A Templar's Apprentice (7 page)

“G
ood morn to ye, Andrus.” The Templar allowed the cat to jump from his arms then resumed his work with the charts.

“Good morn, Alexander. A strapping day. The air is clean and pure. It stimulates the soul.” As I knew our conversation of earlier was not about to continue, I turned my attention to the newcomer.

“How is it that ye're different?” I asked the Templar. “The Brothers, as opposed to the Templars?” They seemed alike and yet not quite so.

“Andrus is a Cistercian monk. Our beliefs, as Templars, an' our religious practices are derived from theirs. The Templars are, however, a knightly version
o' their order, the soldiers o' Christ. Both orders are sworn to poverty, chastity, an' obedience,” the Templar said.

“Chastity?” It was not a word I knew.

“Aye. We are not allowed to marry or keep the company o' women.”

All women,
I wondered? It was not something I'd given thought to. Lasses, so far as I could see, were naught but an ache to the head anyway, but what about his mam? I didn't ask as he had continued.

“The Templar Order has a very specific set o' rules an' ordinances that are ours alone. But they are not to be shared with the uninitiated. Know only that we are a military order trained in all aspects o' warfare.”

Now he was getting to it, I thought. “So ye use swords, bows, an' knives,” I said. “An' train to joust an' fight mounted?”

“Aye. All of those things, but 'tis no' for tournament that we train. 'Tis to protect God's people.”

“Aye. Ye defend those who choose to make the pilgrimage from the bandits on the roads.” I knew that much from my cousin. “But ye do get to fight,” I said, stabbing forward with an imaginary sword. Suddenly I remembered his daggers as they landed in the man's chest and brow. My gut heaved.

“Aye, we fight, but we give praise to God in equal
measure. We share many of the abbeys o' the Cistercian Brothers an' in return see to their safety.”

Brother Andrus nodded and helped himself to a bannock. “It suits both, ye see.”

The Templar continued. “Together we study mathematics an' astronomy, which is the patterns o' the stars an' sky. We map an' navigate the sea an' land.” He gestured to the table. “These maps an' charts represent two hundred years o' travel.”

I approached, interested. Da did all of the plotting, but it was to places he'd been scores of times. “Here is the first place we must travel.” He pointed to a large mass of land on the map before him. “The land o' the Saxons. Ye've not been much beyond the villages?”

I shook my head no.

“Ye're far beyond your boundaries now,” he said.

“How long did I sleep? How far have we traveled?” I asked, excited by the prospect of what I saw before me.

“It matters not. We've many days ahead. Ye've missed nothing.”

From the moment we'd met, he had been serious and vigilant. Now, as I looked up to see him deep in a series of mathematical computations, he seemed at ease. He took pleasure from the work of divining our direction. That much was obvious.

“What o' the crew?” I asked. “Seamus said the captain an' first mate were killed. Do ye have enough men to operate a vessel as large as this?” The ship to me was enormous. It would take a crew of fifteen or more to see to the daily duties of sailing her.

“Aye. We lost two,” he replied. “But we will make do.”

I was quiet then, thinking of the faceless crew. I would know them, sooner or later. As the Templar said, we had a long distance yet to travel. I thought then of the trip, of being away from my home and my family. I'd wanted to get away for so long, but now that I had, I suddenly felt small and frightened. My fingers closed over the hourglass on the table. Its sleek shape seemed molded to my palm.

“'Twas not long ago that the only way to gauge sea travel was by the glass in yer hand,” the Templar said.

“Aye? I know naught o' gauging distances.”

“I will take my leave now,” said Brother Andrus with a smile, scooping up a bit of herring on the way. “When Brother Alexander has an eager ear, long lessons inevitably follow.”

The Templar didn't acknowledge his remark. “The instruments that ye see here are o' a new breed o' navigation, Tormod. An' this” — he hefted the object aloft — “is the greatest o' all. 'Tis called an astrolabe.”

It was beautiful in a way I was unaccustomed to. “'Tis old,” I said, running my fingers along the timeworn brass.

“Aye. The Arabs have been using them for many years. This was a gift from a friend.”

An Arab friend.
I didn't know any Arabs or anyone who knew any for that matter.

He held the astrolabe by the small loop at its top. The strange instrument was a series of discs held through the center with a peg. The top layer was cut away and I could see the disks below.

“What do ye use it for?” I asked, lifting it. I turned it in the light spilling in from the window. It made strange patterns on the floor.

“Astrolabes can show us how the sky looks at a specific place an' a given time. If ye know where ye are, an' where ye want to go, then figuring out how long it might take to get there is simple.”

The ideas he so easily proclaimed were enough to draw me readily into the discussion. We spent much of the morning at it. We spent much of the day at it.

I didn't hesitate in the asking of the many questions that came to mind. I sensed in him the mind of a teacher, one who would welcome the chance to share the knowledge he had accumulated. His passion for sea travel
was strong. I took all he offered, absorbing everything I could.

W
e met on deck at midday. The ship was moving along at a brisk clip. The winds were high and the weather was cool. Seamus was working the sail.

“Seamus. Take the wheel.”

They switched positions. “Ye need to grasp the rudiments of sword work in battle,” he said, advancing on me as if we had been in the middle of a conversation. “I'm sure ye know what 'tis like in theory, but let's see how ye'd fare in reality.” He effortlessly flipped a sword to me on the outstretched blade of his own. It lifted off the deck like it was sailing on the wind. With no other choice, I reached out to catch it. Immediately my arms were dragged directly down to the deck and I tilted precariously. “Hah.” His laugh was full of mirth.

