Jack Whyte - Order in Chaos

“Well, Commander,” de Berenger said eventually. “How was your visit with the King of Scots?”

“Good enough. We have permission to stay here, with certain provisos. What about you? Any difficulties, going or coming?”

The light was strengthening now, and De Berenger was clearly visible as he turned to face Will, twisting his mouth into an expression that brought a swift frown to Will’s face. “No difficulties going either way,” the admiral said. “But there were difficulties nonetheless. They were brought to my attention, and I was very glad that I could leave them for yours.”

“What happened?”

“Some of your garrison knights decided that they wished to go ashore, on the peninsula behind the island. They overrode the opposition of the ship’s captain, a good man but a mere sergeant, awed by four bullying knights. Fortunately he had the sense to send word by boat to de Narremat, who sent de l’Armentière after them at once. He caught them in the channel between Sanda and the peninsula and threatened to run them down if they did not turn back upon his order. When they defied him, he sank their boat with that wicked ram of his. None of them were lost, for they were in the shallows at the time and de l’Armentière was very skillful, but they were four very wet and angry ranting knights when they were hauled aboard and taken straight to de Narremat’s galley. He confined them belowdecks, in chains, and they are still there, rusting in their hauberks.”

“Damnation. Who are they, do you know?”

“No, I did not think to ask their names. But they are Temple knights, cooped up too long at sea and little liking having no voice in their own affairs. It is fortunate, perhaps, that there were only the four of them aboard that ship. There were no other incidents among the knights aboard the remaining vessels.”

“Nor will there be from this time on, for I intend to bring all of them to heel again and remind them of who they are and the vows they took.” Will reached into his scrip and pulled out the folded sheet of vellum that he had written his lists on the night before, and held it up for de Berenger to see. “This arrogant nonsense of your four knights was foreseen yesterday, or some version of it was, by Bishop Moray, and I set myself to thinking how to deal with it before anything serious can develop. How long to reach the others from here?”

De Berenger looked forward, to where the Temple fleet could already be seen crowding the waters of the bay of Lamlash, which were motionless as a sheet of glass in the still morning light. “We are almost there now … a quarter of an hour.”

“And you bade them wait for our arrival before starting to disembark?”

“I did. Look! What’s that over there on the island? There are people there. Who in blazes are they?”

Will picked out the small procession wending its way across the hills towards Lamlash Bay, perhaps forty men in all, pulling an assortment of lurching, high-wheeled handcarts loaded with cargo.

“Cooks and workmen,” he said. “Douglas’s men, courtesy of his quartermaster. They’ll set up fires and prepare food for us to eat later, after the ceremonies.” De Berenger raised an eyebrow at Will’s mention of ceremonies, but said nothing. “Before we do anything else, we need to find the ship my brother is on and summon him to join me here. I’m going to need his hundred men ashore before anyone else moves towards land. Can you take us within hailing distance?”

The admiral smiled. “I can do better than that. With the water as still as it is, I can lay us alongside and he can jump down to us. I know his ship. In fact, I can see it from here.” He turned to the shipmaster behind him and issued quiet instructions, pointing out the vessel that held Kenneth Sinclair, and the man moved quickly away and began issuing orders.

“My thanks, Edward,” Will said. “Now, look at this.” He bowed his head to the parchment and began to run a finger down his long list of things to do, directing de Berenger’s attention to the items that concerned him and explaining what he needed to have done and in what order, and as they drew steadily closer to the waiting fleet, Sir Edward, too, became absorbed in the importance of the day that stretched ahead. Before he did anything else, however, de Berenger had one question to ask, and it was one Will had been anticipating with some discomfort.

“What will you do with the Baroness while all this is going on?”

“Do with her? I shall do nothing with her, or to her. She will remain aboard her ship with her women until our business ashore is complete. After that, I care not what she may do … she may disembark, if she so wishes.”

“You would deny her the privilege of attending Mass?”

“Aye, I would, in this instance. The lady lives surrounded by priests and may have any one of them celebrate Mass for her at any time, in her own quarters, if she wishes. But today’s Mass on the island will be a chapter Mass, the first such event celebrated by the brethren since we left La Rochelle. It will be a solemn ritual, its content dictated by the Rule of the Order, and you and I both know there is no place for women in any element of the Rule’s applications. Her ladyship may be displeased, but there is no alternative open to any of us. She remains on board ship until we are done, and there’s an end to it. Now, let’s go and find my brother.”

TWO

Sir Kenneth Sinclair clung grimly to a rope on the bulging side of the ship that lay alongside the galley, face taut as he gauged the timing of his leap, and then he launched himself outwards, between the vertical sweeps of the galley’s port-side oarsmen, the fingers of both hands spread wide in the hope of catching something—anything—to break his fall. There were willing hands aplenty to catch him, and he landed gently, his knees bent and his shoulders sagging with relief. He let out his breath with a great whoosh and stood upright, bracing himself for a moment before stepping forward to embrace his brother and pay his respects to Admiral de Berenger. As soon as the greetings were over, he swung back to Will.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong. Why would you think otherwise?”

Kenneth’s eyebrows rose up in mock delight. “You mean you came all this way just to wish me well, and tied your ship to ours with grappling hooks only to make me risk my life leaping down here for an embrace?” He sobered and his voice dropped to a lower register. “There’s something happening—something in the wind, Brother—and I suspect that I’m a part of it.”

Will nodded. “Right. You are. But nothing is wrong. I merely need you to do some things for me. Important things.”

“I’m your man, then. What d’you need?”

Will glanced at de Berenger, then looked around to see if anyone else was listening. No one was close enough to hear, and he took his brother by the elbow and turned him to face the land above Lamlash Bay. “I want your men ashore within the hour, Kenneth, every one of them, in full mail and surcoats. Sir Edward will see that you have everything you need in order to do that. You see that shelf of land there, just above the bay? It stretches back for almost half a mile and most of it is level, and there’s a knoll in the middle of it, a round-topped outcrop of rock, not high, but high enough to serve our purposes. Can you see it?”

Kenneth nodded.

“Good. That knoll will hold our altar. By the time you arrive on the beach, there will be a work party there from Brodick—that’s where I have been staying, in the next bay to the north. The head man’s name is Harkin and he is expecting you. He has an extra table for you, with trestles, for an altar. Set it up on the knoll there. All the altar cloths and vessels are aboard one of the other ships, and Bishop Formadieu will see to their disposal. But you’ll need to find a site close behind the altar to hold the tocsin—” He turned to de Berenger. “Admiral, can you supply a party of ships’ carpenters with rope and spars to erect a tripod for the tocsin? It might tax their skills, but we’ll need the bell in place before noon.”