to depart again, then stopped once more.
“Lad, though he is an arrogant fool, he’s a dangerous man and never to be trusted. Never. I order you to stay out of his way. Do not approach Sir Hugh, ever, under any circumstances but especially alone. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sire,” I said.
Sir Thomas left me then, and while I struggled to understand all that I had just witnessed, it was Sir Thomas’ eyes that I kept seeing in my mind.
Eyes that told me much had been left unsaid.
ON THE SEA TO OUTREMER MAY 1191
12
After the events on the practice field, Sir Thomas was suddenly less available, asking the sergeantos and even a few of the other knights to assist in my training. I suspected he was avoiding me, perhaps afraid that I would ask him more questions. And his manner when I did see and talk to him told me that the subject was closed. For the first few days, I thought of little else besides Sir Hugh’s revelation (if that’s what it was) but I finally realized that he was as Sir Thomas said: a fool. He probably knew nothing about me or my past and only wished to cruelly tempt me with knowledge he did not truly possess.
At any rate, the next few days were a flurry of activity and, as though he wished to keep me from wondering about Sir Hugh’s actions, Sir Thomas piled on the work. Each morning the Master Sergeanto had an even lengthier list of duties for me, and between the chores and the training, I fell exhausted into my bed each night with little energy to think of anything but rest.
Three weeks later, six large Templar ships arrived in the port with returning Crusaders aboard. These were the vessels that would carry us to the Holy Land. The ships had been delayed in their voyage back from Outremer, and their arrival generated considerable excitement in the city. Crowds gathered at the waterfront to cheer. News from the Holy Land was eagerly debated and discussed. Apparently the Saladin was pressing outward from Jerusalem toward the coastal cities. I learned that our force would land near a city called Acre. From there we would try to push the Saladin back to the desert. King Richard was determined to drive the Saladin south and retake Jerusalem.
The King had departed Dover shortly after we had met with him that evening in the castle. According to Sir Thomas, he had left for London and his fleet would depart from Portsmouth on the southern coast. I had never been on board a ship or boat of any kind, and now I would be sailing across the sea as part of the King’s fleet!
On the morning we left, Sir Thomas, Sir Basil and the entire regimento marched onto the docks. Not all of them would be leaving on the voyage. Some would remain behind to staff the Commandery, so good-byes were said all around.
Sir Hugh brushed past where I stood with Quincy and the other squires but did not glance in our direction. Walking briskly he stepped into a longboat, and its crew used the oars to slowly row it toward one of the ships lying anchored in the harbor.
Sir Thomas strode up to me. “Are you ready, lad?”
“Yes, sire,” I said.
With that we climbed into another longboat. The crews rowed us out to our vessel, and I was relieved to see that Sir Hugh would be on a different ship. The boats pulled up to the sides of the ship where a large rope net had been dropped over the side. Everyone climbed up the netting and scampered aboard.
I found my spot belowdecks and laid my bedroll upon the small hammock where I would sleep. There wasn’t much room. Bunks were built up and down the wall, little more than strands of rope, really, three beds high. I was happy to have the bottom. Our compartment was in the bow and the only light came from a few small slots that had been cut into the sides of the ship high above the waterline. It was dark and damp, and I would not recommend the smell. But I vowed to survive it for the next few weeks.
Wanting to see the sun again, I returned to the deck to find Sir Thomas standing at the rear section of the ship with Sir Basil. I climbed the small stairs that led to the quarterdeck and stood next to him.
“Sire, how long before we meet up with the King’s fleet?” I asked.
“We rendezvous tomorrow morning in Portsmouth,” he said.
“And once we’re under way, how long until we reach Outremer?” I asked.
“It will depend on the wind. The fastest time I know of is two weeks. But I would say three weeks at least. Provided we encounter no problems,” he said mischievously.
“Problems? What kind of problems?” I asked.
“Oh, the usual: storms, pirates, attacks by enemy fleets. Sea monsters have been known to slow us down occasionally,” he said.
Pirates? Storms? Sea monsters? No one had spoken of these things before we left. Why had no one told me this?
Sir Thomas chuckled when he saw the look that crossed my face. “Rest easy, lad. We’ll be fine,” he said.
But I wasn’t listening, as I was still considering pirates and sea monsters.
“Here it is, Tristan. Watch.”
By then our ship had hoisted sail and cleared the harbor. Looking where Sir Thomas pointed, I could see the white cliffs of Dover behind us. I’d never before viewed anything so beautiful in my life. The chalk-white cliffs were bathed in the soft light of the sun. Rising up out of the ocean with no warning, it was as if God had reached down from heaven to pull the cleanest and purest part of the earth out of the ground for all to see. They towered over the city like a heavenly fortress, and I soon forgot all about pirates while I drank in the sight.
I watched the cliffs retreat from us as we turned south in the channel. Here the water was rougher, but the wind was stronger, and we picked up speed.
Shortly after daybreak we reached Portsmouth. There we were greeted by the King’s fleet. The Lionheart’s flagship sailed out of the harbor, leading a line of twenty vessels. His banner with the three golden lions on a crimson background was attached to the main mast, flapping proudly in the breeze.
At least that is what I was told. I saw none of it, for I lay in my hammock belowdecks, thrashing, vomiting and clutching my stomach, wishing that I were dead.
I’ve always been healthy and seldom caught the sicknesses or fevers that would strike the monks at the abbey. On that day, however, I believed that I was making up for it all. I had never felt so ill. Each movement of the ship sent my stomach reeling and rolled my eyes back in my head. I lay in the swinging hammock promising to do anything God asked if he would just make the ship stop moving up and down and side to side.
It was Quincy who told me of the rendezvous and the impressive array of ships that now sailed toward Outremer. The motion of the ship didn’t seem to bother him at all. He visited me often in the hold, where I could scarcely lift my head, keeping me apprised of events as they happened on the ship.
Finally, on the third day, my stomach settled somewhat and I made my way to the deck, squinting in the sun like a mole. As the deck heaved to and fro, I thought I would be sick again. I held fast to the deck railing until the wave of nausea passed. It felt good to breathe in the fresh air. The life of a sailor was definitely not for me.
Sir Thomas found me on the deck, desperately clutching the railing.
“Feeling better?” he asked.
“I’ll be happy to never sail again,” I said.
“Ha. Be glad we’re not taking the land route. It takes months. Riding along, choking in the dust, burning in the sun, freezing in the rain. Saddle sores. Believe me, this is much better,” he said.
“If you say so, sire,” I answered, still feeling miserable. Sir Thomas chuckled again at my discomfort and moved off.
Most of the time on the ship I was bored beyond belief. We were often out of sight of land, with nothing to look at but water. And more water. There was little to do except sleep and pace about the deck. Some days I even took a turn at the oars just to have something to do.
Once in the Mediterranean the wind was stronger and the ship moved over the water at a quicker pace.
