Part Three 10 страница

Now the imam had begun to speak, addressing the mourners: ‘We gather here to mourn the loss of our beloved Majd Addin, taken too soon from this world. I know you feel sorrow and pain at his passing. But you should not. For just as we are all brought forth from the womb, so too must we all one day pass from this world. It is only natural – like the rising and the setting of the sun. Take this moment to reflect on his life and give thanks for all the good he did. Know that one day you will stand with him again in Paradise. ’

Altaï r fought to hid his disgust. ‘The beloved Majd Addin’. The same beloved Majd Addin who had been a traitor to the Saracens, who had sought to undermine trust in them by indiscriminately executing the citizens of Jerusalem? That beloved Majd Addin? It was no wonder that the crowd was so sparse, and grief so little in evidence. He was about as beloved as leprosy.

The imam began to lead the mourners in prayer. ‘O God, bless Muhammad, his family, his companions, O merciful and majestic. O God, more majestic than they describe, peace on the Prophets, blessings from the God of the Universe. ’

Altaï r’s gaze went from him to de Sable and his bodyguard. A wink of sun caught his eye and he glanced up at the wall behind the trio of knights to the ramparts that ran along the outside of the courtyard. Was it a movement he’d seen? Perhaps. Extra Templar soldiers could easily take cover in the ramparts.

He glanced again at the three knights – Robert de Sable, as if standing for inspection, offering himself as a target. His build. Too slight, surely. The cape. It looked too long.

No. Altaï r decided to abandon the assassination because there was no ignoring his instinct here. It wasn’t telling him something was wrong. It was saying nothing was right. He began to edge back, just as the imam’s tone changed.

‘As you know, this man was murdered by Assassins. We have tried to track his killer, but it has proved difficult. These creatures cling to the shadows and run from any who would face them fairly. ’

Altaï r froze, knowing now that the trap was to be sprung. He tried to push through the crowd more quickly.

‘But not today, ’ he heard the imam call, ‘for it seems one stands among us. He mocks us with his presence and must be made to pay. ’

Suddenly the crowd around Altaï r opened, forming a circle around him. He wheeled, seeing the graveside where the imam stood pointing – at him. De Sable and his two men were moving forward. Around him the crowd looked fierce, and was closing in to swamp him, leaving him no escape route.

‘Seize him. Bring him forward that God’s justice might be done, ’ called the imam.

In one movement Altaï r drew his sword and ejected his blade. He remembered his Master’s words: Choose one.

But there was no need. The mourners might have been brave and Majd Addin beloved, but nobody was prepared to shed blood to avenge him. Panicked, the crowd broke up, mourners falling over their robes to escape, Altaï r using the sudden confusion to dart to one side, breaking the advancing Templars’ line of sight. The first of them just had time to register that one member of the crowd was not escaping, but instead moving towards him, before Altaï r’s sword was through his mail and in his gut and he fell away.

Altaï r saw a door in the wall open and more knights come pouring through. Five at least. At the same time there was a hail of arrows from above, and one knight was spinning and falling, the shaft protruding from his neck. Altaï r’s eyes shot to the ramparts where he saw Templar archers. On this occasion their aim had favoured him. He was unlikely to be quite so fortunate next time.

The second of the two bodyguards came forward and he swiped with his blade, slicing at the man’s neck and sending him down in a spray of blood. He turned to de Sable, who came forward swinging his broadsword hard enough to send Altaï r stumbling back, only just able to deflect the blow. Suddenly there were reinforcements, and he was trading blows with three other knights, all in full-face helmets, and finding that he was now standing on Majd Addin’s final resting place. There was no time to enjoy the moment, though: from above came another hail of arrows and, to Altaï r’s delight, a second knight was speared, screaming as he fell. The effect on the remaining Templars was to send them into disarray and they scattered a little, less frightened of Altaï r than they were of their own archers, just as de Sable began screeching at the bowmen to stop firing on their own men.

And Altaï r was so surprised that he almost dropped his guard. What he had heard was not the unmistakably male French tones of Robert de Sable but a voice that surely belonged to a woman. An English woman.

