Faithful Dead Read online

  ‘It was a gift of rare generosity,’ Josse said.

  ‘It was. But the King was advised by his magus that he should not let the Eye entirely out of his sight, for it was ever possible that the people of Judah might one day use it against its former owner.’

  ‘That would have been hard, when it was King Cyrus who had given it to them!’

  ‘Indeed. But when necessity drives, a nation will take what steps it must to survive. The magus, who looked into the hearts of men and could understand them with a rare clarity, told King Cyrus what to do. “The Eye must be watched,” he said, “in order that its whereabouts are ever known, as are the uses to which its powers are being put.” He proposed to the King that two men be appointed Guardians of the Stone, and he suggested for chief Guardian a man he knew of and trusted. This man was an astronomer trained by the greatest of the Babylonian star-gazers, one Enil of Sidon; he had a young nephew, who was also his apprentice, who could fill the post of the second Guardian.’

  ‘And the King agreed to this?’

  ‘With alacrity. The Guardians were appointed and informed that, under Persian law, their post was to be in perpetuity, passed from father to son or, failing that, uncle to nephew or grandfather to grandson.’

  ‘A woman was never to be a Guardian?’

  The dark man looked almost affronted. ‘Certainly not. The great unseen forces of the supernatural are not for women.’

  How little you know, Josse thought. But he said nothing.

  ‘And so it came about,’ the steady voice went on, ‘that the Eye of Jerusalem was hidden away deep within the heart of the Temple of Solomon, safe, unused, almost forgotten, and the Guardians had little guarding to do. But they kept the tradition alive, each generation impressing on the next that theirs was a royal appointment and that it was to last forever.

  ‘In time the Persian Empire fell, just as the Babylonians had fallen to King Cyrus. This time, it was a young general from Macedonia who led the invincible army, and this Alexander, like Cyrus before him, was also called the Great. He crossed the Hellespont and challenged Cyrus’s descendant, King Darius, defeating him and going on to conquer Phoenicia, Palestine, Egypt, Babylon, Susa and Persepolis before marching on into India. Nobody can tell how far Alexander’s great wings would have stretched, for he died and his empire was divided up between his generals.

  ‘The land of Palestine fell to the general known as Seleucus, whose successor persecuted the Judeans. Once again, their temple was destroyed. But the Guardians, perceiving the threat in time to take action, removed the Eye by night and took it away to Damascus. And there it stayed, while in the outside world the power of the Greeks diminished and the Romans rose up to take their place, destroying the temple of Jerusalem yet again when the people of Judah rose up in revolt. The Guardians, now many generations removed from their originals, had kept the precious jewel in Damascus. Now no longer sure who they should be protecting from possible misuse of the Eye, they decided that the best thing they could do was to make sure that it went on being ignored.’

  ‘Then how did Mehmed come to have it?’ Josse demanded.

  The dark man gave a faint sigh. ‘Wait, and you shall hear. Soon after the death of their prophet, Jesus Christ, a Christian community had begun to flourish in Damascus. But then Mohammed and his followers, the great and holy founders of the Muslim era, moved from Mecca to Medina in the land known as Arabia, and the city of Damascus was thrust into prominence. It so happened that a young and ambitious Guardian had recently inherited the chief’s post from his father, possibly too soon for the good of either the Eye or himself. He was driven to seek favour with the rapidly burgeoning power of the Muslims, and he offered the Eye to the rich and charismatic head of the Mehmeds. The Mehmeds were an influential family poised for power; the Guardian reasoned that a position in their household would be preferable to remaining in the background and, eventually, becoming lost in one of history’s forgotten backwaters.’

  ‘But he would go on guarding the Eye?’

  ‘It is not thought he considered that, since his aim was, as I have said, to gain favour; although in fact he did continue to be the Eye’s Guardian. However, as he was fetching the Eye from its hiding place and preparing to take it to the Mehmeds, he was overcome by a trance and he received what he believed to be a message. Obeying what he thought the Eye had ordered, he warned the Mehmeds that a day would come when they would have to give up their great treasure in exchange for something that they valued even more. Laughing, heady with the powers of the Eye as described by the Guardian, they took little note.’

