00 - Templar's Acre Read Online Free PDF

heathen.’
    ‘So, of all the thousands who have come here, you think you’re the first to have a pure heart?’ Ivo snapped. ‘Are you truly that arrogant, boy?’
    ‘No, of course, I . . .’ Baldwin faltered.
    ‘How’s your head?’ Ivo asked after a moment, regretting his sudden outburst. There was no need to offend the lad. He had come in good faith to fight for the Holy Land. As had
Ivo himself, all those years before.
    ‘Better, I think,’ Baldwin said, his hand at his temple. ‘Why did they attack us?’
    ‘Your flag. The Genoese hate Venice. It’s always war when they meet on the seas.’
    ‘But both are Christian.’
    ‘Aye. That doesn’t mean they like each other. They’re enemies, and fight when they meet. They’re so keen on trade with the Muslims that they’ll draw swords against
anyone rather than upset their actual enemies. That’s how the Muslims have taken so much land from us.’
    ‘It makes no sense.’
    ‘You think I don’t realise that?’
    Baldwin searched his face, but Ivo gave him no further explanation. So Baldwin gazed instead at the city. ‘It’s beautiful.’
    ‘Acre is the jewel of Outremer,’ Ivo agreed.
    ‘You are English?’
    ‘Yes.’
    Ivo was not forthcoming, and Baldwin turned from him. Looking at the vast port, he felt his soul shrink. The attack on the ship had terrified him, and the blow to his head had jarred his entire
body, making him for the first time fully aware of the dangers of battle. He desperately wanted a friend. Home seemed so far away. He had so much to atone for: Sibilla and her man. The man Baldwin
had killed. That was why he had fled. He had been right to do so, he was sure. Here he could serve God, and hopefully forget his shame. But he still dreamed of Sibilla. Her eyes, her lips, her
warmth and softness.
    He ought not.
    Baldwin felt sure that if he told this stern fighter about his reasons for coming here, he would alienate himself. He was here to join the crusaders and win absolution, and yet seeing Acre for
the first time, he realised its immensity. He dreaded being set ashore alone.
    ‘Is there a place where crusaders go?’ he asked.
    ‘Bars and brothels, usually,’ Ivo said shortly.
    Baldwin felt his hackles rise. ‘I am not used to such places.’
    ‘You’ll get used to them.’
    Perhaps Ivo was not the man from whom he should seek aid, Baldwin thought. He was clearly brutish and ill-mannered.
    ‘Master, I am sorry if I’ve offended you,’ Ivo said. ‘It’s my own bile. I am told I have a melancholy nature. Perhaps they are right. Look, if you’re sure you
want to join them, you’d best go to the cathedral.’ He pointed towards the monastery. ‘It is there, in front of the Temple. You’ll find all the help you need.’
    ‘I thank you.’
    ‘Aye. And godspeed. But don’t expect too much honour and glory here. All you’re likely to find is a coffin – if you’re lucky.’
    Baldwin felt terribly small as he walked the narrow streets, his pack over his shoulder. He must find the cathedral, and learn where he might acquire another sword. He needed
money, too. Ivo was a kindly soul, and had given Baldwin a small leather purse and a few of the local coins so that he might buy food and drink, but it wouldn’t last forever. First, he must
get to this cathedral. It was called St Anna, apparently named for the mother of the Blessed Virgin Mary.
    At the harbourside there were trestles with fresh fish laid out on their boards, and soon he was walking past tables filled with foods he didn’t recognise: spices, nuts and berries, then
cloths of a richness and colour he had never imagined.
    The place was rammed with people. In the narrow streets, it was alarming to be jostled and pushed about by so many – but over his growing irritation, Baldwin was aware of a savage joy. He
was near to where Jesus Himself was born. That was a wonderful thought.
    Baldwin suddenly found his way blocked by a man in a cream-coloured