Read Online Knights of the Cross by Tom Harper - Free Book Online Page B

outside, and found a stool in the dim room within. Tables and benches were pushed back against the walls, and the floor was covered with mouldering reeds. In the corner a fire hissed and crackled, though there were so many servants and petitioners gathered in the room that we could probably have warmed it ourselves.
    After some minutes a scribe emerged from behind and oak door. All in the room fell silent and tensed themselves in hope as his gaze skimmed the assembled faces. I wondered whether he could distinguish one dirty, dark-haired, bearded face from another but his look settled on me and an arm reached out. ‘You. Come.’
    The inner room was much the same size as the first, though it seemed at least twice as spacious simply by its emptiness. On a wooden bed in one corner sat Bishop Adhemar in his red cap and cope; behind a table, staring at him with his single, unyielding eye was Count Raymond. He neither stood nor offered me a seat, but contented himself with a grunt.
    ‘My men found you.’
    ‘Yes, Lord.’
    ‘Hah! More than they manage with the Turks. One of their spies broke into our camp and drove away seven horses last night. Many more and we will have to walk to Jerusalem.’
    ‘Your garrison in the new tower will deter them,’ suggested the Bishop. He made me uneasy, for I did not know what to expect from a prelate of the Latin church, yet his manner was calm, almost gentle.
    ‘Little will deter the Turks while they see how feeble we are.’ Raymond stood, and walked to a small window in the wall. Through it I could see the sheer slopes of Mount Silpius rising to the clouds. ‘Doubtless the thieves will be back tomorrow dressed as merchants, to sell our own beasts back to us and observe our strength. Wine?’
    I was slow to realise that he was offering the drink to me, and fumbled my words trying to accept too hastily. His face twitched with impatience, unbalancing my thoughts still further, and it was only once a servant had brought two cups that I began to settle. The wine was warm, and I gulped it like a camel. It had been many months since I had enjoyed such luxury.
    ‘Sit,’ said Raymond. There were no other seats, so I had to perch on an unsteady leather saddle beside the door.
    ‘You are working for Bohemond. He wishes you to discover who killed the Norman Drogo.’
    I could not tell if these were questions or accusations. I answered with an indistinct murmur.
    ‘Do you know why he would have you do this?’ The count stroked a finger over his cheek. Almost uniquely among the Franks, he had continued to shave throughout the siege, but he often allowed his beard to grow as far as a silvered stubble, as though iron sprouted from his very skin. ‘Do you guess his purpose?’
    The eye fixed me with a hostile stare.
    ‘I . . . He is keen that there should be no unanswered crimes to fester among the army,’ I stammered, clenching my hand about the cup.
    ‘Of course. Bohemond’s care for the unity of the army is well known. Doubtless you noticed it at the council last night.’
    ‘I . . .’
    ‘He would see the armies united under a single general. Whom do you suppose he intends?’
    I struggled for an answer that would not draw contempt, but the count sneered at my delay and continued unchecked. ‘The mightiest?’ Raymond thumped a fist against his chest. ‘The holiest?’ He pointed to the Bishop ‘No. That Norman upstart, whose own father deemed him unworthy of the least inheritance, would subordinate the armies of the greatest lords in Christendom to his ambition. And why?’
    ‘The better to prosecute our war against the Turks?’ I hazarded, sinking under the onslaught of his bile.
    He pushed himself out of his chair and leaned forward across the table. ‘If you believe that, Master Greek, then Drogo’s killer can indeed sleep peacefully. Bohemond is a brigand, a pirate like his bastard ancestors. He has already tried to seize your country; when that failed, he rebelled