Jack Whyte - Order in Chaos

“So mote it be. And now, my lord Bishop, if you will lead us in the closing rites, the brethren may depart and think upon all that has been said here today. Senior officers and brethren will join me thereafter in my quarters.”

FOUR

“Ihave never heard you say so much at one time in all my life, Brother, and I confess, you said it remarkably well. You gave the brethren sufficient food for thought to keep them chewing at the cud for days. What are we drinking?”

Kenneth Sinclair was the first arrival, following Will into his quarters less than a minute after his brother’s own arrival. Will grinned and waved towards the table where Tam had set out cups and jugs of wine.

“I was ever the clever one in the family. What happened at the trial?”

Kenneth busied himself pouring wine for both of them and handed a cup to Will just as approaching footsteps announced the arrival of others. “Solitary time, on bread and water. Two months for Martelet, who showed not a whit of remorse, and one month for the others, including the wounded man, Gilbert de Sangpur. Some think they got off lightly.”

“Enter!” Will shouted as someone rapped on the door, and as de Narremat, de Montrichard, and several others began to come in, he turned back to his brother. “And you, what do you think?”

“I agree, particularly in the case of Martelet. That one is a bad apple that could corrupt the whole barrel. He’ll not be broken and he will not change easily.”

“He will, when he finds himself alone and obvious in his truculence. He will stand out like a splinted limb and will start to behave himself soon afterwards, you mark my words. Gentlemen! Make yourselves comfortable.”

Will moved away to welcome his guests and busied himself pouring wine for each of them in turn, the simple courtesy of his gesture betraying, his brother thought, that special quality that made Will Sinclair who he was. Will himself, on the other hand, was already regretting having invited his guests to come here, his mind full of curiosity about the third package from the Master’s wallet. The realization that he might now have to wait several hours to open it filled him with a sudden impatience that he sought to neutralize by being attentive to his officers, who appeared both tentative and diffident, plainly uncertain of what he might expect from them and probably of what they might now expect of him after the dramatic announcements he had made in chapter.

It was the preceptor, Richard de Montrichard, who asked the question that, on reflection, Will wryly acknowledged must be bothering all of them. They all had cups of wine in their hands and were at ease, talking among themselves, some sitting, others standing by the roaring fire, and several leaning idly against walls and tables as they discussed the chapter meeting. Will was standing slightly apart, watching all of them and making no attempt to assert himself, when he saw de Montrichard turn and seek him out with his eyes, then raise a hand to indicate he wished to speak.

“Sir William, I have a question to ask, if you will permit me.”

“You have no need of permission, Sir Richard. We are at leisure here, for the moment. Ask away.”

“Well, sir, it concerns the matter of our raiment … our habiliments …”

Will smiled. “You mean our clothing.”

“Exactly. I agree with everything you said this morning on that topic. It makes perfect sense, for both our own protection and King Robert’s cause. We must become invisible, as you said. But … if we set aside our mantles and surcoats as you suggest, along with our mailed coats and blazoned armor, what will we wear instead?”

Will had to fight the urge to laugh, reminding himself that these were men whose every movement and behavior, from dawn to dusk through each day of their lives, had been dictated by the Rule that governed them all. They possessed no concept of personal liberty in matters of clothing or deportment; they had spent their lives wearing the clothing issued to them by the Order. Solid but stolid men for the most part, they lacked the imagination to conceive of anything different from what they had always known. And so he nodded solemnly, accepting the question gravely.

“Why, Brother Richard, we will wear what we have always worn—plain, simple tunics, unadorned, and comfortable leggings against the chill. We will merely set aside our outer clothing, replacing it with the plain cloth or waxed woolen cloaks and other overgarments worn by the common folk in these parts—leather jerkins, and bossed leather armor of boiled and hammer-beaten hides. We shall not freeze from exposure, I promise you. And if your next question be, where will we obtain these things, then I will tell you they are here already. There is a large family of weavers along the southern coast, who supply clothing for all weathers to the local fishermen. And another family of tanners, in the cove below Lochranza. I have spoken with the tanners, although not with the weavers, but I am sure that both families will be eager to work hard to clothe and equip us in return for solid silver coin … and most particularly so if we provide them with hides and woolen yarn, which our ships are already collecting abroad. So set your mind at rest on that, Brother.” Yet he saw confusion lingering in the preceptor’s face. “You appear unconvinced. Was I unclear?”

“No, Sir William, not at all.” The protestation was almost apologetic. “I was merely wondering how we will distinguish ourselves … in rank, I mean.”

Will’s eyebrows shot up in astonishment. “Why would we need to? We are less than two hundred here at any time. Is there a man in your commandery whose name and ranking you do not yet know?”

“No, of course not.”

“And is there any among them who would fail to recognize you, or any other here?”

De Montrichard began to look slightly crestfallen, and Vice-Admiral de Narremat came to his rescue. “I think Brother Preceptor might have been referring to procedures in time of conflict or battle, Sir William. I confess the same thought had occurred to me, for all men look alike in the midst of action. An admiral needs to be recognizable to his men as does a land commander.”

Will nodded. “A valid point, and one that had already occurred to me. But we were speaking here of normal activities, and there is little need for detailed recognition in the daily grind. We have our regimen of daily prayers and ritual, and that alone will suffice to maintain discipline now that it is re-established. In times of war, though, should such ever arrive on Arran, we shall identify ourselves by using colored patches and plain colored banners.” He glanced at the preceptor again. “That is already in hand, Sir Richard, the preparations being set in place, and all men will know the colors before a month has elapsed from now.”

De Montrichard nodded his acceptance, and from there the conversation became general, with questions coming from everyone present, requiring Will’s illumination on all points raised. In consequence, the hours passed quickly, and when his fellows left him alone at last, Will felt great satisfaction. He had achieved more than he had hoped, and had encountered no opposition even on the details he had expected would be thorny.

Tam had come in to replenish the fire as soon as the last visitor had left, and he cast a glance at the unopened package on the table where Will had laid it.

“What’s that?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t opened it yet. Part of the package from Master de Molay, for my personal attention.”

“So when are ye goin’ to open it?”

“Once you’ve gone. I told you, it’s for me alone at this point.”

“Hmm. What would it be like, I wonder, to be a Templar without secrets? I jalouse ye’ll be itchin’ to be rid o’ me then, seein’ as how you’re no’ noted for your patience when it comes to bein’ kept waitin’ … well, let me finish here an’ I’ll leave ye to your business. Oh—what was the verdict in the trial?”