The Crusader's Robe

Written by William Shepard, Published on 6/12/2009

There was finally a smooth west wind that plumped the sails of our vessel and carried us beyond what the rowers could have done on their own. When the order came to stack oars, relief was felt beyond the galley itself. Regardless of what people say, it is a difficult thing to hear those cries and moans. And, I think, it rather takes away from our civilizing mission on these Crusades. Or, maybe I worry too much.

Anyway, this journal will be safe from prying eyes. Except for Captain Fosters – he’s the only one on the crew who can read. I would doubt that many of the passengers had either the capacity or the interest to read -- certainly not Sir Francis Walters, the leader of this expedition! He prides himself on leaving that sort of thing to Morgan Grant, his clerk. I don’t like him much, I must confess. Imagine taking a first name! His clerk surely puts on airs. Only the quality needs that distinction, in this year of Our Lord 1204.

After so many adventures, it was good to finally board a solid English ship once again, thanks to our expedition leader, Sir Francis Walters. He had sent mounted messengers, and arranged for us to be met at Zara along the coast, not far from our victory a year or two ago. Now at least it was safe for an English ship to sail in these waters. I wonder how long that will last.

Some may say that our quest was a failure in any event, since we never got to Jerusalem, or anywhere near it. Others say we accomplished our purpose, which was the settling of accounts in Constantinople. Still, it is bothersome that we sacked the greatest city in Christendom, and left the heirs of Saladin alone! That Italian Doge, Enrico Dandolo, was responsible. He had enemies, and we needed his shipping. But I am getting ahead of myself.

From Zara we had sailed due west, then taken in fresh supplies at Sicily, paid for with good English gold (taken from the treasury at Constantinople, I must admit). We rounded the sea-lanes past Gibraltar, and were now headed due north, towards England and home. It is odd to think that all of this happened just yesterday.

We were taking back to England, for installation at Canterbury Cathedral, a precious and ancient robe, said by some to have been worn by saints of the early church, and called for that reason the Robe of the Saints. It was plain, without fancy embroidery of any sort. It was believed that this precious robe, wound around the body, could cure any wound. That was what made it different from the other robes, both plain and festooned with precious gems. These ornate robes had been taken as well, so that they could be better safeguarded in England, of course.

When the chest was first placed on board, it was opened by Godefroi, a villein used for heavy work (requiring muscles and no brain). We all got a glimpse of the treasures contained therein. Each robe had a paper that gave its history and dignity. Those Byzantines were certainly scholarly, I’ll give them that.

All of the robes were then replaced by Godefroi in their proper order, and stored in the one massive chest that was stowed in the ship’s hold, and watched over by Godefroi. In this case, he was supposed to frighten away any intruders who might be curious about the chest. He clearly failed in his task, and under the lash, gave the following information.

His supper had been placed on the floor of the hold as usual, but his candle had guttered out, and he didn’t see who had served it. He smelled the food, relit his candle, and ate and drank. Shortly afterwards, he had fallen fast asleep. When he woke, some hours later, he felt drugged. He saw that the chains on the chest were unfastened, and fearing theft, he had summoned the guard. In the presence of Sir Francis Walters, Morgan Grant and myself, the chest was opened. Morgan Grant looked at each cloth robe that was in the chest, one by one. One robe was missing: the Robe of the Saints.

We knew one thing, of course, that the Robe of the Saints was still on board ship. We had not docked since the theft. That information, however, did us precious little good, since the plain robe looked like any other ordinary robe, of which there were dozens on board. But the real one, of course, was of great value. Sir Francis asked me to look into the matter -- discreetly, of course.

Smelling the mug, I could detect a peculiar odor, bitter and unpleasant. It smelled like that overpowering herb that the enemy uses to induce dreams and reduce pain when surgery is needed. I’ll say this for the enemy in the privacy of this journal - I’d rather be treated by one of their surgeons than by one of our own!

Then all through today I discreetly, as requested, traced the movements of everyone on board, both the crew of 12 and the 41 passengers. The galley rowers I excluded, as they were locked into their galley room, even when not rowing. It would have taken a revolt for them to roam around the ship, and that had not happened.

In the end, nearly everyone, including myself, had kept company at the time that Godefroi was given his supper. So everyone could prove, by someone else, his innocence. That included myself, I am relieved to note. Everyone except three people, that is: Captain Fosters, Sir Francis Walters and Morgan Grant.

Captain Fosters told me that since it was a rocky sail in the early evening that he had stayed in his own cabin. “You have no idea how inconvenient it is to use a peg leg in a storm, m’boy, and I hope for your sake you never find out!” he said.

Morgan Grant spent most of the evening in private prayer. A devout man, he confessed to me that he was terrified of stormy weather at sea, and he prayed that the ship would ride out the storm.

Sir Francis looked at me with scorn, and with rum on his breath, said: “I got drunk, that’s what I did - that’s what anyone with a grain of sense would do in a storm at sea, you blockhead!”

“That’s all right, Sir Francis,” I said. “I know who stole the Robe of the Saints. And I am sure that with persuasive methods, you will soon have it back where it belongs, with the other robes in the chest.”