For a heartbeat he was taken aback by a mixture of bemusement and admiration. This … woman, the stand-in sent by de Sable, fought as bravely as any man, and wielded a broadsword just as adeptly as any knight he had ever encountered. Who was she? One of de Sable’s lieutenants? His lover? Keeping close to the cover of the wall, Altaï r felled another of the knights. Just one left. One more, and de Sable’s stand-in. The last Templar had less appetite for the fight than she did, though, and he died, thrashing on the point of Altaï r’s sword.

Just her now and they traded blows, until at last Altaï r was able to get the better of her, sliding the blade into her shoulder at the same time as he swept her legs from beneath her and she crashed heavily to the ground. Scurrying into cover, he pulled her with him so that they were both out of sight of the archers. Then he leaned over her. Still wearing the helmet, her chest heaved. Blood spread across her neck and shoulder but she would live, thought Altaï r – if he allowed her to, that was.

‘I would see your eyes before you die, ’ he said.

He pulled off the helmet, and was still taken aback to be confronted by the truth.

‘I sense you expected someone else, ’ she said, smiling a little. Her hair was hidden by the chainmail coif she wore, but Altaï r was entranced by her eyes. There was determination behind them, he saw, but something else too. Softness and light. And he found himself wondering if her obvious skills as a warrior belied her true nature.

But why – whatever command of combat she possessed – would de Sable send this woman in his stead? What special abilities might she have? He placed his blade to her neck. ‘What sorcery is this? ’ he asked cautiously.

‘We knew you’d come, ’ she said, still smiling. ‘Robert needed to be sure he’d have time to get away. ’

‘So he flees? ’

‘We cannot deny your success. You have laid waste our plans. First the treasure – then our men. Control of the Holy Land slipped away … But he saw an opportunity to reclaim what has been stolen. To turn your victories to our advantage. ’

‘Al Mualim still holds the treasure and we’ve routed your army before, ’ replied Altaï r. ‘Whatever Robert plans, he’ll fail again. ’

‘Ah, ’ she said, ‘but it’s not just Templars you’ll contend with now. ’

Altaï r bridled. ‘Speak sense, ’ he demanded.

‘Robert rides for Arsuf to plead his case, that Saracen and Crusader unite against the Assassins. ’

‘That will never happen. They have no reason to. ’

Her smile broadened. ‘Had, perhaps. But now you’ve given them one. Nine, in fact. The bodies you’ve left behind – victims on both sides. You’ve made the Assassins an enemy in common and ensured the annihilation of your entire Order. Well done. ’

‘Not nine. Eight. ’

‘What do you mean? ’

He removed his blade from her neck. ‘You were not my target. I will not take your life. ’ He stood. ‘You’re free to go. But do not follow me. ’

‘I don’t need to, ’ she said, pulling herself to her feet and clasping one hand to the wound at her shoulder. ‘You’re already too late …’

‘We’ll see. ’

With a final glance at the ramparts, where archers were hurrying to new positions, Altaï r darted off, leaving the cemetery empty, apart from its corpses old and new – and the strange, brave and entrancing woman.

‘It was a trap, ’ he exclaimed to Malik, moments later, the time it had taken him to make his way from the cemetery to the Bureau, his mind working furiously as he did so.

‘I had heard the funeral turned to chaos … What happened? ’

‘Robert de Sable was never there. He sent another in his stead. He was expecting me –’

‘You must go to Al Mualim, ’ said Malik, firmly.

Yes, thought Altaï r, he should. But there was that insistent feeling again. The one that told him there was yet more mystery to uncover. And why did he think it somehow involved the Master? ‘There’s no time. She told me where he’s gone. What he plans. If I return to Masyaf, he might succeed … And then … I fear we’ll be destroyed. ’

‘We have killed most of his men. He cannot hope to mount a proper attack. Wait, ’ said Malik. ‘Did you say she? ’

‘Yes. It was a woman. Strange, I know. But that’s for another time. For now we must focus on Robert. We may have thinned his ranks, but the man is clever. He goes to plead his case to Richard and Salah Al’din. To unite them against a common enemy … Against us. ’

‘Surely you are mistaken. This makes no sense. Those two men would never –’

‘Oh, but they would. And we have ourselves to blame. The men I’ve killed – men on both sides of the conflict … men important to both leaders … Robert’s plan may be ambitious, but it makes sense. And it could work. ’

