Part Three 6 страница

They did. Ahmad had come to him at night ever since. He came with a dagger that gleamed in the dancing candlelight. Slowly he drew the blade across his own throat, grinning as he did so.

Altaï r awoke. The desert was cool and still around him. The palm trees rustled slightly in a breeze and the water drip-dripped behind him. He passed a hand across his brow and realized he had been sweating. He laid his head down again, hoping to sleep at least until light.

Part Two

‘You’ve done well, ’ said Al Mualim, the following day. ‘Three of the nine lie dead, and for this you have my thanks. ’ His smile faded. ‘But do not think to rest upon your laurels. Your work has just begun. ’

‘I am yours to command, Master, ’ said Altaï r, solemnly. He was exhausted but grateful that he was beginning to redeem himself in Al Mualim’s eyes. Certainly he had seen a change in the guards. Where before they had looked at him with disdain, now they gave him grudging respect. Word of his success had reached them, no doubt. Al Mualim, also, had awarded him the beginnings of a smile and indicated for him to sit. Sit.

The Master continued: ‘King Richard, emboldened by his victory at Acre, prepares to move south, towards Jerusalem. Salah Al’din is surely aware of this, and so he gathers his men before the broken citadel of Arsuf. ’

Altaï r thought of Salah Al’din and tensed. His mind went back to that day, the Saracens at the gates of the fortress …

‘Would you have me kill them both, then? ’ he said, relishing the possibility of putting the Saracen leader to his blade. ‘End their war before it begins in earnest? ’

‘No, ’ snapped Al Mualim, studying him so carefully that Altaï r felt as though his thoughts were being read. ‘To do so would scatter their forces – and subject the realm to the bloodlust of ten thousand aimless warriors. It will be many days before they meet, and while they march, they do not fight. You must concern yourself with a more immediate threat: the men who pretend to govern in their absence. ’

Altaï r nodded. He put away his visions of revenge to be inspected another day. ‘Give me names and I’ll give you blood. ’

‘So I will. Abu’l Nuqoud, the wealthiest man in Damascus. Majd Addin, regent of Jerusalem. William de Montferrat, liege lord of Acre. ’

He knew the names, of course. Each of the cities bore its leader’s pernicious imprint. ‘What are their crimes? ’ asked Altaï r. He wondered if, like the others, there would be more to these crimes than met the eye.

Al Mualim spread his hands. ‘Greed. Arrogance. The slaughter of innocents. Walk among the people of their cities. You’ll learn the secrets of their sins. Do not doubt that these men are obstacles to the peace we seek. ’

‘Then they will die, ’ said Altaï r, obediently.

‘Return to me as each man falls that we might better understand their intentions, ’ ordered Al Mualim, ‘and, Altaï r, take care. Your recent work has likely attracted the attention of the guards. They’ll be more suspicious than they’ve been in the past. ’

So it appeared. For, days later, when Altaï r strode into the Bureau at Acre, Jabal greeted him with ‘Word has spread of your deeds, Altaï r. ’

He nodded.

‘It seems you are sincere in your desire to redeem yourself. ’

‘I do what I can. ’

‘And sometimes you do it well. I assume it is work that reunites us? ’

‘Yes. William de Montferrat is my target. ’

‘Then the Chain District is your destination … But be on your toes. That section of the city is home to King Richard’s personal quarters, and it is under heavy watch. ’

‘What can you tell me of the man himself? ’

‘William has been named regent while the King conducts his war. The people see it as a strange choice, given the history between Richard and William’s son, Conrad. But I think Richard rather clever for it. ’

‘Clever how? ’

Jabal smiled. ‘Richard and Conrad do not see eye to eye on most matters. Though they are civil enough in public, there are whispers that each intends evil upon the other. And then there was the business with Acre’s captured Saracens …’ Jabal shook his head. ‘In its wake, Conrad has returned to Tyre, and Richard has compelled William to remain here as his guest. ’

‘You mean his hostage? ’ asked Altaï r. He was inclined to agree with Jabal. It did indeed look like a wise move on Richard’s part.

‘Whatever you call it, William’s presence should keep Conrad in line. ’

‘Where would you suggest I begin my search? ’

Jabal thought. ‘Richard’s citadel, south-west of here … Or, rather, the market in front of it. ’

‘Very well. I won’t disturb you any further. ’

‘It’s no trouble, ’ said Jabal, who went back to his birds, cooing gently at them.

