the-secret-crusade-oliver-bowden

see in de Sable’s eyes that maybe the King had his doubts. Perhaps he
was even inclined to believe the word of the Assassin over that of the
Templar. Altaïr held his breath.
‘It is a difficult decision,’ replied the King. ‘one I cannot make alone. I
must leave it in the hands of one wiser than I.’
‘Thank you.’
‘No, Robert, not you.’
‘Then who?’
‘The Lord.’ He smiled, as if pleased to have come to the right
decision. ‘Let this be decided by combat. Surely God will side with the
one whose cause is righteous.’
Altaïr watched Robert carefully. He saw the look that passed across
the Templar’s face, de Sable no doubt recalling the last time they had
met when he had easily bested Altaïr.
Altaïr was recalling the same encounter. He was telling himself that
he was a different warrior now: last time he had been handicapped by
arrogance, which was why he had been so easily defeated. He was trying
not to recall the knight’s great strength. How he had picked up and
tossed Altaïr as easily as hefting a sack of wheat.
De Sable was remembering that, though, and he turned to King
Richard, bowing his head in assent. ‘If that is what you wish,’ he said.
‘It is.’
‘So be it. To arms, Assassin.’
The King and his right-hand men stood to one side while the
remaining members of the bodyguard formed a ring around Altaïr and
the smiling de Sable. Unlike Altaïr he was not already battleworn and
weary. He wore armour where Altaïr had only a robe. He had not