A Twist in the Tale
Orloomo Bland found Baldwin, eventually, in a small masjid tucked away in the depths of the grand souq, a place that the young King had taken to using as a refuge for quiet reflection. It was an unremarkable, squat and unattractive building which would have gone entirely un-noticed except for the twenty-strong unit of Crusader Royal Guard who stood around the entrance, armed to the teeth and shifting uneasily in the afternoon heat as they accosted any passers-by foolish enough to pass by.
Of course Bland had no trouble gaining entrance. The Crusader Royal guardsmen knew Bland.
Everybody knew Bland.
Baldwin was sat in a corner of the prayer hall watching the imam lead the faithful in the afternoon prayer. Bland sat down beside him and said in a low voice.
You see, it is just as I predicted. The German prince has gone native and declared himself Sultan of Isfahan. I hear he has even appointed a Vizier, a Persian by the name of Hashim, who saved his life from a bear.
Baldwin snickered.
Yes, I hear they are calling him 'Bearbarossa'! Well, let him have his eastern Sultanate. He's well out of the way there and frankly I don't give two pfennigs for the bountiful wastelands of Iran. They are his to play with. You have done me a great service Bland, by tipping me off to that old bastard Urban's plan. How dare he and that trumped up German baronet try to play politics with me! By separating the two German princes we have neutralised their power. Let Swabia continue in the service of Prince Guy, and see how far that gets him.
Bland inclined his head respectfully, secretly brimming with pride as the King continued.
And what of...the other thing?
Bland cleared his throat.
It is begun your Majesty.
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