by Dan Davis
“God help us,” I said, praying all the same. “Come, let us get out of sight before the savages get here. I can hear them. They are close.”
Hulegu wanted the people remaining in the city rooted out and killed. He wanted the food, wine, and other supplies dragged out from stores and from homes and consumed by his men. He wanted the wealth of the city plundered, for his men to take for themselves and so grow rich and be happy with him as their lord, and fight for him all the harder for the next city, and the next. But he did not throw all the gates open and send in a hundred thousand men. He knew, I am sure, that sending so many would only result in his men murdering each other in the orgy of violence, for there would not be enough of the populous to go around and so they would turn on each other. Still, there were many thousands in the city, moving in companies from quarter to quarter.
I have seen more cities sacked than I can remember, and they follow a similar pattern. The men who loved wealth most made first for the palaces and mosques and madrasas and any building that looked as though wealth may lay within. Other, lustful, hateful men, loved rape and murder, and they would swarm into the homes of the city folk, smashing through ceilings and floors to find the pathetic hiding places of the terrified people who had stayed, hoping for a better fate. Some men are gluttons first of all, and they sought wine with which to render themselves insensible. Most of these men, their most pressing passions sated, then seek other sins to surrender themselves to, over and over, for days on end until their energies are spent or their lords send in sober men to round them up and drag them out.
“They are like animals,” Stephen muttered, aghast, as we looked down at the violence in the streets from our vantage point atop the minaret of our commandeered house. The screams of the victims could barely be heard over the roars of triumph and savagery.
Abdullah was also keeping watch from the upstairs rooms of the house somewhere below us, peering through peepholes in the shutters.
“No,” Eva said. “No animal is capable of such depravity, Stephen. Only man can be filled with evil.”
“No Christian man,” Stephen said, his eyes wide.
Eva and I exchanged a look, both thinking of the things we had seen Christian men do. And thinking of the things we had done ourselves.
“You have read more texts than I have ever seen, Stephen,” I said. “But you have a lot to learn about the world.”
“Well then,” he bristled. “No true Christian.”
A banging sounded far below.
“Is that our door?” Eva asked.
I nodded. “They are trying us again. We should go down.”
“Should I stay, perhaps?” Stephan asked, innocently. “Someone should be responsible for keeping watch, no?”
“What a generous fellow you are, Stephen,” I said as I descended the stairs behind Eva, who flowed down them like a cat.
We had cleared the entrance hall of any furniture that might hinder us and had reinforced the heavy doors with two mismatched table tops, held in place with boards pulled up from one of the floors. Still, the doors shook with the impacts from those men trying to get inside our temporary home. The looters clearly assumed that a building of such size, in such proximity to a palace and other grand structures, would contain riches of one kind or another. They could not have known the home had been emptied of riches and the fact that the door was barred would have seemed like a sign that breaking through it would be well worth the effort.
The floor of the entrance hall was already stained with blood from previous, brief incursions by unwanted guests.
“Is it them?” Thomas asked as Eva and I came down.
“Not that we could see,” I replied. “Perhaps we should open the door and find out?”
“Same as before?” Orus asked, grinning like the maniac he was.
“As my old steward used to say, if your pail is not broken, then one repairs it not,” I said. Orus stared blankly at me while the doors shook and men shouted outside. “Never mind. Just open the bloody doors, will you.”
Orus and Hassan unbarred the doors and ran back to us as the doors were thrown inward. Eva and I hid from view in the doorway to the dining area, while Khutulun and Jalal hid around the other. Orus and Hassan ran straight ahead toward the inner courtyard with its lovely fountain and pool, and so they could be seen escaping by the Mongols who strode in through the front door behind them.
I could hear how they were full of madness and fury. One of them shouted and their footsteps stopped, while their voices immediately rose in argument as they clustered inside the entrance.
“Six?” Eva whispered.
I nodded. “Smells like six hundred. But yes, six or so. And they know it is a trap.” I raised my sword and looked across the hall to the opposite doorway where Jalal and Khutulun crouched. The Mongol woman grinned from ear to ear. A savage’s smile on an angel’s face.
Even though they were wary, they were still not ready for my attack. Coming out of hiding at a run, I caught them unawares. It was not six, but nine men crammed into the entrance hall just inside the door. Not the finest Mongol troops, as they were clad in filthy coats and not mail or other armour. A few wore iron helms rather than leather caps or hats. Beyond, the courtyard was bathed in sunlight, the men somewhat silhouetted.
Two men were arguing, and the others were glaring or grinning. At a glance, I knew they were drunk. Most did not have a weapon drawn, and only two held their swords ready. Others gripped daggers. One man had a remarkably ornate mace with a steel shaft that he had no doubt looted from somewhere in the city.
My sword sliced him across the neck before he had time to flinch and I slashed at two more, roaring at them as I shouldered my way through. I was fast, and loud in the enclosed space, and they leapt back to let me through.
While they stood momentarily dumbfounded, I heaved one of the front doors shut.
That snapped them into action and they came at me, suddenly understanding I wanted to trap them inside with me.