He was a man unburdened by many worries, thought Altaï r. For that at least, he envied him.

Jabal was right, thought Altaï r, as he made his way through hot, crowded streets tangy with sea air, to the citadel market. There were many more guards about, perhaps double the number since his last visit. Some wore the colours of the Crusaders, and were in full armour. However, if he knew one thing about soldiers it was that they liked to gossip, and the more there were, the more indiscreet they were likely to be. He took a place on a bench, and sat as though to admire the grand citadel with its fluttering pennants, or as if simply to watch the day go by. Not far away an entertainer tried to drum up trade, then shrugged and began anyway, tossing coloured balls into the air. Altaï r pretended to watch him but was listening to a conversation taking place over the way, a couple of Crusaders chattering like washerwomen about William’s sword skills.

As Altair watched, a soldier’s eye was caught by a friar, a tall man in brown hooded robes, who was signalling discreetly to him. The soldier nodded almost imperceptibly, bade his friend goodbye and moved across the market. Watching from beneath his cowl, Altaï r stood and followed as the two men met and moved away from the hustle and bustle to talk; Altaï r positioned himself close by, straining to hear as the friar spoke.

‘Perhaps it was unwise to embrace William. He is old and thinks too much of himself. ’

The soldier pursed his lips. ‘His army is large. We’ll have need of them. For now, I’ll go and visit the other brothers. Make sure they have everything they need. ’

‘Aye. They must not fall, ’ agreed the friar.

‘Fear not. The Master has a plan. Even now he prepares a way to turn our losses to his advantage, should it come to that. ’

Master? Altaï r wondered. Brothers? Just who did these men answer to? Acre had more layers than an onion.

‘What does he intend? ’ asked the friar.

‘The less you know, the better. Just do as you’ve been instructed. Deliver this letter to the Master. ’ He passed it to the friar and Altaï r smiled, already flexing his fingertips. He stood from the bench and followed. One lift later the scroll was his, and he sat once again to read it.

Master:

Work continues in the Chain District of Acre though we are concerned about William’s ability to see this through to the end. He takes his duties a bit too seriously, and the people may reject him when the time comes. Without the aid of the treasure, we can ill afford an uprising, lest it recall the King from the field. And then your plan will be for nothing. We cannot reclaim what’s been stolen unless the two sides are united. Perhaps you might prepare another to take his place – simply as a precaution. We worry that our man in the harbour will become increasingly unstable. Already he talks of distancing himself. And this means we cannot rely on him should William fall. Let us know what you intend that we might execute it. We remain ever faithful to the cause.

He folded the letter and pushed it into his robes. Something to show Al Mualim, perhaps. Then again, maybe not. So far Altaï r felt Al Mualim had been less than open with him regarding his targets. Perhaps this was part of his test. Perhaps.

A group of servants hurried past. The juggler juggled; he had a bigger crowd now. Not far away a speaker had taken up position in the shade of a tree and was talking against King Richard.

Next Altaï r’s attention was arrested by a young man with a close-trimmed black beard who seemed to be appealing to citizens as they passed, at the same time keeping an eye on a pair of city guards stationed a short distance away.

‘William de Montferrat cares nothing for the people of Acre, ’ he was saying. Altaï r loitered to listen, careful not to catch his eye. ‘While we starve, the men inside his keep want for nothing. They grow fat upon the fruits of our labour. He brought us here to rebuild, he said. But now, far from home, and the grace of our king, his true plan becomes apparent. He steals our sons, sending them into battle against a savage enemy. Their deaths are all but guaranteed. Our daughters are taken to service his soldiers, robbed of their virtue. And he compensates us with lies and empty promises of a better morrow – of a land blessed by God. What of now? What of today? How much longer must we go without? Is this truly the work of God – or of a selfish man who seeks to conquer all? Rise up, people of Acre. Join us in our protest. ’

‘Be quiet, ’ called a woman passer-by, gesturing in the direction of guards who were peering along the street, perhaps aware that rabble-rousing was afoot.

‘You’re a fool, ’ agreed another, harshly. He turned away with a dismissive wave of the hand. Nobody in Acre wanted to witness William’s anger, or so it seemed.

