Pip Vaughan-Hughes - The Vault of bones

'Forgive me, but I must know: you have requested aid from the king?' I enquired delicately.

'I have. He is most sympathetic: one Christian monarch to another, you know. He has made me some promises and offered a little money. A very little money, although more than Henry, that… no matter. His promises and gifts so far would barely pay for my passage home.'

'And why do you not simply approach the Venetian banks? One hears that their purses are practically bottomless. We assumed that was why you were here’ This last was pure inspiration, but I could tell by the way the Captain cocked his head that I had asked the right question. And indeed Baldwin puffed out his cheeks and expelled the air noisily.

'The Regent John has already placed my empire very solidly in the Serene Republic's debt,' he said ruefully. 'Indeed, until I return to Constantinople I will not know the true extent of it. And I am quite anxious that the Republic does not discover that I am here. I have placed myself in the Hons mouth – the winged lion as it were – to seek you out, sirs.'

The Captain nodded slowly. Reaching for a honey cake, he nibbled the edge, studied it for a moment as if it were of great worth, then popped it into his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully, washed the remains down with a sip of wine, and sat back.

‘You will give the Crown of Thorns to Louis Capet as a gift,' he pronounced. 'I beg your pardon?' spluttered Baldwin.

You will make a gift of the Crown of Thorns to your cousin’ 'But why? No, certainly not!'

You will make him a gift of the most precious thing in your kingdom. I will ensure that Louis makes you an equally precious gift in return’

You? How?' said Baldwin. He was beginning to lose his patience, I saw.

The Captain stood up and Baldwin recoiled once more, but he merely brushed the cake crumbs from his clothing and sat down again.

'Do you actually know who I am?' he asked, a little pointedly.

'A dealer’ said the boy. He was trying to be flippant, but the Captain had him once again.

You are right. I am a dealer. I am the dealer. Every important relic that is bought and sold in Christendom has passed or will pass through my hands in one way or another. Not the little vials of martyrs' blood or poor bits of sacking that have touched some saint's tomb: my business is the relic over which a cathedral will be built, a town founded, a cardinal's hat bought. I do not buy arid sell: I arrange for the invention and translation of these things.'

Baldwin looked blank, so I explained: 'Church dogma has it that invention is the discovery of a relic. Translation is its transfer to a new home.'

'So I conduct my affairs under the mantle of dogma’ said the Captain. 'Thus souls can remain spotless. I have taken wine with popes, and taken their money. I am known to the greater number of your royal cousins, including Frederick Hohenstaufen, whom I count as a friend.' Baldwin looked surprised at that, and I was taken off guard as well: this was the first I had heard of such a friendship.

'Louis Capet, as I have said, is a man I know well. He will not buy the Crown, or any other thing, from you. He certainly would not buy them from me, and I would not offer them to him: as I have said, they have no worth. But a gift, an imperial gift: that, I will guarantee, will bring you a mighty reward. We have spoken of this very thing, sitting beneath his oak tree at Vincennes. "My dear Jean," I remember him saying, "Think of all the treasures yet behind the walls of Constantinople, the things that bore witness to the suffering of Our dear Lord’"

I had never heard the Captain talk so much like a common huckster, but then I saw that Baldwin was rapt, and that tears were welling in his eyes.

"Would that it were in my remit to bring them to you, my lord," I answered,' the Captain went on. '"But I fear the Venetian wolves stole everything at the time of the fatal Crusade." "Ah, not so," he replied, "for I have read an account, The Story of Those Who Conquered Constantinople, by a noble knight of Picardy, one Robert de Clari. He lists the things the Venetians took, but the Crown remains in Constantine's palace, alongside all these others." And he listed to me the things that this Robert claimed had been saved from pillage. He believes you have in your possession the Crown, the Nails, the Burial Cloths, the Spear, Sponge, Tunic, Cane; the Stone of the Tomb, and the Cross itself, or parts thereof. "If," I said then, "if these things were indeed still owned by the emperor it is a great wonder, for I thought them lost." "No, no," he said, "They are there, and I tell you, I would give every coin in my kingdom to bring them here to France’" 'You heard those very words?' said Baldwin, faintly. 'And many more on the subject, over the years.' The emperor opened his mouth, then closed it again. He reached for the wine jug and filled his cup to the rim, drank most of it off and set the cup down again. His hand was trembling slightly. 'Can you help me?' he said.

After the two knights had shown us out of the inn we strolled in silence across the square. The Captain was frowning slightly.

'Did that meet your expectations?' I asked, insanely curious.

He paused and bought us each a peach from an old woman. It was early for peaches and it was a little woody, but the sweet flesh was welcome after Baldwin's tart wine. 'It could hardly have gone better’ he said, a little distantly. What, then?'

‘I do not know, Patch’ he said. 'It was all so simple, was it not?'

'Certainly’ I agreed. Young Baldwin is desperate. He will do anything you say.'

"Young" Baldwin, is it? He is older than you, I think. No, that is right. This is a moment I have thought about for many years: as I told you, the ultimate of prizes. And it appears the boy has placed everything in my hands. I suppose that I cannot quite believe it.'

And he said no more, leaving me fairly boiling with excitement. So wrapped up was I in the complexities of what I had heard, and what I was now imagining, that I barely noticed the streets we were passing through, and even the squatting menace of the Castel SantAngelo failed to make me look up from the cobblestones. It was not until we were upon the marble pavement of Saint Peters Bridge that my reverie was broken, and that was only because the Captain had caught me by the arm. Urn?' I muttered. 'Hold up, lad’ said the Captain. He sounded tense.

Then I saw why. A small company of soldiers, I hurriedly counted eight of them – were strung out across our path. They did not loll, like most soldiers do when they wish to be menacing, but stood like statues. Five of them held short, broad-bladed spears, and all wore both swords and knives over surcoats of red and yellow. They all wore kettle-helms, brightly polished and gleaming, except for one man, the tallest, who was bareheaded. What is this?' I hissed.

'They wear the livery of the pope,' the Captain answered under his breath. 'Keep still, Patch. And on your life, do not touch your blade’ The tall man stepped towards us, hand raised imperiously.

'In the name of the Holy Father, halt!' he proclaimed, somewhat unnecessarily, for we were rooted to the spot. 'Signor Michel de Montalhac?' he asked. 'At your service’ the Captain answered levelly.

‘You will accompany me immediately. You too’ he added, with a haughty jerk of his chin in my direction. Without turning, he snapped his fingers, and his men started towards us. I noted, with more than a little unease, that they marched in perfect step with each other.

'Please walk ahead’ said the officer, for so I assumed him to be, with perfect politeness.

Well, well. This day grows ever more interesting’ said the Captain calmly.

'My God, sir, what do you mean? What is happening?' I hissed.