by Martin Lake
'How did you get it?' he asked.
She shook her head and placed her fingers on his lips.
A thought slithered into his mind but he thrust it away.
'It's enough to buy freedom for the children and for me,' she said. 'But not for you.'
He stared at her and thought his heart would split. Tears filled his eyes and she kissed them away.
She put the coins in the safe-box and held out her hand for him.
They climbed to their bedroom. They made love, tenderly, in an agony of fear and desire.
They sat awake all that night, talking and talking.
The next morning they went to get the strong-box. It was gone.
CHAPTER 9
MOST DANGEROUS MEN
Jerusalem
Days later Saladin watched as Jerusalem emptied of its people. They walked past his tent in two columns. Those who were rich enough to raise the money to buy their lives hurried past, sliding their eyes towards the Muslims, fearing treachery and death.
The second column, that of the poor, walked with heads bowed, contemplating the long days of slavery, knowing their lives had been stolen.
Amongst them were Agnes and the children.
At the rear of the column walked the thirty commoners who Balian had made knights. Their heads were not bowed. The spirit Balian had poured into them still survived, despite the surrender.
A man standing slightly to the rear of Saladin stepped forward at the sight of these men.
‘Brother,’ he asked Saladin, 'who are these who bear themselves with such courage?’
Saladin shook his head. 'I do not know.' He gestured for Balian to join them.
'My brother al-Adil and I are curious about the men at the rear,' he said. 'Those who, alone of all my captives, do not seem to feel themselves defeated. Who are they?'
‘They are my men,’ Balian answered. ‘The commoners who I knighted in order to resist you. The ones I told you of earlier.’
Saladin nodded. He remained silent and his face grew thoughtful.
Balian watched Saladin for a while, hoping for some sign. But there was none.
Balian bowed towards Saladin who now smiled and clasped him by the arm.
'Go in peace, Balian of Ibelin,' he said. 'You were the most worthy of adversaries.'
Balian mounted the horse Jerome held for him and the two trotted off towards the rear of the column.
Al-Adil stared at the thirty knights. He tapped his forefinger upon his lip thoughtfully for a while and then turned to Saladin.
‘I have served you well in these wars, my brother,’ he said, ‘and never asked favour or gift. I ask one of you now.’
‘Speak.’
‘I would have these men to be my possessions.’
Saladin's eyes turned towards the thirty commoner knights.
'They are men of new-found valour, brother,' he said. 'As such they are most dangerous.'
'I understand. I would still have them.'
‘As you wish. Is that sufficient?’
Al-Adil gazed upon the line of captives.
‘Perhaps a thousand more captives, as slaves.’
Saladin commanded that the knights and a thousand of the people be given at once to al-Adil.
By the time they had been gathered together the departed columns were far distant, Agnes and the children at the rear of the line.
CHAPTER 10
BOUGHT AND SOLD
North of Amman
Agnes stumbled as she walked. Eleanor was heavy in her arms. The little girl had walked hand in hand with her mother for miles but in the end fell to the ground, exhausted.
Agnes gazed down at her as she slept. This should not be happening, she thought as she wearily gathered the child in her arms.
A few steps ahead trudged Gerard and Claude-Yusuf. Both were kept going only by their pride and by the desire not to be beaten by the other. They were strong lads but for how much longer would they be able to keep up this relentless pace? She did not have the strength to carry them.
She glanced up at the sun. Here on the plains it burnt hot and she pulled a cloth over Eleanor’s face.
Her heart was bitter and hard. She had failed to protect them. All her hopes, all her soft thoughts had come down to this. All her deeds. The only thing she could do now was to keep on walking.
Thoughts of Bernard haunted her mind. Where was he now? He might be dead or undergoing some dreadful torture. She did not know which was worse. She could not stop herself contemplating both.
Her thoughts floated back to those last, lost days.
Agnes reddened as she recalled the final day of freedom allowed to the citizens by the Saracens.
Bernard had raced from the inn the moment they discovered that the strong-box and all the money had been stolen.
She had slumped down on the table and stared at the wall. Everything had been for nothing then. Her sacrifice, her degradation, her act of betrayal.
A foot-step sounded beside her and she whimpered in fear.
'What's happened?' he had asked.
Her face burned in shame as she recalled what she did next.
She told John everything, all the things she could not have possibly said to her husband.
He had listened in astonishment, his face growing ever more stern, ever more disgusted.
She saw this but she could not stop herself. She told all in a torrent of shame and fury and ended with the fact that the ransom she had bought so dearly had been stolen from them.
He turned his face away from her and she felt even more degraded.
Then he turned back, his face steaming with tears.
He had been unable to speak but he touched her on the neck, plucked up his sword and rushed out of the inn.
She sighed heavily as she thought back to that moment and her eyes filled with tears.
'Are you all right, Mama?' Gerard asked anxiously.
She brushed his wayward hair.
'Of course, I am,' she said. 'It's just some desert sand in my eyes.'
CHAPTER 11
CAPTURED BY THE TEMPLARS
Ascalon and Beit Lahia
As night fell the thousand people who had been bought by al-Adil fell still and silent, terrified to think what special fate had been reserved for them.
