Widow of Jerusalem: A Medieval Mystery (3 page)

“Thanks,” I said. “How far into the day are we?”

“Midmorning,” he said. “There’s a nice view from here if you’re interested.”

I looked out the window. We were on the third story of a building that must have been in the eastern part of town, because I could see the bend in the outer wall at the Turris Maledicta.

On the other side of the wall, the bulk of Richard’s army was bustling about, packing their gear, collecting spent bolts and arrows, repairing straps and saddles and disassembling some of the larger machines of war for easy transport. Even Mategriffon, the great wooden fort that Richard had brought in pieces from Sicily to be constructed anew before the walls of Acre, was being taken apart, its bolts and pins carefully packed into barrels.

“Where are they going?” I asked. “Aren’t they going to finish rebuilding the walls here before they head home? This city is far from being defensible.”

“Home?” he snorted. “Do you really think that they would come all this way and lose all those men just for Acre?”

“Acre, and Cyprus, and Sicily,” I said. “Not a bad haul for one crusade. King Philip already went back to France. I was hoping maybe Richard would want to get back to his territories before Philip started moving on them.”

“A smart king would do that,” said Scarlet. “A rational king, one who cared about his subjects, would do that. But Richard’s bloodlust is up. Twenty-seven hundred hostages was a mere snack, something to whet the appetite. He won’t be satisfied until he has Saladin’s head on a pike, the True Cross in his saddlebag, and possession of Jerusalem.”

“Madness,” I exclaimed. “There’re miles of bad road between here and the Holy City, and Saladin’s men behind every rock.”

“Nevertheless, he leaves tomorrow. Which is where we come in.”

I looked down at him. He hadn’t moved from the cushion, hadn’t even looked out the window since I woke up.

“Have you slept at all since last night?” I asked.

“Slept?” he laughed. “I’ll sleep when I get back to Tyre. After I deposited you here, I went everywhere, pumping my sources for whatever information they had and eavesdropping to get the rest. One of the great advantages of being small, by the way, is that big people with big plans tend not to notice you when you’re listening to them talk about the big plans with their big voices. Now, I have a modest little plan of my own, but I will need your assistance, and possibly Blondel’s, if we can tear him away from the nearest looking-glass long enough. But mostly you. I’ve been hearing quite a lot about you, Brother Theo, and if even half the stories are true, you’re one of the most reckless, adventurous, near-suicidal and, I’ll say it, foolhardy fellows the Guild has ever produced.”

I bowed in reply. He stood up, grinning.

“I can use someone like that,” he said.

“Use away,” I said. “What are we going to do?”

He hopped up on the windowsill and leaned out, looking north. “There’s a supply ship that landed up the coast a ways,” he said. “They’ll be unloading onto wagons tomorrow. Enough food and weapons to last the Crusaders all the way to the Holy City.”

“Where did you hear this?” I asked, impressed.

“They sent a rider down to inform the troops,” he said. “A very thirsty lad who’s been at sea too long. I persuaded him that the urgency of his message was not as important as the urgent needs of a lively wench of my acquaintance, especially as the King wished not to be disturbed at night. He agreed with the logic of my assertion, and allowed me to be his guide to these earthly pleasures. He should wake up in a few days.”

“So, the Crusaders leave tomorrow, and they don’t know about the supplies yet.”

“Exactly.”

“But they’ll learn of them soon enough, won’t they?”

“No,” said Scarlet. “They won’t.”

“Why won’t they?”

“Because we are going to steal them,” he said, and the grin grew even wider.

“
H
ave you got any rope
?” I asked.

“As a matter of fact, I have,” he said. “Why?”

“Because if I’m going to be hanged, I’d rather do it myself,” I said. “I want to make sure the job’s done right. Why are we going to steal the Crusaders’ supplies?”

“Grab your gear and come walk with me,” he replied.

We descended the stairs and emerged into an inn that was deserted at the moment, the working people having gone off to scavenge what they could from the corpses outside the walls. Scarlet raided a cupboard for some bread and water, which we proceeded to divide unevenly between us.

