Lords of the East - Library

[phonicsmonkey]

Bohemund of Antioch sat atop his mount at the Royal Pier watching the fleet depart, the tall ships silhouetted against the afternoon sun as they made their way west and into the Mediterranean Sea like a great flock of birds.

A clatter of hoofs and the clanking of steel behind him announced the arrival of a group of unwanted visitors.

He turned to see five men, their armour dusty, their steeds frothing and sweaty with the exertion of their ride.

Catching his breath, their leader addressed him.

Sirrah, the Crusader King Guy would bid you tell him the whereabouts of the scoundrel Frederick of Swabia, wanted by His Majesty for the crime of treason! We are to seek him out and bring him to Gaza to face the justice of the Steward of Christ.

Bohemund smiled.

And what use would Guy have for this man? Has he not more to occupy him than petty vengeance? Does not the Ayyubid Sultan yet harass his southern flank while the steppe devils drive a wedge into the Levant? Is not Jerusalem itself under siege and soon to fall?

The man looked uncomfortable.

I have my orders sir.

The Duke of Antioch turned his back on the man and looked out once more to sea. He waved towards the departing ships.

The fellow you seek is aboard the fleet, heading to his certain doom at the hands of the Byzantine navy. If you wish to pursue him I can loan you a rowboat!

The men grumbled and cursed among themselves, their mission now futile and no doubt unpaid. Bohemund turned to their leader once more.

So what now? Will you swim after him? Will you attempt the journey back to Egypt to your mad King? His desert throne is sure to fall before long, as is Antioch. You would be better served manning the defences here against our foe. At least we will pay you a wage and you will have food and wine to fill your bellies. Well, what of it?

They discussed this for a moment before assenting. The Duke directed them to the captain of the guard, whom he bade instruct them in the defence of the city.

When they had departed, leaving him alone at the quayside once more, a hooded man emerged from the shadows behind a stack of crates.

The man drew back his cowl. It was Freddie Swabia.

I cannot thank you enough sir, you have been more than kind - I owe you my life.

Bohemund smiled.

It was nothing! I would have done it just to spite that fat pretender...but for you Freddie I would do more. I have not forgotten the largesse shown by you and Barbarossa after the sack of Tartus. Many of our defensive structures were built with that Armenian gold - God help us if they do not now hold back the hordes.

But where will you go now? What will you do? You are welcome to remain with my here - but while I can promise to protect you from Guy and perhaps the Byzantines I cannot in good faith tell you I shall be able to keep you safe from the blades of the Qara-Suu. I fear that Antioch is doomed my young friend, like the rest of our fledgling Kingdom, cut short suddenly like a dream harshly awakened from...

The golden rays of the late afternoon sun bathed the men in a honey glow as a warm breeze whipped in from the sea, bringing with it the tangy brine taste of the surf.

Freddie stood for a moment gazing out at the ocean before responding.

I'll go home, I suppose. Back to Swabia, to challenge Henry the Lion for my ancestral lands. I hear that he and that decrepit Pope plan to set him up as Kaiser and enslave Germany under the Roman yoke - Barbarossa should have had that title, so I intend to do what I can to oppose the so-called Lion and honour my cousin's memory.

Bohemund grimaced.

Well sir, if you are to oppose the Pope and his chosen Kaiser you'll need more than right on your side! You'll need to have a keen political sense, a certain lack of scruples, a silver tongue and a brain more cunning than a fox. Or you'll need to find yourself an adviser who can lend you his.

Freddie Swabia laughed out loud.

I think I know just the man..