the-secret-crusade-oliver-bowden

Altaïr turned to follow, scaling the wall of a nearby building, then
making his way across the roofs, jumping from one to another, tracking
the palanquin, which was below him. As it approached the castle gates
he waited, crouching. Then, timing his jump, he dropped on to its roof.
Thump.
The palanquin lurched as the men below adjusted to the new weight.
Altaïr had gambled on them being too tyrannized even to look up – and
he had been right. They merely shouldered the extra weight and walked
on. And if the courtesans inside had noticed, they said nothing either,
and the procession crossed safely over the castle threshold and came into
a courtyard. Altaïr looked around him, seeing archers on the ramparts.
Any moment now he’d be spotted. He dropped off and hid behind a low
wall, watching as Maria was taken from the transport and escorted
away, leaving the courtyard by a small door.
He scrambled up to the roof of an outhouse. He would have to make
his way inside the long way round. But one thing he knew. Now he’d
found her he wasn’t going to lose her again.