes you know nothing yet, but she is … favorably
inclined towards you already, and her eyes when she watches you are full of wondering.”

The silence grew and stretched again as André St. Clair fought to keep his face unreadable and to quell the sickness that was roiling in him, a sickness caused not by the prospect of having two royal mistresses but by the callow, callous, and absolute disregard for his honor that was being shown by Richard Plantagenet and his sister. Aware that he must speak and act with extreme caution in the time ahead, he sat silent again while counting his own heartbeats, and when his count reached twenty he sat up straight and cleared his throat.

“Well, lady,” he said. “I … I must think on this. I had … I had planned to do other, very different things with my life in the coming campaign. I am to join the Temple Knights … or I was, until this moment. Now I know not what I must do about that, other than sleeping on it and deciding what must first be done. For how will we achieve this … this condition you describe? It cannot begin to happen while I am yet a Temple novice. I will have to free myself—and fortunately I have not yet taken vows—and rededicate myself to your brother's service. After that, I presume, things can be made to flow more smoothly.”

“Aye, that they can.” Joanna's voice was barely louder than a breath as she leaned in towards him and pulled his face to her hungry mouth, covering his lips with hers. He shuddered and convulsed, suddenly quivering with a rampant lust he had been unaware of until that moment, and he had already begun moving over to
her when someone coughed and snorted loudly in the middle cavern, startling them apart. André swung upright, drawing his sword and striding out into the other chamber, where he heard urine spattering against a wall as one of the men-at-arms, still more than half asleep, relieved himself. In the distance, beyond the outer chamber, the night was silent, the howling of the wind having finally abated.

He went back into the rear cave and bade the lady Joanna a good night, then moved back out to his own bed, raging at himself and wondering if he had been as big a fool as he imagined in not taking her there and then, when he had had the opportunity. But no sooner had he formulated the question in words than he realized that he had been shocked into doing the right thing, thereby safeguarding his own honor despite his worst intentions. Sick at heart, he lay down on his makeshift bed again and thought about the perfidy of princes, sure that he would be unable to sleep for the remainder of the night. Then, like a flash of light reflecting from a distant pool, a well-known face sprang to his mind, quickening his heartbeat, and all at once he smiled, amused in spite of everything by the way in which absurdity can often become reality. He knew where he must go next, and he smiled again. Moments later, he began to snore.

SEVEN

“A
h, there you are, St. Clair. Where in Hades have you been?” The voice came from the open door, and André rose to his feet, turning to face the apparition that was shambling towards him but not looking at him. Brother Justin, Master of Novices, was peering through screwed-up eyes at a parchment in his hand, but he had been blinded in stepping from the bright sunlight beyond the doorway into the dimness where André sat waiting for him, and now he flapped the parchment in frustration and peered about him myopically until he caught sight of André on the far side of the entrance hall.

Flanking St. Clair on each side, two clerks were supposedly hard at work transcribing documents, but both were listening avidly, heads cocked for nuances of tone and emphasis, for they knew that something was afoot. St. Clair had stormed in some time earlier and had demanded that two of their fellows go separately to find the Master of Novices and bring him back as quickly as might be. The two had attempted to demur, claiming to have no time for such goings-on, but St. Clair had reacted in fury to that, drawing his long sword and sending them scampering to obey him. Neither one had yet returned,
but now Justin was here and clearly had known that the knight St. Clair would be waiting for him.

Justin's eyesight was evidently adjusting rapidly, for he addressed the clerks next, his voice dripping sarcasm. “Keep working, brethren,” he said. “God's work is never done, and yours will bear no interruption. St. Clair, come with me.”

André followed the irascible monk along a narrow passageway that led to the stone-walled room that Justin had appropriated for his own use. As the older man threw open the doors and marched inside he pointed with a thumb to a high stool that stood beside a long work table beneath high, vaulted windows.

“Sit.”

Justin moved to the far end of the table and picked up three small, tightly rolled missives, and he spoke as he broke the seals and scanned their contents briefly. “Your cousin has shown up in Acre, alive and apparently well, though some of his Templar brethren appear to dispute that opinion. Word reached us two days ago— a messenger from a trading ship on its way to Malta. I've had people hunting for you since the night before last, so I know you have not been in the castle, or aboard a ship in harbor or even in Limassol. That would be called desertion by some people I know, and at best it indicates a lack of responsibility. Where were you?”

“Being responsible. I was about the King's business.”

Brother Justin put the three messages down carefully and drew himself up to his full height, looking squarely at André St. Clair for the first time. There was something
new in St. Clair's voice and it had captured his ear immediately, and now Justin spoke slowly, his tone calm and measured.

“And since when has any king's business taken precedence over that of our Order?”

“Never before, Brother. And not now. That is why I am here.”

Brother Justin pulled a nondescript piece of rag from his sleeve and used it to brush crumbs from the dingy, much-stained white robe stretched tautly over his belly and then, clearly requiring still more time to think, he wiped the corners of his mouth with it, drawing attention to his bulbous, mottled nose and pendulous lower lip before stuffing the rag back whence it had come and nodding his head ponderously.

“You still have not told me where you were, and as your Master of Novices I must insist on knowing.”

“I was hunting, ten miles or so beyond the city, in Isaac Comnenus's hunting grounds. We were caught in the storm yesterday and had to spend the night in a cavern. Came back this morning, shortly after dawn.”

Justin was looking at him strangely. “The King's business sent you hunting without him? That seems strange. I saw the King last night, here in this castle.”

“I have no doubt you did. He was not with us. He set me to accompany and attend his wife and his sister, the ladies Berengaria and Joanna, both of whom are excellent hunters, better than many a man I know.”

