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matter where you travel, you need only look for that banner and you’ll be welcomed as a brother.”
    We entered through the main gate. As we reined up, knights and squires hurried out of the building, calling out greetings. As we dismounted, they began to mingle, talking excitedly with one another.
    “Our order has a commandery like this in most major cities and towns throughout Europe. Any Templar can rest here, train or reprovision,” Sir Thomas said.
    He was interrupted by the approach of a large man with a full beard that hung nearly to his chest.
    “Thomas!” he shouted, striding briskly up to Sir Thomas, clapping him vigorously on the shoulders. He was at least a head taller than Sir Thomas and easily the biggest man I’d ever seen, larger even than Brother Tuck. His arms were as thick as small trees, and his hands were the size of hams.
    “You smell like a sweaty horse and you look worse,” he bellowed.
    Sir Thomas laughed. “Sir Basil, you’ve grown thinner. Surely you’ve eaten since I last saw you?” he asked with a smirk.
    Sir Basil roared with laughter, patting his large stomach. “Aye, once I had words with the cook. The food was barely edible when I first arrived. We Templars fight on our stomachs, and this kitchen was in the most pitiful shape. Worst of any commandery I’ve ever seen. Now it has a larder fit for fighting men—I’ve taken care of that. No more cabbage soup and bread. We have real food now. Meats and cheeses galore! But I’ve grown weary keeping the cook in line!”
    Sir Thomas smiled. “It is good to see you, Brother Basil. Let me introduce to you the newest member of our regimento. This is Tristan of St. Alban’s. He has been living there with the monks, and has joined us to serve as my squire.”
    “Well, well, well,” said Sir Basil. “Monks, you say? Welcome, young Tristan, welcome! A squire to Sir Thomas? Did he not fully explain to you? You can’t be a squire unless you’re serving a real knight! Sir Thomas drinks like a baby camel and fights like a woman. Why, he’s no soldier! In our last battle, I had to lash him to a tree to keep him from running away like a scared kitten. I faced down a dozen Saracens single-handedly while he cowered in the brush. If it’s squire-hood you’re interested in, perhaps you should ride with me. Then you’ll see how a real knight lives!”
    I looked back and forth between them, puzzled. It would seem that they were friends, yet Sir Basil had just gravely insulted Sir Thomas.
    Sir Thomas saw the look on my face and began laughing.
    Then Sir Basil joined in, pounding me on the back. “We’re joking, boy, joking! Why, there is no finer knight than Sir Thomas. You listen closely to him and you’ll grow up to be the Master of the Order! Welcome, lad! Welcome!”
    I’d never encountered someone with such energy. Sir Basil pumped my hand again, then moved off quickly to greet the other knights in our group. His voice drowned out everyone as he moved among them, shouting out good-natured insults.
    Sir Thomas grinned as he watched Sir Basil work his way through the crowd. Then he turned to me. “Well, Tristan, there is much to do. First, you should return the brothers’ horse to the church stables. Then be back here as quickly as you can. We need to get you outfitted. Our ships depart for Outremer soon, and by then we’ll be well into your training. So, off with you now.”
    The church of St. Bartholomew was not far away, and in fact I could see the steeple from the courtyard where we stood. Sir Thomas took his horse by the reins off to the stables, and I turned Charlemagne back toward the gate.
    The sturdy plow horse was tired and moved along without much argument. Dover was alive with activity, and I felt I would never grow used to the noise and commotion. I passed busy shops and inns and shouting vendors in the marketplace. I was assaulted by the smells of cooking meat and smoke from the fires of the blacksmiths’ forges that