‘Your words will see you hanged, ’ whispered another, who slunk away.

Altaï r watched as the rebel cast a wary glance, then stepped into the crowd and joined another man there. ‘How many have you called to our cause? ’ he asked.

‘I fear they are all too afraid, ’ answered his companion. ‘None would heed the call. ’

‘We must keep trying. Find another market. Another square. We must not be silenced. ’

With a final backwards glance at the soldiers, they moved off. Altaï r watched them go, satisfied he had discovered all that he needed to know about William de Montferrat.

He took a final look at the citadel, towering over the marketplace, the black beating heart of Acre. In there, somewhere, was his target, he thought, and with William dead, the people of Acre would know less tyranny, less fear. The sooner that happened, the better. It was time to revisit Jabal.

The Bureau leader was, as ever, in a jovial mood. His eyes twinkled as he greeted Altaï r.

‘I’ve done as I was asked, ’ said Altaï r. ‘I’ve armed myself with knowledge. I know what I must do to reach Montferrat. ’

‘Speak, then, and I will judge. ’

‘William’s host is large and many men call him master. But he is not without enemies. He and King Richard do not see eye to eye. ’

Jabal raised an eyebrow. ‘It’s true. They’ve never been close. ’

‘This works to my advantage. Richard’s visit has upset him. Once the King has left, William will retreat into his fortress to brood. He’ll be distracted. That is when I will strike. ’

‘You’re sure of this? ’

‘As sure as I can be. And if things change, I’ll adapt. ’

‘Then I give you leave to go. End the life of de Montferrat that we may call this city free. ’ Jabal handed him the feather.

‘I’ll return when the deed’s been done, ’ answered Altaï r.

Altaï r returned to the citadel, expecting it to be just as he had left it. But there was something different now – something he detected as he wove through the streets and came closer to it. It was in the air. Excitement. Expectation. He heard gossip concerning Richard’s visit. He was in the fortress now, the citizens said, holding talks with de Montferrat. Apparently the King was furious with him over his treatment of the three thousand held hostage when the Crusaders had retaken the city.

Despite himself, Altaï r felt a thrill. Richard the Lionheart’s reputation came before him. His bravery. His cruelty. So to see him in the flesh …

He moved through the marketplace. The crowds were thicker now as word spread that Richard had arrived. Acre’s citizens, whatever their opinions of the English King, wanted to see him.

‘He comes, ’ whispered a woman nearby. Altaï r felt himself carried by the crowd, and for almost the first time since entering the city he was able to hold up his head. The crowds were his disguise and, anyway, the guards were too occupied with the King’s imminent arrival to take any interest in him.

Now the mob surged forward, taking Altaï r with it. He allowed himself to be enclosed by bodies and carried towards the decorated stone gates, where the flags of the Crusaders fluttered in the breeze, as though they, too, were keen to see Richard. At the gates, the soldiers warned the crowds to move back and those at the front began calling for those at the rear to stop pushing forward. Still more citizens arrived, though, surging towards the raised area in front of the main gates. More guards formed a shield around the entrance. Some had their hands on the hilts of their swords. Others brandished pikes menacingly, snarling, ‘Back with you, ’ at the seething, complaining crowd.

Suddenly there was a great commotion from the fortress gates, which, grinding, rose. Altaï r craned his neck to see, first hearing the clip-clop of horses’ hoofs, then seeing the helmets of the King’s bodyguards. Next the crowd was kneeling, Altaï r following suit, though his eyes were fixed on the arrival of the King.

Richard the Lionheart sat on a splendid stallion adorned with his livery, his shoulders back and his chin high. His face was worn, as though carrying the imprint of every battle, every desert crossed, and his eyes were weary but bright. Around him was his bodyguard, also on their horses, and walking at his side another man, this one, Altaï r realized from the crowd’s murmurings, William de Montferrat. He was older than the King, and lacked his bulk and power, but there was a litheness about him; Altaï r could see he might well be a skilled swordsman. There was a look of displeasure about him as he walked by the side of the King, small in his shadow and heedless of the crowds surrounding them. Lost in his own thoughts.

