The blask rood

Renaud raised his eyebrows at this. 'Are you always so trusting?'

'Until a man shows me otherwise,' I said, bristling slightly at the implication of his question, 'I give him my best regard. It is never a mistake to treat someone as you would wish to be treated if you were in his boots.'

'No,' he allowed quickly, 'of course not. Again, forgive me; I meant no offence. I merely wished to determine what you knew of the circumstances surrounding your young friend's family.'

'As I have said, I know very little of Roupen's family or their circumstances. Is there something I should know?'

The Templar pursed his lips thoughtfully. 'Only this,' he said at last. 'Your friend's father, Prince Leo, is an unhappy man in a dangerous position. I fear he is not to be trusted.'

'I am sorry to hear it,' I replied, uncertainly. I could not discern what he intended by telling me this.

As if in reply to my hesitance, Renaud continued, 'Believe me, it gives me no pleasure to say it. I have every sympathy for your friend, Roupen; his situation is grave indeed.'

Looking out over the water to the darkening shoreline-as if gazing at an open and oozing wound-he added, mostly to himself, 'Bohemond's reach does often exceed his grasp.'

Mention of the audacious prince brought to mind my father's dealings, and I said, 'What you say interests me greatly. My father knew Prince Bohemond. They met in Jaffa during the Great Pilgrimage, and my father helped Lord Bohemond secure the aid of the emperor.'

'Truly?' replied the Templar commander, his curiosity instantly piqued.

'Oh, yes,' I assured him, 'and the prince returned the favour. If not for Bohemond's help, my father might never have returned home.'

'Many did not,' agreed the Templar commander. His interest visibly quickened, there was sharp appraisal in his glance as he said, 'But you misunderstand me: I was speaking of young Bohemond, the son of the illustrious prince. Not that it matters overmuch, for the son is that much like his father. Unfortunately, he shares his father's insatiable appetites as well.'

He went on to explain that Bohemond II, son of Prince Bohemond of Taranto, had at last come of age and returned to the Holy Land to claim his inheritance. Not content to receive the County of Antioch in its present condition, he had determined to restore its boundaries to their furthest extent.

'Since coming to the Holy Land four years ago,' Renaud said, 'the young count has waged several successful campaigns and recovered a goodly portion of the land lost since his father had ruled there. He is a restless youth, and a formidable fighter.' De Bracineaux regarded me meaningfully. 'He will not rest until he has won back everything.'

'And this is where the trouble arises,' I surmised.

'Precisely,' the Templar agreed. 'The northern part of the county now belongs to the Armenian principality. At the time young Bohemond's father took it, there was no one to oppose him. The land had been under Seljuq domination for many years, and the Armenian princes had their hands full defending the little that remained to them.'

It was easy to guess what had happened. As the Templar continued the tale, I could almost see the events as movements of the pieces on a game board. Once the Turks had been driven out, Roupen's people immediately reasserted their ownership, expecting, no doubt, that fellow Christians would uphold their rightful claims. In this they had been disappointed, however; their demands for redress were scorned, and their cries for justice unheeded… until disaster befell the over-reaching Count of Antioch.

Bohemond ran afoul of Emperor Alexius in the end, and his monstrous ambition was curtailed. After a disastrous battle with the Greeks, the great prince was forced to relinquish the disputed lands which were ceded to the Armenian rulers. Thus, with the emperor's help the Armenian princes had managed to claw back their traditional territory.

'But the peace of these last years will not continue,' Renaud announced bleakly. 'Young Bohemond II is as wilful and stubborn as his father. I fear there will be bloodshed between these two houses very soon.'

He seemed to expect some answer, but I could not imagine why he should be confiding in me, and knew not what to tell him. 'Your candour is both welcome and refreshing,' I said, 'but I would be leading you astray if I permitted you to think I possessed any power in these matters.'

'Of course,' the knight allowed, 'I understand. I merely thought you might derive some benefit from this information – in light of your friendship with Lord Roupen, that is. Naturally, if you were to find yourself in a position to influence the young lord's opinion, you would remember your duty as a Christian.'

This confused me somewhat. I knew full well the Templar was asking me to intervene for him in some way, but I could not understand what he expected me to do. 'Please,' I told him, 'speak plainly. I am unused to the plots and intrigues of the East. If you have a concern, tell me outright. I assure you, I will give it my fullest consideration.'

Renaud nodded, and folded his hands behind his back. 'As Commander of the Antioch Order of the Knights Templar, I am charged by His Holiness Pope Honorius with keeping the peace – not only in the city, but throughout the countryside as well. In addition, I am pledged to support the ruler of the county by whose sufferance we are granted our charter.' He looked at me meaningfully. 'I can put it no more plainly than that.'

At last, I began to see the shape of his dilemma. To uphold the peace, he would have to break faith with Bohemond-an action which would result in the revocation of his charter and the expulsion of the Templars from Antioch.

Although I accepted his assessment of the situation-I had no reason to believe otherwise-I could not help wondering aloud, 'Why do you tell me these things? I am merely a pilgrim on his way to the Holy Land. This is a matter for the rulers involved and would, it seems to me, be better served by a royal council.'

Renaud's smile turned bitter. 'You are right, of course. I will not trouble you further.' He made to walk away.

I caught him by the arm, and held him. 'Speak what is on your mind, man. Where is the harm?'

Glancing at Padraig his mouth drew tight. 'I have said all I care to say.'

'Then go your way,' I replied, releasing him. 'For if you hold the honour and counsel of a priest of the Cele De in such low esteem, you deserve all the anguish your silence brings.' Indicating Padraig, I said, 'This man is my friend and advisor, my anam cara, the true friend of my soul; he shares my innermost thoughts and is my life's companion and guide. Speak to me, or hold your tongue. That is your choice. But know that any remedy you seek through me will be discussed with my wise counsellor.'

Renaud nodded curtly. He was not used to being addressed in this way, and did not like it, but was man enough to see the sense. He did not dismiss me, or turn me aside harshly, but swallowed his pride once more. 'Forgive me, priest,' he said, bending in a small, but genuine bow of humility. 'I meant no disrespect.'

Padraig inclined his head in acceptance and pardon. 'I forgive you freely. If it would help you to unburden your soul, I will walk a little apart so that the two of you may speak more easily together.'

'No,' said the Templar, making up his mind, 'that is not necessary. I have come this far; let us see the thing to its conclusion.'