Crusade by Unknown Page B

course.”
     
    Later that evening, Guillaume sat at his desk in his chambers. In front of him he placed a prayer book, bound in leather-covered boards and closed with an ornate gold clasp, that he had just removed from his traveling chest.
    For a moment, he didn’t open it, but simply ran his fingers down the cover, feeling the cracks in the leather. He was tired and his head ached. He was rarely ill, and the unusual pain was distracting. He had given a speech in the chapel after the evening office, which had been gratefully received by the men, who were eager to welcome him. Afterward he shared a meal with them in the great hall, but he had wanted to speak with his officials before retiring and his headache had prevented him. Still, it was only his first day. Any discussions could wait for tomorrow. He unsnapped the book’s clasp and opened a dog-eared page.
    Our Father, which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us ...
     
    There was a rap at the door. It opened, and one of Guillaume’s personal guards, a Sicilian with short white-gray hair that made his tanned face appear even darker, entered.
    “What is it, Zaccaria?”
    “I’m sorry to disturb you, my lord, but there is a man at the gates asking to speak with you. He swears he knows you.”
    “Did he give a name?”
    “Angelo.”
    Guillaume’s face changed, subtly, but just enough that Zaccaria, who had worked under him in Sicily for five years, noticed something was wrong. “My lord?”
    Guillaume gestured at the knight. “Bring him to me.”
    When Zaccaria left, the grand master made himself finish the Paternoster, then closed the prayer book. As he was setting it back inside the chest, the door was knocked on again, and this time, Zaccaria had another man with him. At a nod from Guillaume, the knight closed the door, leaving the two men alone in the solar.
    “My lord,” greeted Angelo Vitturi. His dark, handsome face was arrogantly impassive. “I wasn’t sure you would be taking visitors, after your unfortunate welcome on the dockside.”
    “I forgot how fast news travels in this city,” responded Guillaume wryly.
    “It is good that it did, for it alerted us to your arrival.”
    “I’m sure our discussion could have waited a day or two,” responded Guillaume, heading to a table where a servant had placed a jug of wine.
    “Actually, it couldn’t. I am leaving for Egypt.” Angelo shook his head as Guillaume offered him a goblet. “The contact I told you about when we spoke in France, I am meeting him.”
    “Then he agreed to aid you?” said Guillaume, sipping his wine. “I must say I am surprised. I did not think you would be able to turn one of them so easily.”
    “He doesn’t much care for the situation he finds himself in. It was not so hard.”
    “What are you doing here, Vitturi?”
    Angelo frowned at the bluntness in the grand master’s tone. “We wanted to make sure you are set and that nothing has changed.” He gave a small shrug. “Your mind perhaps?”
    Guillaume smiled, as if he found the game amusing. “I would be careful about questioning my word. It is a precious thing. Do not treat it lightly.”
    Angelo noted the danger behind that smile, but it didn’t faze him. “My father and I are simply concerned that everything runs as smoothly as possible. We only have one chance to do this. Have you thought about who you will use to accomplish the theft?”
    “I cannot do that until my position here is established and I have formed relationships with men I can trust. From what you told me, I presumed I had time in which to do this. Is that no longer the case?”
    “The theft itself will not occur for some while yet. You will have plenty of time.”
    Guillaume looked into the Venetian’s eyes, black and predatory as a shark’s,