Masyaf
October, 1191
October, 1191
The journey was mostly in silence during the daylight hours. Gilbert tried to memorize the landscape, but the days had grown shorter without his noticing. Not to mention sitting on a horse with his hands tied was extremely uncomfortable.
The nights were spent around the fire for a few hours' rest. During this time, Gilbert would let his thoughts wander. What had he gotten himself into? he asked himself. Was it a wise decision to lay his life in this boy's hands? He had given him his word, but these last years had taught him that promises could be very fragile.
Nevertheless, he decided on the third night, sooner or later his temper would have overcome his reason and he would have done something awfully stupid, worthy of a nice public hanging. This way he could at least see something of the country so foreign to him before he had to meet his savior.
"Why're you here?" Lex asked on the fourth night. They were camped at the base of a chain of mountains, having covered a good many miles that day. Both were saddle sore and the young man's tunic, which Gilbert finally noted was not entirely gray anymore but a gray tunic with a white overshirt, was a travel-stained brown.
"Here? You promised me Lebkuchen, boy, or has the sun addled your brain into forgetting that?"
"No, not here," he groaned, gesturing all around them. "I mean here in this land at all."
"I'm here for my younger sister." Gilbert looked at him. "Do you remember, Spaetzlein, how you said that the Assassins do not absolve anyone of their sins? I came so that hers would be." Lex flinched, then frowned slightly, brows furrowing.
"Why? What'd she do?"
"She took her own life." The color drained from the lad's face. "A fine man had given her a child and didn't want to accept his responsibilities, and before they could bring him back and force him to do so, my mother found her..." The man broke off, tears streaming down his face.
Lex moved over beside the tall German, dwarfed as much as with Jameel as he settled an arm around his back.
"Ja?" he prompted softly.
Gilbert swallowed and found his voice again, "It broke my mother's heart. She feared for my sister's soul, naturally, so when my cousin, Gebrant, said that by joining the Templars the Pope would save my sister's soul, I took the chance." He looked at the boy and ruffled his hair gently. "I swore an oath to them when I was no older than you, Junge, to spare my mother anymore grief. Even if I'm not entirely convinced on the matter and my brother thinks I'm bare bones in the desert, I'm here. Do you understand now?"
Lex nodded and stared into the fire until he fell asleep. The Templar smiled to himself and covered the boy with his cloak. At least his German is improving. He wasn't entirely sure of his daily spoken Arabic, but the lad had gotten better in the nights they'd been spending together.
On the fifth day, the horses halting roused the German from his usual, moody thoughts.
"This is what you call Masyaf, isn't it?" He looked at the huge village through the gateway, the huge castle throned on the mountain above. Impressive, he had to admit. Impressive that it had been done and impressive that no one had found it yet. At least, no one alive. It was the city of the ghosts for him. The boy nodded.
Lex tugged at the reins and led them through the gates. Dismounting at the stables, he helped Gilbert down and led him on through the village. The guards and villagers stopped as he walked passed, the Novice half their size leading a giant Templar. Gilbert felt hostile eyes on him as he was led through the village and up the slope of the mountain. He didn't blame the villagers, really. They must have heard, as he had, of the fell deeds his Order had done. So much for the safety and peace so propogated by the Templars.
The young Novice swallowed, uneasiness growing a lump in his throat as the bend in the path that led to the barbican came into view. He gasped as he was picked up from his feet and deposited heavily back onto them. Gilbert nearly stumbled and fell as the boy leading him was brought roughly away, looking at a tall, hooded figure in white. Very tall, really. Gilbert could look him in the eye--no, not quite right. Gilbert could look him in the eye if he looked up just a bit.
Was this the boy's father? he wondered.
"What's going on? Why did you bring this Templar here?" Jameel asked, keeping his hands where they were on Lex's shoulders. The boy seemed to be all in one piece, if in need of a bath. Both the Templar and the young Assassin looked it, really. He spied the ropes and raised a brow, an almost disbelieving noise escaping him. "Is he your prisoner?"
"Not a prisoner." Lex shook his head. "Just appearances. Hiding him in plain sight. He wants to join us." Jameel frowned, fixing the Sparrow in his gaze.
"What reason did he give to leave his own Order?"
"He said if we could prove the Templar cause wasn't just he'd forfeit his oath to them."