“The odd thing about this part of the world,” he said with his cheeks stuffed with food, “is that everyone more or less gets along fine in spite of their religious beliefs, at least until the Pope gets involved. There’re always some local squabbles, especially when someone in charge dies and there are too many relatives fighting over too little inheritance, but that’s normal. The current mess started when Reginald of Karak got greedy and started attacking Saladin’s caravans. Saladin responded, and suddenly everyone was slaughtering each other while invoking Christ and Allah. Jerusalem could have stayed in Christian hands for a reasonable tribute; instead, the citizens got all high and mighty, which kept them going for about twelve days before they surrendered. And even then, everything could have been worked out, but once the folks back west hear
Jerusalem,
it’s cross-sewing time, and now everyone’s honor is at stake.”

“And there’s nothing like a full-scale holy war with the promise of plenary indulgences to send the honorable soldiers to their honorable slaughter,” I said.

“Exactly,” he replied. “Now, the only way we can restore peace is to end the Crusade. I thought we were there when you persuaded King Philip to go home—“

“What makes you think that was me?” I interrupted.

He grinned. “It sure wasn’t those two, and you’re the only fool who’s connected with the French. Even if it wasn’t you, you might as well take credit for it. That will get you the price of a drink at the Guildhall. Anyhow, with the French gone, and Richard looking for a truce, I thought we were looking at the end of the war. But now it’s back in business. Which brings me back to my job.”

We finished eating and walked out into the city.

“Jerusalem cannot be won by what’s left of the Crusaders,” he said softly. “It’s sixty miles to the city, and Saladin will block every well between here and the city walls. Even if the Lionhearted does make it to Jerusalem, he cannot hold it. It’s in the middle of nowhere. I always thought God must be one of the Fools’ Guild to make somewhere so remote so holy.”

“So, if we divert the supplies, then Richard won’t attempt it?” I asked. “Right,” he said. “Hopefully, we’ll accomplish two tasks. We’ll discourage the attempt, which means he’ll keep to the coast, which is where most of the Frankish settlements are. Saladin can live with that. His troops want to go home, too. And if we can get the supplies sent to Tyre instead, then we’ll help a place that has practical strategic value, unlike Jerusalem. Tyre anchors the entire coast, and it was the only city to resist Saladin successfully.”

“How did they manage that?” I wondered.

“You’ll understand when you see it,” he said.

“Wait a second,” I protested. “I have to go to Tyre?”

“Well, it’s less likely that you’ll be hanged there than here,” he replied impishly. “Especially once we take the supply convoy.”

“So, you and I come charging out of the hills, waving our swords, and frighten the whole group north?” I asked.

“I do have a plan, you know,” he said, looking wounded.

“Let’s hear it,” I said.

“fou will pretend to be a captain under Richard’s command,” he said. “’fou will meet the convoy, suitably attired, and present them with a document in Richard’s hand instructing them to send the supplies to Conrad of Montferrat, the current commander in Tyre.”

“To pull that off, we are going to need the Lionhearted’s seal on the orders,” I said.

“Precisely,” said Scarlet. “So, the first step is to steal the seal.”

I looked at him.

“Do you have a plan for how we’re going to do that, too?” I asked. “Of course,” he said. “Find Blondel, and meet me back at the tavern by noon. Oh, and make some excuse to your lord. Yau’ll be away for some time.”

M
y patron
at the time was a smallish king from a smallish kingdom tucked away in a section of the Alps that no one particularly wanted. He was good-natured enough for royalty, but when called he came crusading with all due seriousness. He was a vassal of France, and when Philip left Acre, he gravitated toward the Duke of Burgundy, the highest-ranking Frenchman remaining. His name was Denis, and he was nineteen years old.

“You want to do what?” he exclaimed when I informed him of my plans.

“Sire, I have encountered an old friend who is but lately come from Tyre,” I said. “I know that you are going forth to attack the Holy City. It will mean nothing but fighting the entire way, and I will be only a distraction to you.”