‘Look, brother, things have changed. You must return to Masyaf. We cannot act without the Master’s permission. It could compromise the Brotherhood. I thought … I thought you had learned this. ’

‘Stop hiding behind words, Malik. You wield the Creed and its tenets like a shield. He’s keeping things from us. Important things. You’re the one who told me we can never know anything, only suspect. Well, I suspect this business with the Templars goes deeper. When I’m done with Robert I will ride for Masyaf that we may have answers. But perhaps you could go now. ’

‘I cannot leave the city. ’

‘Then walk among its people. Seek out those who served the ones I slew. Learn what you can. You call yourself perceptive. Perhaps you’ll see something I could not. ’

‘I don’t know … I must think on this. ’

‘Do as you must, my friend. But I will ride for Arsuf. Every moment I delay, our enemy is one step further ahead of me. ’

Once more he had breached the Creed: unwitting or not, he had put the Order in danger.

‘Be careful, brother. ’

‘I will. I promise. ’

The armies of Salah Al’din and Richard the Lionheart had met at Arsuf, and as he made his way there Altaï r learned – from the gossip he overheard at blacksmiths’ and waterholes along the route – that after a series of minor skirmishes the battle had begun that morning, when Salah Al’din’s Turks had launched an attack on the Crusader ranks.

Riding towards it, against the flow of anxious countryfolk wanting to escape the slaughter, Altaï r saw plumes of smoke on the horizon. As he came closer he could make out the soldiers at war on the distant plain. Knots of them, huge, dark clusters in the distance. He saw a long band of thousands of men, moving in fast on horseback, charging the enemy, but was too far away to see whether the charge was Saracen or Crusader. Closer, he could see the wooden frames of war machines, at least one on fire. Now he could discern the tall wooden crucifixes of the Christians, huge crosses on wheeled platforms that the infantry pushed forward, and the flags of the Saracens and the Crusaders. The sky darkened with hails of arrows from archers on either side. He saw knights on horseback with pikes, and packs of Saracen horsemen making devastating sorties into the ranks of the Crusaders.

He could hear the drumming of hoofs on the plain, and the constant crash of Saracen cymbals, drums, gongs and trumpets. He could hear the noise of the battle: the unending all-encompassing din of the shouts of the living, the screams of the dying, the sharp rattle of steel on steel and the pitiful whinnies of wounded horses. He began to come across riderless animals and bodies now, Saracen and Crusader, spreadeagled in the dirt or sitting dead against trees.

He reined back his mount – just in time, because suddenly Saracen archers began to appear from the treeline some way ahead of him. He dropped from his horse and rolled from the main track, taking cover behind an upturned cart. There were maybe a hundred of them all told. They ran across the track and into trees on the other side. They moved quickly and were bent low. They moved as soldiers move when they are stealthily advancing into enemy-held territory.

Altaï r stood and darted into the trees, too, following the bowmen at a safe distance. For some miles he pursued them, the sounds of the battle, the vibrations of it, growing stronger until they came upon a ridge. Now they were above the main battle, which raged below them, and for a moment the sheer size of it took his breath away. Everywhere – as far as the eye could see – there were men, bodies, machines and horses.

As at the Siege of Acre he found himself in the middle of a fierce and savage conflict with no side to call his own. What he had was the Order. What he had was a mission to protect it, to stop the beast that he had unwittingly unleashed from tearing it apart.

All round him on the ridge were bodies, too, as though there had already been a battle a short time ago. And of course there had: whoever held the ridge had the advantage of height, so it was likely to be savagely contested. Sure enough, as they came upon it, the Saracens were met by Crusader infantry and bowmen and a great shout went up from both sides. Salah Al’din’s men had the element of surprise and so the upper hand, and the first wave of their attack left the bodies of knights in their wake, some falling from the ridge into the seething war below. But as Altaï r crouched and watched, the Crusaders managed to regroup and the combat began in earnest.

Passing along the ridge was the safest way of moving to the rear of the Crusader lines, where Richard the Lionheart would be stationed. And reaching him was the only hope he had of stopping Robert de Sable. He came closer to the battle and began to move to his left, leaving a wide berth between himself and the combatants. He came upon a Crusader who was crouched in the undergrowth, watching the battle and whimpering, and left him, running onwards.