"And you believe him in this?"
"He only swore the oath to save his sister's soul." The older man folded his arms in thought.
"Fine." He settled a hand on Lex's head and ruffled his hair. "Take him to Malik. He's in the library."
"Where's Altair?"
"Gone on a mission. Malik serves in his stead." The Red Owl rolled his eyes as Lex started laughing. "Yes, yes, he has sent the Novices running laps around the tops of the walls. You won't miss anything, though. He's bound to do it again soon enough." He pressed a hand to Lex's back and pushed him toward the slope again. "Go on. And for all our sakes, get yourself and that man to the baths after!"
Malik looked up as the Sparrow moved into the room. Behind him looked to be one of the biggest Templars the Hawk had ever seen.
"Malik Al-Sayf, Gilbert von Bremen," said the boy. "He wants to join us."
"This man wants to become an Assassin." Malik snapped the book shut. "And you led him to our home, Novice."
"Well, yeah. I don't think Novices can make other people Novices." Malik eyed the boy after the smart remark. The mission was successful, or so it seemed, if he had come back with a recruit or prisoner.
"You won't be a Novice for much longer. I hope you're prepared to lose that finger of yours." The Dai blinked as Lex curled his fingers down against his palm. Obviously, he was one of the few not willing to lose any digits. "You're still going to be a Novice to me, Sparrow."
"Everyone's a Novice to you, Ya Malik." The two shared a smile at the joke until Malik waved him on.
"Go on then, and don't prove my trust misplaced. It would be a shame for Altair to have to mount your head on a spike just because of your new Novice. There would go a second Grandmaster." Lex laughed and shook his head, leading Gilbert down the hall to find a set of robes for him. As the man searched through the tunics and pants for ones that fit him, he ran back and looked at Malik.
"My Novice?"
"Your Novice." Malik smirked as Lex turned silently and walked back to the room. The two men came trooping back later and out the door into the training yard, where Jameel waited against one wall.
"Well? What did he say?"
"Gilly's staying."
"Gilly?"
"Gilbert von Bremen," Lex indicated the German who was studying the various training implements littered around the yard. "It's a mouthful. Gilly's easier." He swallowed. "Hey, Jameel, Malik said that...I'm not going to be a Novice for very much longer. That I should be prepared to lose my finger..."
"You'll be getting a Hidden Blade of your own, be able to have your own Novices." Jameel was grinning so hard it looked like his face was going to be sore the next morning. "You've been promoted!" He leaned down and held Lex's face between his hands, kissing his head and ruffling up his hair.
"Jameel, Jameel, that's great and all, but I'd like to keep my hand whole!" Lex stammered, half-laughing and half-panicked.
"That's only when you're an official Assassin," Jameel explained as they began to walk along the path toward the tower.
"So, what, when I'm a Master schalack goes my friggin' finger?" Lex snapped, paling.
"A little before Masterhood, actually." Jameel smirked at the sour look the little Journeyman was giving him. "What?"
"So, I can go outside Masyaf on my own, teach Novices of my own, and look forward to getting my finger cut off. What else is new for me?"
"Your own stock of throwing knives and a sword."
"Oh." Lex stopped, looking up at Jameel. "Shouldn't we be heading toward the armory then?" Jameel looked around.
"Yes, we should." The two looked at each other and laughed, heading back down and into the keep. Lex began filling his belt with throwing knives. Jameel handed him the longswords, helping him test their weight until Lex finally settled on one and sheathed it.
"How do I look?" Lex looked up at him. Jameel reached over and tugged his hood up by the beak. "Hey!" He pushed it back down, laughing as Jameel drew him close again.
"It's your move, little bird." Lex looked over his shoulder as the Red Owl walked out through the robing room. Jameel returned the look. "Whenever you're settled in with your Novice. And yes, I did keep up our little game."
Lex hurried out to help Gilbert get settled in and acquainted with everything. When he landed on the ground in front of the dais, he found Desmond already hard at work with the man, the two throwing a few light punches as they moved around in the training ring.
The young Journeyman watched until they finished moving about, his eyes fixed on the marks on the German's back where there was a bevy of fresh bruises and the marks left by a whip's kiss.
"Really, guys? Really?" Lex asked, leaning against the fence. Desmond looked at him and laughed.
