Simon Beaufort - Murder in the Holy City

“I know, I know,” said Hugh soothingly. “No one here doubts that the position you took was the correct one-from the tactical point of view, if not the ethical. And that is precisely why Warner loathes you so.”

“Aye, lad,” put in Roger. “You made him look like a brainless butcher. Which he is, of course!” he roared with laughter. Geoffrey did not join in.

“Men like Warner and d’Aumale have no right to speak ill of John,” he said, scowling.

“True enough,” said Hugh. “But they are only men, and men will inevitably speculate on the manner of John’s death. What was he doing in the Greek quarter in the first place? You must admit, it is curious.”

“I personally find this whole business most worrying,” said Courrances. Geoffrey jumped. He had forgotten that Courrances was with them, and was unaware that he had been listening to his conversation with Roger and Hugh.

“So you said yesterday,” Geoffrey said. Masking his discomfiture, he took a piece of goat from a huge bowl proffered by a servant. He inspected the meat carefully and dropped it back again, sickened by the smell of rancid fat. They had been eating goat for weeks now, even on those religious days when the Church claimed meat was to be avoided. Geoffrey hoped men like Roger, who grabbed the lump Geoffrey had discarded in company with another two that looked worse, would hurry up and finish whatever herd had been cheaply purchased by the citadel cook so they could have something else to eat.

“These deaths are a threat to the very foundation of our rule in this city,” continued Courrances. Geoffrey looked searchingly at him. Tancred had said exactly the same. Perhaps they were right. Courrances met his eyes briefly, and then turned his attention to a futile attempt to pare the gristle from his portion of goat. After a while, he gave up in disgust, and flung it from him toward Geoffrey’s ever-watchful dog. It was neatly intercepted by Roger, whose powerful jaws were not averse to gristle. The dog’s expression changed from gluttonous anticipation, to astonishment, and then to outrage within the space of a moment.

Courrances leaned across the table toward Geoffrey. “The Advocate is also concerned about these murders. If Bohemond and Tancred are half the statesmen I believe them to be, they will be concerned too.”

“Your point?” enquired Geoffrey, as Courrances paused.

“My point,” said Courrances, turning his strange pale eyes on the Englishman, “is that these deaths are a threat to us all, whether Norman or Lorrainer, English or French, knight or monk. We should work together to solve them. I believe they are the work of Moslem fanatics who are aiming to bring us down by devious means, because their armies cannot defeat ours in battle. The Advocate himself thinks that the Patriarch may know more than he is telling, while the Advocate’s brother thinks that the Jews are responsible.”

“The Jews?” exclaimed Geoffrey. “They are only interested in maintaining as great a distance as possible from us, and who can blame them? They have neither the motive nor the inclination to become involved.”

“Oh but they do,” said Courrances smoothly. “Few can deny that they were happier, more free, and more prosperous under the control of the Moslems than they are under us. They would be only too pleased to see us ousted and the Moslems back.”

“That is probably true,” said Geoffrey, “but it does not mean that they would be so foolish as to attempt to bring it about. Their position is far too vulnerable. If they are in any doubt about what our armies are capable of, they only need to think back to the massacre when the city fell.”

“Ah yes,” said Courrances, “the massacre. Tancred was misguided in trying to offer protection to the infidel. If he had succeeded in his policy of mercy, there would have been more than the occasional knight or priest murdered in the streets by now.”

Geoffrey said nothing. At Geoffrey’s insistence, Tancred had attempted to save some of Jerusalem’s citizens by gathering them together in a building that flew his standard. But knights and soldiers alike had ignored his orders, and the people who had thrown themselves on Tancred’s mercy had been slaughtered like everyone else. Geoffrey had only realised what had happened when he saw the flames rising from the roof as the bodies were incinerated. Tancred had shrugged stoically when Geoffrey, almost speechless with rage and horror, told him what had happened, and promptly put the matter out of his mind in order to concentrate on the more interesting problem of where to loot first. Geoffrey had argued many times with Courrances about this incident, and neither was prepared to concede the other’s point of view. Discussing it yet again would only serve to make them loathe each other more than they did already, if that were possible.

“You are something of a scholar, Sir Geoffrey,” Courrances went on. “You know Arabic, I am told, and you have made yourself familiar with some of the customs of the Saracens. I approve.”

Geoffrey regarded him suspiciously. In the past, Courrances had made no pretence at the scorn with which he held Geoffrey’s predilection for learning about Arab culture.

“The point is,” said Courrances, leaning so far over the table that the expensive black cloth of his tabard became stained in a pool of spilled grease, “the point is that there are few men here who are suitably equipped to investigate the deaths of these unfortunate men-and John was a friend of yours, after all. You speak Arabic and Greek, and you understand these infidels better than we do. The Advocate would like you to look into the matter.”

“What?” exclaimed Geoffrey, aghast. “I cannot undertake an investigation for the Advocate! I am in Tancred’s service!”

Hugh began to laugh softly, shaking his head and jabbing at a rough spot on the table with his dagger. Roger looked puzzled.

“I know that,” said Courrances soothingly. “But this would be an unofficial matter.”

“Are you saying the Advocate wishes me to spy for him without Tancred’s knowledge?” asked Geoffrey coldly.

“Yes,” replied Courrances, his honesty taking the wind from Geoffrey’s indignation. “Because it is in Tancred’s interest to have this matter investigated too. I cannot see that he would object.”

Geoffrey was thoughtful. There were a number of possible solutions to the case of the murdered men, and investigating them was going to prove difficult, whatever the outcome. If he had the Advocate’s blessing, as well as Tancred’s, the task would be made immeasurably easier. He could report his findings to Tancred first, and discuss with him what the Advocate needed to be told.

He rubbed his chin and nodded slowly. Courrances gave a quick, almost startled, smile. Geoffrey glanced up to the dais and saw that the Advocate was watching him. For an instant, the eyes of the two men met before the Advocate turned away.

“Are you insane?” exclaimed Hugh. He gaped at Geoffrey as Courrances left to rejoin the august company on the high table. “How can you ally yourself with the Advocate? You are Tancred’s man! What will he say when he hears of this?”

“He will know I am acting in the best way to serve him,” said Geoffrey calmly.

Roger eyed him with amusement. “So that was where you went last night, lad! Off to see Tancred when all good men slept the sleep of the just.”

“Not you, apparently, if you saw me leave,” retorted Geoffrey.

“Is it true?” demanded Hugh. “Has Tancred asked you to act as his agent to discover the truth behind these murders?”

Geoffrey nodded. “But you are not the first to guess, evidently. Whoever left the dagger and the pig’s heart in my chamber also knew what I have been charged to do.”