Free 00 - Templar's Acre by Michael Jecks Page A

In my first battle at sea, I was beaten; in the streets you had to save me. I cannot fight anyone. I am pathetic.’
    ‘You have much skill, my friend,’ Sir Jacques said kindly. ‘But you need to learn how to watch your opponent and anticipate his moves.’
    ‘What, am I to spend my time learning and not fighting?’
    Ivo nodded. ‘There are no great battles to fight yet. Some time soon, perhaps, we’ll have need of more swords. The Sultan Qalawun wants all Christians thrown from this
land.’
    ‘You see, he hates us,’ Sir Jacques continued, ‘and so he should, for we wish nothing less than the denial of all his ambitions: we seek the recovery of Jerusalem for
God’s chosen people, for the Christians. There will come a day when your arm’s strength may lead to the protection of the people of this city. Until then, you must prepare yourself, as
the Knights of Saint Lazarus do, and as the Knights of the Temple do: by practising with sword and lance and knife and mace – until you can wield all weapons to their best effect, to the
glory of God.’
    He stood and rested his hand on Baldwin’s shoulder. ‘Come! You fought well today. With practice, you will fight still better, and be a great joy to all Christians.’

CHAPTER ELEVEN
    It was a few days later that Baldwin met the Templar shipmaster Roger Flor again.
    For the last few days, Ivo had been taken up with business. More horses were needed for the Order, and Ivo was the Templars’ chief trader in horseflesh. He was known, Baldwin learned, all
over the Mediterranean for his fairness, but also for his determination to win a good deal for his clients.
    Well, that attitude was fine in business, but Baldwin thought it made him too easy-going. Ivo was happier to negotiate than protect his own interests, but Baldwin was the son of a knight. He had
a duty to avenge any slur, and the Genoese had gravely insulted him. Baldwin would have his day.
    But not with Ivo’s help.
    Baldwin took to walking about the city in the early morning before the heat began to hammer at the senses. He liked it best just after daybreak, when he would walk to the cathedral to listen
over the hubbub of merchants haggling and children playing to the solemn prayers. The scent of incense lifted his spirits, and in there it was hard to believe the dire warnings from Guillaume de
Beaujeu of an army being raised by the Egyptians to overwhelm the city. God would protect His own. He would not see His last city destroyed, giving His Holy Land to the heathen.
    Walking from the cathedral one morning, Baldwin stood in the sunshine and snuffed the air. There was a fresh breeze from the sea, and he could imagine the waves chopping at the hulls of the
ships in the harbour, the hum of the great cables as the wind plucked at them.
    ‘Master, I am glad to see you once more,’ said a familiar voice, breaking into his reverie. ‘I hope Ivo the killjoy has not completely destroyed your pleasure in
gaming?’
    ‘Master Roger – I am glad to see you,’ Baldwin said, grinning. It was easy to smile at such a welcoming face, especially since Roger Flor was only a little older than himself.
Baldwin felt a ready affinity for him which he could not feel for Ivo. After all, stern Ivo was old enough to be his father.
    ‘What, no Ivo today?’
    Baldwin grinned as Roger made a show of peering high and low in all directions. ‘No, he is at the Temple. He prefers to spend his time counting coins there.’
    ‘Ah, an honourable occupation, I doubt me not. Being a Templar, I’m assured there is no nobler way for a man to spend his time,’ Roger stated, nodding sagely.
    ‘I would prefer to be busy with my sword,’ Baldwin said. ‘I came here to fight the enemies of all Christians.’
    ‘You should be a Templar, then. We exist to serve the pilgrims,’ Roger said.
    Baldwin laughed at that. ‘What,
serve?
With the riches owned by your Order? You’d do better to give money to people so they can afford to