me.'
'I would have left long ago, but that pig of a porter would not let me go. What do you want from me? I have already told you all I know.'
'This for your trouble,' said de Bracineaux, holding up a gold coin. 'And two more if you can remember where those two young women went after they left here.'
'Keep your filthy money,' Philippianous spat. 'I am leaving.' He pushed past the sergeant and started towards the courtyard entrance.
'No,' replied the commander calmly, 'I do not think we are finished yet.' He made a gesture with his hands and three Templar soldiers appeared in the doorway behind him. 'Take hold of him.'
Philippianous made to dart away, but the Templars seized him and bore him up. 'I am a citizen!' he shouted, struggling ineffectually in their grasp. 'I have done nothing wrong!'
To his sergeant, the commander said, 'Bring me some coals.' As Gislebert hurried away, he added, 'If d'Anjou is still abed, rouse him. He would not thank us to miss this.'
Commander de Bracineaux went to his room and removed his spotless white tabard. Picking up his leather gauntlets, he tucked them into his belt, and then attached the hanger for his dagger.
He drew the knife from its scabbard and tried the edge, admiring the fine craftsmanship of the weapon as he ran his thumb along the honed and polished blade and thought back to the first time he had seen it, along with five others in a box delivered to the ship by a young lord he had tried to recruit in Rouen-the same self-righteous fool of a young nobleman whose meddling had caused him so much trouble all those years ago.
At long last, that old debt was settled.
A thin smile touched his lips, for until that very moment he had not considered the fact that it was none other than Duncan who had brought him the knife when it had been left behind; he had been so eager to please.
The commander replaced the dagger and, as he walked from the room, he wondered if Duncan, as he lay dying, had fully appreciated the grim irony of the situation. Had he, as his life ebbed away, savoured the delicious absurdity of being slain by the very weapon he had supplied?
The Shrine of Mary the Virgin served as a private chapel for the residents of Blachernae Palace, and the crypt below it was a labyrinth of connecting vaults which housed tombs for minor royalty. It was a suitably dark and private place where the proceedings would not be disturbed.
Commander de Bracineaux made his way down the narrow steps leading to the first and largest chamber of the crypt. He paused at the small altar with its gilded crucifix and its ever-burning lamp, making a haphazard sign of the cross. Then, setting aside the crucifix and lamp, he took up the altar stole-a narrow strip of cloth with a sturdy cord binding-and proceeded to the chamber beyond, where three Templars were holding an extremely agitated Philippianous, while a fourth stood guard at the doorway.
'Release me!' shouted Philippianous as the commander stepped into the room. 'I have done nothing! I am a citizen, and I demand that you release me at once.'
'Save your breath,' de Bracineaux replied. Handing the altar stole to the Templar at the doorway, he said, 'Bind him and put him over there.' He pointed to a low, flat-topped sarcophagus of grey stone. 'Then leave us.'
The soldiers bound their captive securely hand and foot and quit the chamber. When they had gone, de Bracineaux moved to the head of the sarcophagus. 'Many noble and illustrious men are interred in this crypt,' he said, leaning on his elbows. 'Of course, they were dead before taking up residence here-but I do not think anyone will mind if we make an exception for you.'
'What do you want me to tell you?' said Philippianous. 'You want to know where the women went? I will tell you. Let me go, and I will tell you everything.'
'In God's good time.'
Gislebert arrived just then, carrying a small iron brazier filled with burning coals and suspended by a length of chain. 'Ah, here is Sergeant Gislebert now,' de Bracineaux said. 'Put the coals there.' He indicated a place on the stone beside the young man's head. 'Where is d'Anjou?'
'D'Anjou is here,' said a voice from the doorway, and a bleary-eyed baron staggered into the room. 'God's wounds, but my head hurts, de Bracineaux. What is so almighty urgent that a man must be wakened and dragged from bed at the crack of noon?'
'We have an interesting problem before us,' replied the commander. 'I thought you might like to see how we solve it.'
The baron tottered to the sarcophagus for a closer look. 'What has he done – stolen the keys to the palace?'
'I have done nothing!' shouted Philippianous. 'In the name of God and all the saints, I beg you, release me. I will tell you anything. I do not even know the women. I never saw them before.'
The commander drew the gold-handled dagger and handed it to d'Anjou. 'Exquisite, is it not?'
'I took them to the harbour,' Philippianous said. 'I remember now.'
'It is a very fine weapon,' the baron agreed.
'I took them to Bucoleon Harbour. That is where they wanted to go.’
'It was made by an armourer in Aries-a very artist with steel,' de Bracineaux said, taking up the knife once more. 'It has served me well so many times over the years, yet still looks as good as new.'
De Bracineaux thrust the dagger into the burning coals. 'You know,' he said, as if imparting a closely held secret, 'one must be very careful not to allow the blade to grow too hot-gold melts more readily than steel; or, so I am told. In any case, it would be a shame to damage the handle.'
'I think they had a ship waiting for them,' shouted the young Greek, growing frantic. 'For God's sake, let me go. I can find them for you.'
'It never ceases to amaze me, d'Anjou,' said the Templar commander, pulling on his gauntlets one after the other, 'how very talkative people become when they finally grasp the utter hopelessness of their position.'
'Positively garrulous,' replied the baron with a yawn.
'But then it is too late.' De Bracineaux pulled the knife from the burning coals; the blade shone with a dull, blue-red glow.
'The problem now,' he continued, 'is turned completely on its head.'
'Turned on its head?' enquired d'Anjou idly.
'Yes.' He spat on the blade and the spittle sizzled as it struck the hot metal. 'They simply will not shut up.'
'Listen to me,' said Philippianous, his voice tight with desperation; sweat rolled from his face and neck in great fat beads. 'Wherever they went, I can find them. I have friends in many places. They hear things. Let me go. I will talk to them. I can find these women for you.'
'You see?' said de Bracineaux. 'A very fountain of information.' He nodded to Sergeant Gislebert who, stepping quickly around the sarcophagus, seized the Greek's hands which were bound at the wrist, and jerked his arms up over his head. The young man, pleading for his life, began to thrash and wail.
'In the end, there is only one way to assure silence,' said the Templar commander, lowering the knife to the young man's chest. The hot blade seared the thin fabric of his mantle. The cloth began to smoulder.
'They went to Bucoleon Harbour,' shouted Philippianous. 'Please, spare me! Listen, my uncle owns many ships. His name is Stakis -ask anyone, they will tell you he is a very wealthy trader. He will reward you handsomely to let me go. Whatever you ask-I swear before God, he will pay it.'
'But we do not need your money.' He drew a line with the hot blade down the centre of the young man's chest, searing the skin. The air filled with the stench of burning flesh.
Philippianous screamed, 'In the name of God, I beg you. Spare me!'
'I do not think God can hear you,' said the Templar, pressing the hot knife deeper. Blood oozed up from the wound, spitting and sputtering as it touched the hot metal.
'Oh, why not let him go?' said d'Anjou. 'I have not had a thing to eat or drink, and the stink you are making turns my stomach.'
'Very well,' replied de Bracineaux. He lifted the knife away and plunged it back into the coals. 'Still, it would not do to have our glorious and renowned order ridiculed by the filth of the street. Once people find out the Templars can be lied to with impunity, we will be mocked from Rome to Jerusalem-and we cannot allow that. So, I think an example is in order.'
'No!' shrieked Philippianous. 'No! Please, I will not tell a soul. I will not breathe a word to anyone.'
