A/N : I'm sorry for the wait. I'll try to be quicker for next chapter, but I'll be very busy in the coming days. Perhaps during the Christmas holidays.
Also, my wonderful beta-reader, Kezya, pointed out a mistake I made : Olivier is not a Templar (if he were, he probably would not have been allowed to marry). I tried to correct that in previous chapters. If anywhere in the story you notice me describing Olivier as a Templar, please let me know.
Chapter 10
While Olivier was gone, Cadfael decided to take a look at Amaury de Biran's wound. No matter whether the man deserved to suffer or not, it was not the monk's privilege to pass judgment. He was a healer, and as such would care for anybody who needed his help, regardless of the person's worthiness. Hugh looked a little concerned when Cadfael stepped forward, but the monk stopped him from speaking with a slight headshake. Scowling a little, Beringar folded his arms but gave a curt nod.
Cadfael laid a hand on Amaury's wrist, and the Frenchman jerked slightly at the unexpected touch. He looked at the monk through his bloodied fingers, his brown eyes darker than ever.
"What do you want?" he snarled.
"Are you so unable to accept the kindness you are offered that..." Hugh began, but Cadfael silenced him with a frown. It was not like Beringar to speak so harshly or with so much contempt, and that showed that the Frenchman was making him angry. It had to be said, though, to Hugh's credit, that de Biran would make a saint angry at that point.
"I just want to have a look at this wound," Cadfael said soothingly, although there was a distinct edge to his voice. He was starting to get a little irritated himself.
The Templar appeared to ponder that. Cadfael did not expect any thanks, and he did not get any, but Amaury wordlessly consented to being examined, so the monk gently probed the long, deep cut. It was still bleeding, but head wounds always bled a lot, so that did not concern Cadfael exceedingly. He suspected Amaury was probably experiencing some light-headedness, but if he did, he said nothing of it.
"It's quite deep," Cadfael finally announced.
"Thank you, I could have told you that," Amaury commented acridly.
Cadfael ignored him. "You're going to need stitches, and we'd better make sure it stays clean. Infection can be quite deadly in the Holy Land. I'll need a piece of fabric..."
After a slight hesitation, the monk took hold of the Templar's white mantle, intending to use it as makeshift dressing, but before he could tear the fabric, steely fingers closed around his wrist, stopping him. In the space of a second, Hugh unsheathed his sword and pressed the blade against Amaury's throat. The three of them remained quite still for a few seconds, although it felt like much longer, and then the Frenchman released Cadfael.
"You will not touch this mantle," he said quietly.
Then only did the monk remember how important the white mantle was as a symbol to the Templars. He thought that was a bit of a paradox, since Amaury's actions had been in general nothing short of unlawful, but who said people were consistents or rational? Cadfael himself could not have cared less if he hurt the Knight's feelings, but he did respect the sanctity of the white mantle, so he did not insist, and used his dagger to cut off some fabric from his scapula instead. The rough material would be much less comfortable for Amaury than the soft cloth of his mantle, but it would just have to do. Meanwhile, satisfied there was no more danger coming from the Templar, Hugh sheathed his sword, although he now kept an even keener eye on the prisoner.
Olivier arrived as Cadfael was finishing his ministrations, leading four horses by their reins. The fourth having probably been left behind per courtesy of Imrahim.
"Are you fit to ride?" Cadfael asked their prisoner.
"Of course," came the haughty reply. The monk had expected nothing less, though he had felt it was his duty to ask. No matter Amaury's actions, Cadfael was intent on treating him as humanely as possible, for his own sake if not the Templar's. Lately, his own ruthlessness had begun to worry him. He did not want to lose his soul to the petty satisfaction of revenge, but what frightened him the most was what his son would do if he gave in to such behaviour. The thought anguished him, but he was not certain Olivier would stop him. And he did not want to find out.
"We should go," Hugh said, gently bringing the monk to reality. "It is quite late already, and I don't fancy riding back to Jerusalem in the dark."
Indeed, night came quite early in the Holy Land, and although the path was not exceedingly perilous, a ride in the dark was never completely safe, so Cadfael nodded.
"You're right," Olivier said. He seized the reins of the grey mare and tied them to the pommel of his saddle, then gestured for Amaury to mount. Conscious that he was not given a choice in the matter, the Templar complied without a word, his face sullen under the red-stained dressings.
