I stepped through the door to see a broad-shouldered man with a thick beard, his face red from the glowing iron in his hand. His shirt was a filthy rag full of tiny burned holes from the sparks and bits of molten metal that flew from his hammer. He regarded us without interest, and went back to his pounding.
I felt a pang of disappointment. 'Are you Bezu?' I asked; but he made no reply.
Instead, my question was answered by a man who suddenly stepped from the darkness of the room behind the forge. This fellow was short, white-haired, plump, and smiling. Clean-shaven, his round face glowing with the heat from the forge fire, he was dressed in a long mantle of fine cloth, with a wide leather belt to which a fine, slender sword was attached. He regarded us with a kindly expression, and said, 1 am Balthazar of Aries, at your service, my friends.'
I begged his pardon, and told him we were looking for the armourer named Bezu.
'My dear friends, of whom I have many, call me Bezu,' he informed me. 'You may do so, if you wish.'
'It is an honour to meet you, Master Bezu,' I told him. 'I am Duncan Murdosson, and this is my friend and companion, Brother Padraig.'
'A man who travels in the company of a priest must either be very devout,' Bezu observed cheerfully, 'or else he is so wicked as to require continual observation and correction.'
'Then again,' I suggested, 'it may be such a man is merely on pilgrimage.'
'Ah, yes, I expect that will be the likeliest explanation.' Bezu laughed, and said, 'You were looking for me? Well, here I am. How can I help you.'
'I have come to meet you, and to thank you,' I replied.
'Have you indeed?' he wondered. 'I am happy to make your acquaintance, sir. But how is it that you should be thanking me?'
'Once, many years ago,' I explained, 'you gave winter refuge to a young man. Like myself, he was from the northern isles and on pilgrimage. His name was Murdo.'
The old armourer's faded eyes grew hazy as his mind raced back over the years. 'You know,' he said, his expression growing thoughtful, 'I believe I did have a young helper by that name. I have not thought about this for many years, but now that you say it, I remember this fellow. Why, he was but a boy.' Bezu regarded me closely, as if trying to decide if he might know me. 'Even so, why should this concern you, my friend?'
I smiled and said, 'That young man you befriended is my father.'
Bezu's eyes grew round; he stared at me and shook his head in amazement. 'Your father, you say!'
'None other.'
I quickly explained that Padraig was the nephew of one of the monks who had been travelling with my father, and that, as we happened to be passing through the city, we could not ignore the chance to thank the armourer for his kindness all those years ago.
'But it was nothing!' Bezu protested. 'He was cold and hungry. I gave him a little food and a place to sleep. He worked. Indeed, I would he had stayed on. He was a good worker, that one, and in those days -when the Great Pilgrimage was just beginning -1 had need of a young man or two to help me.'
Bezu grinned, and shook his head again, as if he had been struck a blow which made him dizzy with delight. 'My friends!' he announced suddenly. 'Come, and dine with me tonight. We will have a feast in celebration of this glad meeting. And you will tell me what has become of my hireling since I last laid eyes on him. Come! My house is not far.'
'Nothing would please me more than to break bread with you, Bezu,' I replied, 'but we are with two others who are waiting for us at the harbour.' I quickly explained how we were even now hastening away to Marseilles to meet the Templar fleet.
'The Templars,' said Bezu. 'But some of them were here, you know. What have you to do with the Soldiers of Christ?'
Not wishing to prolong the tale, I told him we were simply hoping to receive passage to the Holy Land aboard one of their ships. 'They are sailing from Marseilles in the next day or so. We must hurry if we are to join them before they leave.'
The old armourer nodded thoughtfully, then rubbed his hands and declared, 'But this is most fortuitous… most fortuitous, indeed. You can help me with a problem which has vexed me greatly.'
'We would be only too glad to aid you in any way we can -' I replied, adding, 'provided, of course, we can still make it to Marseilles before the fleet sails.'
'But that is the very thing,' Bezu told me. 'You see, the Templars were here, as I said, only a day or two ago. They came to collect the weapons bespoken the previous year. I have two other smithies now – did you know? We are kept busy morning to night all the year round. The anvil is never silent.
'Well,' he said, laying his hard hand on my arm confidentially, 'they asked me to make some daggers for them-special knives, these are, for the commanders. Come, I will show you.'
He turned and led us into to a tiny room carved out of the stone of the old Roman wall. Pointing to a bright red rug which concealed an object in the middle of the floor, he directed Padraig to throw aside the covering. The monk bent down and drew off the rug to reveal a small wooden casket bound in iron. 'Open it,' he said. 'It is not locked.'
Padraig opened the box to reveal red silk cloth on which rested six exquisite daggers with blades of inlaid silver, and handles of gold; each had the distinctive Templar cross on the end of the pommel, with a small ruby at the centre.
'They are superb knives.’ I said. 'I have never seen any to match them.'
The armourer reached into the box, took up one of the daggers. 'Yes, they are very good,' he said, feeling the heft and balance in his hand before passing it to me. 'I do not do the gold work. I have a friend of many years-a craftsman without equal-a goldsmith; he does the gold and silver, and also engraving. He, like myself, is run off his feet by the demand for his services. He has not been well this year and the knives were not ready when the Templars came.' He smiled quickly. 'I told them I would bring them if they arrived before the fleet sailed. But you are going to Marseilles. If you would consent to deliver the knives for me, it would save me a great deal of trouble. What do you say?'
Padraig glanced at me and nodded, urging me to accept the commission. 'Very well,' I replied, 'we would be honoured to serve you in this way. Leave it to us, and worry no more about it.'
'Ah,' sighed the armourer contentedly, 'I feel better already. I thank you. Now!' he declared, rubbing his hands together. 'To supper! Come with me, and do not worry about your friends. I will send one of my boys to the harbour to fetch them along so they can join us.'
Needless to say, we accepted his invitation with unseemly eagerness, and we all enjoyed a sumptuous meal at Bezu's grand house on the hill overlooking the town and harbour beyond. Night was far gone when we finally pushed away from the table, made our farewells, and returned to the boat; we were therefore late rising the next morning. While we were getting ready to cast off, who should appear but our generous host himself, carrying a large cloth bag.
'Ah! I hoped I would find you here. There was so much left over from last night's feast, I thought you might like to have some of it on your journey,' he said, passing the sack to Sarn, who promptly stowed it in the boat. 'I also brought you this.' He pulled a small purse from beneath his belt and tossed it to me. 'For delivering the knives. I would have had to hire someone anyway, so you might as well have it.'