Alamut by Judith Tarr Read Free Book Online Page B

as like as man and mirror.”
    â€œHow not? We’re twinborn. That’s a power in itself, the old wives say.”
    â€œAre you both left-handed?”
    Aidan laughed, startled, beginning to like this soldier-monk. “Both of us. How did you know?”
    The blue eyes glinted. “No magic, my lord. I watched you in hall. You should learn to eat with your right hand if you intend to go among the infidels. They take very unkindly to a man who does not.”
    â€œWhy is that?”
    â€œA teaching of their Prophet. He ordained every smallest action. The right hand, he decreed, shall be for eating and for cleanly things. The left is for wiping oneself, and for giving the devil his due.”
    â€œDo they all fight left-handed, then?”
    â€œOh, no,” said the Hospitaller. “War is holy, as holy as prayer. The blood of infidels is their Eucharist.”
    â€œWhat makes you think that I should care for an infidel’s mummery? I came to kill them, not to dine with them.”
    The Hospitaller’s eye rested on the cross that Aidan wore, blood-red on black: the Crusader’s sign and seal. “A most devout sentiment. You’d make a fine Templar.”
    â€œWould they take me?”
    â€œThe Poor Knights of the Temple of Solomon will take any who hungers after Saracen blood.”
    He did not, Aidan noticed, say any man. “You of the Hospital, no doubt, are more discriminating.”
    â€œLess zealous, perhaps. Our concern is not only with war but with its aftermath. We tend the sick and the wounded; we do what we may to bring the infidels to the light of the true faith.”
    Aidan began to pace again. The Hospitaller followed, shorter by a little but long-legged enough, though he walked lame.
    â€œA wound?” Aidan asked him.
    He shrugged, deprecating it. “A small one, inconveniently placed. I mend.”
    â€œThere’s been fighting, then?”
    â€œThere’s always fighting. Syria has a new sultan. We pacted with him for a truce, but — ”
    â€œYou pacted with a Saracen sultan?”
    Gilles laughed, not quite in mockery. “So shocked, prince? Did you think it was all holy war without respite? The kings of Jerusalem themselves have done more than swear truce with their enemies; they’ve been known to enter into active alliances, pitting Saracen against Saracen and taking the side of the stronger.”
    Aidan shook it off, enormity though it should have seemed to an innocent from the farthest west. “Kings, yes. Kings do whatever they must. But the Church is the Church, and Saracens are unbelievers.”
    â€œThey are also men, and they surround us. We do as we must. We hold the Holy Sepulcher. We will do anything — anything at all, short of mortal sin — to continue to hold it.”
    Aidan nodded slowly. That, he could understand.
    â€œAnd you,” said the Hospitaller. “Have you come for holiness, or for the fighting?”
    â€œBoth,” Aidan said. “And for my kinsman who went before me.”
    â€œYou loved him.”
    That was presumptuous, from a stranger. “He was my kin.”
    There was a silence. Aidan paced in it, but slower now, calmer.
    â€œMasyaf,” said Gilles, “abuts, and some would say is part of, a fief of the Hospitallers.”
    Aidan whipped about.
    Gilles backed a step, but he went on steadily enough. “It stands near the demesne of our fortress of Krak. Its master has, on occasion, been persuaded to acknowledge our dominion.”
    â€œWhat are you telling me?”
    The Hospitaller had paled, as well he might. “The Sheikh al-Jabal is not a vassal of our Order. He pays us no tribute, as the Templars have forced him to do, and thereby won his enmity. Yet there may be somewhat that we may do, to win reparation for this murder.”
    â€œWhy? Are you responsible for it?”
    â€œGod knows,” said Gilles, “that we are not. Our way