Lords of the East - Library

[phonicsmonkey]

Freddie Swabia sat at the back of the Edicule of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, arms crossed and a scowl on his face as he watched the interminable coronation ceremony drag on and on.

Prince Guy (he wasn't the King yet!) stood at the front under the rotunda, bathed in candlelight and with a beatific expression on his fat face (oh how Freddie longed to punch it) as the various monks, cardinals and whatnot made their various cermonial movements with incense and holy water and chanted their Latin monotonously.

It was fair to say Freddie was not entering into the spirit of the occasion.

In fact he was more or less aghast at more or less everything that had happened since he left Mardin (and quite a lot before that). He had been furious at Guy's decision to leave Baldwin and poor Barbarossa to their fate, all the more so when they had arrived at Damascus to the news that the entire eastern empire had been overrun by the ghul and all of Baldwin's and Barbarossa's conquests lost.

He refused to believe that Freddie Barbarossa was dead, although he knew in his heart that it must be so. He had not grieved for him, had not allowed himself to. Instead he had channelled his emotion into a steadily growing hatred for Guy which was reaching fever pitch during this ceremony. How fatuous Guy had been on hearing the news! How self-serving was his insistence that they forge ahead to Jerusalem!

And how terrifically bone-headed and arrogant it was to have the flower of European knighthood sitting around in this dusty old church watching Guy's moment of triumph, when the very existence of the Kingdom hung in the balance, when the ghul threatened even the Levant and when even the crusaders' oldest allies the Byzantines had declared war!

A cowled figure entered the Edicule and sat down next to Freddie with a rustle of silk.

I take it you are not best pleased with this turn of events young Swabia came the low whisper.

Freddie turned and saw piercing blue eyes and a curl of dark hair under the cowl. It was Orloomo Bland.

You! he breathed But everyone thinks you are dead!

Bland looked anxious.And well I shall be if I am discovered here. Guy has great hatred for Baldwin and anyone closely associated with him. He means to eradicate his memory.

Swabia scoffed. He won't have time - we'll be overrun with horse-demons and greek politicians before he has a chance to do anything!

Bland smiled. I have a plan to deal with that - but I need your help young friend. After I fled Baghdad I travelled north into the lands of the ghul searching for a woman I had known at the Seljuk Court and then at Baldwin's. A woman by the name of Kamelya. I had reason to believe that she would be authorised by the ghul to negotiate on their behalf and I was correct. I found her at Qara-Qale where the ghul have established their capital. With her I struck a deal.

Swabia interrupted. Seigneur Bland, I'm sorry but...did she know anything of my cousin Barbarossa?

Bland's face darkened and he turned away for a moment before responding. No. She did not.

There was a moment's silence as both men sat in quiet reflection. A dove which had been roosting in the rafters took flight for a moment in the domed roof and a single white feather floated down through the thick, hot night air.

Bland continued. I promised her the contents of the King's treasury should she turn her armies away.

Swabia almost choked. You did WHAT?!

The people in the stall in front shifted in their seats and murmured at this. A mailed knight, standing in the aisle, looked over at them suspiciously. Swabia's face flushed and he stared intently ahead at the ceremony until peace was restored.

Bland rebuked him. Please keep your voice down, I have no desire to swing from a gibbet this evening. The King's treasury, in full, shall be paid to the ghul and they will leave us be, at least for a time. Think of it this way - we have compiled great riches in our conquests. Our armies are at full recruitment capacity, our cities are well developed and our navy is the envy of the Mediterranean. We have nothing left to spend this money on, it only serves..

Swabia finished his thought for him. ...to enrich King Guy.

Ahead on the dais Guy was receiving the crown of Jerusalem, a triumphant expression on his fat, punchable face.

But how will you get access to the Treasury? Don't you need..

This key? said Bland, holding an ornate brass key in his hand. All I need, young friend, is your assistance in getting past the guards.

Swabia looked at the key, glinting in the candlelight. But what if it's a trick? If they simply mean to rob us and then slay us all anyway?

Bland grinned. Then we are no worse off, at least personally, correct?

Swabia thought for a moment.

Right, let's go.