The courage of the thirty poor knights, hitherto so strong, now began to wane.
‘What do you think will happen to us?’ John asked Bernard.
Bernard turned to him. His eyes were full of tears. ‘Al-Adil is notorious,’ he answered. ‘Ten years ago he put down a revolt in Egypt and hanged three thousand of the rebels.’
The man next to him nodded. ‘I’ve heard we are to be crucified.’
The prisoners nearby clamoured in terror at his words.
‘Someone said they heard Saracens sawing wood for the crosses.’
The clamour ceased abruptly. Each man looked at the tent of al-Adil in silence, all hope squeezed from out of them. Then low noise began to reverberate from their throats. The noise of prayers or of curses.
A little while later Saladin and his brother walked slowly towards the crowd. Al-Adil climbed onto a dais. He gazed at the people who were now his possessions. A terrified silence descended upon the plain.
A dozen guards headed into the crowd to where the thirty commoner knights were standing. They separated them from the others and pushed them towards the dais.
Al-Adil looked at them closely. ‘In reward for my services,’ he said, ‘my brother, Sultan Saladin has acceded to my request that you be given to me.’
‘What for, you fiend?’ cried one of the men. ‘So you can gloat as you crucify us?’
Al-Adil looked horrified at his words and shook his head.
‘You have fought hard and valiantly,’ he said. ‘I honour you who led the defence of your city.’
The men looked at one another, doubt filling their hearts.
Al-Adil raised his voice and addressed the whole one thousand capt
ives.
‘Indeed, all of you fought to defend your home, a cause of high honour. Because of your courage, I release you from your captivity. All of you are free.’
The captives did not move, doubting his words, fearing some treachery. Saracen soldiers moved among them, cutting their bonds and giving them drink. Only gradually did the truth begin to grip them.
Al-Adil climbed down from the dais and, together with his brother, joined the commoner knights.
‘Today, because I honour you,’ al-Adil said, ‘I give you your freedom. Some of my friends think me mad believing you to be filled with the lust of battle and maybe with the poison of revenge.’
He held his arms wide. ‘That I cannot say. But I can say that you are brave and honourable men. I trust you to remember this in all your dealings, whether with Christians, Muslims or Jews.’ He touched his hands to his brow, bowed and departed.
Grooms approached and gave fresh clothing, weapons and horses to the knights.
‘What shall we do,’ one of the men asked.
‘I know what I shall do,’ said Bernard. ‘I’m going after my wife and family.’
‘And I'll come with you,’ said John.
And once we’ve found them, he vowed to himself, I will go on my own journey. No matter where he may hide, I shall hunt down Simon.
They hurried through the camp, grabbing hold of anyone who had any idea of where the captives were going. There was rumour and counter-rumour but no one knew anything for certain.
At last they met an old man who claimed he had news.
'The captives have been taken to Cairo,' he said. 'They will be sold in the slave-market there.'
'How do you know?' Bernard asked, seizing him by the arm.
'I can see with my own eyes, can't I?' the old man answered. 'Besides, I can understand some Saracen and I heard one of the guards saying they were going to Egypt.'
Bernard stared into the old man's face. 'You are certain about this?' he said.
'As certain as I am of my own name.'
Bernard nodded at this and strode off.
John gave one last look at the old man and thought that he caught a fleeting look of uncertainty upon his face.
But then the old man nodded once again. 'I heard them say Cairo,' he repeated. 'The slave market in Cairo.'
John turned and hurried after his friend.
They plucked up some torches, chose two of the swiftest looking horses and trotted down the road that led west from Jerusalem.
'Where are we going?' John called.
'To Ascalon,' Bernard answered. 'It's on the road to Cairo. I have relatives there and they may have heard news of Agnes and the boys.'
They followed the captives’ path until they reached a small pool. On the far side the single trail cascaded into a dozen more, east, west, south and north. The Saracens had taken their captives to the four corners of the earth.
Desperate, they searched for any sign of Agnes and the children, a personal belonging, a scrap of her clothing, anything. It was hopeless.
They rode until the torches were guttering and their horses tiring. Begrudging the delay they flung themselves to the ground and slept fitfully, desperate for the dawn.
The next morning they rose with the sun and headed towards the city of Ascalon, reaching it just after noon.
Bernard rode swiftly through the streets and came at last to a large house overlooking the port. They tied the horses to a large ring set into the wall and hammered on the door. It opened a crack and an eye peered out at them.
'It's me, Yacob,' Bernard said. 'Let me in.'
The door opened wider to reveal the face of an old Muslim man. He looked at them suspiciously for a moment, his eyes uncertain in the bright sunlight. Then he smiled and flung the door open.
'Bernard,' he cried, embracing him enthusiastically. He pulled back and glanced at John for a moment before staring once more at Bernard.
'You have heard then?' he said.
'Heard what?'
'That Farah has died.'
Bernard gasped. 'Dead? How?'
The old man shrugged. 'She fell ill with a fever and never recovered.'
