Standard of Honor

foundations are fatally flawed, and that, of course, is a vindication of the purity and wholeness of Christianity, in that there are no comparable differences of belief or basic philosophy in its ranks.”

The old man’s mouth quirked in a grin and he cocked his head slightly to include his friends in the audience. “The difference between the Eastern, Orthodox rites of Byzantium and the Roman rites of our homelands are, of course, not differences at all, according to these theologians. They are merely nuances of interpretation. And of course, those same theologians do not even suspect our Order’s existence, so how could they suspect a difference in our philosophy or beliefs? We must educate them one day, my friends, for their own good.”

Most of the men listening to him were smiling at his little joke as he turned back to St. Clair. “But I was talking about your cousin and how important he is to our affairs in Outremer. By the end of his time with his tutors, your cousin had been transformed into a man who could effortlessly pass as a Muslim among Muslims. He traveled to Outremer and spent three more years living and working as a civilian trader attached to a Cairo-based trading house, traveling widely out of that city and uncovering and providing us with information.

“From there he moved to the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem, abandoning his trader persona and taking up the duties of a Temple Knight within the Jerusalem garrison, circulating throughout the kingdom, ostensibly as a high- level courier but truly functioning as liaison between the brotherhood and certain active but equally secretive sects within the widespread but small Shi’a community—activities which he knew would not endear him at all to the Sultan Saladin and his Sunni supporters, among whom his current companions must number.

“It is one of the greatest ironies of our existence that, despite the overwhelming importance of Jerusalem and Palestine to everything it stands for, our Order is, and for the time being must remain, very poorly represented there. Were we discovered, was our existence even suspected, the Church would root us out and destroy us as heretics. And so that need for secrecy makes it nearly impossible for us to function in Outremer. We have been thrust into a situation there where we have had to make use of every advantage available to us, and that has included befriending the Shi’a community, which in Jerusalem is almost as small and endangered as our own. The Saracen Sultan, Saladin, is Sunni, as are all his hosts. We therefore have actively sought out friendship and alliances among the Shi’a community, proceeding on the ancient theory that the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Your cousin Alexander was our main liaison in those activities, and most particularly in our dealings with an association that operates within the Shi’a community much as our own Order does within ours. They call themselves the Hashshashin, the Assassins. I see you have heard of them.”

St. Clair’s eyes had widened on hearing the name and he nodded, mute.

“Well, do not let what you have heard harden you against them. As usual in such things, where little is known and much is feared, what is broadcast is seldom even close to the truth. The Sunni have used their numerical superiority and their ill will, both political and religious, to blacken the name and reputation of the Assassins. But that is unimportant here. What is important is that the Assassins represent no threat to us. On the contrary, they and we are natural allies and have mutual interests, not the least among those being a fascination with the geometry and the arcane lore of the Ancients. Like us, the Assassins are a closed, secret society, and theirs is the repository of a vast wealth of knowledge that we hope one day to share in equality. We had suspected that was so for decades, but Alex Sinclair established it beyond dispute … I can see you have a question. Ask it.”

“But …” St. Clair frowned, shaking his head very slightly in his impatience, “how could he have established that beyond dispute, without—?”

“Without betraying our own Order’s existence? We had been aware for some time that, in order to gain the trust and confidence of the Assassins, we might have to show our own trust by exposing our own existence to them. Sir Alexander had the authority, at his own discretion, to proceed on that basis. When the time was right, he chose to do so, and his judgment has been amply rewarded.”

“And what if he had misjudged? What if he had trusted the wrong people with his information, what then?”

Germain shrugged. “What then? All that anyone would have is the word of one man, unsupported by evidence. What harm could ensue from that? No, there were checks and counterchecks in place. Nothing irreparable could have occurred.”

“And what now, then, should he be dead? Are you telling me you do not know how to proceed from there?”

“On the contrary, we know that your cousin left a complete and up-to-date report for us before setting out for Hattin. We even know where he left it. But the messengers, and there were three of them, who were entrusted to collect and forward that report to us, were all killed in the aftermath of Hattin. To the best of our knowledge, the report must still be where Sir Alexander left it. Should you be unable to find him when you reach Outremer, you will have that location in your possession so that at the very least you may find the report and send it to us.”

“And if I do find my cousin?”

“Then you will deliver the Council’s dispatches to him and work with him thereafter, assisting him in his endeavors.”

“I see.” St. Clair nodded slowly, his gaze moving from one to the other of the assembled group, although he continued to address Germain of Toulouse. “May I ask another question, one which you might find presumptuous?”

“Of course. We are putting your life doubly at risk, so ask us anything you wish to know.”

“Why is this more important now, today, than it was a month ago? I was arrested and brought here in haste. I could have been more subtly contacted weeks and months earlier, without risk or difficulty. I have been working with members of the Council for at least that long, on Sir Robert de Sable’s behalf.”

Germain hesitated, then nodded. “Correct. And you would have been brought in a month ago, save that several developments occurred about that time and had to be verified and then considered at great length for their … political import. It would have been pointless to involve you before we were sure of what our path must be. Now we are sure, and our decisions have been made. But I am not the man to tell you about what they involve. Master Bernard, will you continue from here?”

Germain of Toulouse moved away and sat down, making way for another speaker, only slightly younger than he was. Andre St. Clair felt his heartbeat speed up slightly as the newcomer smiled at him before beginning to speak. Andre knew, from the information he had received from Robert de Sable, that this was Master Bernard of Montsegur, one of the trio of Joint Masters who supervised the affairs of the Order of Sion within the three ancient territories in which it functioned. The first and oldest of these three “regions” was the Languedoc, covering the entire region north of the Pyrenees, including the provinces of Aquitaine and Poitou and the walled towns of Montsegur and Carcassonne; the other two were known as Poitou and Champagne, and together they covered the remaining area of what had once been Roman Gaul, with the Champagne region covering the northern third and Poitou the entire central area. Each of the three Masters—their ranks elected and held for life— was responsible for the Order’s affairs within his own region and acted as coordinator of the Regional Council. Of the three Joint Masters, de Sable had told Andre, Bernard of Montsegur was the most influential. He was also the one who conducted the Order’s direct liaison with the Order of the Temple and the network of Brothers of Sion who functioned within the Temple on behalf of its much older avatar.

“As my brother Germain says,” Bernard began, “much has changed in recent months, and, as always, we are late once again in learning of those changes. My brethren here all know what I am speaking about, but we have judged it important that you, too, Sir Andre, should be aware of what is involved. A ship arrived in Marseille from Sicily a month ago, and it carried information that might, in itself, have been encouraging, had it not been connected with another, more troublesome development. Does the name Conrad of Montferrat mean anything to you?”

St. Clair shook his head. “No, Master. Nothing at all.”

“Hmm. Well, are you aware of Barbarossa’s expedition?”

“To the Holy Land. Yes, I am. Everyone is. He is riding at the head of an army of two hundred thousand men, traveling overland from Germany. His host alone will outnumber the combined armies of King Richard and King Philip.”

“Correct. And do you know what this man calls himself?”

“Barbarossa?” St. Clair nodded. “Frederic of Hohenstaufen, Holy Roman Emperor, named Barbarossa for his red beard. Is that what you meant?”