‘… three thousand souls, William, ’ the King was saying, loud enough for the entire marketplace to hear. ‘I was told they would be held as prisoners – and used to barter for the release of our men. ’

‘The Saracens would not have honoured their side of the bargain, ’ replied de Montferrat. ‘You know this to be true. I did you a favour. ’

The Lionheart roared. ‘Oh, yes. A great favour, indeed. Now our enemies will be that much stronger in their convictions. Fight that much harder. ’

They stopped.

‘I know our enemy well, ’ said de Montferrat. ‘They will not be emboldened but filled with fear. ’

Richard looked at him disdainfully. ‘Tell me, how is it you know the intentions of our enemy so well? You, who forsake the field of battle to play at politics. ’

De Montferrat swallowed. ‘I did what was right. What was just. ’

‘You swore an oath to uphold the work of God, William. But that is not what I see here. No. I see a man who’s trampled it. ’

De Montferrat looked queasy. Then, sweeping an arm around him, as if to remind the King that their subjects were within earshot, he said, ‘Your words are most unkind, my liege. I had hoped to earn your trust by now. ’

‘You are Acre’s regent, William, set to rule in my stead. How much more trust is required? Perhaps you’d like my crown. ’

‘You miss the point, ’ said Montferrat. Not wanting to lose face before the crowd he added, ‘But then again, you always do …’

Richard glowered. ‘Much as I’d like to waste my day trading words with you, I’ve a war to fight. We’ll continue this another time. ’

‘Do not let me delay you, then, ’ said de Montferrat, politely, ‘Your Grace. ’

Richard afforded de Montferrat one last furious stare – a stare to remind a rebellious underling of exactly who wore the crown – then left, his men falling in behind him.

The crowd began to get to their feet and de Montferrat turned to say something to one of his guards. Altaï r strained to hear.

‘I fear there will be no place for men like him in the New World. Send word that I wish to speak with the troops. We must ensure everyone is doing their part. Warn them that any negligence will be severely punished. I’m in no mood to be trifled with today. ’ Then he turned to the rest of his men. ‘Follow me. ’

Suddenly there was a great surge towards the fortress, not just of de Montferrat’s guards but of traders hoping to find custom inside. Altaï r joined them, buffeted by their hessian sacks but staying in the crush and just squeezing through the gates before the guardsmen took control and slammed them shut. Inside, traders were being herded by irritated soldiers towards a courtyard, there to display their wares, no doubt. But Altaï r could see de Montferrat making his way along the lower bailey and towards the inner curtain. He ducked to one side and squeezed into a gap between the wall and an inner building, holding his breath, half expecting to hear a shout from a sharp-eyed guard who had seen him slip away. There was none. He looked upwards, and was pleased to see handholds in the sandstone surface of the building. He began to climb.

Archer.

Of course. He’d been so pleased to elude the sentries down below that Altaï r had forgotten to consider those above. He stole another look over the edge of the roof, waiting for the man to turn his back. He needed him in the middle of the roof. Didn’t want him falling into the fortress and raising the alarm. When the guard reached the right spot, Altaï r struck, the throwing knife glittering in the sun, then burying itself in the sentry’s back. He grunted and fell, thankfully not over the edge, and Altaï r pulled himself up to the roof, crouching low and making his way across, one eye on another archer further across the compound, ready to dive out of view if he turned.

Below him de Montferrat was making his way across the fortress, shouting orders and insults at all who dared be in his vicinity.

Altair came upon the next archer. A knife throw later, the man lay sprawled dead on the roof. Altaï r glanced down at him as he passed, keeping low, seeing the body cease to twitch.

A third archer. Altaï r disposed of him. Now he controlled the roof; he had an escape route for when the deed was done. All that remained was to do it.

Below him, de Montferrat passed through a set of inner gates and Altaï r watched him upbraid the guard for some minor infraction as he did so. Then he was moving into the courtyard of a keep, a kind of inner sanctum for him, perhaps. Altaï r shadowed him from the walkway above. He kept out of sight but nobody looked upwards. They had no need to – or so they thought.

Now de Montferrat took his place behind a table at one side of the courtyard. ‘Men, ’ he was saying, ‘gather round. Heed well my words. ’

They took positions around him and Altaï r saw that, though they wore the same uniform, they were different from those stationed in the outer curtain. These were more grizzled and looked battle-hardened. If Altaï r was right, they would be de Montferrat’s personal force. He wasn’t going to make the mistake of thinking them ‘little challenge’ again.

