"Katherine Kurtz - Knights Templar 01 - Temple and the Stone" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kurtz Katherine)

Mentally calculating the distance the two knights had traveled through what was now very hostile
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territory, Serjeant Ruggiero whistled softly through his teeth.

"I cannot believe that Al-Ashraf's hounds didn't sniff you out. What did you do, use some kind of magic
to put them off the scent?"

"Hardly," Arnault said, with an amused side glance at his Scottish brother. "We merely adopted the
example of Saint Simeon Salus."

Ruggiero screwed up his face. "Salus" was the Syriac word for "crazy." The saint bearing that appendage
to his name had been a sixth-century mystic and teacher in the Syrian town of Emesa, where he had gone
about in the guise of a fool in order to minister to the community's outcasts.

"You don't mean to tell me that the two of you went about posing as madmen?" the serjeant said
doubtfully.

Arnault chuckled. "As far as the Mameluke authorities were concerned, we were just a pair of vagrant
lunatics."

"It's true," Torquil chimed in, mossy-green eyes showing a glint of amusement at the memory. "So long as
we didn't get in the way of their horses, they never deigned to notice our existence. If we get back to
Nicosia in time for the blessed Simeon's feast day, I intend to light a candle in his honor!"

"I'll do the same," Ruggiero promised, as he closed the gate behind them. He glanced about, then asked
softly, "Forgive me if I presume, FrтАЪre Arnault, but-what are things like now in Outremer?"

A shadow crossed Arnault's face. "Different from what they were," he allowed. "More than that, I am
forbidden to say, until the Grand Master himself gives me leave."

"Fair enough," the serjeant agreed. "I won't delay you, then."

With a genial nod, the visitors continued on across the courtyard and inside. Once they had paid their
respects to the preceptor of the house and apprised him of their needs, they were quickly supplied with
proper habit to replace their desert garb and a pair of good horses. It being noontime, they joined the
resident community for the office of Sext and the Mass that followed-for Knights of the Temple were
monks as well as warriors-then stayed for the midday meal in the refectory before setting out on the road
that led north toward Nicosia.

For over a hundred years, since the crusading days of Richard Coeur de Lion, Nicosia had been the
jewel in the crown of Cyprus. Throughout that time, its Lusignac kings had played gracious host to
countless pilgrims, prelates, and warriors bound for the Holy Land. But the wrath of Al-Ashraf had
stemmed that tide, transforming Nicosia into a haven for refugees. In token thereof, the noble women of
the city had taken to veiling themselves head to foot in long black cloaks, as a sign of mourning for those
who had been left behind.