“Right. We'll use something a bit lighter.” He pulled a wooden practice blade and targe from the pile of equipment he'd had me bring up from the lower deck. I'd assumed it was for Seamus and himself. I was so very excited knowing now that it was for me.

“First then, stand straight, right foot advanced an' keep the center of yer body over yer left foot. Use yer shield for balance an' yer sword for defense.” He stood behind me and fired off a rapid number of commands. I struggled to grasp them.

“We'll use this time to yer advantage, Tormod. As an idle mind is the devil's playground, sloth is an insult to God.” With little warning he came at me. “Lift yer sword,” he shouted, bearing down. I did, and my blade met his. The resounding crack echoed through my bones. “As I come from yer left, swing yer shield up an' take the blow. Aye. Get yer body beneath it an' solid up your legs.”

Thwack.
This time I felt it all the way down my backbone. I heard Seamus laugh and turned to see several of the crew had joined us on deck.

“Bring up yer sword to balance yer body as if it was swinging to and fro.” I turned as he bid, and the flat of my practice blade met his. Instantly it skittered out of my hand, leaving my fingers stinging.

“Good. Still, ye have to keep ahold o' it.” His words were encouraging, though his blows had little mercy. Again and again he had at me. For my part I stood and countered, working the various drills as well as I might. But it was far from the simple task it seemed. I had a great deal to learn. “We've got to work those muscles. Ye'll not have sword arms in a day, but this is the day to get them on their way.”

Near on a candle mark later I collapsed onto the deck, winded, sweating, and aching in every part of my body. The Templar handed me a tankard of water. He was not even winded. “Enough?” he asked.

I hated to admit it. “Aye.”

He clapped me on the shoulder. “Ye've done well for yer first day.” Then turning, he called, “Seamus. Yer turn.”

I struggled to make my burning muscles respond. I was sore from head to toe with welts in more places than I cared to admit, but I could hardly wait to see Seamus take his share of the beating, so I hurried.

“Watch an' learn,” Seamus said as he moved away.

I made a mocking face behind his back and took the wheel.

The Templar and Seamus continued where I'd left off, but used real swords and shields. The onlookers who had watched me with interest but little comment swiftly came alive. Much as it bothered me, I had to admit that Seamus was good. His movements were smooth, unlike my jerking scramble to cover my tail hodgepodge. The Templar had moved from mentor to aggressor in moments. Together he and Seamus moved in a lethal, beautiful dance. The clash and slide of blade on blade, the clink of the flat, edge, and tip of the swords each had a different tone and volume. As
I watched them dodge and turn, spin to avoid confrontation, and add strength and power when there would be a direct hit, I was amazed. Would I one day fight that way?

As my body cooled and theirs grew more overheated, I became aware of an odd difference in the normal thrum of the world around me. The accelerated beat of their hearts, the feel of their blood pounded inside my head. I could almost read each of their moves and intentions at the same moment they had them. The sun came from behind a cloud, glinting on the Templar's sword, catching me straight in the eyes. I flinched and turned away, but the light followed.

The flame of a candle lit the space behind my closed eyes. The fragile edge of a parchment glowed and a word appeared where none had been.

Sound rushed back into my ears, and I had to grip the wheel to keep from falling. My tunic was soaked clear through, though it hadn't been quite that way when I'd finished sparring.

The Templar and Seamus had taken a break. Andrus appeared at my side with water. “Are ye well, Tormod?”

He urged me to drink as the Templar approached.

“Prayers begin shortly, Tormod. I suggest ye hurry or ye'll not have time to change.”

My legs wobbled and I could barely lift my arms.
Prayers, again.
We'd done them twice already this morning. It was fair worse than Sunday at the kirk. But he hadn't asked me to join them. He expected it.

The kneeling was the worst, especially with a sore body. My lips spoke the words that I had known since near on birth, but my mind was far away. The more I thought of the recent vision, the more I was convinced the edge of the map I'd seen was the map I had carried, the map that had been taken from me at the abbey. But in the candle's flame a word appeared where none had been before. I had the exact shape of it strongly in my mind.

“Tormod.” The Templar's voice cut into my musing and I realized that I had stopped reciting my prayer. I looked over sheepishly and, at his scowl, continued. It seemed like days before we finished. My knees were trembling as I struggled to stand.

“Come with me,” the Templar said.

What did I do now?
I followed him anxiously to the forecastle. He said nothing until we were alone. “We have to do something about the visions ye're having.”

I'd not expected this topic.

“Ye had another at the wheel.” I was amazed that he would recognize this.

“Aye,” I said. “I saw the map.”

“Was that all?” He took up an ewer from the sideboard, poured out some water, and offered me some. I took it gratefully and dropped to a stool by the table.

“I saw a flame that was held beneath the parchment an' a word was illuminated. I canno' tell ye what it was, for I know not how to decipher letters well, but I know the shape of it.” I took up a quill and dipped it into the inkpot near by. “Can I?” I asked motioning to a bit of parchment he had been scratching on.

“Aye. Go on,” he said.

I took my time, but drew the shape that I knew to be letters. He watched avidly. “July is what it means.” He looked at me oddly then, his mind working behind his eyes. “Ye told me that ye could no' read, an' the Abbot said that the soldiers took the parchment from ye. How is it that ye remember a map that ye didn't see?”

I assured him quickly. “I canno' read, but on the way to the preceptory I dropped the scroll an' the map fell out.”

He didn't say more on the matter, but I could tell that I wasn't entirely free of this subject. “We'll have to do something about this lack o' reading ability as well. Our journey will be a long one. There's no reason we shouldn't put the time to use.”