will be a small price to pay. I am not undistinguished in terms of beauty – you have told me so yourself. If you are susceptible to my charms, might not other men be?’
Hartelius watched the play of emotions across the princess’s face with awed respect. This one was truly a woman among women. The princess’s lower lip was trembling. Her eyes were beseeching him to hearken to what she was saying, while her heart was breaking at the possibility that he might. Hartelius understood only too well, after the months of intimacy they had shared, just what her words were costing her. She was willing to sacrifice everything for him. To barter her honour for his life. The least he could do was to offer her the same consideration. To return her sacrifice and make things right for her again.
He cupped her chin in his hand. ‘There is one way, perhaps. One way that you might be protected from the evil I have done you.’
‘You have done me no evil, Hartelius.’
‘From the evil, then, that I have brought down upon your head.’
‘And how is that? Speak. Please. Do not leave me hanging like this.’
Hartelius lowered his head. It was as if he feared being overwhelmed by the sheer weight of the words he was about to utter. ‘Very well then. I do as you suggest. I order the captain to set me ashore at Beirut. But I take the Holy Lance and the Copper Scroll with me when I go. Also these private letters from the king, your brother, to von Drachenhertz. This would formally exonerate you from any possibility of lèse-majesté . You could say, too, that in the absence of any priest in our party to safeguard you, I forced myself upon you. That you had no choice in the matter. That you were entirely in my power. That you succumbed to me for your own protection.’
‘But no one would back that up. My servants. My handmaiden. Your Templar knights would—’
Hartelius shook his head. ‘Nobody credits what servants or handmaidens say. And my Templar knights will not be staying aboard. They will be coming with me. When they discover that the Copper Scroll, the brotherhood’s most precious artefact, is being bartered to von Drachenhertz simply in order to get him to embark on a fourth Crusade, they will not hesitate. This I can promise you.’
‘I do not believe you. They would not turn against their king.’
‘They would. Believe me. There are secret reasons why I know this to be true.’
‘What secret reasons? You are saying this just to placate me.’
Hartelius sighed. The acuteness of Elfriede’s mind could sometimes be a hindrance, not a help. ‘There is something you must understand. Something you must swear to keep to yourself.’
The princess nodded. Her eyes held the first faint vestige of hope. ‘I swear. I swear it on my love for you.’
The force behind her words almost caused Hartelius to falter. To go back on what he was about to suggest. But he knew that he must not. For her sake he needed to be firm. ‘The issue of King Solomon’s legacy was the driving force behind the formation of the Templars seventy years ago. And it is still the driving force behind each and every one of our actions. Each Templar feels that he and his brothers are the direct heirs of Solomon on this earth. Our formal title is Pauperes Commilitones Christi Templique Salomonis – ‘The Poor Fellow-soldiers of Christ and the Temple of Solomon’. Only in our case the word Christi – Christ – does not refer specifically to Jesus.’
‘But that is blasphemous.’
‘To some eyes, perhaps. But it is true nonetheless. The word Christi , according to our usage, is taken from the Greek word khristos , meaning the ‘anointed one’, which is, in turn, taken from the Hebrew word mashiach , meaning Messiah. And our Messiah is not, and never was, Jesus Christ. Our Messiah is John the Baptist. The first anointed. The one who baptized Jesus. The one who Herodias, through Salome, ordered slain. And the new Messiah – the one foretold by
Hartelius watched the play of emotions across the princess’s face with awed respect. This one was truly a woman among women. The princess’s lower lip was trembling. Her eyes were beseeching him to hearken to what she was saying, while her heart was breaking at the possibility that he might. Hartelius understood only too well, after the months of intimacy they had shared, just what her words were costing her. She was willing to sacrifice everything for him. To barter her honour for his life. The least he could do was to offer her the same consideration. To return her sacrifice and make things right for her again.
He cupped her chin in his hand. ‘There is one way, perhaps. One way that you might be protected from the evil I have done you.’
‘You have done me no evil, Hartelius.’
‘From the evil, then, that I have brought down upon your head.’
‘And how is that? Speak. Please. Do not leave me hanging like this.’
Hartelius lowered his head. It was as if he feared being overwhelmed by the sheer weight of the words he was about to utter. ‘Very well then. I do as you suggest. I order the captain to set me ashore at Beirut. But I take the Holy Lance and the Copper Scroll with me when I go. Also these private letters from the king, your brother, to von Drachenhertz. This would formally exonerate you from any possibility of lèse-majesté . You could say, too, that in the absence of any priest in our party to safeguard you, I forced myself upon you. That you had no choice in the matter. That you were entirely in my power. That you succumbed to me for your own protection.’
‘But no one would back that up. My servants. My handmaiden. Your Templar knights would—’
Hartelius shook his head. ‘Nobody credits what servants or handmaidens say. And my Templar knights will not be staying aboard. They will be coming with me. When they discover that the Copper Scroll, the brotherhood’s most precious artefact, is being bartered to von Drachenhertz simply in order to get him to embark on a fourth Crusade, they will not hesitate. This I can promise you.’
‘I do not believe you. They would not turn against their king.’
‘They would. Believe me. There are secret reasons why I know this to be true.’
‘What secret reasons? You are saying this just to placate me.’
Hartelius sighed. The acuteness of Elfriede’s mind could sometimes be a hindrance, not a help. ‘There is something you must understand. Something you must swear to keep to yourself.’
The princess nodded. Her eyes held the first faint vestige of hope. ‘I swear. I swear it on my love for you.’
The force behind her words almost caused Hartelius to falter. To go back on what he was about to suggest. But he knew that he must not. For her sake he needed to be firm. ‘The issue of King Solomon’s legacy was the driving force behind the formation of the Templars seventy years ago. And it is still the driving force behind each and every one of our actions. Each Templar feels that he and his brothers are the direct heirs of Solomon on this earth. Our formal title is Pauperes Commilitones Christi Templique Salomonis – ‘The Poor Fellow-soldiers of Christ and the Temple of Solomon’. Only in our case the word Christi – Christ – does not refer specifically to Jesus.’
‘But that is blasphemous.’
‘To some eyes, perhaps. But it is true nonetheless. The word Christi , according to our usage, is taken from the Greek word khristos , meaning the ‘anointed one’, which is, in turn, taken from the Hebrew word mashiach , meaning Messiah. And our Messiah is not, and never was, Jesus Christ. Our Messiah is John the Baptist. The first anointed. The one who baptized Jesus. The one who Herodias, through Salome, ordered slain. And the new Messiah – the one foretold by
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