The ride back was uneventful, and quite silent. Each of the four men had many things to ponder on, and they did not feel the need to share their thoughts - at least for the moment. Besides, they had a mission to fulfill, to save an innocent man's life... but Cadfael was beginning to wonder how to accomplish that. He purposely let Olivier get ahead, so he could speak quietly with Hugh without Amaury overhearing them. No need to give him ideas. Having noticed that something was bothering the monk, Hugh gave him an inquisitive look.
"What is it, Cadfael?"
"I was thinking about the Templars. How are we going to convince them? We don't have any proof - it will be our words against Amaury's. And who do you think they will believe?"
Hugh frowned in concern, having obviously not thought of that. "Well, there is his wound..."
"We could be the ones who injured him," Cadfael pointed out. "That is no sufficient evidence."
"Well then, what about the Templars taken prisoners by our beggar friend? Their disappearance would have been noticed."
"Please, Hugh, you know better than that," Cadfael scolded him tiredly. "You know as well as I do that it proves nothing, except that they have gone missing. Anything could have happened to them."
"The treasure, then!" Hugh sighed. "Because after that, I'm at my wits' end. And we have Olivier on our side, and he is friends with them."
"Yes... I suppose..." the monk conceded uneasily.
Hugh, being his perceptive self, did not fail to notice it. "What's wrong?"
"Well, that is..." Cadfael hesitated. "If we tell them about the treasure, the Templars will want to keep it."
"So what?" Hugh shrugged.
The monk chuckled, acknowledging his friend's known disregard for money, but became serious again very quickly. "That gold belongs to the Saracens."
He could not see Hugh's face very well in the twilight, but he caught a glint of white when his friend smiled. "I would not worry about that, if I were you. Knowing our friend Imrahim, I would bet my office as Sheriff of Shrewsbury that by the time we come back to the cave, there won't be much left of the treasure to plunder."
Cadfael laughed, relieved. "I had not thought of that," he admitted.
They were getting quite close to Jerusalem, and all the better, since the sky was darkening more and more with every passing minute, clear but moonless.
"I'm not sure we should take Amaury into town," Cadfael said after a short while. "That would probably make a bit of a commotion."
"I was thinking about that. Perhaps you and Olivier could go forward and speak to the Templars, while I guard him out of town?" Hugh suggested.
"Yes, it sounds like a good idea," Cadfael nodded.
They rode a little faster to catch up with Olivier and inform him, and the young man agreed to the plan. Leaving thus Hugh and his prisoner behind, father and son made their way to Jerusalem and crossed Jehoshaphat's Gate. After everything that had happened, it felt somewhat weird to be amongst normal people who went about their business, and who had no idea of the important events that had taken place that evening. But it was also oddly relaxing, and as tension left him, Cadfael realized that he was deathly tired. Fortunately, the affair was almost concluded, and soon he would be going back to England, and to his peaceful cloister. The monk felt he had had his fill of adventures for a lifetime.
He followed Olivier along the Temple Moriah and past the Royal Palace, and then a little farther until they reached the Knight Templars' headquarters. As usual, two men were guarding the door, but there was also much activity in the courtyard; at least a dozen horses were being taken care of, while knights and sergeants went about their business, carrying bags and sadles inside the Temple. Cadfael shared a glance with his son.
"Perhaps they are concerned by the acting Commander's disappearance, and they are about to go look for him..."
"No," Olivier shook his head. "Look at the horses - they are tired and covered with dust. They have just arrived, from a long journey."
"A visit?"
"Perhaps," Olivier said, but he sounded rather unconvinced. "Let's find out."
The two men walked to the gate of the Temple, and Olivier adressed one of the two guards casually.
"Say, Brother Alan, what is going on?"
The man, a broad-shouldered, middle-aged sergeant, looked at him in surprise.
"What, haven't you heard?"
"Heard what?" Olivier asked with a touch of impatience.
"Commander Evrard is back," the guard explained. "He just arrived, perhaps half an hour ago. Lord, he was not happy when he saw that Brother Amaury was not here to greet him..."
The unexpected return of the commander was a surprise, but a good one. Evrard had really arrived in the nick of time, Cadfael thought, though it would still be a difficult task to convince him. If the Templar commander had not been happy because of Amaury's absence, he would be unhappier still to hear of his second in command's breach of the Templars' rules.
"Good," Olivier said. "We need to see Commander Evrard at once."
Alan raised an eyebrow and eyed him with a hint of mockery. "I'm not sure it's a good idea. He is in the most execrable mood. I hear there is trouble in the north, and the last ten days were not easy on him."