In the courtyard, de Montferrat continued, ‘I come from speaking with the King, and the news is grim. We stand accused of failing in our duties. He does not recognize the value of our contributions to the cause. ’

‘For shame, ’ said one of the men.

‘He knows nothing, ’ spat another.

‘Peace. Peace. Hold your tongues, ’ admonished de Montferrat. ‘Aye, he speaks falsely, but his words are not without some merit. To tour these grounds, it is easy to find fault. To see imperfection. I fear we have grown slack and lazy. ’

Above him, Altaï r allowed himself a smile. The method of his entrance was testament to how slack and lazy de Montferrat’s men had become. And as for his half-asleep archers …

‘Why do you say this? ’ asked one of de Montferrat’s men. They bristled, all of them. Altaï r used the sudden eruption of noise as cover to crab to one side, wanting to position himself above his quarry, very, very carefully moving around the courtyard walls. Now he could see what most of the men below did not. From a door at the opposite end of the courtyard more guards had appeared dragging two men. They wore the outfits of Crusaders but were prisoners.

‘I see the way you train, ’ de Montferrat was shouting down below. ‘You lack conviction and focus. You gossip and gamble. Tasks set to you are left unfulfilled or poorly performed. This ends today. I will not suffer further degradation at Richard’s hands. Whether or not you see it – and you should – this is your fault. You’ve brought shame upon us all. Skill and dedication are what won us Acre. And they will be required to keep it. I have been too lenient, it seems. But no more. You will train harder and more often. If this means missing meals, missing sleep – so be it. And should you fail in these tasks, you will learn the true meaning of discipline … Bring them forward. ’

Altaï r had reached his position without being spotted. He was close enough now to look down on de Montferrat’s balding head and see the flecks of spittle fly from his mouth as he shouted at his men. If one of those below was to look up for any reason he might be spotted, but all attention was now on the area in front of de Montferrat’s table, where the soldiers had been dragged before him, frightened and shame-faced.

‘If I must make examples of some of you to ensure obedience, ’ announced de Montferrat, ‘so be it, ’ and he turned to the captives. ‘The two of you stand accused of whoring and drinking while on duty. What say you to these charges?

Through wet mouths they mumbled pleas and apologies.

De Montferrat scowled at them. Then, with a wave of his hand, he ordered their execution.

Their throats were cut and they spent their last moments watching their own blood gush on to the stone of the courtyard. De Montferrat gazed at them, gurgling and flapping on the ground, like dying fish. ‘Disregard for duty is infectious, ’ he said, almost sadly. ‘It shall be rooted out and destroyed. In this way, we may prevent its spread. Am I understood? ’

‘Yes, my lord, ’ came the murmured reply.

‘Good, good, ’ he said. ‘Return to your duties, then, filled with a new sense of purpose. Stay strong, stay focused – and we will triumph. Falter, and you will join these men. Be sure of it. Dismissed. ’

He waved them out of his sight, which cheered Altaï r. Out of sight was where he wanted the men, too. He watched as de Montferrat began sifting through papers on the table, hissing with exasperation, his ill-temper clearly not exhausted. Altaï r crept forward, as close as he dared to the edge of the roof. He saw the two bodies, blood still spreading. Further away, most of the men seemed either to have congregated at the entrance to the keep or were leaving for the outer curtain, no doubt keen to put as much distance between themselves and de Montferrat as possible.

Below him de Montferrat tutted in displeasure, still rattling through the papers, unable to find what he was looking for. He groaned as a wad of them slid from the table to the ground. About to call for assistance he thought better of it and bent to retrieve them. Perhaps he heard the snick of Altaï r’s blade in the split-second between Altaï r leaping from the walkway above and embedding it in his neck.

Then the Assassin was straddling the Acre leader’s body, his hand over his mouth so as not alert others in the courtyard. He had just moments, he knew, whispering, ‘Rest now. Your schemes are at an end. ’

‘What do you know of my work? ’ croaked de Montferrat.

