Simon Beaufort - Murder in the Holy City

But he had faced worse odds in the past, and had certainly encountered far better swordsmen than these. Deciding his best chances lay in attack rather than in defence, he gathered his strength and went on the offensive. With an ungodly howl learned from the Saracens, he leapt at his attackers with great two-handed sweeps of his sword, driving them before him like leaves before the wind. One of them dropped his weapon and fled in the face of the onslaught, and the others wavered. Sensing their weakness, Geoffrey drove again, breaking into a run as they scattered before him. The first man tripped, and Geoffrey pounced on him, thinking to ask him some questions. He had stretched out a hand to haul him to his feet, when a stone from the slingshot hit him on the shoulder, glancing off his chain mail but causing him to lose his balance.

He crashed to the ground and saw the swordsman scramble to his feet, weapon in hand. Geoffrey was not prepared to be dispatched by a mere novice, and he lunged for his opponent’s ankles, abandoning his own weapon as he did so. The swordsman fell again, and Geoffrey tried to clamber to his feet. He was aware that the man with the slingshot was directly behind him, and that the other attackers were returning, rallying their courage now that they saw Geoffrey was unarmed. One of them hacked at him, while another hurled himself at Geoffrey’s knees to bring him to the ground. As he struggled to free himself, Geoffrey drew his dagger. But there was a dull ache in his head, and then nothing.

Geoffrey opened his eyes slowly, aware that hands were moving over him, pulling him this way and that. Gradually, he focused on the face of Melisende, who was searching him expertly, her face a mask of disdain. He was glad he had taken a bath and that his clothes were clean.

He tried to sit up. Immediately, there was a jangle of weapons, and he found himself staring up at four swords and a cocked bow. It was, he thought, flattering, that even flat on his back and, he ascertained quickly, weaponless, these people regarded him with sufficient awe that they considered it necessary for five of them plus Melisende to guard him. And there was another, staring down at him with a curious mixture of irritation and dislike. Brother Celeste from the Holy Sepulchre. Of course! thought Geoffrey. It was Celeste he had seen limping recently as he had led them to talk to old Father Almaric about the death of Loukas in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.

Contemptuously, Geoffrey pushed the weapons away and sat up, blinking as the world around him tipped and swirled, and then settled again.

“You smell of that disgusting whorehouse!” hissed Melisende with contempt. “Maria told me you had been there asking questions.”

Geoffrey doubted she would believe the fragrant smell came from bath oils and his freshly cleaned clothes, so he offered no explanation. He rubbed his aching shoulder, and raised his eyebrows.

“So now what do we do?”

“You are so arrogant!” said Melisende furiously. “I should have brained you properly.”

“That was you, was it?” he asked. “Well, that makes sense. These poor specimens of soldiers could not have done it.”

The first swordsman moved toward him threateningly. Melisende laid a restraining hand on his arm. “Easy, Adam. He is deliberately trying to antagonise you. Do not give him that satisfaction.”

Geoffrey had seen Adam before, and he understood perfectly well the young man’s passion. It was Adam who had been ousted from Maria’s room at Abdul’s Pleasure Palace to make way for Geoffrey.

Melisende turned back to her captive. “They would have bested you eventually,” she said, eyeing him with the utmost disdain.

“How?” he asked incredulously. “They had run away! They only came back when they saw I was unarmed. And incidentally, hitting someone on the head from behind when he is outnumbered six to one does not constitute a fair fight.”

“And since when have Normans ever engaged in fair fights?” she asked coolly.

So there they were again, back at her favourite topic. Perhaps Maria was right about Melisende’s husband, because something had to account for her abnormal hostility toward Geoffrey. He raised his hands in a gesture of defeat, knowing this was one battle he could not win.

“Where did you get this?” she demanded, holding up the red ruby ring that the Patriarch had given him in payment for his services. Geoffrey glanced up at the sky and saw it was still dark. He could not have been stunned for more than a few moments, but it had been sufficient time to allow her to search him quite thoroughly. The ring had been in a pouch sewn into the inside of his surcoat. In fact, Geoffrey had forgotten it was there. He had been meaning to ask Helbye, who was astute in such matters, to sell it or exchange it for something more useful-Geoffrey found rings interfered with his sword grip, and he never wore them himself.

“I took it from a church,” he replied. He could hardly tell her the Patriarch had given it to him in payment for an investigation into murders that Melisende may well have committed, and yet his reply held a grain of truth-Daimbert represented the Church in Jerusalem.

Her eyes narrowed. “That has an element of honesty about it,” she said bitterly. “For no Norman would hesitate to steal from a house of God. Yet, I know you are lying.”

He doubted she would have believed him even if he had felt compelled to be straightforward with her. And there was a certain justice in the situation, given that he had been equally sceptical of her honesty at various times in the past.

“We will take him with us,” she said to the swordsmen. “Guard him well. You have seen what he is capable of. He fights like the Devil himself.”

“The Devil against the angels,” he muttered, pulling his arm away from Adam, who made a nervous attempt to hold him.

“We cannot take him!” protested Celeste. “He will be a hindrance all the way. And what will we do with him when we get there?”

“Well, we certainly cannot dispatch him here,” said Melisende. “This place may have an abandoned feel to it, but, believe me, there are people watching our every move even as we speak. They will not interfere with us as long as we do nothing to bring attention to these alleys. But it would be disastrous to everyone who uses this place to have a knight killed here. The area would be seething with the Advocate’s men for weeks, and all business would have to cease. No, Brother, I am afraid we have no choice but to take him with us.”

“We could kill him here and take the body with us,” suggested Adam enthusiastically.

Melisende considered. “No,” she said eventually. “He is too heavy. It is better to have him walking.”

Geoffrey was far from reassured by her words, and it was small comfort to know that the only reason he was not being murdered there and then was because someone-possibly involved in even more sinister dealings than Melisende and her companions-might see. He wondered whether this was what had happened to Guido, John and the monks-had they been taken to a different area to be dispatched quickly by a dagger in the back?

“If you attempt to run, my archer will shoot you down,” said Melisende, coldly. “Regardless of who sees. So please yourself. It makes no difference to me.”

She turned and flounced away, leaving the jittery swordsmen and the archer to bring Geoffrey. He was not unduly worried about the archer, for the man was using entirely the wrong arrow tips to penetrate chain mail, and Geoffrey could see his bow was poorly strung. But regardless, Geoffrey would not run-not from fear of the bowman, but because it was very difficult for a knight to run at speed for any distance wearing heavy chain mail and surcoat. He could manage quick bursts over a short distance, and he could maintain a reasonable marching pace for miles, but he would never be able to outrun his guards.