"I will thank you not to indulge in gossip," Olivier retorted, somewhat drily. "He is in his office?"
The guard shrugged. "Your funerals. Yes, he is."
Cadfael and Olivier entered, and the first noticed that the latter seemed to know the insides of the Temple well, for he found his way without difficulty, leading the monk through a maze of corridors, until he finally reached a door and knocked forcefully. But after all, that came as no surprise, since Olivier had been a Templar in Jerusalem long before he went to England.
"Enter," called a muffled voice.
So they did, and they found themselves in a vast office, not unlike Amaury's, though much tidier. Half a dozen men were present, all decked in the same knightly white mantles. It was not difficult to identify the highest ranking one, however, for he was at the moment seated behind a heavy wooden desk.
The Templar commander reminded Cadfael forcefully of Father Radulfus. Just like the Abbott, he had alert and vivid eyes, though his were blue instead of dark brown. However, the resemblance went no further, for the Templar had finely chiselled features, and greying blond hair. In his early forties, he was also strikingly handsome, but there was a stiffness and coolness in his demeanour that whispered to Cadfael that the man must not be easy to live with.
"What is this intrusion about?" Evrard asked scathingly, looking from Cadfael to Olivier.
"I apologize," Olivier said respectfully, almost standing to attention. "But I must talk to you about a matter of the utmost importance."
"Then go speak to Captain Amaury. That is, if you can find him," the Templar commander growled back.
"This matter concerns Amaury."
Cadfael could not help but notice his son had, no doubt on purpose, abstained from using Amaury's rank. He was also certain that Evrard did not fail to notice that either, as the commander glanced at Olivier shrewdly.
"And I suppose it can't wait," the commander finally said, his voice dripping with irony. "It never can. I've got people pushing me around all day for things that can't wait. Then tell me, Olivier, is it more important than the Saracen uprisings in the north?"
So he knew Olivier's name. Cadfael looked from his son to the commander, and he realized they must know each other. He also got the distinct feeling that they was no love lost between the two of them.
"If you want to avoid a Saracen uprising here, it is," Olivier replied evenly.
"You don't say..." Evrard murmured. For some mysterious reason, he sounded more amused than alarmed. "Very well," he concluded abruptly. "Leave us."
The six other men left, obviously not daring to protest, but they did look downright unhappy. One or two of them even gave Olivier the evil eye, but the young man ignored them with a stolidness born out of habit. Once the last of them had closed the door of the office behind him, Evrard leant back in his seat and stared at the two intruders unkindly.
"So, the prodigal son graces us with his presence," he jeered. "But where are my manners? By all means, do take a seat."
"You're too kind, sir," Olivier replied, pretending not to notice the commander's mockery. Cadfael would never have thought his son was capable of so much restraint, and not for the first time he felt pride swell in his chest.
"Now," Evrard pursued, "I am a busy man, so please get to the point."
"Of course sir," Olivier said meekly. "But it is something of a long story, and with your permission I would rather Brother Cadfael here summarized it for you."
"You have ten minutes and not a second more," Evrard retorted, and Cadfael scowled, unhappy that his son had put him in the spotlight without so much as a warning.
He proceeded to narrate the story of Thornbury's death and the part Amaury had taken in it, then of the discovery of the treasure and the events that had followed suit. Evrard listened silently, absent-mindedly playing with a dagger, only breaking his silence by a snort of contemptuous amusement every now and then. The commander was not behaving as Cadfael would have expected from an officer of such important rank, but naturally it was not the monk's place to pass any judgement. However, he found Evrard's amusement and overt contempt somewhat irritating.
"And you expect me to believe such a wild story?" Evrard asked when the monk was done.
For the first time, Olivier betrayed some anger, and clenched his fists tightly. However, his voice was as steady as ever when he answered, "Brother Cadfael spoke the truth."
"So you say," the Templar commander replied drily. "Amaury was my second in command for over five years. He did not leave to follow some fancy English lord."
"He had a good reason to stay," Olivier retorted.
So there was the heart of the matter, Cadfael thought. Besides, the flow of arguments between the two other men rather made him think it was far from the first time they had that kind of discussions.
"So you say," Evrard repeated. "I have only your word."
"That and the fact that Amaury and his men have disappeared this afternoon."
The argument must have struck home, for Evrard looked a little uneasy. "That is no proof," he objected, but sounded rather unconvinced. "You could have dispatched them."
Olivier paled and took a step forward. "Are you calling me a murderer?" he asked, his voice vibrating with fury.