  ‘But then along came my father.’

  ‘As you say, along came Geoffroi d’Acquin. Along came a Frankish knight of rare compassion, who saw a terrified child in mortal danger and who saved the boy’s life at the risk of his own. And Mehmed – that is, the man who was head of the Mehmed family at the time – recognised that this was the event that had been predicted when the family first gained possession of the Eye.’

  ‘It was a great gesture, nevertheless, to let the treasure go,’ Josse commented.

  The dark man smiled. ‘Ah, you are as lacking in cynicism as your father,’ he murmured. ‘When the Mehmeds were told that they would one day have to yield up the Eye, they were also told that if they did not give it away when the moment came, its power would be lost to them. Oh yes, they would still possess a pretty and valuable jewel, but its unique abilities would no longer serve them; might, indeed, begin to work against them.’ He chuckled. ‘When he heard of Geoffroi’s brave deed and how he had saved Azamar, old Mehmed spent many long hours trying to calm fevers and test for poisons deliberately put in wine goblets. And a hapless servant almost lost his arm while Mehmed waved the Eye over the deep cut he had just made in it, in a fruitless attempt to staunch the bleeding.’ His eyes, still full of amusement, met Josse’s. ‘Mehmed did not give the Eye to your father until he was absolutely certain that it was of no more use to him.’

  Feeling a strange sense of betrayal, as if the conclusion to a favourite folk tale had just been changed for something far less satisfactory, Josse said, ‘The little boy survived into adulthood, I am told.’

  ‘Azamar? Yes, he grew up to be a fine man, who has begotten many strong, healthy sons. He has been in his time a mighty warrior and, now that he is gradually becoming too old – and too precious – to wield a sword, he is a valued advisor to those who carry on the fight. He has the ear, they say, of Saladin.’

  Has he, indeed? thought Josse. No wonder Prince John had made that somewhat bitter remark about King Richard and his knights not being entirely happy about Geoffroi’s having saved the boy’s life.

  But the dark man was speaking. ‘. . . has not forgotten Geoffroi d’Acquin,’ he said.

  ‘Eh? Who hasn’t?’

  The stranger sighed. ‘Azamar. Who else?’

  Josse wiped his hands over his face. He was finding it difficult to maintain his concentration, and he was sure there were questions he ought to ask, mysteries that could be solved, if he could only get his brain to work properly.

  One matter, however, stood out clear, even to a man as weary as Josse.

  ‘You killed the Prince’s spy, and the young lad who was servant to Galbertius Sidonius.’ At this the stranger’s head shot up, and there was an expression of surprise on his face. ‘Oh, we worked out who was responsible for both deaths,’ Josse said fiercely. ‘You would not deny your guilt, would you?’

  ‘No, no.’ The man shook his head impatiently, as if he wished to brush the matter aside and proceed to something more interesting. ‘The first man I caught up with on the road up out of the river valley. I guessed that he was on his way to steal the Eye, for I had tracked the bearer of the Eye to England and knew him to be nearby. I killed the thief before he could carry out his intention, and I stripped the body and hid it in the bracken.’ He shook his head again, this time wonderingly. ‘I did not know then that the Abbey and the shrine lay so near, or I should
have concealed the body more efficiently, somewhere that it would never be found.’

  ‘But it was found.’

  ‘I know, I know. You must believe me when I say that I am not usually so careless.’

  He only regrets that he did not hide the body well enough, Josse realised, with a tremor of alarm. He does not rue the fact that he murdered the man; not one jot.

  ‘And the boy?’ he asked, careful to keep his tone neutral.

  ‘The boy stole the Eye from his dying master, who was bringing it to you, Josse d’Acquin.’ The man sounded outraged. ‘He did not get very far before his conscience began to bother him, but by then he was in mortal dread that the monks from the Abbey would hold him responsible for his master’s death. He hid out in the fields and the hedges, seeking shelter in barns and outhouses when the weather grew chill. He had no food, and began to grow sick. He was making his slow way back here, I think to return the Eye and give himself up, when I killed him.’

  ‘But he was innocent!’ Josse protested. ‘He had no hand in Sidonius’s death – the old man was gravely ill, and it was his cough that killed him!’

