by D. N. Carter
“What manner of a vessel is this?” Reynald asked, smiling broadly.
For a moment Paul actually saw a man of appreciation. He shook his head quickly and reminded himself this was Reynald.
“I cannot release the second one as it is trapped in the sand. If we were in the water, it is easy to unlock them and they just lower into the sea, but I am afraid you will need to launch her yourselves. ’Tis your decision for you may run into Husam’s ships as they return,” Paul explained as he pulled out the main sail.
“We stand no chance in the desert…and a long walk even if we did survive it…so we shall take our chances on the water,” Reynald explained, still impressed with the boat and how it had fitted into the side of the larger vessel. “’Tis a real shame you are so blinded by your Muslim friends for we could sorely do with your talents,” Reynald said, shaking his head.
Even Gerard frowned, surprised at his comment. Paul looked at Stewart.
“If you sail south, the winds will take you away fast enough from Husam’s fleet that he will never see you. Then cross in darkness. You may hit your shores far enough south to miss any of Husam’s pursuit ships…,” Paul explained.
“We will need water,” Stewart said as he fumbled about beneath his tunic. He suddenly pulled out the Order’s Piebauld standard flag. “’Tis all we stand for…I could not leave it.”
Paul looked at him again. He looked exhausted already, a sadness across his face he could not hide. Quickly Stewart folded the standard flag and put it back under his tunic as Gerard smiled at him almost with pride that he had still been able to keep hold of their standard.
“We have plenty of water we can give you to take. Just make sure you make it and live. And when you do make it…please somehow get a message to me you are alive…please,” Paul asked.
Reynald shook his head and began to push the boat toward the sea. Gerard started to help.
“You get the water and we’ll get this afloat,” Reynald stated and heaved.
Within minutes the boat was floating in the sea, Gerard up to his waist holding her position as Reynald sorted the main sail. Stewart hauled the last of several water bladders on board and turned to face Paul as he placed two more inside. Percival watched on, his face an ashen white and in pain.
“You must leave now before the soldiers return,” Paul said as Gerard climbed aboard.
“Brother,” Stewart said quietly. He hesitated as emotion welled up inside him. He shook his head, lost for words, and sighed.
“Brother indeed,” Paul said back, pulled Stewart close and hugged him. Surprised, Stewart stood motionless, his arms outstretched. Eventually he hugged Paul back.
“Really?” Reynald called out, his tone condescending.
Paul broke away from Stewart and looked at him as they locked arms. No words were needed as Stewart’s expression and his one word, brother, had said it all. Paul patted Stewart and helped push him up into the vessel. Reynald hoisted the main sail, which instantly bellowed out full of wind. As Stewart sat up, he lifted a leather jacket, one of several Paul had thrown inside for protection. He smiled and waved gratefully. Paul stood in the sea up to his knees as the boat rapidly sailed away, Gerard and Reynald not even looking back once.
“Bastards…didn’t even say thank you,” Percival said as he approached. “You realise those Tawashi lot will instantly see the service boat has gone.”
Paul turned to look at him. He was correct of course. Quickly and without a word, Paul removed several water bladders and hauled them up the beach along with some blankets, dried biscuits and a single jacket to keep Percival warm. Percival watched on bemused as Paul entered the vessel, poured oil from the waterproofed lanthorn all over the aft deck, jumped down, struck the flint and lit a lighting stick. He blew it until it burned brightly, rubbed a handful of dried beach grass into a roll, lit that and then threw it into the aft section instantly lighting the oil. Paul stepped backwards slowly as the flames flickered. Paul clenched his fists praying the flames would take hold. Percival came and stood beside him. He knew how difficult this action was for Paul to take, but he also knew it was a necessary one. Percival picked up the half full lanthorn and threw it into the aft section. It smashed and the remaining oil instantly caught light and popped as it burst into flames, catching the remnants of the main sail. Both stood and watched in silence as the vessel slowly at first caught fire. Within minutes the entire vessel was completely ablaze. As the heat intensified and black smoke rose skyward, Paul and Percival moved back up the beach and sat down on the dried grass. Percival rubbed Paul’s shoulders knowing the anguish he was clearly feeling not only for the loss of his vessel but also a deeper concern for his brother. Paul checked the sand to see if their footprints could be distinguished showing more than two of them were there. With the sea washing in and out, most of the footprints had vanished and no one would be able to tell that others had been present. Paul lowered his head into his hands filled with conflicting emotions.
