‘Hoi! You!’ Buscarel bawled in a voice loud enough to reach the forecastle from the afterdeck in a gale. ‘I have someone to come on board.’
Lady Maria found herself pushed up the gangplank of an enormous Templar craft. Its very size was gratifying, for everyone knew that vessels sailed at the mercy of the seas: if larger, she must surely be safer. Others were imploring an enormous Nubian, but he allowed no one to pass him or his unsheathed sword.
At the deck, a tall, swarthy man turned and eyed her unsympathetically. It was Roger Flor. ‘You want a berth, Master Buscarel? I may be able to find you a menial function, I suppose.’
‘Do you have space for a woman?’ Buscarel asked.
Lady Maria did not know Roger Flor, but she recognised his cross. He was a Templar! Oh, she felt the relief like wine in her blood. The Templars had many faults, including their arrogance, but they were at least Christian, and would not desert a woman like her.
‘We may have space for certain cargoes, yes,’ Roger Flor said. He was stowing a rope, and now he left it in a coil, and wandered over the deck to give her a careful scrutiny. ‘You have a good dress, madame. I like that colour. Is it silk. Yes? Good. It’ll fetch a good price. What’s in the box there?’
‘My jewels,’ she said.
‘Good. Give them to me.’
‘They’re all I have.’
‘And now you don’t,’ he said, holding out his hand.
She had a moment’s hesitation. Then a catapult’s rock smacked into the sea. The people near the quayside were drenched, and a woman dropped her baby. The child bounced on the hard stone edging, and tumbled into the water. The mother shrieked, and two men grabbed her to stop her following it. A man jumped in, but with swaddling bands wrapped all about it, the baby had no chance of floating or swimming. The man dived three times, desperately searching, but did not find it. He finally climbed out, and the woman collapsed at the water’s side.
That stone decided her. ‘You want how much?’
He looked at her, and he wore a seraphic smile. ‘Everything you have, madame. I will not be choosy.’
She looked at Buscarel, but before he could speak, Roger Flor beckoned a sailor. ‘Bernat here doesn’t like customers arguing about the fee. If you don’t want to pay, that’s fine. I’ll be gone before the Muslims get here. There are many other ladies and their gentlemen who have been here and asked my price. They wanted to go away and think about it too. But remember this, madame. When my ship is full, I sail, and if you arrive here even one second after the ropes are slipped, you are one second too late to live!’
Buscarel pushed her slightly. ‘Go. You have nothing to hold you back here. Find a new life, my Lady.’
‘Well, Buscarel? Are you coming too?’ Roger enquired. ‘What will your price be? Perhaps I will allow you to go halfway, and then cast you overboard? That would be fun.’
‘You hold a grudge against me, when I enriched you by a ship?’ Buscarel said. He shrugged.
‘Well, come on, then. I can’t take you if you don’t climb aboard.’
‘No,’ Buscarel said.
Lady Maria had made her way over the gangplank onto the ship, and stood anxiously holding on to a stanchion as the vessel rocked gently.
‘Your man doesn’t want to come too, eh?’
‘His wife and children are all dead. He stays to kill Muslims.’
‘You’ll fight them on the land, then? Good luck to you, ship-man. You’ll find them that way,’ Roger added, pointing sarcastically.
Lady Maria watched Buscarel before he was swallowed up by the people at the quay as they barged forward, hands held out, pleading.
Roger Flor smiled, but his answer was the same to all. ‘You want your life? Then give me all you have: your jewels, your money, your gold and silver. Nothing less will do.’
She turned away from the weeping, pleading crowd, and made her way to the side of the ship, sitting uncomfortably on the planking of the decks.
‘Oh, and I’ll have that purse under your dress, madame,’ Roger Flor said as he passed her a short while later.
‘That is all I have!’
‘No. You don’t. As I said before — it’s mine.’
Baldwin finally reached the harbour by the simple expedient of using the pommel and hilt of his sword to force a way through the crowds.
He could feel the citizens’ panic. If only they had believed the Templars all those weeks ago, when Guillaume de Beaujeu had warned them of their fate. But no, the people had smugly accused him of cowardice and of feathering the Templar nest. Now their stupidity was coming back to haunt them all.
‘My love, please,’ Lucia said. ‘You must come with me.’
‘I cannot,’ he said.
They had reached the harbour, and as they stared along the ships, Baldwin gave a little gasp of relief. ‘He’ll help us!’
‘Who?’
He dragged her after him, excited by the sight of Roger Flor, but before they could reach his ship, he heard shouting, and a squad of Hospitaller Knights came out from an alley. They carried a wounded comrade on a ladder, and Baldwin groaned to see that it was their Grand Master, Guillaume de Villiers. The latter was demanding that they take him back, protesting that he did not wish to sail from here, but none of his men listened to him. They strode to a Venetian ship and curtly demanded that their Grand Master be transported away from here. When the shipmaster tried to haggle over a price, a sword-blade appeared a scant inch from his nose.
But now there were desperate cries from further up the quay, and as Baldwin stared over the heads of the people nearest, he saw a contingent of blue-clad men with gold crosses on their breasts march to a ship. More came down the hill, clad in the same blue tunics of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, and then, in their midst Baldwin saw the King and Amalric. They said nothing as the populace spat and jeered, crying out at the betrayal.
‘Cowards! Cowards! You are supposed to fight and protect your people, it’s your duty to stay!’
There was no response, other than waved weapons. The King and his brother looked neither to the right nor the left as they boarded ship.
They were not alone. Sir Otto was not long after them, and he and Jean de Grailly commandeered all the ships in the harbour for their men.
Baldwin stared with incomprehension. Surely the warriors should remain, and allow all the unarmed people to escape. That was the duty of the Bellatores — to serve the priesthood and protect the poor. If they would not do their duty, who would?
He saw Roger Flor once more, and made his decision. Half-dragging Lucia with him, he reached the stern-post and rudder, and called to the Templar: ‘Will you take my woman, Roger? Please?’
‘You coming with us?’ Roger cried in response. ‘That’s good, old friend. We’ll make our fortune with this voyage. Do you have any idea how much we’ll make? All the richest people in the city are giving us everything. And later, we can take another ship, and we’ll become the wealthiest men in the whole of the Mediterranean.’
‘I can’t come — I must stay. But please, take my woman.’
‘Her?’ Roger gave her a cool, appraising look. ‘She doesn’t look like she has any money, Baldwin. How will she pay?’
Baldwin felt his mouth fall open. ‘Please, for me?’
‘No, my friend. You, I could use. Especially in a fight. Her? No!’
Lucia grabbed his hand and wouldn’t let go. Baldwin considered leaping into the ship and killing Flor there and then. It was because of that raid, he saw. It was there in Flor’s eyes. He wanted another felon like himself, and if Baldwin were not capable of his work, he would not take Baldwin’s woman.
‘I won’t go without you, Baldwin,’ Lucia said.
He saw where she pointed. There, in the stern, was a group of people, and some distance away, sitting with her back to the hull, was Lady Maria.
‘I would prefer to die here with you than go somewhere with her,’ Lucia said.