Suddenly there was a shout and two Crusaders moved into his path, their broadswords raised. He stopped, crossed his arms and reached to his shoulders, drawing his sword with one hand and flicking a knife with the other. One of the scouts went down and he moved to the other and had felled him when he realized that they weren’t scouts. They were sentries.

Still overlooking the battle he found that he was on the brow of a hill. Some distance away he could see the standard of Richard the Lionheart and thought he caught a glimpse of the King himself, sitting astride his distinctive steed, flaming orange beard and hair bright in the afternoon sun. But now more rearguard infantry were arriving and he found himself swamped by knights, chainmail rattling, their swords raised and their eyes full of battle beneath their helmets.

Their task was to protect their liege; Altaï r’s was to reach him. For long moments the battle raged. Altaï r danced and ran, sometimes carving himself a route, his bloody sword flashing, sometimes able to make a long dash, coming ever closer to where he could now see Richard. The King was in a clearing. He had dismounted, wary of the commotion approaching, and his immediate bodyguard were forming a ring around him, making him a small target.

Still fighting, his sword still swinging, men falling at his feet, his robes stained with Crusader blood, Altaï r broke clear of an attack and was able to dash forwards. He saw the King’s lieutenants draw their swords, eyes fierce under their helmets. He saw archers scrabbling up to surrounding boulders, hoping to find a lofty position in order to pick off the intruder.

‘Hold a moment, ’ called Altaï r. Just a few feet away now, he looked King Richard in the eyes, even as his men came forward. ‘It’s words I bring, not steel. ’

The King wore his regal red, at his chest a gold-embroidered lion. He was the only man among them not cursed by fear or panic and he stood utterly calm at the battle’s centre. He raised an arm and his men stopped their advance, the battle dying in an instant. Altaï r was grateful to see his attackers fall back a few paces, giving him room at last. He dropped his sword arm. As he caught his breath, his shoulders rose and fell heavily and he knew that all eyes were on him. Every swordpoint was aimed at his gut; every archer had him in his sights. One word from Richard and he would fall.

Instead, Richard said, ‘Offering terms of a surrender, then? It’s about time. ’

‘No. You misunderstand, ’ said Altaï r. ‘It is Al Mualim who sends me, not Salah Al’din. ’

The King darkened. ‘Assassin? What is the meaning of this? And be quick with it. ’ The men pressed forward a little. The archers tensed.

‘You’ve a traitor in your midst, ’ said Altaï r.

‘And he has hired you to kill me? ’ called the King. ‘Come to gloat about it before you strike? I won’t be taken so easily. ’

‘It’s not you I’ve come to kill. It’s him. ’

‘Speak, then, that I may judge the truth. ’ King Richard beckoned Altaï r forward. ‘Who is this traitor? ’

‘Robert de Sable. ’

Richard’s eyebrows raised in surprise. ‘My lieutenant? ’

‘He aims to betray, ’ said Altaï r, evenly. He was trying to choose his words carefully, desperate not to be misunderstood. Needing the King to believe him.

‘That’s not the way he tells it, ’ said Richard. ‘He seeks revenge against your people for the havoc you’ve wrought in Acre. And I am inclined to support him. Some of my best men were murdered by some of yours. ’

So – Robert de Sable already had the King’s ear. Altaï r took a deep breath. What he was about to say could mean his immediate death. ‘It was I who killed them. And for good reason. ’ Richard glowered but Altaï r pressed on: ‘Hear me out. William of Montferrat. He sought to use his soldiers to take Acre by force. Garnier de Naplouse. He would use his skills to indoctrinate and control any who resisted. Sibrand. He intended to block the ports, preventing your kingdom from providing aid. They betrayed you. And they took their orders from Robert. ’

‘You expect me to believe this outlandish tale? ’ said the Lionheart.

‘You knew these men better than I. Are you truly surprised to learn of their ill intentions? ’

Richard seemed to think for a moment, then turned to one of the men standing at his side, who wore a full-face helmet. ‘Is this true? ’ he said.

The knight removed his helmet, and this time it really was Robert de Sable. Altaï r looked at him with open disgust, remembering his crimes. This man had sent a woman as his stand-in.

