His appearance, however, all but dispelled the regrettable impression created by his surroundings. For Prince Bohemond II was a full-blooded, handsome man: broad-shouldered, long-limbed and tall, with a firm jaw and open, pleasant features. His hair was long and fair, and his beard short, cut into the distinctive forked shape favoured by certain Prankish noblemen; his hands were big and strong, and always moving-as if restless when they did not clutch a sword.
Together with Commander Renaud, Padraig and I were conducted into the prince's private chamber by one of his advisors, an old retainer from Antioch who regarded us with the world-weary air of one who has seen too much. The prince was standing over a long table on which a meal of roast fowl and plums had been spread. He had a knife in one hand, poised to strike, and a gold cup in the other.
Glancing up as the door opened to admit us, he exclaimed, 'De Bracineaux! You are here! God be praised, man, it is good to see you. They told me you had arrived, and I could not believe my good fortune. I did not expect you for another week.'
Forgetting his rank and place, he leapt forwards to meet us, stepping around the table in quick bounds. He seized the Templar by the arms, and embraced him like a brother. Then, seeing two strangers idling in Renaud's wake, he cried, 'And who is this with you? Come in, sirs! I give you good greeting. Join me, all of you. Food has been prepared, and I was just about to eat.'
'We would be delighted,' replied the Templar. Turning to us, he said, 'May I present: Lord Duncan of Caithness, and Padraig, his chaplain.'
'I am pleased to meet you, gentlemen,' said the prince, inclining his head nicely. He smiled, and despite myself I felt compelled to like him. 'You cannot have been in the city long.'
'We have only just arrived,' I answered.
'Good voyage?'
'Very good indeed, my lord,' I said. 'The Mediterranean is smooth as a highway compared to the rough northern seas around Scotland.'
'I have heard of this Scotland, you know,' Prince Bohemond said. He turned away, indicating that we should follow him to the table. 'They say the men and women there are painted blue.' Smiling, he glanced at Padraig and then at me. 'But you are not painted blue, are you?'
'No, lord, although the Picti are known to daub themselves with woad when they do battle. It is an old custom, but still occasionally to be seen.'
He smiled again, showing neat white teeth. 'I should like to see that.' He speared a roast fowl with his knife. 'Come, my friends, eat!' To his manservant, he said, 'Hemar! Pour some wine for these thirsty fellows. They have come all the way from Scotland.'
Following the prince's invitation, we helped ourselves to the meat and fruit before us. Bohemond and Renaud fell to talking about the voyage and the settling of the troops, and I was glad to have the chance to observe the prince for a while. He was, I decided, somewhat younger than he first appeared. Although his bearing and speech were that of an older, more confident man, I believe he adopted this manner to disguise the fact of his green immaturity. He was little more than a child playing at a game for men, and I felt strangely sorry for him.
As our hosts talked, I considered how best to broach the subject of the prince's plan to attack the Armenians. It would, I considered, be best for all of us if Bohemond would raise the issue himself, giving me a natural opportunity to speak. But he seemed more than content to talk idly of travel and the weather, and it occurred to me that perhaps the prince did not wish to say anything about his plans in front of Padraig and me. So, it was left to us, and if no one else touched on the matter soon, I decided I would raise the issue myself.
I was steeling myself to do just that, when young Bohemond, unable to restrain himself any longer, tapped the table with the hilt of his knife. 'Here now, de Bracineaux, we have beaten the bushes long enough. I want to talk about the campaign. How many men can I count on from you?'
The Templar commander lay aside his cup, and composed himself to answer. 'I have considered your request very carefully,' he answered. 'To put the matter squarely, I must tell you it places me in a very awkward position.'
'Indeed?' wondered Bohemond innocently. 'I am distressed to hear it.' He did not appear dismayed in the least.
'You see, waging open warfare is outside the authority of the Templar Rule. We are pledged to guard the roads and those who travel on them – anything beyond that is a breach of our Rules of Order. In short, my lord, attacking the forces of our Christian allies would be reprehensible and unlawful.'
Bohemond's face tightened with vexation, but he maintained his cheerful demeanour. 'Come now, sir,' he cajoled, 'you know other commanders have joined in battling the common enemy. I am not asking you to do something your brothers would refuse.'
'What others do is a matter for their consciences. For myself, I cannot allow my men to be used as mercenaries.'
'The Grand Master has given me his assurance that there will be no difficulty,' the prince said, somewhat petulantly.
'And there will be none-so long as my men are not required to go against their priestly vows. With all respect, my lord prince, we are defenders, not aggressors.'
'Do you deny that the protection of the borders of my realm is of utmost importance to the safety of pilgrims and citizens within this realm?'
'On the contrary,' replied Renaud, glad to find some area of agreement, 'if the borders of this county should ever fall under enemy threat, you will find the Templars foremost in the fight.'
'I am glad to hear it,' answered Bohemond quickly. 'For a moment I had begun to doubt the wisdom of allowing the Poor Soldiers of Christ to occupy such a large and, I might add, costly presence in this city. After all, a lord who cannot trust the courage of his warriors is already captive to his enemies.'
'Never doubt the courage of the Templars,' Renaud said, his voice tightening with suppressed anger. 'Our lives are forsworn before Almighty God, and we will fight to the death rather than dishonour the vow we have taken.'
'Then why this unseemly hesitance?' demanded Bohemond. 'I tell you that so long as the borders of this county are held by Armenians my people are not safe.'
The air fairly bristled between them. Seeing that he had pressed the matter to an impasse with the Templar commander, Bohemond turned his attention to Padraig and me. 'You must excuse us,' he said testily, 'it seems the good commander and myself have opened a subject of disagreement.'
This was my chance to intervene, and I took it. 'Forgive me, lord. I am a stranger to this place, and have no right to speak. But if you would hear me out, I would be much obliged.'
'If you have something sensible to say, I welcome you, sir,' sniffed the prince. 'It would be an agreeable change to listening to the mealy-mouthed excuses of this craven commander.'
Renaud made to object, but thought better of it and held his tongue. Bohemond was young and impetuous; he was hot-headed, and it was difficult to restrain his ambitious impulses. Antagonizing him would only make things worse.
'Although I am newly arrived in Antioch, my family is not without some experience of this part of the world. My grandfather took the cross in the Great Pilgrimage and died in Jerusalem. Moreover, my father once held council with your father-it was in Jaffa, if I remember aright, and my father was about the same age as you are now, my lord. He came away from that meeting with a memory which my family has treasured ever since.'