Brother Justin shivered suddenly and looked about him, rubbing one hand against his arm. “It is cold in
here,” he muttered. “I should have a fire. No matter how intense the heat of the day outside, these old stone walls keep it out there and keep these big rooms cool. I distinctly felt the temperature fall again there, moments ago …” He raised his eyes to gaze up at the vaulted and groined ceiling. “I know you have many things you wish to tell me, Sir André, but first I must ask you for clarification on one small matter. Am I to believe you spent a night in a cave with Queen Berengaria and Queen Joanna? Alone with two women, but for some hunters?”

“Hardly alone, Brother Justin. There were twenty-six of us there, in addition to the two Queens.”

“Twenty-six. And how many of those were women?”

“The only women there were the two Queens, and even they were dressed as men.”

“I see. And does this … expedition have anything to do with your seeking me out now?”

“Everything.”

“Then clearly you have much to tell me. But before you do, and while I yet have a voice with which to speak, is there anything you wish to ask me?”

“Aye, Brother. Where has my cousin been for so long?”

“In prison, in the hands of the Saracens. He was at Hattin, but managed to escape alive, only to be taken soon afterwards.”

“So why did we not know this sooner? We knew the names of most of those killed and captured, did we not?”

“Aye, but apparently your cousin changed his name—his whole identity, in fact. He knew that Saladin
had executed every Templar and every Hospitaller captured at Hattin, so he concealed the fact that he was a Templar. The battle was long over when he was captured, and he had rid himself of everything that would identify him with the Temple. He even took the name and ranking of his closest friend, a Scot like himself who had been his boyhood companion, a fellow called Lachlan Moray, who was also a knight and died at Hattin, but was not of either military order.”

“So Alex denied the Temple?”

“He did, for the greater good of our Order of Sion.”

“How can you know that?”

“Because the word we received was sent to me, not to the Temple. It was not written by a Templar.”

“I see … And I suppose therefore that I will be permitted to know nothing about this greater good that he perceived.”

“I did not say that. In fact you will know everything about it, and about Sir Alexander's task and duties for the brotherhood. But first I want to hear the concerns that brought you here in search of me. You have never come directly to me before, so why would you do so now? I confess I am greatly curious.”

St. Clair then told him everything, omitting absolutely nothing, so that for the ensuing hour and more Justin sat rapt, watching André's lips and missing not a nuance of the tale unfolding in front of him. When the younger man fell silent at last, neither of them made any attempt to speak for a long time. It was eventually Justin who broke the silence.

“Hmph,” he grunted, then fell silent again for a short time before adding, “Well, then, why are you here? Why would you not simply go ahead and take what you have been offered? You have sworn no vows and undertaken no obligations to this point that might prevent you from doing so. Most men would do anything to gain what you are offered. You have not refused the honor, have you?”

André was frowning. “No, I have not. Not yet, but—”

“Then why tell me about it, in God's name? Why would you even hesitate in this?”

“You yourself used the word that stops me.”

“I did?” Justin frowned now. “What word was that?”

“Honor, Brother. It is an ideal, and a reality that I value highly, particularly since it seems to be greatly out of use and favor nowadays.”

“Aah … Honor, I see. Yes, honor can be inconvenient.”

St. Clair shook his head. “I disagree, Brother Justin. I believe that honor is never inconvenient, and the lack or absence of it in any situation repels me. I see nothing of honor, no slightest trace of it, in what I have described to you here.”

“And so you will have none of it, is that what you are tell-ing me?”

“Aye, sir. It is.”

“You set a high standard for others to follow, then.”

“No, I do not. The standards I may set are mine alone, for me to follow. I expect no others to accept my dictates. They are my own, as is my honor.”

Justin pursed his lips and nodded. “Good man. So mote it be. I expected no less of you, and you have my full support. But tell me, why did you not go directly with this to de Sablé? He has your interests at heart and holds higher rank within the brotherhood than I do. He also wields more influence in matters like this.”

St. Clair had started shaking his head as soon as Justin spoke de Sablé's name. “I dared not. Sir Robert is a good man and I know him well and I believe he trusts me, but he is close friends with Richard—has been for years. They are even related, cousins of some kind. I simply dared not take that kind of risk with this. It is too dangerous … Not that I thought he might betray me to Richard. He would never do that, I know, but he might betray himself inadvertently, and bring about his own destruction by showing his disapproval in some way. His honor, too, is great, and strictly guarded, and that would make it difficult for him to conceal his distaste over Richard's treatment of the Queen. I could not forgive myself were he to be killed because of something I told him when there was no need to do so.”

“Hmm. You are probably right. It is too dangerous. We may never know with certainty whether you were right or wrong, but we do have other options and I think you were correct in choosing as you have … What's wrong?”

St. Clair had been frowning. “Nothing, save that you do not appear to be surprised by anything I have told you.”

“Should I be? Do you mean I should be shocked and scandalized at venality and carnality, the lusts of these men and women? What would make you think that? I joined our brotherhood when I was eighteen, Brother André, as you did, and since then I have studied without rest to advance myself inside our Order and find the true Way to be with God. And most of what I have learned has been based upon the gulf created between God and men when our ancient Way was lost in the destruction of Jerusalem in Roman times, after the deaths of Jesus and his brother James. After that, as our ancient lore teaches us, humanity was left to wander in the wilderness, vainly attempting to find their way to God by following the errant footsteps of mere men, who were as mortal and as weak and foolish as those who followed them, no matter what great names and titles they bestowed upon themselves. Stripped of godliness, there remains in man's nature nothing but feeble, fragile, and self-seeking humanity. So no, I am not surprised. My task is to find some way to make use of what you have told me in order to benefit the aims of our brotherhood. Thus I am glad you came to me first, for the aid we must now seek lies within the Temple Order itself, and de Sablé is not yet one of them.