For a heartbeat the two stared at one another, the first time they had met since the fight below the Temple Mount. Still breathing hard, Altaï r clenched his fist. De Sable smirked, his lip curling, then turned to Richard. ‘My liege …’ he said, in an exasperated tone ‘… it is an Assassin who stands before us. These creatures are masters of manipulation. Of course it isn’t true. ’

‘I’ve no reason to deceive, ’ snapped Altaï r.

‘Oh, but you do, ’ sneered de Sable. ‘You’re afraid of what will happen to your little fortress. Can it withstand the combined might of the Saracen and Crusader armies? ’ He grinned, as though already imagining the fall of Masyaf.

‘My concern is for the people of the Holy Land, ’ Altaï r countered. ‘If I must sacrifice myself for there to be peace, so be it. ’

Richard had been watching them with a bemused expression. ‘This is a strange place we find ourselves in. Each of you accusing the other …’

‘There really is no time for this, ’ said de Sable. ‘I must be off to meet with Saladin and enlist his aid. The longer we delay, the harder this will become. ’ He made to move off, hoping, no doubt, that the matter was at an end.

‘Wait, Robert, ’ said Richard. His eyes went from de Sable to Altaï r and back again.

With a snort of frustration, de Sable snapped, ‘Why? What do you intend? Surely you do not believe him? ’ He indicated Altaï r, who could see in de Sable’s eyes that maybe the King had his doubts. Perhaps he was even inclined to believe the word of the Assassin over that of the Templar. Altaï r held his breath.

‘It is a difficult decision, ’ replied the King. ‘one I cannot make alone. I must leave it in the hands of one wiser than I. ’

‘Thank you. ’

‘No, Robert, not you. ’

‘Then who? ’

‘The Lord. ’ He smiled, as if pleased to have come to the right decision. ‘Let this be decided by combat. Surely God will side with the one whose cause is righteous. ’

Altaï r watched Robert carefully. He saw the look that passed across the Templar’s face, de Sable no doubt recalling the last time they had met when he had easily bested Altaï r.

Altaï r was recalling the same encounter. He was telling himself that he was a different warrior now: last time he had been handicapped by arrogance, which was why he had been so easily defeated. He was trying not to recall the knight’s great strength. How he had picked up and tossed Altaï r as easily as hefting a sack of wheat.

De Sable was remembering that, though, and he turned to King Richard, bowing his head in assent. ‘If that is what you wish, ’ he said.

‘It is. ’

‘So be it. To arms, Assassin. ’

The King and his right-hand men stood to one side while the remaining members of the bodyguard formed a ring around Altaï r and the smiling de Sable. Unlike Altaï r he was not already battleworn and weary. He wore armour where Altaï r had only a robe. He had not suffered the cuts and blows that Altaï r had received in his battle to reach the clearing. He knew that, too. As he pulled on chainmail gauntlets and one of the men came forward to help him with his helmet, he knew that he had the advantage in every way.

‘So, ’ he said, taunting, ‘we face each other once more. Let us hope you prove more of a challenge this time. ’

‘I am not the man you faced inside the Temple, ’ said Altaï r, raising his sword. The thunder of the great battle of Arsuf seemed distant now; his world had shrunk to just this circle. Just him and de Sable.

‘You look the same to me, ’ said de Sable. He raised his sword to address Altaï r. In reply the Assassin did the same. They stood, Robert de Sable with his weight adjusted to his back foot, evidently expecting Altaï r to come forward first.

But the Assassin claimed the first surprise of the duel, remaining unmoved, waiting instead for de Sable’s attack. ‘Appearances can deceive, ’ he said.

‘True. True, ’ said de Sable, with a wry smile and, in the very next second, struck, and chopped hard with his sword.

The Assassin blocked. The force of de Sable’s strike almost knocked the sword from his hand, but he parried and skipped to the side, trying to find a way inside de Sable’s guards. The Templar’s broadsword was three times the weight of his blade, and though knights were famed for their dedication to sword training and usually had the strength to match, they were nevertheless slower. De Sable could be more devastating in his attack, but he could never be as fast.

That was how Altaï r could beat him. His mistake before had been to allow de Sable to use his advantages. His strength now was to deny him them.

Still confident, de Sable pressed forward. ‘Soon this will be over and Masyaf will fall, ’ he muttered, so close with the mighty blade that Altaï r heard it whistle past his ear.

