‘The commune of Acre must invest in the walls. We must at once purchase all the timber we may, to reinforce our defences and build the hoardings. We need more machines of war, especially catapults. We need masons, to strengthen our walls. .’
‘The walls are strong already. We would have to spend prodigiously to afford all this work!’ a man called.
‘Very well. My walls here, at my tower, are almost thirty feet thick,’ the Grand Master stated equably. ‘I shall be safe when your house is burned to the ground, with both your daughters and your wife inside it. Need I remind you how Tripoli fell? You have all heard of the violent conflagration that overwhelmed our friends there. How many of us lost friends in those massacres? Who can count the young women and children who were marched off to be sold into slavery? How many of us know women who even now are held in captivity, to suffer the shame of rape? Is that what you want for your daughters? Your wives? Do you want to die knowing that you failed to protect your families for the cost of a few ounces of silver?’
‘What of the other Orders? There are only Templars here. What of the Hospitallers?’ a man shouted.
Baldwin could see him. He half-expected a Templar to grab the fellow and pull him out for his rudeness, but no one made a movement.
The Grand Master nodded. ‘I know you, Master Mainboeuf. You and I have worked together often enough. I will say this: I will ally myself with any man, any Order, any nation, in order to protect our city. I have asked the Hospitallers to join us here, but I fear they did not heed my invitation. I hope, and pray, that they will come to discuss this before too long. Perhaps if you, or your companions, could speak to the Grand Master, he may be persuaded to come to us and talk about how we might best defend our city.’
‘You say you want wood,’ a man called. ‘Will you tell the Venetians to stop selling it to our enemies?’
The Grand Master allowed a wintry smile to pass over his lips. ‘I already have.’
It was almost noon when the meeting was closed, and the room gradually emptied. Baldwin walked out behind Ivo, blinking and covering his eyes against the sudden glare of the sunshine.
‘Those men were not very respectful,’ he commented.
‘Did you expect them to be?’ Ivo grunted.
‘I thought they would show the Grand Master respect in his own hall.’
‘He was hoping to bolster confidence. Attacking his audience would not help.’
‘I see.’
‘So, do you feel you understand the city’s position more clearly now?’ Ivo asked.
Baldwin said, ‘I would have been happier with the Hospitallers in the chamber with us.’
‘At least it shows that the merchants appreciate the dangers at last,’ Ivo said. He snorted, hawked and spat into the street. ‘I don’t think they realised how perilous our situation has become.’
Baldwin nodded, but as he did so, he saw a flash of emerald.
‘That woman! I know her!’ he cried.
‘Who? Where?’ Ivo asked distractedly.
Baldwin could see the gleam of her bright silken robes. Two dark-skinned warriors followed close behind her. He wondered at first whether she was a Saracen princess, until he saw her pale hand and wrist.
She passed through the crowds serenely. There was no need for gestures or threats, the people moved aside as she approached.
Ignoring Ivo, Baldwin hurried after her. He had to see what she looked like — but this time he wouldn’t scare her, the way he had before. Noticing a gap in the throng before him, he forced his way through it and managed to reach her side. He caught a heady odour of sandalwood and spice as he passed, and then turned to look at her.
‘My lady,’ he said, and bowed.
That was as far as he got before the nearer of the two guards whipped out his sword and rested it on Baldwin’s throat.
CHAPTER NINE
Baldwin smiled at her. The blade didn’t worry him. Even the most determined felon would hesitate before committing murder before so many witnesses. And besides, Ivo was lumbering up nearby.
In any event, the woman was worth pausing over.
She was shorter than him, but only by an inch or so, and her body was entirely concealed beneath her flowing robes; for all that, she was arresting. Her face was hidden beneath her veil, but her eyes were wonderful. Green, unblinking and direct, she issued a challenge just by looking at him.
He bowed his head, the sword beneath his chin. ‘Your beauty is captivating, my lady.’
In her eyes there was something at that, a smile, perhaps an acknowledgement of flattery, but then she averted her head. He found himself shoved aside, and she was gone, her men behind her once more, the rearmost turning and staring at Baldwin, a warning clear in his eyes.
There was something different about her this time. The woman he had seen on the day of his arrival had eyes that were filled with terror when she saw him. This woman had the haughtiness of a princess when she glanced over him, from his scuffed boots to his uncombed hair. It was not the kind of look to inspire desire. To add to her loss of appeal, there were these guards, too. The woman he had seen in the alley had had no one to protect her.
‘What are you thinking of?’ Ivo demanded angrily. ‘You could have been killed!’
‘I wanted to see her face. I saw her before, the day I arrived here. She was in an alley near the Genoese quarter, and I scared her, I think. I called to her and she ran from me.’
‘I doubt you would have scared her,’ Ivo said. ‘Lady Maria of Lydda is a very dangerous lady.’
‘But who is she?’
‘She was wife to the Count of Lydda, a small town over towards Jaffa. When her husband died, she came to live here in the city.’
‘Why?’
Ivo shrugged. ‘I reckon she didn’t like it where she was. More to the point, I think she didn’t like her husband, and when he died, she was keen to get away from any memories. There are even stories that she hastened his death.’
‘What, you mean she hired someone to kill him?’ Baldwin chuckled.
‘You laugh? Why, boy, are you so well-versed in the ways of women as to think you understand them?’
Baldwin was thinking of her entrancing green eyes. ‘No, but I don’t think she would do something like that. She’s too beautiful.’
‘You didn’t see her face, did you? You couldn’t tell whether she was smiling or glaring.’
‘She was smiling.’
‘The rumour was that she poisoned his drink for him. She’s too much of a lady to think of getting the servants to do it for her. Once a servant gets a taste for killing his master,’ Ivo added bitterly, ‘he can never be trusted again.’
Baldwin was growing accustomed to Ivo’s changes of mood, and considered his companion carefully. ‘So, Maria of Lydda is here because she found the town distasteful. I’m sure that there are other widows who would find that understandable.’
‘Don’t even dream of that woman, boy. She is as far from your reach as the moon and stars.’
Baldwin nodded and was about to speak, but then he saw a man he recognised all too welclass="underline" the Genoese captain.
‘There!’ he cried. ‘That’s the viper who stole my ring and sword.’
‘Where?’ Ivo peered in the direction Baldwin pointed. ‘I see him. Come with me! Come on, run!’
Baldwin had to make an effort to keep up with Ivo as the older man raced down one lane, up another, then along a series of narrow alleys. As they descended some steps, Baldwin saw over to the right a sudden flash of emerald, and was sure that it was the slim, silk-clad figure of Maria of Lydda. However, the instant he spotted her, she disappeared into another alley. Briefly he registered surprise that she was alone now.
Then he concentrated on following Ivo.
The horse-dealer now led Baldwin down a tatty lane, with names and graffiti carved into the old stones, and with broken and loose flags threatening their ankles at every step — until they came to a broader thoroughfare in which carts rattled noisily over the roadway.