Obviously pleased to have got Olivier on the raw, Evrard did not seem in the slightest intimidated by the young man's rather agressive demeanour. "You're one to complain," he said pleasantly. "You accused Amaury of the same thing, after all. Incidentally, accusing a man who is not present to defend himself seems very low to me."
"Then perhaps we should fetch Amaury and hear what he has to say," Olivier replied in clipped tones.
"That sounds reasonable," the Templar commander agreed suavely. "But do take a few of my men with you. It would be such a pity, were Amaury to be... 'killed while escaping', don't you think? Especially since there has been no formal complaint against him, and he is being detained unlawfully. One might even speak of abduction..."
"That man tried to kill us," Olivier said evenly, his hawkish eyes reduced to mere slits and blazing fearsomely.
"Once again, you offer only your word," Evrard pointed out. Olivier was about to retort, but the commander cut him short with a wave of his hand. "As entertaining as this little talk is, I have other things to do, and so do you. Bring Amaury here, and we will talk some more."
It was a clear dismissal, and Olivier bowed stiffly before heading to the door. In spite of the circumstances, he was still only a guest of the Templars, and as such subjected to Evrard's orders. Cadfael followed suit after nodding politely to the commander, needlessly though for the Templar was back to reading some scroll and did not look up to see them leave.
Cadfael and Olivier's trip back to where they had left Hugh and Amaury all passed in a blur for the monk. It was his third ride out of town in the same day, and his body seemed to want to remind him that he was not as young as he had once been. He hardly paid any attention to the two Templars whom Olivier asked to come along, as Evrard had demanded, and focused all his energy on staying in his saddle and concealing his exhaustion. He must not have been fully convincing, though, for Olivier sent him concerned glances again and again.
"Brother Cadfael," he finally said, "I should have taken your fatigue into account. Are you sure you don't want to head back? I can ask one of the good Knights here to accompany you..."
"Certainly not!" Cadfael protested indignantly. "I am not all that old yet, you impertinent youngster!"
"But I must insist..."
"I won't hear another word," the monk replied adamantly, and his son had to relent to his stubbornness.
Fortunately, the spot where Hugh and Amaury had stayed was not far from Jerusalem, and it was only a fifteen minutes' ride after the group crossed Jehoshaphat's Gate. However, as they came closer, Cadfael began to feel that something was not right. Hugh must have spotted them by then, so why did he not call? And where was the exact spot? It was hard to tell in the dark, but Olivier had an hawk's eyes and he led the monk and two Templars forward without a shade of hesitation. Yet, the feeling that something was wrong did not leave Cadfael, and he urged his horse forward, ahead of his son.
"Can you see them?" he asked.
"I think I can see one of their horses," Olivier replied, eyes narrowed.
Now downright concerned by the absence of a call from Hugh, Cadfael urged his mount onward, all exhaustion forgotten, and his son followed with the same swiftness. They stopped near the horse Olivier had seen - only one horse, the monk noticed absently - and dismounted hastily. As Cadfael hurried towards the stallion, he stumbled over something. Something soft and warm. Something that let out a moan. Something that was a someone.
"Lord..." the monk murmured, kneeling beside the prone man.
"Is that Beringar?" Olivier asked behind him.
"Yes," Cadfael confirmed. He would have recognized Hugh's voice anytime.
"Then where's Amaury?"
"I don't know," the monk said, and at the moment he could not care less. He palpated Hugh's chest and face, trying to find where he was hurt, and he was relieved when at last he found a swelling at the back of his friend's head. He had just been knocked out, and likely would suffer nothing more than a headache.
"What is all this about?" asked angrily one of the Knights who had come for escort duty. "We were supposed to bring Captain Amaury back, so where is he?"
"Obviously, he fled. And now if you want to make yourself useful, Brother Frederic, you may help us carry Lord Beringar back into town," Olivier said scathingly before Cadfael had had time to think of a caustic answer of his own.
Now that he was less worried for his friend, the monk's thoughts drifted to Amaury. What had happened was fairly obvious; Hugh probably did not expect any difficulties from a wounded man, and had been taken by surprise and knocked out. Amaury had then fled - but where? With his slashed face, he could not hope to go unnoticed, so it was likely he had not gone to Jerusalem. Yet, it was the only major town in a radius of at least fifty miles...
Nothing could be done about Amaury at the moment, though, and as everybody agreed - though some reluctantly - the only sensible thing to do was to head back to the Temple and report to Evrard.