“Well. my friend…thank you…for at least you did not get me killed this day,” Percival stated and winced in pain.
Port of La Rochelle, France, Melissae Inn, spring 1191
“Oh my Lord…so that is how Reynald escaped,” Ayleth remarked.
“He should have killed him when he had the chance for it would have saved thousands of lives later,” the Templar stated, shaking his head.
“’Twas not Paul’s way,” the old man said as he looked at the Templar. “Besides, he had his brother to think of.”
“Well we all know Reynald returned to Kerak but we never knew how he survived that naval defeat, especially when so many of his fellow knights perished,” the Hospitaller commented and pulled a tankard near.
“Now we do,” Simon remarked.
“It was not something either Reynald or Gerard could exactly shout about for they knew if they did, Paul would have been arrested the minute word reached Cairo that he had helped them. But in truth they only remained silent of the fact as Stewart had pleaded with them not too for Reynald did toy with the idea of revealing the manner of their escape,” the old man explained.
“The absolute total shit!” Ayleth remarked, which drew instant looks of surprise.
“What happened when those Towerish soldiers returned?” Sarah asked. Stephan laughed at her incorrect pronunciation.
“Tawashi horse archers,” the old man replied, smiling broadly, trying not to laugh. “As soon as they saw the smoke, they rushed back to the vessel. Percival told them he was cold and wet and had tried to light the lanthorn, which he dropped and the vessel caught fire. They accepted that. With no vessel to guard, the men helped Paul and Percival back to the nearest village further up the coast. The following morning when Husam returned to port, he was very concerned to hear Paul and Percival had not returned and sent out a search party immediately. It was two days before his Mamluk guards located them, by which time a local physician had set Percival’s broken arm…but not before word had been sent to Cairo that they were missing. When word reached Alisha, she remained composed and calm but Nyla fainted. Ishmael instantly volunteered to come and help in any search but Thomas talked him out of that. After Alisha had sorted Nyla, she explained to Arri what had happened, but Arri simply smiled and told her his father was fine and would be home soon. Alisha went to her room and was promptly sick. She cried inconsolably, alone.”
“Oh the poor dear,” Sarah said sadly.
“How long did they have to wait to find out they were still alive?” Peter asked.
“Nearly five days.”
“I think I would have been sick too,” Ayleth remarked.
“Five days. Why so long?” the Templar asked.
“Because there was a lot of confusion and the priority of signalling went to confirming Husam’s victory and the search for Reynald. When Paul finally arrived back at the main port, he was greeted by a pitiful sight of many of the captured knights shackled and on public display in the port’s centre…in the midda
y sun.”
“I know this victory served Saladin well indeed. Reynald was indeed a fool for escalating such a crisis,” the Templar said as he looked at Gabirol.
“Yes indeed. But from the point of view of Saladin, in terms of territory, his war against Mosul was going well, but he had still failed to achieve his objectives and his army was shrinking fast. Taqi al-Din took his men back to Hama, while Nasir al-Din Muhammad and his forces had also left. This encouraged Izz al-Din and his allies to take the offensive against Saladin…so you see Reynald was not the only issue Saladin had to deal with. Husam having sorted out Reynald, for now, enabled Saladin in early April, without waiting for Nasir al-Din, along with Taqi al-Din, to advance against the coalition of Izz al-Din, marching eastward to Ras al-Ein unhindered. By late April, after three days of actual fighting, the Ayyubids captured Amid. He handed the city to Nur al-Din Muhammad together with its stores, which consisted of 80,000 candles, a tower full of arrowheads, and 1,040,000 books. In return for a diploma granting him the city, Nur al-Din swore allegiance to Saladin, promising to follow him in every expedition in the war against all and any Christian forces and repairing damage done to the city. The fall of Amid, in addition to territory, convinced Il-Ghazi of Mardin to enter the service of Saladin, weakening Izz al-Din’s coalition.”
