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the Anima Templi: the Soul of the Temple.
    Will was not quite so enthralled by the seneschal’s rousing speech. He found it hard to get on with the domineering man who, outside the Brethren, was responsible for overseeing the general administration of the Temple in the East, with particular regard to judicial proceedings within the order and the punishment of knights. The seneschal had never forgiven him for his rebellion five years ago and made it plain that he still believed Will should have been imprisoned for life for his treacherous conduct. Admittedly, it had been a grave misuse of the Anima Templi’s resources that cost one man his life and almost destroyed any chance of peace between the Christians and Muslims. But Will felt he had apologized enough and had more than proved his loyalty to the Anima Templi’s cause in the years since. If he were able to turn back time and undo the illegal contract made with the Order of Assassins for the murder of Sultan Baybars, an attempt that failed and resulted instead in the death of one of the sultan’s officers, then he gladly would. But as such a thing was impossible, he could only hope the seneschal and the other members of the Brethren would one day forgive him. He didn’t want to continue paying for his mistake for the rest of his life.
    “For now, let us open this meeting,” finished the seneschal, looking to Everard, who had been gazing distractedly into the fire. “We have much to discuss.”
    “Indeed,” said the priest, seeming to come to life. His pale eyes flicked to Will. “As Brother Campbell returned to us this morning with news from Egypt, I suggest he begin.”
    Will stood up straight as everyone turned to him. He locked eyes with the seneschal, who stared back, hostility carved into his chiseled face. “Several months ago, Brother Everard asked me to arrange a meeting with our Mamluk ally, Amir Kalawun, to discover the Mamluks’ plans for the coming year. Twelve days ago I met with Kalawun’s man on the frontier of the Sinai Desert.”
    “Forgive my interruption, Brother Campbell,” said one of the younger knights tentatively, with a glance at the seneschal, “but might I ask why you didn’t speak directly with the amir?”
    “Kalawun feels it is too dangerous to meet with any of us face-to-face,” said Everard, before Will could answer. “That was the condition under which he agreed to work with us when James Campbell first secured his support.” The priest didn’t notice Will tense at the mention of his father. “It is a reasonable and prudent provision. As Baybars’s chief lieutenant, Kalawun is far too conspicuous to travel abroad unnoticed, and any absences would be difficult for him to explain. He has been using this particular servant as his go-between since he became our ally. If there were to have been any breaches in this confidence, I believe they would have occurred by now. Continue, brother,” said Everard to Will.
    “The Mamluk camp has been relatively quiet since Sultan Baybars signed the ten-year truce with King Edward. For the past few months, they have mostly been concerned with preparations for the forthcoming marriage of Baybars’s son to Kalawun’s daughter. A move,” added Will, looking at the newer members, “that we and Kalawun hope will bring him closer to the heir to the throne, over whom he continues to exert his influence. From what I was told, Baybars has no immediate plans to attack our forces. He is currently more focused on the Mongols. There are reports that they are encroaching on the Mamluks’ northern territories.”
    The younger knights and the sergeant were nodding, looking pleased.
    “This is good news, brothers,” said Everard, watching them, “but we must remember how fragile the balance that now exists is. Many truces have been made between our forces and the Muslims over the years. Many have also been broken. It may seem a blessing that Baybars’s eye is turned from us, but any war is