  Again, the look of surprise crossed the stranger’s face. Then he said, ‘Innocent? The boy had stolen the Eye! I took it from him; it is quite safe, you must not concern yourself, and––’

  ‘You murdered him!’ Josse cried. ‘Although the mark on the front of the throat was faint, it was noticed. What was it? A blow with the side of your hand?’

  ‘Yes.’ The man looked almost proud. ‘Such skills the Guardians have ever been taught.’

  ‘Aye, you’re a Guardian.’ Josse nodded. ‘I guessed as much. You followed my father and the Lombard from Outremer to Acquin––’

  ‘Not I,’ the man put in. ‘My father and his brother. They watched over the Eye while your father kept it, at Acquin, until my father died of a sickness that ravaged the region. Then, although I was quite young, I took his place. With my uncle I followed the man you call the Lombard back to his home. I was for killing him and returning the jewel to your father, but my uncle overrode me.’ A scowl crossed the dark face. ‘He said that the Lombard would repent of his theft, if we were but patient. He was right, but patience was not my way and I found the waiting cruelly hard.’ He shrugged faintly. ‘So we kept watch over the Eye there in the land of the Lombard until he came back north to Acquin, seeking Geoffroi, your father. We followed him, and then my uncle died. He was weak and old, and the long journey proved too much for him. The Lombard led me on from Acquin to England, eventually here to Hawkenlye.’ He said the word slowly and carefully, as if unaccustomed to it. ‘Although I did not know that he was heading here. I had imagined he would try to find you straight away. I lost him, briefly, which was when I killed the man who came hunting the Eye. But then I found him again. The rest, you know.’

  Josse nodded slowly. ‘Aye. And I guessed much of what went before. You followed Galbertius Sidonius for much of his life, you and your father before you, and––’

  The man held up his hands as if in protest. ‘This is what I cannot understand!’ he said, puzzlement clear on his face. ‘The man known as the Lombard, your father’s friend who stole the Eye from him and then tried to bring it back, you refer to him as Galbertius Sidonius!’

  ‘Aye, I do,’ Josse agreed. ‘He stayed with my family at Acquin, and my brother reported that his servant addressed him so.’

  ‘No, you are wrong,’ the stranger insisted. ‘The lad may have spoken the name, but he cannot have used it when referring to his master.’

  There was a pause then, with simple dignity, he said, ‘I am Galbertius Sidonius.’

  19

  Initially, Josse was certain he was lying, although he could not have said quite why. Leaping to his feet – the dark man got up too – he said, stupidly, ‘You can’t be.’

  ‘I am,’ the man said with a smile. ‘I am descended from Enil of Sidon, the original chief Guardian. And I am the last of my line for, although I have bedded many women, not one have I impregnated. I leave no son to follow me.’

  ‘There will be no more Guardians?’

  The dark man shrugged. ‘Unless there is a distant cousin of whom I am unaware, no. And, even if such a man exists, he is not here by my side, where he could be taught the role which destiny has decreed he must follow.’ He sighed. ‘But, in truth, what is the point? The Guardians existed to protect the Eye’s first owner – indeed, the man at whose behest it came into being – from those to whom he gave it, lest they turn on him and use the jewel’s powers against him. It was so simple then. But now? The Eye belongs to you, Josse d’Acquin. Whom should I protect, that you might threaten with the Eye’s magic?’

  ‘I will threaten nobody,’ Josse said fervently.

  ‘No?’ Sidonius cocked an ironic eyebrow. ‘Do not be so sure. Power once in a man’s hands can have a corrupting influence, and only the very strong, the very wise or the very good are immune.’

  ‘But––’

  ‘Supposing I were to change my mind and try to take the Eye back?’ Sidonius continued, ignoring the interruption. ‘Suppose you believed I meant you harm?’

  ‘I do not – I would not know how to use the Eye, either to protect myself or to attack you,’ Josse said.

