“How much did Abdal claim he paid?”
“Three hundred dinars, my liege,” Constantine said.
“That is a paltry amount for such steel.” Baldwin looked away for a moment, as if collecting his thoughts. “Judd,” he called out, and his summons was answered at once by a lanky soldier who levered himself aright from a woven mat beneath a far window, shuttered against the baking heat.
Judd bowed before the king. “My liege.”
“Take possession of Lord Felsteppe’s purse, there on his belt,” Baldwin commanded. “Empty it before us all, and let it be counted and the nature of the contents noted.”
Constantine’s jaw clenched as he saw the panic enter Felsteppe’s eyes and the man’s hand twitch toward the bulging leather packet hanging upon his side.
Judd turned to Felsteppe, his palm out. “If you please.”
Now Felsteppe’s hand did cover the purse, as if trying to protect it. He looked up at Baldwin. “My liege, I am greatly disappointed that you would think I—”
Baldwin interrupted. “Take it off, Lord Felsteppe. Or I shall have Judd do it for you.”
Felsteppe’s bony throat convulsed. He hesitated only a moment more before loosening the purse strap from his belt, his voice trembling noticeably when next he spoke.
“I cannot see how the contents of my purse could possibly incriminate me. It is common knowledge that all men in this country must trade in many currencies. I-I—” He struggled with the knot for a moment, and Constantine thought his fingers must be shaking. He at last worked the strap free and handed the weighty purse to Judd before looking once more to Baldwin, his pointed chin lifted. “I have done nothing wrong.”
Judd turned slightly and dropped to one knee, so that his actions could be seen by both Felsteppe and the king. As he opened the purse, a handful of Templar soldiers rose and drew nearer, not daring to encroach on the scene outright but clearly interested in the outcome of Judd’s accounting.
The tinkling wash of coins on the tile floor was like sudden rain on a roof, and even before Judd began to sort the coins near the pile of weaponry, Constantine knew. He knew from the raises and shadows of the coin faces; the color of the metal; the number of stacks equal in height.
“Three hundred dinars, my liege,” Judd said without emotion. “Two pieces of Chastellet gold; one penny.”
The men gathered outside the circle raised their voices in sudden outrage, and Felsteppe seemed to shrink away from the crowd, turning to face them, backing closer to the wall.
“It’s not as you think!” he cried. He looked to Baldwin, his eyes wild. “My liege, I—”
Baldwin stood. “Clear the chamber!” he shouted, and then looked around at the angry group of soldiers. “Clear the chamber!” The king waited, his chest visibly rising and falling as the Templars streamed through the far door, leaving Felsteppe and Constantine—and the once more oblivious Adrian Hailsworth—alone with Baldwin.
“It’s not as you think,” Felsteppe repeated, then licked his lips, advancing a step toward Baldwin. “These pieces are clearly broken, useless; surely Gerard retrieved them from a refuse heap. I-I—”
“The pieceswerediscarded. Forrepair,” Constantine growled. “Regardless of any excuse you might concoct for your thievery, you cannot deny the coin in your purse.”
“Constantine,” the king warned. He looked back to the accused man. “You understand that every allegation General Gerard has levied against you now has many times more weight.”
“He is a danger to Chastellet, my liege,” Constantine insisted, the words out of his mouth before he could stop himself.
Baldwin looked between the two men with a sigh. “I was to leave for Tiberias on the morrow and I’ll be damned if the pair of you will cause me to shirk my duties.” His eyes pinned Felsteppe. “Youwere to be left in charge of the hold during my absence, but it could mean danger to the fortress or yourself should I leave you unattended—with or without my authority. You shall accompany me to Tiberias.”
Felsteppe’s jaw flexed, his sneer just below the surface of his skin. “As you wish, of course. My liege.”
Then Baldwin turned to Constantine. “Which means thatyou, General Gerard, must continue to attend your duties at Chastellet until my return.”
No; no, no, no.
“Bal—my liege, surely you have forgotten that I was to depart for my home within the fortnight. Am I to be punished for bringing the actions of a thief and a traitor to light?”
“I have not forgotten. Nor do I mean to punish you, Constantine,” Baldwin said, and although he had twice used Constantine’s given name, the king’s tone was still stern. “But what did you think would happen if your accusations were found true? Would you now leave Chastellet in his care?”
Felsteppe’s face reddened further, but he was wise enough not to comment. It was Constantine who felt the fool now.
“What of Hailsworth?” Constantine said, pointing toward the man still hunched over his plans in the corner. “He’s been in residence as long as I. And he’s titled. Surely he could—”
“No.” Adrian Hailsworth did not so much as look up as he called out. “Not a soldier. Don’t care about the lot of you.”