Bernard shook his head and rested his hand upon the old man's shoulder. 'I am sorry, Yacob.'
Tears came into the old man's eyes and he shrugged once more but did not answer.
'How is Robert? And the boy? Has he heard news of the death of his mother?'
Bernard turned towards John, his face strained. 'Let us talk inside,' he said to the old man.
'Of course,' he answered. 'Where are my manners?'
He led them into the house which was cool and dark. He went into a little courtyard garden and gestured to them to take a seat. A servant came at his call and hurried back with cool drinks and a platter of dates.
The old man gazed at Bernard. His eyes became shrouded as if with a dark cloud.
'Tell me,' he said.
'I have heard no firm news about Robert,' Bernard answered. 'But he marched with the Christian army to Hattin.'
'Then he is dead,' said the old man. 'At least if the rumours I hear are true.'
Bernard did not answer. He did not need to.
'And my grandson, Claude-Yusuf?' the old man asked.
Bernard held his hand over his mouth. 'Taken as a slave. And my children and Agnes with him.'
He bent his head and wept.
The old man knelt at his feet and embraced him, weeping as well.
An hour later the three men sat at a table in a small but airy room. Yacob broke bread for them and they bent to a meal of fish and beans. Despite their hunger none of them found it easy to eat.
The old man shook his head sadly.
'If the captives had passed Ascalon I would have heard rumour of it,' he said.
'But we can't have passed them in the night,' Bernard said. 'If they are going to Cairo then they would have passed through here.'
The old man nodded and placed his untouched bread upon his plate.
'That is true. The desert roads to the east have no paths and no water to sustain such a multitude. If they were going to Cairo they would have come through Ascalon. So that can only mean one thing.'
Bernard gazed at the old man who shook his head once again.
'It means they are not on the road to Cairo.'
'But somebody told us that was where they'd been taken,' Bernard cried. He turned to John for confirmation of the fact.
John hesitated. The memory of the man's look of doubt came to his mind. He wondered whether to say anything but Bernard was already speaking.
'It's the only clue we have, Yacob,' he was saying. 'It's the only clue we have.'
'It's a long way to Cairo,' Yacob said. 'What if you're wrong? What if they haven't been taken there? What if they have been taken north to Damascus?'
'Then we'll go there,' Bernard said. 'But we're part way to Cairo now. Surely it would be best to pursue them now we're part way.' He was beginning to sound less certain.
'Perhaps you're right,' Yacob said. 'But it is a perilous road to Cairo and a long one.'
'Then the sooner we leave the better.'
The old man nodded. 'Eat your meal and I will get my servants to pack up plenty of food and water. You will need both on your journey.'
A little later Yacob led them back onto the street.
His face was streaming with tears. 'I have lost my daughter and her husband, Bernard,' he said. 'Please bring Claude-Yusuf back to me.'
Bernard could not answer but nodded and embraced the old man.
They climbed on their horses and cantered through the streets. John glanced over his shoulder and saw the old man standing by his door, wringing his hands in despair.
They rode for the rest of the day, taking a road which followed the coast south, meandering here and there to take advantage of the contours of the land. It proved slow going. They searched the ground which was covered in sand. Both saw that there was no sign of anybody passing this way but both
kept silent about it.
'Tell me about the old man,' John said to Bernard.
'He is a wealthy merchant,’ Bernard answered. ‘Agnes' brother did some business with him and fell in love with his daughter Farah. They wanted to marry but the priests would not allow it unless she converted to Christianity. She was reluctant but she agreed. Claude-Yusuf is their child.'
John frowned.
'I had not realised there was so much mingling of people in Jerusalem, of Christians and Infidels. They trade together, they work together and now you tell me they even marry and live together.'
Bernard turned to him. 'And what of it?'
'It is wrong. Wrong in the eyes of the Lord God.'
Bernard shrugged. 'Who is to say so, for certain?'
'Don't you believe it to be so? Or are you in favour of this mingling with the infidel?'
Bernard stopped his horse and turned towards John.
'Yes I am in favour of it,' he said. He held up his hand to stop John from interrupting.
'My family have lived in Jerusalem for almost ninety years,' he said. 'We took the land from the Muslims and we knew it. But over the years the hate and fervour dwindled and, for the most part, each people learned to live in accord with the other. I have no other country now, John, not like you. I am as much a part of the Holy Land as old Yacob and I am happy to call him my kin.'
John frowned, unable to fully comprehend this notion.
Bernard grabbed his arm and fixed him with an angry and intent stare.
'John, it is the newcomers from Europe, the likes of Guy of Lusignan and Reynald of Châtillon, who have upset this precarious balance. They and the Sultan Saladin have brought hatred and fury back to this land. And look where it has got us. Look what has happened to my family.'
He shook his head sadly and started forward once more upon his quest.
They were riding through parched desert now with huge sand dunes towering above their heads. The sun was hot and they had soon drunk more than half of their water.
'We should take the path inland a little,' said Bernard. 'We will come upon a village called Beit Lahia where the water is said to be sweet and good.
'How long will it take?' John asked. 'It's almost nightfall and we have no torches.'