Order In Chaos. Jack Whyte

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СКАЧАТЬ don your surcoat.”

      As the sergeant walked away, crestfallen, Sir William turned back towards the Commandery, knowing he had been seen from the gates as soon as he emerged into the open square, and that the senior guardsman on duty would immediately have summoned the Guard Commander. Now, striding towards the main gates, Sir William smiled in recognition as a veteran sergeant walked swiftly from the gatehouse, followed by four men, and then stopped short, frowning as he took in the bare ankles of the beardless man approaching him in the white surcoat of a knight and followed by an escorting group of sergeants. He raised one hand slightly in a restraining gesture to his men, until the man in the knight’s surcoat had reached the gateway.

      “Tescar, well met. You look distrustful. Do you not know me? Or are you to bar me from the Commandery for a shaven chin?”

      The sergeant’s wrinkled frown smoothed out in astonishment. “Sinclair? Sir William, is that you? God’s holy name, what happened to you?”

      “A long tale, old friend, but I have urgent tidings from Paris for the preceptor. Is he within the walls?”

      “You, too? Aye, he is, but you might have to wait in line. It’s first come, first served tonight, it seems, and you’re the third to come seeking him within this half hour.”

      “Then I must claim priority, Sergeant. As I said, I bring urgent tidings from Paris, from Master de Molay himself. Is the admiral, too, inside?”

      Tescar grinned. “Aye, he is, and the Master’s tidings are well delivered. Your brother knight arrived not ten minutes past, straight from the South Gate, no doubt with the same message.”

      “What brother knight? We came in through the South Gate just as it closed, and we had to wait. There was no other Templar knight there. We would have seen him. Are you sure he said the southern gate? Who is he?”

      The Sergeant of the Guard shrugged his wide shoulders. “That’s what he said, the South Gate. As to who he is, he’s a new one on me. I’ve never seen the man before. But he and another are here from Paris, bearing tidings from the Master for the preceptor and the admiral.”

      Sir William Sinclair’s hands had dropped to his sword, one on the hilt, the other on the scabbard, as it occurred to him that this must have been the urgent message that had so agitated the young sergeant Ewan. He drew Tescar away by the sleeve, out of hearing of the others, and spoke in a low voice. “Listen to me, Tescar. There’s something wrong here. There is no other messenger. I am de Molay’s sole messenger to La Rochelle. What did this fellow look like?”

      “Like you but better dressed.” Tescar was frowning now, beginning to look angry. “White mantle, white surcoat, full forked beard. Said he came from Paris with urgent tidings from the Grand Master. I passed him inside. Why shouldn’t I?”

      “Did you ask his name?”

      “Aye. It was English. Godwinson or Goodwinson, something like that. But he’s a Templar, beyond doubt.”

      “Nothing is beyond doubt, Tescar. Not nowadays.” Sinclair had started for the entrance, his pace lengthening rapidly, and he waved a hand to bring Tam and the other sergeants after. “What did this fellow look like?”

      “I told you. Like you, a Templar knight.” Tescar was hurrying to keep up with Sinclair, and the others followed them. “Big fellow, long beard, bright red with a pure white blaze on one side.”

      “What?” Sinclair stopped in his tracks, spinning to face the sergeant and stopping him with a straightened arm. “A full red beard with a white streak? On the left?”

      “Aye, that’s the one.” Sergeant Tescar, a veteran of many years, had learned to recognize urgency when it confronted him, and he wasted no time on useless questions. “I’ll take you in directly. Come. Your fellows here can go to the refectory. They’ll still have time for dinner.”

      “No, they’ll come with me and I’ll make my own way in. You stay here and bar the gates. Seal this place up right now. No one is to leave here or come in until I say so, is that clear?”

      “Aye, but—”

      “No time for buts, Tescar. Seal this place tight and pray we’re not too late already. Tam, quickly, with me, and bring the others.”

       MEN OF GOODWILL

      1

      Sir William Sinclair strode through the main gate tower and emerged into the spacious quadrangle of the headquarters complex. It was enclosed by four buildings, each three stories high, and he angled left immediately towards the heavy double doors that fronted the main administrative building containing the offices and living space of the garrison’s senior personnel. Tam Sinclair almost had to run to catch up to him, but when he did he grasped his taller cousin by the sleeve and pulled him around.

      “Wait, damnation, wait now! Just hold hard for a minute. What are we rushing into here? What’s amiss? Why are you running?”

      “Because I don’t like the smell. Something stinks here, Tam. Didn’t you hear what Tescar said?”

      “Aye, some, but not all of it. The two o’ you were whispering like lovers. Who’s this other knight, this Godwinson?”

      “I don’t know, but whoever he is, he’s a liar. There is no brother knight involved in this with tidings from de Molay. You know yourself, de Molay sent no other messenger but us. And there was no other Templar waiting to get in at the South Gate while we were there.” They had stopped at the foot of the shallow flight of steps up to the doors. “So who is this Godwinson and where did he come from? Not from the South Gate—you know that. Do you recall seeing de Nogaret in Paris, two weeks ago?” Tam nodded, his face troubled, and Sir William continued, walking up the steps. “Aye, you do, but obviously not as well as I do. D’you recall who was with him at the time? Think hard now. They had just emerged from the King’s residence and were waiting for a carriage.”

      “Aye, I remember seeing the fellow, but I don’t know who he was. I was too busy looking at de Nogaret himself, bad luck to him. But the other one was a big, red-bearded—By the Christ!”

      “Aye, big and red bearded, with a white streak in his beard. But was he a Templar? I think not. Nor was he dressed like one. No, Tam, the Christ has nothing to do with this one, not if de Nogaret’s involved.” They had reached the top of the shallow steps fronting the administrative building’s entrance, and Sir William swung the doors open wide before striding through, his men behind him fanning out and looking about them, plainly not knowing what they were looking for.

      “Keep your wits about you, lads,” Sir William said quietly, “and tread softly. I don’t know what we may find in here, but this is no time to be clattering around, so move quietly. And be prepared for the worst.”

      He led them to a passageway that bore away to the right from the far end of the cavernous entranceway, but he suddenly stopped short. Tam Sinclair bumped into him.

      “What is it?” Tam’s voice was a hoarse whisper.

      “No guards.” Another pair of closed double doors was set into the wall ahead of them, and Sir William drew his sword with a long, slithering of steel. СКАЧАТЬ