I slashed wildly, back and forth, connecting with an arm, a helm. A thrown dagger bounced off the door beside my head and clanged on the paved, bloody floor.
And then my own followers crashed into the Mongols from behind. Eva’s first cut took a man’s head from his shoulders in a single blow. Khutulun, screaming in joy, sliced a man’s face open from ear to ear, then shoved his falling body towards her brother to finish off while she leapt into the next enemy.
We made short work of them, and they were soon lying dead or dying in the darkness of the entrance hall.
“Do not finish that one,” I said to Thomas, as he stalked over to a man crawling away. I called out to my people. “Drink what blood you need, then throw the bodies with the others into the storeroom.”
“Bodies give bad smell,” Orus said. “We throw from roof into alley, yes?”
He was a truly gifted fighter but, unlike his sister, he was not the sharpest tool in the box. “That would attract attention, Orus. The storeroom, please.”
Orus shrugged, slung one filthy dead Mongol onto his shoulder with graceful ease, and strode off.
“Should we save the blood?” Thomas asked.
“No need. We will be seeing plenty more soon, I am certain.”
“What do you want with him?” Hassan asked, coming up and pointing with his dagger at the prisoner.
“Get him to tell us where Hulegu is,” I ordered Hassan.
The Assassin was sceptical. “This one is a nothing. He will not know where his lord is.”
“Get him to tell you everything he has heard. How long were they given to sack the city? Tear it out of him.”
Hassan’s eyes were cold when he nodded and stalked toward the dazed Mongol.
A cry echoed from above.
“Richard!”
It was Stephen, shouting so loudly that his voice cracked. I took the steps up the inside of the minaret three at a time.
“What is it?” I called as I ran. “Is it Hulegu?”
>
Stephen had his face pressed against the ornate stonework carving in the corner, staring out at something, his hands planted on the stone either side.
“He is gone,” Stephen said as I came up behind him.
“Who has gone?” I asked, dragging Stephen away from the window and pushing my face where his had just been. The city beyond thronged with Mongol troops. “Who, Stephen?”
“Well, I do not know for certain,” he began. “I thought that I saw a knight—”
“Where?” I said. “Was it William? Did he look like me? What did he look like? Where, Stephen? Where?”
“Down by the path to the palace. I may well be wrong… in fact, it is quite likely that I am mistaken. It may be that I have been looking down for so long that my mind’s eye has deceived me—”
I turned, grabbed him by the shoulders and jammed him against the wall. “Who did you see?” I snarled in his face.
He swallowed. “Sir Bertrand. Possibly. That is, Bertrand de Cardaillac, and possibly also Hughues, his squire. But, surely, that cannot be—”
I leapt away from him back down those damned steps. “Come on, you fool,” I shouted over my shoulder. “Everyone, to me,” I repeated my call to my men to assemble in the entrance hall.
The bodies of the Mongol troops and their weapons littered the floor.
Hassan looked up from where his prisoner was propped against the wall. “What is it?”
“Kill that one and take his coat,” I said. “Get the coats from all of them, and their helms and the hats.” My people filed in from all over the house, asking each other what was happening. “Everyone, clothe yourself in the enemy’s garb. We are going to leave this place, seize one or two men, and bring them back here. Stephen, Abdullah, you close the doors behind us and guard the building.”
Stephen was appalled. “What if the enemy break in again? If it is only Abdullah and I—”
“You are an immortal now, Stephen,” I snapped. “Take up a weapon, use your strength, remember your training. Defend this place until we return.”
“Why go and take another one?” Thomas asked, pointing at Hassan’s now-dead prisoner. “We had a perfectly good one already.”
They busied themselves stripping the bodies and trying on the stinking, blood-soaked clothes of the Mongol men.
“Stephen saw Bertrand de Cardaillac heading for the palace,” I said.
He stammered. “I am not certain what I saw. It may be that—”
Thomas froze, his arm halfway into a Mongol coat. “Why in the name of God would he be here?”
“It makes perfect sense,” I said. “My brother William has brought him. Him and his squire. He had him prisoner in Karakorum, did he not? The night he killed Nikolas and stabbed you, Thomas.”
“I remember,” Thomas said, his jaw set. “Hulegu promised to let the monks go free, and Bertrand was their escort.”
I shook my head. “William would never let a man like Bertrand go free. He would use him, make him a follower.”
Eva spoke up. “He would turn him.”
“By God,” I said. “You are right. He would have turned him into an immortal. Given him the Gift. Hughues, too. Two more knights to follow him.”
“It is too dangerous out there,” Hassan said, stepping forward. He held a Mongol’s hat and coat but made no move to clothe himself with them. “These disguises will never pass any inspection.”
“We will not stop for any inspection, Hassan,” I said, feeling the red anger burning. “We will go quickly, heads down. Ignore all who speak to us. Orus? If anyone seeks to obstruct us, shout that we are on important business for Hulegu or some other great lord whose name is feared, understand?”
“Bertrand may be a mile away by now,” Thomas said. “We may never find him.”
“We bloody well better find him,” I said, letting my anger show. “Or else all this, everything we have done, will be in vain. He will lead me to William, do you not see it? And William will lead us to Hulegu. And all of them will die. You are all coming with me, and we will all have our vengeance. Agreed?” I stared at each of them in turn. “Agreed? Agreed?”