“But the whole point of having a fool is for the distraction,” he pointed out.

“True, milord, which is why, as a Christian and your loyal servant, I cannot let my profession be a hindrance to your divine task.”

That straightened his shoulders a bit.

“Very well, Fool,” he said. “God only knows I owe you this favour, You’ve saved my life twice since we started on this campaign.”

Three times, I thought, but he would never know about the other one.

W
hat was that all about
? asked Claudia.

Another story. Let me finish this one.

I
found
Blondel in the Pisan quarter, strumming to an admiring throng of merchants who were trying to reestablish their pre-Crusade trading relationships before the Venetians and the Genoese did. I caught his eye, and he quickly came to a triumphant conclusion, accepting compliments with grace and coins with a flourish of his plumed hat. Then he came over to me.

“Not comforting your king?” I said.

“Enough, Theo, you’ve made your point,” he said. “Richard is making preparations to leave the city, and he has no need of me until later.”

“What’s later?”

“There’s a triumphal feast at the castellum tonight. They’ll be needing plenty of entertainment. Want to come?”

“Want to and need to. What about Ambroise?”

“Ambroise is holed up with a bottle and a whore somewhere. I haven’t seen him since last night.”

“Well, it’s you I wanted to talk to.”

“What’s up?”

“Where does Richard keep his signet ring?”

He frowned.

“That’s the sort of question that invariably leads me to regret giving the answer,” he said. “Why do you want to know?”

“Scarlet has a scheme,” I said. “Where’s the ring?”

“What makes you think I would know?” he said.

“Don’t be coy. This is Guild business we’re doing.”

“In a locked bronze coffer by his bedside,” he said. “The key is on a ribbon around his neck and under his tunic. He’s kept it like that ever since his signet-bearer went overboard at Cyprus.”

“I remember you mentioning that. I figured that the fellow was helped into the sea by someone.”

“By me, actually. It turned out that the signet-bearer was working for the Cult of the Assassins. Anyhow, since that incident Richard hasn’t trusted anyone with the seal but himself.”

“Is the lock pickable?”

“Yes,” he said. “I’ve picked it once or twice for practice. The problem isn’t the lock. It’s the room.”

“Why? Which room did he take?”

He turned to face the castellum, which rose over the city like a mountain. It was set against the center of the north wall. It had a central tower that had to have been sixty feet tall and flanking towers only slightly shorter.

“He sleeps in a room in the middle tower,” he said, pointing to a window that was halfway up. “He likes the view. He impresses himself with how far he has risen since he arrived in Acre.”

“The stairs to the tower are guarded?”

“Of course. And another guard is outside his room at all hours.”

“That ruins the direct approach,” I mused, looking up at the center tower. Its sandstone blocks were too smoothly joined to permit scaling from the outside.

“Did that little bastard tell you why he needed us?” asked Blondel. “He says he has a plan. Want to know it?”

“I have a feeling that I don’t,” sighed Blondel. “Let’s go.”

S
carlet was already waiting
for us at the tavern, three cups, a pitcher of wine, and a small repast on the table before him. He waved us to a pair of stools, and we sat meekly before him like schoolchildren. Blondel filled him in on the signet ring and its protectors.

“That’s about what I figured,” said Scarlet. “Getting the ring will be hard enough, but returning it before anyone discovers the theft is the part that may be truly impossible.”

“May be,” I said. “But not definitely, I take it.”

“The way I see it, there are three levels and three of us. One in the tower, one on the roof of the castellum, and one on the ground.”

“To do what?” asked Blondel.

Scarlet reached into his cloak.

“Tau asked me about rope earlier,” he said to me. “I, of course, prefer smaller things.” He pulled out two balls of twine and handed one to each of us.

“You told me yesterday that you could have Richard anytime you wanted,” said Scarlet.

“I may have been exaggerating,” Blondel said quickly.

