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the rocks and broken up. Makeshift shelters were created and whilst it was frightfully cold he allowed no fires until two details of watchers were set on both sides of the harbour to ensure accuracy and that no enemy would come. Only then were the fires lit. In the coming days they would move by sea almost 20 miles, carrying all the timber and bracing from the destroyed ship, and build a fort on Rhode Island. That way St Clar knew anyone coming for him would think he had moved inland and go searching the wrong area. They would be out by miles.
    …
    Seven weeks had passed and St Clar had come to realise there was no party chasing them. This had become their new home. It was now after Christmas and a bitter cold had crept in. It was much colder than the west coast of France he had come to know well, yet the men and women made do. All in all they were very well provisioned, De Molay ensuring that his best fleet was always ready to sail. For weeks now he had a detail of his most trusted knights with Baron Dion Chancery watching his every move and not letting him overwork. Chancery had no idea who he was, of course. He simply felt he had been saved as a friend of the Templars from the king. He had in fact become quite gruff from all the attention, wanting to put in his fair share of work.
    It was lunchtime and St Clar looked forward to the heated soup made by the women. Whilst the ground was hard, the Templars made do and had bountiful fish and even had hung several deer, found in a hunting trip the day before. There were far from starving and althoughit was hard, and their hands and feet infinitely cold, they made do. Gone was the typical dress of knights and everyone did the best they could wrapped in blankets, skins and wool that had been stored on board for just such an occasion.
    St Clar had no sooner sat down with De Odes that he noticed something amiss.
    “Where is Perceel and his group?” St Clar enquired of his second in command.
    “He asked to be excused for lunch, they wanted to get some real hunting in before the weather closes in. They said it would soon be too cold and the deer would be gone, my lord.”
    Looking at his second with a slyness and cunning of years of warfare St Clar said: “I don’t trust him. How many have gone? There seems few here yet we are all sitting down like lame ducks.”
    De Odes’ senses were awakened to his old friend’s knowing.
    “Over a dozen of them… they…”
    De Odes swallowed his soup, not noticing the burn as it cascaded down his face. Blood ran from his arm. He heard the arrow but felt it at the same time. There was a barrage of arrows from the trees. St Clar had dragged him down all in one motion, which possibly saved his life. Around him De Odes could see women and men being cut down as they sat, sharing some laughter just moments before.
    Then a mighty roar like a lion came from the trees and ten men burst forth with the leader Perceel racing for St Clar.
    “Take Chancery… and go, old friend,” yelled St Clar rolling into a full standing position as Perceel was almost on him. Perceel avoided De Odes and sent a swift blow with his sword at St Clar who had picked up a log as defence. Men were being cut down everywhere, women too. Some ran for the woods and those that could find a weapon picked it up and rushed at the intruders. Yet they weren’t intruders. They were a group of eighteen-strong knights under the leadership of Perceel, a dark one, obviously promised riches and lied to about what was going on. These people had been Templars, and their aides, friends and shipmates onthe journey so far. Confused, most did not know why they were in this strange land. They had been told it was Baron Dion Chancery’s fault and he had paid them for ridiculous crusade. They had been told that St Clar had kept the money and along with everyone else had planned to kill them and take their share. The story had worked as these men fought three to one against their brothers in