the-secret-crusade-oliver-bowden

‘He threatened my brothers and what we stand for.’
‘Ah. Vengeance, then?’
Altaïr looked down at the body of Robert de Sable and realized that,
no, vengeance had not been on his mind when he had killed him. He had
done what he had done for the Order. He gave voice to his thoughts.
‘No. Not vengeance. Justice. That there might be peace.’
‘This is what you fight for?’ said Richard, eyebrows raised. ‘Peace? Do
you see the contradiction?’
He swept an arm around the area, a gesture that took in the battle
still raging below them, the bodies scattered about the clearing and, last,
the still-warm corpse of Robert de Sable.
‘Some men cannot be reasoned with.’
‘Like that madman Saladin,’ sighed Richard.
Altaïr looked at him. He saw a fair and just king. ‘I think he’d like to
see an end to this war as much as you would.’
‘So I’ve heard, but never seen.’
‘Even if he doesn’t say it, it’s what the people want,’ Altaïr told him.
‘Saracen and Crusader alike.’
‘The people know not what they want. It’s why they turn to men like
us.’
‘Then it falls to men like you to do what is right.’
Richard snorted. ‘Nonsense. We come into the world kicking and
screaming. Violent and unstable. It is what we are. We cannot help
ourselves.’
‘No. We are what we choose to be.’
Richard smiled ruefully. ‘Your kind … Always playing with words.’
‘I speak the truth,’ said Altaïr. ‘There’s no trick to be found here.’