  ‘You do not know yet,’ Sidonius murmured. Then, cheerfully, he said, ‘But have no fear. As I said, I mean you no harm. It would be difficult for me to hurt you, for not only are you the Eye’s rightful owner, which in itself gives you a certain protection, but you also have . . .’ He trailed to a halt, eyeing Josse speculatively. ‘I do not know what it is,’ he admitted. ‘It is as if – as if someone else has put a guard around you, so that you are shielded from what small magic I can work and could turn against you.’ Before Josse could even raise an arm to defend himself, the dark man had thrown up both hands and was pointing them straight at Josse’s heart. There was a sound like the crackle of pine resin on a fire, and Josse thought he saw a flash of blue, there and gone before he had time properly to register it.

  Sidonius, rubbing his hands together as if they pained him, said, ‘There. You see? Someone is looking after you. Somebody quite strong.’

  It must be Dee, Josse thought. And he seemed to be doing a good job.

  Sidonius was again reaching inside his cloak. This time, he brought out what appeared to be a box made of silver. It hung on a chain which, like the box itself, was tarnished and worn. Sidonius touched the tiny fastening, and some hidden mechanism sprang into action. The lid of the box flew open. Sidonius lifted out what was within, then threw the silver box on the ground as if it were no longer of interest.

  Compared with what he now held up, it wasn’t.

  And, before Josse’s fascinated eyes, the Eye of Jerusalem swung gently in the light from the fire, its heavy gold surround glistening and the sapphire sending out sparks of brilliant blue, as if it were winking at him.

  He held out his hand and Sidonius placed the Eye in it. Closing his fist, Josse felt the stone’s weight. For a brief instant he seemed to see his father; Geoffroi was smiling, nodding, as if to say, there! It was worth the wait, wasn’t it? Then Geoffroi faded, and there were just the two of them in the glade.

  Sidonius gave a low bow, muttered something in a language Josse did not understand, and then bent to roll up the sheepskins. Watching him, Josse said, ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I am packing up,’ Sidonius replied. ‘My task here is done. There is no need for me to stay.’

  It crossed Josse’s mind that there was actually quite a pressing need; this man had killed, twice, and should be brought to justice.

  As if he had read the unspoken thought, Sidonius laughed softly and said, ‘You would detain me, Josse d’Acquin? Ask me meekly to accompany you to that fool of a sheriff and give myself up for murder? Ah, but I was following orders. I am a Guardian of the Eye and, unlike my uncle, I carry out my duty instantly and without prevarication. I am commanded to kill those who remove the Eye of Jerusalem from
its rightful owner.’

  ‘Was that in King Cyrus’s original instructions?’ Josse demanded. ‘You paint the picture of a just man, a man keen to redress the wrongs done by others. Do you really believe he would sanction the murder of innocents?’

  ‘Innocents,’ Sidonius repeated thoughtfully. Then: ‘You may be right; I do not know.’ He shrugged. ‘I cannot in truth say what he would do. It was all so very long ago.’

  He had tied the sheepskins to his satisfaction and now walked across to his bundle, picking it up as if it weighed no more than a dead leaf. Then he glanced inside his shelter, presumably checking to see if he had left anything behind. Once more coming to stand before Josse, he made a deeper, more formal bow.

  ‘I take my leave of you, Josse d’Acquin,’ he said. ‘Use the Eye wisely. It can do great good, you know. Adieu.’

  And, without a backward glance, he strode off into the trees. Josse made to follow him; he put out one foot and would have started to run, only he seemed to have been turned to stone. His limbs would not obey him.

  So he stood there and watched as Galbertius Sidonius walked away.

  He was soon lost from sight – had he some magic, Josse wondered, which, besides rendering a would-be pursuer immobile, made him blend with his surroundings? – and, after a while, there was the faint and distant whinny of a horse.

  Sidonius was, presumably, mounting up and riding off through the secret paths of the forest. And Josse was perfectly sure he would never see the man again.

  Whatever enchantment had rendered Josse so helpless was not long lasting. Quite soon after the echoes of Sidonius’s passage had faded, Josse found that he could move again.

  The Eye of Jerusalem was still in his hand. In the dying light of Sidonius’s fire, he looked at it again. This time, without the tension of confrontation to distract him, he was able to study it in a calmer frame of mind. And, staring into its deep blue heart, he saw its eye staring back at him.