Knights of the Black and White Book One. Jack Whyte

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       NINE

      “There is no one close enough to overhear us out here, Brother Hugh, so you may speak plainly. What is it that concerns you?”

      It was still early enough in the morning for the shadows to be long, although the sun was climbing rapidly now, its glare strengthening with every passing minute, but Hugh was heartened by Raymond’s intuitive understanding of his needs. He had been appalled to find the Count surrounded by a throng of courtiers that morning, many of them supplicants, many of them subordinates, and very few of them brethren of the Order. Godfrey must have been there ahead of his appointed time and received his instructions from the Count before Hugh arrived, because there was no sign of him. The guards had immediately permitted Hugh to enter the enormous tent below the banner of Toulouse, but he had stopped short just within the entry, looking about him, unwilling to penetrate the mass of milling bodies. He spotted the Count, in the middle of the large space and surrounded by half a score of men, but elsewhere in the crowd he saw several people whom he had last seen in Jerusalem, creating havoc, and he had no wish to deal with any of them.

      Fortunately, the Count had seen Hugh standing alone and had excused himself from his entourage and embraced him as a brother. He had been glad to hear from St. Omer that Hugh had returned, he said, and Hugh was surprised—but also grateful—that he did not go on to ask where he had been during the three weeks of his absence. Instead, Raymond leaned back and eyed him questioningly, then glanced around at the watching crowd before asking him, quietly, “Did you wish to speak to me of fraternal matters?” When Hugh nodded, he added, “Is it sufficiently important to interrupt this gathering?” Hugh nodded again, and the Count gripped his arm above the elbow, speaking now for the ears of others. “Come then, Sir Hugh, and walk with me in the morning air for a spell. I need to stretch my legs and I am curious to hear of your adventures in the desert.”

      Now, far removed from the tent and its occupants, Hugh stopped walking and looked directly at his liege. “I hear talk, my lord, of disbanding the army, now that Jerusalem has been retaken.”

      Count Raymond nodded. “I hear the same, but the reports are less than accurate. There is no possibility of the army being disbanded. That would be sheer madness.”

      “But some of our people will be returning home, is that not so?”

      “Aye, it is, and there is nothing I can do about that. Most of the men here took the Cross voluntarily, to win back the Holy Places, and now that has been done and their aim has been achieved, they believe, with good reason, that their duty has been done, and now they wish to return home. Surely you can understand that?”

      “Aye, my lord, I can. But what of us? What of our Order and its intent, here in Jerusalem?”

      “The same applies there. Our objective was to establish a presence here from the outset of things. We have done that, earning our right to be here by sharing in the conquest of the Holy City.”

      “Conquest is not a word I would have chosen there, my lord.”

      The Count started to frown, but then restrained himself and merely nodded his head, once. “No, and I know why. But you deal in hard, cold pragmatism, Sir Hugh, whereas I must deal in political reality. Thus you may award yourself the privilege of feeling anger and outrage, but I may not. Accept that, if you would please me, and do not question my motives.”

      “Pardon me, my lord, I would not question anything you do, and I never have. I merely wondered what will become of our mission here when everyone goes home.”

      “Not everyone will go home. Some of us—some of our brotherhood—will remain behind.”

      “I would like to be one of those who remain, if it pleases you, my lord.”

      The handsome Count almost smiled, but dipped his head instead in affirmation. “And you would, under normal circumstances, Sir Hugh. Indeed, you were the first person I thought of when I was considering my plan of action in this matter, prior to the taking of the city. I thought to promote you in the field and leave you in charge of the Order’s affairs here, but …” He shrugged, spreading his hands. “But then you were reported missing, believed dead. That was weeks ago. And then, ten days ago, a courier arrived, bearing word from the Council, and in those dispatches you were named specifically and directed to return home to your father’s barony, where the Council has work for you. Believing you dead, I wrote back to that effect … But fortunately the mail has not been sent, so I will reclaim the letter and destroy it, and you will take the first available vessel headed out of here for Cyprus and home.”

      “But—”

      Raymond’s voice held but the slightest trace of censure. “But what, Sir Hugh? But you would rather remain here in Jerusalem with all the people who endeared themselves to you the day you disappeared? Or do you presume to believe that you know better what the Order needs from you than the Governing Council does? Hear me now, for I have thought much on this already today and would have sent for you before the day was out had you not come of your own accord. Here is my opinion: we have achieved entry here in Jerusalem, but for the time being there is nothing we can do, because the city lies empty and stinking to the heavens of blood and offal, and were it not for the fact that the Holy Sepulcher is here, none of us would remain close by. As the smell begins to fade, however, men will begin to plot and political maneuvering will have its day. It has already begun. You know about de Bouillon’s refusal of the crown, I presume?”

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