‘My brothers are stronger than you think, ’ he replied.

Their steel clashed once more.

‘We’ll know the truth of that soon enough, ’ grinned de Sable.

But Altaï r danced. He defended and parried and deflected, cutting nicks in de Sable, opening gashes in the mail, landing two or three stunning blows on the knight’s helmet. Then de Sable was backing away to gather his strength, perhaps realizing now that Altaï r wouldn’t be the easy kill he had assumed.

‘Oh, ’ he said. ‘So the child has learned to use a blade. ’

‘I’ve had a lot of practice. Your men saw to that. ’

‘They were sacrificed in service to a higher cause. ’

‘As will you be. ’

De Sable leaped forward, wielding the great sword and almost knocking Altaï r’s blade from his hand. But the Assassin bent and twisted in one easy movement ramming back with the hilt of his weapon so that de Sable was sent stumbling back, falling over his own feet. The wind came out of him and he was only just prevented from falling to the dust by the knights forming the ring, who righted him so that he stood there, bristling with fury and breathing heavily.

‘The time for games is ended! ’ he bellowed, as though saying it loudly might somehow make it come true, and he sprang forward, but with no deadly grace now. With nothing more deadly than blind hope.

‘It ended long ago, ’ said Altaï r. He felt a great calmness, knowing now that he was pure – pure Assassin. That he was to defeat Robert de Sable with thought as much as might. And as de Sable pressed forward once more, his attack more ragged this time, more desperate, Altaï r easily fended him off.

‘I do not know where your strength comes from …’ gasped de Sable. ‘Some trick. Or is it drugs? ’

‘It is as your king said. Righteousness will always triumph over greed. ’

‘My cause is righteous! ’ cried de Sable, grunting now as he lifted his sword, almost painfully slowly. Altaï r saw the faces of his men. Could see them waiting for him to deliver the killing blow.

Which he did. Driving his sword straight through the centre of the red cross de Sable wore, parting the knight’s mail and piercing his chest.

De Sable gasped. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open, hands going to the blade that impaled him, even as Altaï r withdrew it. A red stain spread across his tunic, and he staggered, then sank to his knees. His sword dropped and his arms dangled.

Straight away Altaï r’s eyes went to the men forming a ring around them. He was half expecting them to attack at the sight of the Templar Grand Master dying. But they remained still. Past them Altaï r saw King Richard, his chin tilted as though the turn of events had done little more than pique his curiosity.

Now Altaï r bent to de Sable, cradling him with one arm and laying him on the ground. ‘It’s done, then, ’ he told him. ‘Your schemes – like you – are put to rest. ’

In response, de Sable chortled drily. ‘You know nothing of schemes, ’ he said. ‘You’re but a puppet. He betrayed you, boy. Just as he betrayed me. ’

‘Speak sense, Templar, ’ hissed Altaï r, ‘or not at all. ’ He stole a look at the men of the ring. They remained impassive.

‘Nine men he sent you to kill, yes? ’ said de Sable. ‘The nine who guarded the Treasure’s secret. ’

It was always nine who had that task, the responsibility handed down through generations of Templars. Almost a hundred years ago, the Knights Templar had formed and made the Temple Mount their base. They had come together to protect those making the pilgrimage to the holiest of holies and lived their lives as warrior monks – or so they maintained. But, as all but the most gullible knew, the Templars had more on their minds than helpless pilgrims. In fact, they were searching for treasure and holy relics within the Temple of Solomon. Nine, always, were tasked with finding it, and nine had finally done so: de Sable, Tamir, de Naplouse, Talal, de Montferrat, Majd Addin, Jubair, Sibrand, Abu’l Nuqoud. The nine who knew. The nine victims.

‘What of it? ’ said Altaï r carefully. Thoughtfully.

‘It wasn’t nine who found the Treasure, Assassin, ’ smiled de Sable. The life force was seeping fast from him now. ‘Not nine but ten. ’

‘A tenth? None may live who carry the secret. Give me his name. ’

‘Oh, but you know him well. And I doubt very much you’d take his life as willingly as you’ve taken mine. ’

‘Who? ’ asked Altaï r, but he already knew. He understood what it was now that had been bothering him. The one mystery that had eluded him.

‘It is your master, ’ said de Sable. ‘Al Mualim. ’