One by one, they acquiesced.
“We will stay together. We will keep moving. We will not allow ourselves to be cornered. And we will not allow ourselves to be distracted. Understand?”
When we were all cloaked in bloody, stinking Mongol clothing, I led them at a run from the house and into the square where we had hoped to lay our ambush. No enemies in sight but their shouts and the screams of their victims echoed from the walls. The sun was bright and my immortals flinched from it, shielding their eyes.
I sensed that my terrible plan was already falling to pieces but, despite what Thomas believed, God cares nothing for a man’s intentions and hopes, and so we must accept disasters and respond swiftly to overcome them. We followed the wall of the house and crossed to the huge madrasa on the other side, heading for the path that led to the entrance of the palace. It would have been quicker to cross directly but I wanted to avoid detection from anyone for as long as was possible.
At the edge of the building, I peered around the corner at the pathway, lined with ornamental trees. A large band of soldiers filled the grand entrance, many lounging on the steps or against the walls. Others carried loot from inside the palace. A group carried piles of clothes and other silks to a row of carts in the open forecourt. A trail of dry blood stained the stones of the path and continued into the light dust of the courtyard. It led to a pile of bodies tossed against the wall of the palace. The building rose up three or four storeys high above, with window after window reaching up to the roof above, each one with intricately patterned stonework jutting over the arches.
Could Bertrand truly be within? Even if he was now one of William’s men, how could he walk freely through a company of drunken, looting Mongols?
If he was within, he was certainly my best hope of finding William himself, for surely Bertrand would know where he was. But how could I storm such a place with so few men of my own? How many were inside? Twenty? Fifty?
Although there were dozens of palaces in Baghdad, and this was a small one, it was perhaps a madness that drove me to head into the palace, an enclosed space full of looting Mongol soldiers. Taking all my followers down that path and into the palace was likely to end in disaster, surely.
“Wait here,” I said to my people. After all my talk of staying together at all costs, they stared at me in surprise. “I will draw Bertrand and Hughues out, and lead them here where we will take them. Disburse yourself about here and fall on them from all sides.”
Eva moved in front of me. “We stay together. Do you recall the last time you went into an enemy force alone?”
“No,” I admitted.
She punched me in the chest. “Forty years ago, you went into that village alone in Nottingham to rescue me. And you were captured, and I had my throat slit.”
“But that was a trap, laid to lure me in.”
She tilted her head. “What makes you think this is not?”
I froze, astonished that the thought had not even occurred to me.
Reaching my hand out, I stroked her cheek. “Truly, my love, I would be dead a dozen times over, if you were not at my side. What would I do without you?”
She did not smile at the compliment, as any other woman would have done. Instead, she slapped my hand away. “You are a bloody fool, Richard.”
I laughed, because the battle thirst was upon me, and she could tell that was so.
“Orus?” I called. “You will come with me. We will lure the enemy into the square. And the rest of you will cut them down, do you hear me? Kill them all. We want Bertrand or Hughues, and we want them to tell us where to find William, and Hulegu. Come, Orus.”
We strode toward the Mongols, who had not yet noticed us.
“Kill them?” Orus asked, with a hand on his sword.
“Tell them that a gaggle of Saracen princesses are fleeing across the city and tha
t you need help killing their guards. Do you understand? Tell them a dozen Saracen maidens are making a run for it, across the square, and they have their wealth with them. Do you see, Orus?”
A cunning smile stretched across his handsome face.
After a moment to compose himself, he ran forward raising his arms out at his side and began shouting at the men in an agitated voice. He jabbered and roared at them. The sharpest few came to him with their swords drawn but Orus did not respond to their threats, other than to beg and plead in the barbarian tongue for them to help him to take this great prize which was getting away, just out of sight, so close, so close.
I watched the hunger light up their eyes, and more and more jumped to their feet and dropped what they were carrying. A handful more came out from within the entranceway. I kept my head lowered so that my Mongol hat would shield my face from them. Some were wary, but they were overcome by the greed filled amongst them, who dragged them forward. Orus kept on at the stragglers, no doubt urging that they needed every man. The first moved by me and I backed away, making myself smaller and meeker. A few barked words at me and I bobbed my head and mimicked the gestures that I observed the Mongols making in my time at Karakorum and on the steppe. No one troubled me, for they were hurrying to seize their prize before it escaped.
I slid by them, sidling to the palace entrance where those too drunk or too lazy remained. Orus tried to rouse them but I clapped him on the back and told him to cease. The bulk of them were moving away and would soon feel the blades of my people cutting them down. But some would no doubt escape, and there were many more nearby and within, so we had to move quickly now.
Orus followed me and we ducked inside the decorated archway into the entrance hall. It was bright and airy and open, with clear lines and geometric designs in the stonework. The polished floor was littered with detritus and spattered with blood. Rooms led off through high arches in front and to either side. Above, two levels of balconies looked down on us. Two doorways led to stairways that wound up to other storeys above. Banging and crashing noises echoed through the building.