“A very strategic couple of months for Saladin then?” Gabirol remarked and wrote a line in his journal.
“Yes it was. Saladin attempted to gain the Caliph an-Nasir’s support against Izz al-Din by sending him a letter requesting a document that would give him legal justification for taking over Mosul and its territories. Saladin aimed to persuade the caliph claiming that while he conquered Egypt and Yemen under the flag of the Abbasids, the Zengids of Mosul openly supported the Seljuks, who are rivals of the caliphate and only came to the caliph when in need. He also accused Izz al-Din’s forces of disrupting the Muslim Holy War against the Crusaders, stating ‘they are not content not to fight, but they prevent those who can.’ Saladin defended his own conduct claiming that he had come to Syria to fight the Crusaders, end the heresy of the Assassins, and stop the wrong-doing of the Muslims. He also promised that if Mosul was given to him, it would lead to the capture of Jerusalem, Constantinople, Georgia, and the lands of the Almohads in the Maghreb, ‘until the word of God is supreme and the Abbasid caliphate has wiped the world clean, turning the churches into mosques.’ Saladin stressed that all this would happen by the will of God, and instead of asking for financial or military support from the caliph, he would capture and give the caliph the territories of Tikrit, Daquq, Khuzestan, Kish Island and Oman. It was this vow that several of his close supporters and aids would constantly remind him of later. Queen Tamar got wind of his vow and consequently entered into agreements where she promised not to support Crusader forces in the region if he in return promised not to enter into conflict with her nation. This was duly agreed and accepted by Saladin and Queen Tamar,” the old man explained. [89]
“I wish to hear what happened when Paul returned home,” Ayleth asked excitedly.
“Well, emotional as you can imagine…and he had two guests arrive with him,” the old man said as he moved upon his chair to sit more comfortably.
“Pray tell us all, please,” the wealthy tailor said quietly.
“Of course,” the old man smiled.
“Before you do, Reynald and Gerard must have been good seamen to have successfully navigated across the Red Sea. How did they do it?” the Genoese sailor asked.
“Recall when I explained how Kratos detailed the Celtic cross. Reynald himself was well versed in its practical use as well as general navigation and the vessel had two on board. Stewart was also taught by his father so between them, their biggest concern was catching the winds correctly and evading Muslim vessels and not landing in error near Medina. They managed to navigate during the hours of darkness, using the stars, up the eastern shoreline and eventually up through to the port city of Ayla, which Reynald’s forces still held on to, though very precariously,” the old man explained.
“Why precariously?” Peter asked.
“Because Saladin had already taken the port years before, only to lose it back to Reynald in November 1181. Reynald’s forces then controlled the area from their fortress of Helim, as well as from the fortified small island of Ile de Graye, now known as Pharaoh’s Island, near the shore. When Saladin heard this, he vowed to retake the port and island back. After his disastrous clash with Husam, Reynald did indeed lose it back to Saladin shortly after passing through it. A very close shave indeed for him.”
“And Paul and Percival?” Ayleth asked, a hint of impatience in her voice.