"Yeah, really. We're showing off for all the guys like you." The bartender pulled his robes back on and threw a lazy punch toward the younger time traveler's head. Lex evaded easily.
"Please, you look like an overcooked hot dog." He turned his attention to his Novice. "How're the robes treating you?"
"Sehr gut, Spaetzlein," said the German. The fabric of his new attire weighed only lightly on his skin; the robes felt much better than the stifling armor he had been wearing up to that point. Desmond took a seat on the fence and watched them. Gilbert finished strapping on his belt and continued, "So, now I would be very thankful if you could give me some explanation of what I've gotten myself into since I haven't got the slightest clue."
"You're my Novice now. I'm going to be the one teaching you the Assassin ways." Lex made a face as Desmond chuckled. "Yeah, I got promoted. What's so funny about that, Horse?"
"Did you just call me Horse?" The Eagle looked at him.
"Haystack Boy sounds better? Maybe you'd be outside of Masyaf if you did something besides sleep." Lex clapped his hands together, making Desmond and Gilbert both jump. "Well, we'd better start your training then. First thing's first: let's test your fear of heights!" He grinned and went up the small rise to the tower. Gilbert watched as he scurried up and waved to them from the top. "Komm her!"
This wasn't what the Novice had expected, but he moved after his mentor and climbed up to the top. He was glad for spending his childhood in the harbor in Bremen where the sailors had given him the odd lesson on how to scramble up the rigging. He was sure he didn't look as elegant with his movements as the Sparrow, but Gilbert made his way up in a rather short time.
He lifted a brow as he finally stood at the top as if to say "What next?"
"Remember those three simple tenets I mentioned before?" Lex walked in a circle around him. "The first tenet of our Creed: do not spill the blood of the innocent. Second, work with discretion. Third, do not compromise the Brotherhood." He stopped, facing Gilbert. "What is the first tenet?"
"Do not shed innocent blood." He took a step back.
"The second?"
"Work with discretion." Another step.
"The third?"
"Do not compromise the Brotherhood."
"Good. And what do you need to accomplish all this?" The German looked puzzled. The boy closed his eyes and leaned back, back into the open air. Gilbert lunged forward, but the Sparrow had already disappeared over the edge of the plank he'd been standing on. The Novice peered over the edge.
Lex was dropping, completely relaxed. He flipped twice before landing feet first in the haybale that, from the height he was at, was very far below. "Have a little faith, Gilbert!" The man could have sworn the young man was grinning like a madman. "Komm her jetzt! Spring dich!"
The wind was blowing into the German's face, but when he began to look down, fear held him in place. He didn't want to fail, not this first test. What did the boy say? Just have a little faith? He looked up. He had made it this far, although there had been several times death had not been far away from him. So, if this was what was destined for him, he could not fail in it.
Closing his eyes, he thought back to his childhood again, remembered how he and his brother Tancred used to jump from the tops of the ships into the sea again and again. He took a breath and made that last step.
The falling felt like being totally free from the earth itself. Now I understand why he referred to birds when speaking to me of these men. When he managed to scramble from the bale of hay, he had a broad grin fixed on his face.
"That was great. I haven't felt such a thrill since I was a boy. Can we do that again?"
"Sure." Lex headed off and waited for his student at the top of the wooden watchtower.
"You mentioned this Order has something to do with birds, didn't you?" Gilbert asked once he took a seat beside Lex. His mentor was swinging his legs in the air below their perch.
"Yeah. Everybody seems to have a thing for them here. I'm the Sparrow. The man we ran into before outside the keep is the Red Owl." He slipped off the seat and into the hay below. "And Malik, the man from inside, is the Hawk."
"And the Red Owl is your mentor?" Gilbert sat up and began picking hay out of his long hair as Lex leaned back his heels, arms folded.
"Yup." He balanced on one foot. "How'd you guess?" The former Templar scratched his beard and followed after the smaller man as he made his way toward the barbican once again.
"Hm. Just had a a feeling and made a guess." Gilbert followed Lex up to the training ring. Desmond nodded to him on the way inside, Jameel on the way out, mouthing, "Desmond can read!" Lex pulled a shocked face, shaking his head and laughing silently as he climbed inside the ring and drew his sword. He leaned back on his heels again and looked at the German, tapping the blade against the side of his foot.
