Jack Whyte - Order in Chaos

“All of them. And they ride beneath their black and white baucents, defiantly, knowing they stand alone—or thinking that they do. They flaunt their Temple emblems—they call them jewels, do they not?—and the cross pattée. They no longer wear the red cross of the Holy Land campaigns, but they take pride in being seen for what they are.”

“And that you cannot have. I see …” He thought for a moment. “So then, tell me this. If we were able to accomplish what you wish here, what would become of these Scots knights?”

Now Lamberton frowned, his glance flicking towards his two companions. “Become of them? Nothing would become of them. They would continue as before, but simply unseen … at least unrecognized. No more than that.”

“But people here already know them as Templars.”

“Aye, and people forget readily. Within the year, once they have changed their outward show, no one will care or remember what they once were. They themselves will not talk of it, will they?”

Will smiled, grimly. “No, they will not. You may rest assured on that. They are Templars, doubly bound in secrecy and obedience.”

“Then you will help us? It would increase your own community, perhaps substantially … And we would be greatly in your debt.”

“I have no interest in incurring debts, nor have I need to add to our community.” Will moved back to his chair and sank into it, deep in thought. The others waited, watching him closely, until he straightened up a little and raised a finger. “Although we may agree upon a quid pro quo .”

“A quid pro quo on the matter of what?” It was Master Nicholas who asked the question, and Will answered him directly.

“Aid from you, in return for aid from me.” Will could hardly believe that he was about to say what was in his mind, for the decision had come to him fully formed, based upon a sudden recollection of what Jessie Randolph had said about his obtaining help from Davie de Moray. “Do any of you have contacts in the area of Genoa?”

“I have a friend in Genoa,” Lamberton said. “The Cardinal Archbishop there, Giacomo Bellini. We were in seminary in Rome together and have remained close, despite the distance separating us. He is one of our strongest allies in the Curia. What interest have you in Genoa?”

“They have the finest shipyards in the world, my lord, and until recently they built most of the ships in the Temple fleet. I have a need for ships now, but I know nothing about buying them. Therefore I need to find an agent there, to represent me—an honest agent, which might be hard to find from afar. It came to me that you, with all your connections throughout Christendom, might be able to assist me.”

Lamberton pursed his lips, plainly not understanding. “You need Temple galleys?”

“No, not galleys. Trading ships. Stout, strong-hulled ships, the best I can find, and as soon as may be. It may be that the Genoans will have to build them for me, and that will require time, and I have none to waste. On the other hand, they may have ships already built, awaiting purchase by a Temple that no longer exists. I need to find that out.” Will looked around the table, at each of the three men. “I will soon be leaving Arran with my people, taking them to safety, which should ease your minds on the matter of our being discovered here.”

“Leaving Arran?” Lamberton sounded appalled. “But you are safe here, Sir William.”

“I know that, my lord, but we pose a risk to you and to King Robert by being here. So we will go elsewhere.”

“But there is no elsewhere … none that would be safe for you, not in all of Christendom.”

“That is true. And yet I have a place in mind, my lord. A place where we will be safe and secure to live our lives with honor.” He glanced at de Moray, who was staring at him, one eyebrow raised in surprise. “Bishop Moray knows whereof I speak. We have discussed it. But he cannot speak of it to you. He has sworn to hold it close.”

The Archbishop rubbed his long, bony beak with a forefinger and then gazed at Will with narrowed eyes, his fingertip pressing idly on the end of his nose, flattening it slightly. “And if I were to swear the selfsame oath of confessional silence, would you entrust me with your confidence as you have Davie?”

Will nodded. “Gladly, and Master Nicholas, too, if he will swear the same.”

“Then mine is gladly given, witnessed by my brothers here.”

“As is mine,” Master Nicholas added. “Though where your proposed sanctuary may be is beyond my grasp.”

Will looked again from man to man, and then told them the story of Merica and how the admiral had gone in search of it. He held them rapt as he related the tales the mariners had brought back with them. When he was finished, no one spoke, each of them lost in his own thoughts, and as usual it was Lamberton who spoke first.

“You were wise to enjoin the seal of the confessional. This place of which you speak, this enormous land with such a lengthy coast and differing climes, might be a whole new world. If word of this were to escape, bloody wars would be fought to win it.” He lapsed into silence again, then added, “But how do you intend to keep it secret once you are gone?”

Will’s face creased in a gentle smile. “We will leave no one behind to talk of it. Our entire community will take the secret with us. Folk may wonder where we went, but no one will know, save you three.”

“And what of the King?”

“The King has much to see to, settling this land and building a stable realm, without his knowing about this. Once we are gone, you may tell him, if you think it needful. By then, no one will be able to find us and we will be safe. But it will be a secret no less dire then than now. Knowledge of it might still set off a race to find it, with all the threats of war you spoke about.”

“Hmm. Would you ever return, think you?”

Will nodded. “Almost certainly. Our people have already been there and returned, in search of aid. I have little doubt we will do so again in the future.”

“And would you return here?”

“To Scotland? Most certainly.” Will’s smile grew wider. “Think you we might return to Philip’s France, to spur his greed?” He shook his head. “We will come here, in search of information about our Order and its fate. By that time, if God smiles upon all of us, King Robert might be secure upon his throne, and therefore able to send new folk back with us, officially … Who can tell such things? But if it comes to pass, we will be well established in our new home by then.”

“When will you go?”

This was the first time Bishop Moray had joined the conversation, and Will shrugged. “As soon as we have new ships. The few we have are too old and done for the voyage we will undertake. The returning ship barely survived the ocean’s storms homeward bound. I want no such risks in our crossing.”

Balmyle cleared his throat. “Have you the funds for these new ships?”

“We do. We have our own exchequer, brought from La Rochelle to keep it out of Philip’s grasping clutch. We have enough.” He decided to say nothing of Jessie Randolph’s offer.

Lamberton sat musing, his head bobbing gently as he thought about what was involved. Finally he nodded decisively.

“I can send an envoy to Cardinal Bellini at once, but we will need to know how many ships you will require.”

“Four at least—six if we can afford them. That is the sticking point right now. I have no slightest knowledge of the costs involved. Therefore the first thing I will need to know is the price of a new ship of the finest quality, and the choices available to us. Once we know that, then we simply divide our treasury among the ships.”