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, Altair 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 Altair’s sword.
Just her now and they traded blows, until at last Altair 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 Altair – 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 Altair 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 Altair. ‘Whatever Robert plans, he’ll fail again.’
‘Ah,’ she said, ‘but it’s not just Templars you’ll contend with now.’
Altair 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, Altair 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 Altair, 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.’
30
The armies of Salah Al’din and Richard the Lionheart had met at Arsuf, and as he made his way there Altair 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, Altair 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