Gilbert went to the training rack and selected one of the swords there, stepping over the fence into the ring. He straightened his back, then gave a silent signal that he was ready. Lex danced forward, then back as Gilbert swung at him. He ducked as another pass was made for his head, twisting aside from a thrust.
Lex stilled, waiting. The longsword was heavier in his hands than his daggers, throwing him off balance. Gilbert's left hand clenched around his sword's hilt. Time to try something different. He stepped forward, feigning a blow. When the Sparrow evaded the blade, Gilbert took the moment to change hands.
The second blow met the Sparrow's sword, metal resounding on metal, and the force behind it as well as his awkward stance with the blade threw the small Assassin onto his back. Lex stood back up, dusted off his robes, and then shifted his stance, placing one foot farther back, half-crouching as he held the blade as if it was sheathed. Gilbert's frowned at the odd stance.
The lad unleashed a quick flurry of blows. Gilbert blocked the majority of them, but staggered when the form suddenly shifted; Lex was using the moves Jameel had shown him now, moving like the other Assassins, stronger, deeper slashes. It changed again when Gilbert began to find his footing once more. Now he was faced with the swordplay of the Crusaders themselves!
Driving the smaller man back, the Novice sought to drive the Journeyman to his knees. Lex gave way, causing Gilbert to stumble forward. The blonde man jerked himself backward as the sword slashed in an upward arc toward his belly, only to double his backpedaling when it was swung hard toward his chest sideways. The American wasn't sure what Jameel would have done if he'd seen him using the weapon like a baseball bat and golf club, but it was an effective enough decision, and scared the hell out of his opponent, or at least startled him. Lex couldn't tell from the wide eyed look of the German's eyes.
Where did he learn to fight like this? Old Sibrand was right to fear these men if even the boys who're just barely out of being Novices can fight like this, he thought as he pushed his mentor away again. Gilbert moved forward, only to grunt as he fell on a knee, the toe of Lex's boot connecting with the back of it.
"Got yourself a terrible student I would say, Lex," the tall German said when he stood up again.
"What, are you kidding?" Lex shook his head and grinned. "You're great already, man. I was on the--" He stopped when he took a direct, focused look into the man's eyes. His left eye was a milky white in the center. His mouth fell open, mouthing soundless words until he managed, "Blind. You're blind in that eye." Gilbert shook his head.
"Nay, it works, but it is much weaker than the other." He shrugged. "It hasn't bothered me much since I mainly did my patrolling at night and stood guard in the daytime." He grinned. "At least I am still pretty good against a boy with two good eyes, though I fear not very useful for this career now."
Lex tore a strip from his tunic and handed it to the man.
"Put that over your good eye."
"Why shall I do this?" asked Gilbert, feeling foolish as he obeyed his teacher's orders, tying a knot fast behind his head.
"To make sure you're strong on your bad side." Gilbert sighed. He had learned to adjust since his eye was injured by a splinter at ten, but this dimmed sight was annoying. Lex picked up his sword and began to hum a tune to himself. He tapped their swords together. He tapped again, harder this time, adding the ring of metal to the tune.
The fight began in earnest. The Novice quickly picked up on his opponent's humming, metal striking metal repeatedly. They traded blows, Lex's humming slowing until it had stopped completely. The only song that played was that of their swords. Finally, Lex broke away with a final parry, catching Gilbert's arm.
"We'd better get cleaned up." The Novice stripped off his blindfold and followed his mentor to the baths. The two quickly scrubbed themselves clean, clothes and all, and headed back outside. "I'll see you in the morning, Gilly. Get some rest, okay?" Lex said when they were at the barbican again, turning on his heel and heading inside.
Gilbert sighed. Alone again. He looked up as he heard a whistle. The man from before, Desmond, pointed toward the haystack. The German raised a brow.
"There's enough hay for both of us." The other brow rose to join its sibling. "No, not like that!"
Inside, Lex walked down the hall, stripping his shoes and socks off by the time he reached the door. He reached over after a glance at the board and moved one of his knights, pulling off his wet robes and crawling onto the pallet. Fingers twisted into his hair; he reached over and did the same.
The taller man bent his head, kissing him and holding it until they were forced to part for air. Jameel pulled the little Journeyman close as Lex nestled his head beneath his chin.
"Hey."
"Hm?"
"Your move."
