Michael Spradlin - Keeper of the Grail

The Marshal looked at Sir Hugh, then at me. “Is that so?” he said.

“This one has been nothing but trouble since he joined the order. He has no doubt deserted his post in Acre, and it appears he has stolen Templar property.”

“What? I have not stolen anything,” I protested loudly.

“Then how do you explain this sword?” Sir Hugh strode across the room, drawing the sword that hung across my back. “This sword belonged to Sir Thomas Leux of my regimento. I would like to know how this boy has possession of it,” he said.

Marshal Curesco looked at me, waiting for an answer.

“This is Sir Thomas’ sword, that is true. But he gave it to me when I left Acre. Under his orders.” I turned, staring directly at Sir Hugh when I spoke. He didn’t hold my gaze, walking around behind the table to stand at Marshal Curesco’s side, opposite the other knight.

“And why did he order you away from Acre, exactly?” the Marshal asked.

“The Saladin’s forces breached the city walls. We fought hand to hand through the city. The knights prepared to make a last stand in the Crusaders’ Palace. There is a secret passage there. Sir Thomas sent me through it with orders to travel to Tyre as quickly as I could and deliver the news. I met up with Robard a few days’ journey from Tyre and we traveled here together,” I told him.

The Marshal’s eyes narrowed and he leaned back in his chair, trying to take it all in.

“When did you leave Acre?” he asked.

“More than a week ago. Sir Thomas gave me strict instructions to travel only at night. That slowed me down. We had some encounters with bandits, but managed to run them off.” I didn’t mention the Assassins. No sense in giving out too many details.

“This is absurd,” Sir Hugh cried. “He is obviously a liar and a thief. We should throw him in the jail immediately!”

Marshal Curesco held up his hand, silencing Sir Hugh.

“Do you have anything that proves your story?” Marshal Curesco asked.

For a moment I regretted leaving Sir Thomas’ ring and letter hidden with the Grail. But instinct had commanded me, and no doubt Sir Hugh would have accused me of stealing the ring as well.

“Just this. If I am the thief Sir Hugh thinks I am, why would I bother to come straight here to the Commandery and report to you, with my ‘stolen’ sword so plainly in sight? Why would I not just slip away?”

Marshal Curesco glanced at Sir Hugh and seemed on the verge of considering my argument.

“And there’s one more thing, another reason why I came immediately here. A few days ago we narrowly escaped detection by a patrol of Saracens.”

Marshal Curesco immediately leapt to his feet. “Saracens? Are you certain?” he asked.

Throughout this entire exchange, Robard had remained silent in the corridor behind me. He decided now was the time to speak up.

“Of course we’re certain. I’ve been fighting them nonstop for the last two years. I think I know what a Saracen looks like,” he offered. And for added effect he looked directly at Sir Hugh, as if sensing his natural cowardice, and said, “Do you?”

Sir Hugh glared at Robard but said nothing.

“And where were you? Exactly?” the Marshal asked.

“Not more than forty leagues west of the city. We heard a patrol approaching and managed to hide in the underbrush. They searched for us for a while but then gave up when their commander ordered them to remount. He said they needed to return to camp to ready for the attack on Tyre,” I said.

“And how do you know what a Saracen commander said?” Sir Hugh cut in.

I realized my mistake. I couldn’t tell them about Maryam. If I did, they’d never believe me. I needed a convincing lie.

“We were camped with a trader, bound for Tyre. He spoke Arabic, and he heard the Saracens’ words.” Every time I told a lie, the abbot’s face popped into my head. He would be disappointed in me for all the lies I had learned to tell so easily. A small bead of sweat found a path from my forehead down my cheek. The look on the Marshal’s face was impossible to read. Did he believe me?

“Marshal Curesco, he is lying. He is trying to concoct some story of an attack to cover up his crimes! I demand we put him in jail right now!” Sir Hugh was obviously excited at the prospect of seeing me in chains.

Marshal Curesco turned to the sergeanto standing beside him.

“Brother Lewis, please gather a few men-at-arms and escort these young men to the jail. Hold them until I return from the King’s headquarters. We will sort this out later. If indeed there are Saracens nearby, we will need to discuss our strategy,” he said.

Brother Lewis shouted out a command, and I heard the corridor behind me fill with men-at-arms.

“What?” Robard yelled. “You’ll not lock me away!”

He began pushing his way down the hallway, but the men-at-arms blocked his path.

I turned back to Marshal Curesco.

“Marshal Curesco! You cannot do this. I am telling you the truth! Please!” I pleaded.

“That may be. But I cannot discount the word of another Marshal of the Order. I promise you that you will be held there only until I return from conference with the King. We must attend to this news of the Saracens. Then we will sort out the facts of your story,” he said.

Sir Hugh glared at me, but his lips curled into a self-satisfied smile. I knew we would never see Marshal Curesco again if Sir Hugh had his way.

The men-at-arms led Robard out of the hallway. They had relieved him of his bow and wallet. Two others entered the room and relieved me of my short sword, each taking an arm and leading me toward the corridor.

“Sire, please!” I shouted, struggling against their grip. But Marshal Curesco was already talking busily with Brother Lewis. He gave me a dismissive wave.

We were led out of the main hall and through the gates of the Commandery past the startled guard who had let us enter only moments before. Robard was shouting and cursing, making a very big commotion, but with no weapon there was little he could do. The men-at-arms ignored him.

“So, it would appear that your protector has abandoned you,” Sir Hugh said tauntingly.

“Sir Thomas has likely died a hero’s death, fighting with his comrades to the end. Unlike you, who seem to have made a very convenient escape from an embattled and surrounded city. How did you do it? How did you flee Acre?” I asked.

“My activities are no concern of yours,” he said. “I can’t tell you how it pleases me to see your fall from grace. Sir Thomas was an officious, pompous fool. Countermanding my orders in front of the men, doing anything he could to undermine and embarrass me…”

“You don’t need anyone’s help to embarrass yourself,” I interrupted. Sir Hugh reacted by angrily shoving me forward into the street. I staggered but didn’t fall.

“Well, it appears he misplaced his faith in you. Look at you now. A failure easily captured and likely to hang, if I have anything to say about it. Which I will,” he said.

I didn’t respond, though I would certainly have voted against being hanged.

As we were dragged along toward the jail, small crowds of people formed in the streets to watch us pass by. For a moment I thought I saw Maryam. Here and there I caught a glimpse of a black tunic, but then I wasn’t sure. It could have been anyone.

The jail was perhaps a half league from the Commandery, and shortly we entered a large earthen building. Inside was a single room holding a table and bench along the far wall to the right. Along the back wall were the cells-three of them built like cages in the room, each enclosed by iron bars, with a small barred window.

Our weapons were laid on the table. Robard was taken to the far left cell. The men-at-arms pushed him inside, shutting the door with a clang. Robard turned at the sound, spitting at them, cursing in very specific ways about what he thought of them and their mothers, but they paid him no mind.