“Let’s find out,” said Scarlet. “Get into his room. Get him drunk enough to fall asleep, then lower the casket from the window to the roof. Theo, you’ll take it from there.”

“The roof is patrolled,” I pointed out.

“But not heavily,” said Scarlet. “Not with the bulk of the army still camped outside the walls. So, you get the casket from Blondel, carry it over to the side overlooking the wall, and lower it down to me. There’s a trench where a sapper’s tunnel caved in just to the left of the center tower. That will give me enough cover to have a candle lit and still be hidden from anyone on the ground. I’ll pick the lock, use the seal, then send it back up to you, Theo.”

“And I tie it back on the string,” I continued. “Then Blondel brings it back up, and goes to sleep.”

“Fat chance of that happening,” he said. “I’ll be a disaster in the morning.”

“We only need you to be beautiful tonight,” said Scarlet. “In the morning, the two of us will be long gone.”

“A pity you’ll miss my beheading,” sighed Blondel. “I can think of a hundred ways this can go wrong.”

“And I can think of twenty-seven hundred reasons why you have to do this,” I said.

“Yes,” he said, looking down. “So can I. Look, we can keep this simple. Give me the document, and let me do the sealing in the room. Then I can just give it to you in the morning.”

“There are two reasons that won’t work,” said Scarlet. “First, we need to be out of the city and at the supply ship before dawn breaks. Second, if you’re caught tinkering with the casket, that will be awkward, but if you’re caught tinkering with the basket and have the document as well, that would be fatal. I don’t want Richard to know what we’re doing.”

“But you’ll have both,” objected Blondel.

“Yes,” replied Scarlet. “So I’ll be the one taking the brunt of the punishment. In fact, if they catch me, the two of you should have enough warning to get out.”

“Oh, good,” said Blondel. “On the run in hostile territory with

Theophilos. A dream come true. Well. See you at the party.”

He stood, swallowed his wine in a gulp, and left.

“Do we trust him?” asked Scarlet.

“He’s still one of us,” I said. “He’s young. The Guild training is still fresh in him, so he’s game for anything, You have to survive to my advanced age to become disillusioned.”

“And yet, aged one, you persist,” he observed, smiling. “Why?”

I shrugged.

“Survive a little longer, and you get past the disillusionment,” I said.

“How old a man are you?” he asked. “I would have guessed around thirty.”

“Old enough to be a fool. Lucky enough to be this old. I should have died any number of times.”

“Cheer up,” he said. “Maybe you’ll get your chance tonight.”

T
he feast was
one of those sad exercises in forced frivolity. The women of the town, having lived on a siege diet for so long, were thin to the point of emaciation, and desperate enough to do what they had to do for food and money. They decked themselves in silken finery and dug up what jewelry they were able to secrete when the siege began. They painted on their smiles and danced bewitchingly enough to entice the soldiers, whose desperation was of a different type entirely. Wine was produced, probably from the King’s own stock, and that erased any last vestige of discrimination from the soldiers, who vied feverishly for the attentions of these scrawny hens. Fights broke out, and were broken up and resumed in fits and starts. It was all a grotesque parody of that thing some call chivalry.

I
n all this time
, you never had a woman?

Not in Acre, my sweet. I see too much desperation and deception in my life to settle for the semblance of love. I try and hold out for the thing itself.

Noble, but impractical. I don’t believe it for a moment.

Then believe this. A Fool appeared less desirable to those who would do it for money. The soldiers got all the ones worth having.

T
he great hall
of the castellum had also been tarted up for the occasion. When the town finally surrendered to the Crusaders, those fortunate enough to be allowed to leave had to abandon their belongings, so there was ample silk to drape the walls and dangle from the balconies. The hall was enormous, capable of holding five hundred people comfortably. I think twice as many crammed inside on this night, flowing in and out as the increasingly drunken men followed first this woman, then that barrel of wine, then some tray of sweetmeats. The musicians were up in a balcony, and Blondel and I glided through the room, singing the praises of those gathered and telling amusing stories at the expense of the equally gallant soldiers of Saladin.