‘I know that you were going to murder Richard – and claim Acre for your son, Conrad. ’

‘For Conrad? My son is an arse, unfit to lead his host, let alone a kingdom. And Richard? He is no better, blinded as he is by faith in the insubstantial. Acre does not belong to either of them. ’

‘Then to whom? ’

‘The city belongs to its people. ’

Altaï r fought the now-familiar sense of his world taking an unexpected lurch. ‘How can you claim to speak for the citizens? ’ he said. ‘You stole their food. Disciplined them without mercy. Forced them into service under you. ’

‘Everything I did, I did to prepare them for the New World, ’ replied de Montferrat, as though such things should be obvious to Altaï r. ‘Stole their food? No. I took possession so that, when the lean times came, it might be rationed properly. Look around. My district is without crime – save that committed by you and your ilk. And as for conscription? They were not being trained to fight. They were being taught the merits of order and discipline. These things are hardly evil. ’

‘No matter how noble you believe your intentions, your acts were cruel and cannot continue, ’ said Altaï r, though he felt less certain than he sounded.

‘We’ll see how sweet they are, ’ said de Montferrat, fading fast, ‘the fruits of your labours. You do not free the cities, as you believe, but damn them. And in the end, you’ll have only yourself to blame. You who speak of good intentions …’

But he never finished

‘In death, we are all made equals, ’ said Altaï r, staining the feather. He scaled the wall behind him and was on the walkway, darting across to the outer curtain. Then away. As if he had never been there.

Altaï r felt weary of the task. Tired and increasingly vexed. Each long ride exhausted him further but he was commanded to visit Al Mualim after every kill. And on each occasion the Master was enigmatic, demanding details from him yet holding so much back.

So it would prove on the next occasion they met. ‘Word has reached me of your success, ’ Al Mualim said. ‘You’ve my gratitude – and that of the realm. Freeing these cities from their corrupt leaders will no doubt promote the cause of peace. ’

‘Can you really be so sure? ’ asked Altaï r. For his own part, he was sure of less and less.

‘The means by which men rule are reflected in their people. As you cleanse the cities of corruption, you heal the hearts and minds of those who live within. ’

‘Our enemies would disagree, ’ said Altaï r, his mind going to those whose eyes he had closed.

‘What do you mean? ’

‘Each man I’ve slain has said strange words to me. They are without regret. Even in death, they seem confident of their success. Though they do not admit it directly, there is a tie that binds them. I am sure of it. ’

Al Mualim regarded him carefully. ‘There is a difference, Altaï r, between what we are told to be true and what we see to be true. Most men do not bother to make the distinction. It is simpler that way. But as an Assassin, it is your nature to notice. To question. ’

‘Then what is it that connects these men? ’ pressed Altaï r. The Master had the answers, he was sure of it. All of them.

‘Ah. But as an Assassin it is also your duty to still these thoughts and trust in your master. For there can be no true peace without order. And order requires authority. ’

Altaï r could not keep the exasperation from his voice. ‘You speak in circles, Master. You commend me for being aware and then ask me not to be. Which is it? ’

‘The question will be answered when you no longer need to ask it, ’ responded Al Mualim, mysteriously.

Altaï r could see he was getting nowhere. ‘I assume you called me here for more than a lecture, ’ he said.

‘Yes, ’ said Al Mualim, and directed him to Damascus once more. The one they called Abu’l Nuqoud. He was to be the next to die. First, though, there was the impertinent Bureau leader to negotiate …

‘Altaï r, my friend. Welcome. Welcome. Whose life do you come to collect today? ’

Altaï r frowned to see the Damascus Bureau leader, insolent as ever, but not enough so to warrant his fury. It was quite a talent the man had for judging it so well. Perhaps if he had been able to put his skills to better use, he wouldn’t be spending his days behind a desk in the Bureau. One day Altaï r might remind him of that fact. In the meantime, he had work to do. A new target.

‘His name is Abu’l Nuqoud, ’ he said. ‘What can you tell me about him? ’

‘Oh, the Merchant King of Damascus, ’ exclaimed the leader, visibly impressed. ‘Richest man in the city. Quite exciting. Quite dangerous. I envy you, Altaï r. Well … not the bit where you were beaten and stripped of your rank … But I envy everything else. Oh … except for the terrible things the other Assassins say about you. But, yes, aside from the failure and the hatred – yes, aside from those things – I envy you very much …’