Harbour of Halaib, 10 miles south of the port of Aydhab, Egypt, April 2nd 1183
The sun was high when Paul and Percival rode into the central dockside area of the harbour, escorted by several Tawashi archers and Mamluk reconnaissance light cavalry. Several ships from Husam’s fleet were berthed stern on against the main harbour wall as stores and supplies were being loaded upon them. Husam, having ordered the search for Paul, had already moved on north taking some of the captured knights with him. A section of Mamluk guards stood over several Christian knights, all clearly worse for wear chained and shackled against a wall. Paul’s heart jumped fearing Stewart to be amongst them just as five other knights were manhandled aggressively down the gangplank of the nearest ship. Pushed and prodded by two naval marines, one of the men fell hard. He was stripped almost naked with just the remains of his chausses undergarments and ripped shirt hanging from his exposed back. He was covered in several burn marks and deep cuts. Upon his knees, he gritted his teeth, his hands shackled together, when the man behind him started to help him up. Instantly the marine nearest pushed him away hard with his small defensive shield causing him to fall over. As he landed, he looked directly at Paul. It was Upside. Paul’s eyes widened and without hesitation he dismounted and ran towards him. The marine raised his shield about to hit Upside again when Paul ran into him at full force knocking him aside, Paul tripping over Upside. Quickly Paul rolled onto his back and elbows to stand, when he looked at the injured knight in front of Upside and saw it was Nicholas. The marine drew his sword and thrust it downwards toward Paul but he rolled sideways, jumped up and drew his sword just as a second blow came down upon him, the marine’s sword breaking in half as it made contact with Paul’s sword. Paul stood up straight and looked at the surprised marine.
“Stand down!” Paul shouted in Arabic as he moved over to Nicholas. Several other marines came running over along with several Mamluk guards all looking on confused.
The Tawashi guards who had escorted Paul in, physically pulled back several of the marines. Nicholas looked at Paul and feigned a very pained smile, closed his eyes and rolled over onto his side and passed out. Upside crawled over to him and lay across him protectively as he looked up at Paul in utter surprise, shock registering in his eyes.
“Paul…what is the meaning of this?” one of the Mamluk guards asked, pushing his way forwards.
Paul sighed with relief seeing one of Husam’s guards who thankfully recognised him.
“This is not right. These men are good men and deserve to be treated better than this,” Paul explained holding his sword toward the marine.
“Many good men have died these past few days…they are our captives and we act under Husam’s orders,” the Mamluk guard explained as he looked down at Upside and Brother Nicholas.
“Be that as it may, Saladin knows these two men personally and he would not wish harm upon them…that I swear to you this day upon my very life and if I am so later proved wrong then I will gladly join these men in their fate,” Paul explained as Percival approached apprehensively. “Will two more make any difference?”
“What do you propose?…we cannot let them simply go free.”
“Pass them to my charge…and if later Saladin disagrees with me, they shall be returned…with me along with them as I just swore,” Paul explained and kn
elt beside Nicholas to check him as Upside nodded at him appreciatively.
“Paul…this is highly irregular. But I know both Husam and Saladin favour you. Perhaps they would grant you this wish, but how can I?”
“I can vouch for them,” Turansha suddenly called out as he pushed his way forwards.
“You! You are supposed to be in Syria,” Paul said aloud, alarmed, and pointed his sword toward him.
“My friend, we meet again. I have heard of your great deed at sea. ’Tis almost legendary in Cairo already…though they all think you dead,” Turansha smiled as he rubbed his hands together and walked nearer. “I told you once before my friend, not all your foes are your enemy. I am here to help.”
“For what in return?” Paul asked just as Percival suddenly passed out. Two Tawashi archers rushed to his side and helped him to sit up against several sacks of grain and started to undo his tunic. He had clearly overheated. Paul looked down at Nicholas, who was still unconscious. Paul’s mind raced. If in Cairo word had reached them, then Alisha would think him dead already. A cold chill ran down his back. He looked up at Turansha, who stood smiling at him. “Well?”
“Oh, just your acknowledged friendship is enough. And one day, perhaps, when I call upon you, maybe you will honour it and return the favour. These men know the authority I wield,” Turansha explained. Upside gently grabbed Paul’s leg and looked up at him intently and shook his blood soaked head at him indicating no. “Okay…then your friends will die as surely as night follows day. They will be executed along with all the others,” Turansha said calmly and turned to walk away.
Paul looked down again at Upside and Nicholas. Upside again nodded no. The Mamluk guard shrugged his shoulders. Paul’s mind raced, wondering how he could keep them safe and alive long enough until he saw Husam.