Читать книгу Order In Chaos - Jack Whyte - Страница 15

"Iwas surprised to find Sir William in agreement with me.” Jessie Randolph spoke in Scots, and Tam Sinclair, walking ahead of her, was taken by surprise at her unexpected words and looked back over his shoulder at her.

“How so, my lady?”

“How so? Because he obviously does not like me. Is he like that with all women? Ill mannered and surly?”

Tam stopped walking and turned back to stare at her for a moment, and she stopped, too, waiting for his answer. Then his mouth crinkled into a wry grin and he bobbed his head once. “Aye, you could say that. In every conversation I have heard him have with a woman in the last twenty years, he has been exactly like that. Ill mannered and surly soundin’.”

“Is he a woman hater, then? I would not have thought so before speaking with him.”

Tam’s grin grew wider. “No, Lady Jessica, Will’s no woman hater.”

“What’s wrong with him, then? You said he is like that with all women.”

“He’s just rusty, my lady. Very rusty. What I said is he has been like that with every woman I’ve heard him speak wi’ in twenty years. But you’re the first and the last of them.”

“The fir—? In twenty years? That is impossible.”

“Aye, so you might think, but it’s far frae impossible, lass. It’s both possible and true. The last woman I heard Will Sinclair talk to was his mother, Lady Ellen, and that was on the day he left home for good, dreaming even then of joining the Order…thirty years ago, that was. Will avoids women. Always has. He’s fanatical in that, and his life as a Templar monk makes it easy to do. It’s an extension of his vow o’ chastity, no more than that. And he’s very conscientious.”

They were still standing in the long passageway outside the Day Room, and now Jessie looked both ways along the empty hall, for no other reason than to give herself time to adapt to this staggering piece of information. Tam began walking again, and she followed.

“He is a monk. I can accept that. But he does not live in cloisters. He is a knight, too, so he moves about the world.”

“Aye, he travels constantly, especially since this business wi’ the Governing Council. But can you no’ see that that’s how he keeps himsel’ chaste? He never stops working, except to pray.”

“Then he must be a saint…an anchorite.”

“No, my lady, he’s a man. He’s no smooth-tongued troubadour, I’ll grant ye that. If it’s charm and courtly wit you’re lookin’ for, you’re lookin’ in the wrong place in Will Sinclair. But he’s the finest man I know, and I’ve been wi’ him since the outset. He was just a lad of sixteen when he left Scotland, and he went directly to the Holy Land. Spent years fighting there and was one o’ the few men to survive the siege o’ Acre.”

“He was at Acre? I did not know that. Were you there, too?”

“Aye, I was.”

“How did you get out?”

“Wi’ Will. I was his sergeant. He went nowhere without me.”

“But he escaped, and you with him. How did that happen? Everyone else in Acre died, did they not?”

Tam Sinclair heaved a deep sigh. “Aye, Lady, that they did…Not everyone, exactly, but close to it.”

“So why not you and he? How did you manage to escape?”

“He left under orders, lass. Ordered out, wi’ Tibauld Gaudin, who was commander of the Temple at that time—second in command there to the Marshal, Peter of Sevrey. The Marshal, y’ unnerstand, is the supreme military commander o’ the Order in time o’ war.”

“Who’s who is not important, Tam. Why was William Sinclair chosen to be saved?”

Tam shrugged his wide shoulders. “Because he was. He was chosen. It’s that simple, lass. Gaudin the commander liked him. Will had saved the commander’s life a couple o’ times, in skirmishes wi’ the Heathen. Besides, Will was very good at what he did—a natural leader and a bonny fighter. When Gaudin got his orders to take the Treasure o’ the Order into his charge, an’ to take it away to safety on one of the Temple war galleys, from Acre to Sidon, he wanted men around him he could trust. Will was the foremost o’ all o’ those.”

“And you took the Treasure to Sidon?”

“Aye, in Asia Minor.”

“And what then? Where did you go after that?”

Tam shrugged again. “We came back here to Christendom, and Will began to be moved around from one garrison to another, always being given higher rank and more and more responsibility, in Scotland first, then in France, Spain, Italy, Cyprus, Spain again and back to France. And then, a few years ago, he began studying for his advancement to the Council of Governors. If honor and loyalty, trustworthiness an’ bravery mean anything to ye, then ye’ll never find a greater store o’ any of them than in this one man.”

She stopped again, and turned to face Tam. “You have heard me voice my opinions on honor and bravery to the others. They are manly virtues, and therefore to a woman’s eyes they are useless and futile. Find me a woman who wants to be married to a dead hero and I will show you a woman who is unhappily wed. Dead men provide no comfort or love in a harsh winter or any other time.” She paused. “Mind you, I find there are living men who offer little more, and it strikes me that your Will Sinclair is one of them…I can only pray his manners will improve when we are aboard ship. It is a long passage to Scotland, and I would not enjoy spending all of the time with a great boor.”

The tone of her voice had changed, losing its quick and urgent intimacy, and Tam responded to the difference, becoming more formal. “You’ll be on different ships, my lady. You will be wi’ the admiral, and unless I miss my guess, Will’s place will be wi’ the vice-admiral, Maister de Berenger.”

Jessica Randolph nodded. “Aye, that makes sense. The galleys are war ships, as Charles said, not fitted for comfort or for idle passengers, so you are probably right, we will be aboard separate vessels, you and I. Now take me to my women, Tam, if you would. I’ve kept them waiting long enough.”

“We’re nearly there, my lady. Come away.”