Jack Whyte: Order in Chaos

“Like you but better dressed.” Tescar was frowning now, beginning to look angry. “White mantle, white surcoat, full forked beard. Said he came from Paris with urgent tidings from the Grand Master. I passed him inside. Why shouldn’t I?”

“Did you ask his name?”

“Aye. It was English. Godwinson or Goodwinson, something like that. But he’s a Templar, beyond doubt.”

“Nothing is beyond doubt, Tescar. Not nowadays.” Sinclair had started for the entrance, his pace lengthening rapidly, and he waved a hand to bring Tam and the other sergeants after. “What did this fellow look like?”

“I told you. Like you, a Templar knight.” Tescar was hurrying to keep up with Sinclair, and the others followed them. “Big fellow, long beard, bright red with a pure white blaze on one side.”

“What?” Sinclair stopped in his tracks, spinning to face the sergeant and stopping him with a straightened arm. “A full red beard with a white streak? On the left?”

“Aye, that’s the one.” Sergeant Tescar, a veteran of many years, had learned to recognize urgency when it confronted him, and he wasted no time on useless questions. “I’ll take you in directly. Come. Your fellows here can go to the refectory. They’ll still have time for dinner.”

“No, they’ll come with me and I’ll make my own way in. You stay here and bar the gates. Seal this place up right now. No one is to leave here or come in until I say so, is that clear?”

“Aye, but—”

“No time for buts, Tescar. Seal this place tight and pray we’re not too late already. Tam, quickly, with me, and bring the others.”

MEN OF GOODWILL

ONE

Sir William Sinclair strode through the main gate tower and emerged into the spacious quadrangle of the headquarters complex. It was enclosed by four buildings, each three stories high, and he angled left immediately towards the heavy double doors that fronted the main administrative building containing the offices and living space of the garrison’s senior personnel. Tam Sinclair almost had to run to catch up to him, but when he did he grasped his taller cousin by the sleeve and pulled him around.

“Wait, damnation, wait now! Just hold hard for a minute. What are we rushing into here? What’s amiss? Why are you running?”

“Because I don’t like the smell. Something stinks here, Tam. Didn’t you hear what Tescar said?”

“Aye, some, but not all of it. The two o’ you were whispering like lovers. Who’s this other knight, this Godwinson?”

“I don’t know, but whoever he is, he’s a liar. There is no brother knight involved in this with tidings from de Molay. You know yourself, de Molay sent no other messenger but us. And there was no other Templar waiting to get in at the South Gate while we were there.” They had stopped at the foot of the shallow flight of steps up to the doors. “So who is this Godwinson and where did he come from? Not from the South Gate—you know that. Do you recall seeing de Nogaret in Paris, two weeks ago?” Tam nodded, his face troubled, and Sir William continued, walking up the steps. “Aye, you do, but obviously not as well as I do. D’you recall who was with him at the time? Think hard now. They had just emerged from the King’s residence and were waiting for a carriage.”

“Aye, I remember seeing the fellow, but I don’t know who he was. I was too busy looking at de Nogaret himself, bad luck to him. But the other one was a big, red-bearded—By the Christ!”

“Aye, big and red bearded, with a white streak in his beard. But was he a Templar? I think not. Nor was he dressed like one. No, Tam, the Christ has nothing to do with this one, not if de Nogaret’s involved.” They had reached the top of the shallow steps fronting the administrative building’s entrance, and Sir William swung the doors open wide before striding through, his men behind him fanning out and looking about them, plainly not knowing what they were looking for.

“Keep your wits about you, lads,” Sir William said quietly, “and tread softly. I don’t know what we may find in here, but this is no time to be clattering around, so move quietly. And be prepared for the worst.”

He led them to a passageway that bore away to the right from the far end of the cavernous entranceway, but he suddenly stopped short. Tam Sinclair bumped into him.

“What is it?” Tam’s voice was a hoarse whisper.

“No guards.” Another pair of closed double doors was set into the wall ahead of them, and Sir William drew his sword with a long, slithering of steel. “I’ve been here a score of times, Tam, and never have I seen those doors unguarded. Hold! Someone’s coming.”

Now they could clearly hear the sounds of shod feet coming from farther down the passageway, rapidly growing louder, and then a white-mantled knight stepped into view. He saw them immediately and gasped in alarm at the sight of Sir William’s bare blade, but Sinclair was already approaching him, raising his finger to his lips in a signal for silence.

“Admiral,” he whispered urgently, “stay there. It’s me, William Sinclair.”

Admiral Charles de St. Valéry was clearly astonished, but he remained where he was.

“Where’s de Thierry?” Sinclair asked him.

St. Valéry looked as though he might answer angrily, but then he merely shrugged. “I have no idea. He was in the Day Room when I saw him last, but that was half an hour ago. I have been upstairs ever since. What need have you and your men of bared blades here in the Commandery, Sir William?”

Sinclair was looking about him, but the passageway was empty on both sides, save for his own men.

St. Valéry spoke again, his voice still soft, but with an edge to it. “Do you not intend to answer me, sir?”

“Aye, I’ll answer you, my lord Admiral.” Sinclair threw him a quick glance, but then looked back to the closed doors of the Day Room where the Commandery’s business was conducted. “In a few moments I hope to be able to tell you that no, we have no need for bared blades here, but for the present that is not clear. Where are your guards?”

“My—?” St. Valéry looked beyond Sir William to where his two guards should have been. “Where are my guards?”

“What of this Godwinson, where is he?”

“What are you talking about? Who is Godwinson?”

“Aye. You’ve been upstairs for half an hour, you say?”

“I have.”

“Then you were gone when Godwinson arrived. And I see you are neither armed nor armored.”

“No, I am not. What need have I of arms or armor in my own house?”

“Come with me, Admiral, and do as I say.”

He turned on his heel and led the admiral back to where Tam Sinclair and his sergeants stood waiting. “Tam, two of your men to guard the admiral here and keep him safe from harm.” As Tam signaled two sergeants forward, Sir William turned back to St. Valéry. “I have reason to believe enemies are waiting for you on the other side of that door, Admiral, and that whoever goes in there first had best be well armored. I hope I am wrong, but I fear I am correct. So you stay here, against the wall, until we find out what’s inside. Tam!”

“Aye, Will.”

“Four of your men back outside, quickly, to Tescar at the gates. Tell him they need crossbows. Do it quickly, but without attracting attention.”

“Aye.”

While they waited for the four sergeants to return,

Admiral St. Valéry studied Sinclair, who, in turn, stood gazing silently at the closed doors to the Day Room.

“What are you thinking, Sir William?”

“About armor, my lord Admiral. You have armor in your quarters?”

“Of course.”

“And have you a metal cuirass?”