knights chased them clear across the plains of Jerusalem until the Saracens reached their main force. The Templars held the field once again.”
“Amazing!” I said. And from what I had seen of Sir Thomas in the last two days, I had no trouble believing it.
We walked across the grounds, finding the regimento gathering at the front gate. It was dark now, and many of the sergeantos carried torches. Outside the Commandery, the city had grown quiet. The marketplace was nearly empty, the shops were closed and the vendors’ carts had disappeared from the streets.
Forming a loose column, we walked through the streets of the city. Sir Thomas was near the front with Sir Hugh at the lead. Within a few minutes’ time we had arrived at the castle above the town.
The castle gate was open and the courtyard inside was a busy place. Torches and bonfires gave light to the workmen still scurrying about. Several large carts and wagons were being loaded and unloaded with supplies. Men still worked on the parapets high off the ground.
Trailing through the courtyard, we filed into the grand hall of the castle. I had never seen so large a room in my life. The walls were lined with oil lamps. Elegant tapestries were hung every few feet. At the far end of the room sat a large, long banquet table where servants were busy carrying away the remains of what looked to have been a magnificent feast.
The King stood across the room, at the center of a group of men huddled together discussing something in great detail. He was dressed as he had been when I saw him in town, holding a rolled parchment in his hand. A few of the King’s Guards stood at attention along the wall behind him.
Filing along the wall opposite the King, we formed loose ranks. Sir Thomas, Sir Hugh and the other knights stood at the forefront of our group with the sergeantos and the squires at the rear against the wall. I found a spot next to Quincy where I could see Sir Thomas and the others. We all waited there for the King to finish his conversation and address us.
His affairs concluded, he dismissed the men he had been speaking with. As they left the room, he strode across the floor toward Sir Hugh and Sir Thomas. The room went quiet, waiting to hear what the King would say.
“Thomas Leux!” the Lionheart exclaimed in heavily accented English. He beamed, pumping the hand of Sir Thomas. “You look in fighting shape. How long has it been?”
Sir Thomas bowed slightly. Next to him Sir Hugh’s expression went cold and his eyes hooded. He stared at Sir Thomas with an expression of the purest jealousy.
“Not since you were still the Prince of Normandy, your highness. We gave the French King more than he could handle at Bourneau. And then some.”
“I remember. I remember it well,” the King said. “Mostly, I have memories of a young knight who rallied the lines, leading the charge that turned the day.”
Sir Thomas bowed his head again, looking uncomfortable. “You are far too generous in your praise, your highness,” he said.
“He was talking about me!” Sir Basil said loudly.
At that, everyone, the King included, roared with laughter.
“And I can see this scoundrel has not changed a bit,” the King said as he shook Sir Basil’s hand. “Sir Basil, good to see you, my friend. How are you?”
“Growing smaller by the day, your highness,” Sir Basil said.
This brought another laugh, as Sir Basil was nearly a head taller and several stone heavier than the King. When the laughter died down, I noticed that the King had not yet acknowledged Sir Hugh at all. He couldn’t have been happy about that.
Then, as easily as it had come, the friendly expression disappeared from the King’s face.
“And now, as knights who served my father with such distinction, you have taken vows as brothers of the Temple? Turning your back on many years of service to the crown to pledge allegiance only to the Pope?” The King looked squarely at Sir Thomas. The room instantly went quiet again.
The expression on Sir Thomas’ face never altered. But Sir Hugh’s did. It changed from jealousy to intense curiosity. He leaned away from Sir Thomas, as if he wished to avoid any association with the knight who now found himself cornered by the monarch.
Sir Thomas stared squarely at the King. Then in a strong voice he spoke. “I would like to think that we serve God first,” he said. “That is the vow that all brothers take when they join the Order. We fight for all Christians. Regardless of whom their King may be.”
The room was so quiet that if a mouse had sneezed in the kitchen, I was certain I would have heard it.
The cloud left the King’s face. He studied Sir Thomas for a moment, and then he smiled.
“Well said, old friend. Forgive my impertinence. I have fought beside you. I know you have the heart of a warrior. These are dangerous times. There is much to do. The King’s court, as always, is full of rumor and intrigue, and I must be certain of those who say they will join me in this Holy Crusade.”
“Then let our service in this Crusade be the least of your worries, your highness. We are brothers of the Temple, sworn to protect and defend Outremer, and that is what we will do,” Sir Thomas said. At his words the other knights gave a rousing cheer, with the exception of Sir Hugh, who clapped unenthusiastically.
“We will drive the Saladin from the Holy Land, sire, you need not worry about that,” Sir Basil said.
The tension left the room. The King visibly relaxed, and taking Sir Thomas by the shoulders he said something to him that I could not hear over the buzzing of the voices. But I did watch Sir Hugh. His expression returned to its normal sour tone. He seemed like a spider sitting quietly in his web, watching and waiting before deciding to strike.
“Have you ever seen the King before?” I asked Quincy.
“Not King Richard, but I saw his father, Henry, at a jousting match in Ulster once when I was just a lad. The people there loved him.”
“Tristan!”
From across the room, I saw Sir Thomas looking in my direction. He gestured for me to join him.
I was instantly nervous. Sir Thomas kept waving his arm, motioning me toward him. What was he thinking? Why did he need to speak to me now when he stood so near the King of England? Couldn’t it wait? Yesterday I was pulling weeds in a vegetable garden. Now I stood not a stone’s throw from his majesty the King. It was all too much. Still, I could not disobey. I walked haltingly to where he stood.
“Sire?” I said.
Taking me by the arm we turned to face the King. “Your majesty,” he said.
The King stopped mid-conversation with another knight and turned to look at Sir Thomas. He paid me no attention.
“Yes, Sir Thomas?”
“My squire, your highness. I would like to introduce you to my squire, Tristan. He has recently joined me from St. Alban’s Abbey. He’s a fine young man. Capable and brave. I’m sure he’ll be Master of the Order one day,” Sir Thomas said.
Sir Hugh cut in. “Sir Thomas, really, I’m sure the King has much more pressing duties than meeting your
The King looked confused, glancing from Sir Hugh to Sir Thomas, but then his gaze fell on me. He studied me as any royal might view one of his subjects. In the same way that one might scrutinize a horse or cow before purchasing it. But then his eyes narrowed.
“Tristan, you say?” he asked.
“Yes, your majesty,” I answered. I was dumbstruck, not knowing exactly what I should do or say, but had at least remembered that. I felt Sir Thomas’ hand gently push my back, and I bowed.
“You look familiar. Have we met before?” the King asked.
“Met, your highness? Oh no. No, sire, this is my first trip to a city…I-”
“I could swear I have seen you somewhere before,” he interrupted.
“Well, your majesty, I was in the street this afternoon when you rode through. Perhaps-”
“No, but there’s something familiar…” He let the words hang in the air.
I stood there speechless, not knowing what to say or do. The King held my gaze and I returned it in kind, but the room felt warmer now, and sweat began to form on my forehead.
