by S A Monk
CHAPTER 24
Gabrielle received word of the battle at the Horns of Hattin three days later. It came with the arrival of Lord Ibelin and some of the other survivors. The baron was quickly ushered into the great hall at the palace in Jerusalem. The queen, seated in the center of the room with many other noblewomen, immediately sent for Gabrielle, as well as the patriarch.
Exhausted and distraught, the baron had ridden straight from Hattin, with only a quick stop at his home in Nablus. He was the first to make it back to the city to tell the queen of the outcome of the Christian army’s battle against Saladin and his forces.
“Your highness, I fear the news is not good,” he began, his dark eyes sweeping the clergy and the women in the room, most of whom had husbands and sons riding at the king’s side. “I escaped Hattin, along with Lord Raymond, who was cut off from returning after he broke a hole in the enemy forces. He has gone on to Tyre, but I hurried here….”
“Balian, what news of my husband and the others?” Sibylla pressed him, looking every bit as anxious as Gabrielle and the others in the room.
“When I was cut off from him, he and most of the barons with him were still alive, fighting. Since then, I have received word of Saladin’s victory.”
The queen slumped in her chair. “Oh my God!”
“I have also heard a few rumors of many being captured. If the king was among them, as I am sure he must have been, the sultan will ransom him. I don’t believe Saladin would slay the king.”
Tears sprang to Sibylla’s eyes. “But you do not know if he even survived the battle.”
Lord Balian shook his head in regret. “I do not. Like Raymond, I was separated from the main fighting force. Saladin’s troops divided and separated us like flocks of sheep. With their far greater numbers, they prevented us from rejoining the main fray, and my squadron, along with Raymond’s had no choice but to eventually turn towards home. As others return, we will surely hear more in the coming days.”
Gabrielle could not wait for permission to speak. “Lord Ibelin, have you word of Lucien de Aubric? Where did he fight? With Lord Raymond? With the king?”
“He was with the king’s division, in the heart of the battle, the last I saw of him, lady… as was your husband and father,” the baron added.
“And those are the men who stood to the end? Who may have been captured?” some other lady asked.
“Or killed!’ another cried out.
Gabrielle nearly collapsed as she stood beside the queen. “Mi’lord, what of the Templars?” There was the possibility that Lucien could have fought beside old friends, and if he had, their fate would have been his. The sultan would not have left many in the military orders alive.
“Most were with my rearguard, but they all moved up to fight with the king and were heavily attacked. I have heard some may have been captured, also.”
“The Grand Masters?” the patriarch inquired. “And the Holy Relic, the True Cross?”
Balian of Ibelin looked truly pained with all the news, most especially with what he next imparted. “The Holy Relic was taken by Saladin’s troops. I do not know the fate of the Grand Masters, Your Grace.”
“Dear God!”
The news was so dour, Gabrielle quickly fled to her room. She had continued to stay at the palace to support the queen, who had been as distressed and anxious as Gabrielle had been. Until she received word of Lucien, Gabrielle had not even gone to go to the orphanage. Her days had all been filled with waiting and fervent prayer. But the waiting was not over, for Lord Balian had really not brought much news, only more anxiety.
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Within the week, additional news reached the palace. Lord Balian’s rumors were confirmed. The king and some of the leading barons, including Lord de Châtillon, had been captured by Saladin. Men who had survived the final battle and escaped returned to report that the Grand Masters had also been taken prisoner.
Rumors abounded, but the queen refused to entertain any of them for they were never grounded in eyewitness testimony. Then, at last, one of the barons who had been at Hattin and been captured by Saladin, was released with a message for the queen, and subsequently the other families of the missing nobility. He presented a list of all who were being held for ransom in Damascus, the king included. The grisly report he also delivered of the beheadings of many of the Templars and Hospitallers right after the battle circulated through the palace halls in horrifying detail. Before it reached Gabrielle, who had not been present in the great hall upon his arrival, the queen again summoned her. Gabrielle joined her immediately in a private sitting room. To her surprise, the baron messenger was seated with Sibylla.
He proceeded to gently inform her of her husband’s death, gruesome details omitted. He said nothing of her father, or Lucien. Gabrielle was not satisfied with what she immediately suspected was an edited report.
“Tell me how Reynald died, Lord Thierry,” she insisted.
“He died at Saladin’s hand.”
He clearly did not want to elaborate, but Gabrielle was having none of it, for she suspected Reynald must have died brutally at Lord Saladin’s hands. How could he not after all the atrocities he had committed against Saladin’s family and friends? “How exactly did he die, my lord?”
Lord Thierry clearly did not want to elaborate, but he finally relented at a nod from the queen. “The sultan struck his head from his body and mounted it on a pike.”
Gabrielle did not even gasp. She felt the blood drain from her face, but she could not muster an ounce of sympathy for her husband. Nor was she elated. “And my father, Lord Chaumont?”
“He died on the field of battle, mi’lady. I saw the Blue Wolf himself strike down Lord Chaumont.”
“Do you know anything of King Guy’s intelligence office, Lucien de Aubric?” the queen asked, sensing how badly Gabrielle wanted to ask.
“I’m afraid I know nothing, your highness.”
Gabrielle felt strangely numb for the remainder of the day. Reynald’s death was both a blessing and a curse. She was finally free of him, and strangely enough, she grieved to see how distraught Lady Silvia became after hearing the news. But there was still no word of Lucien. There was no relief she could feel at her husband’s just retribution if she was to suffer Lucien’s loss as well. While she would finally be free to lead her life as she chose without fear of Reynald and her father, she would live the remainder of it in grief and loneness if Lucien had died.
In the next few weeks, word came of Saladin’s conquest of the coastal port of Acre. The Royal City’s capture was a huge blow to the kingdom and the queen.
Growing desperate with no firm word of her husband’s fate after paying an Arab emissary the required ransom, Sibylla was preparing to send an envoy to the sultan in Acre when several minor barons came to the palace after being ransomed and released.
This time, they brought news from Damascus, where they had been held in the garrison, along with most of the other captives. There, they had witnessed the gruesome fate of the remaining warrior monks. Of the approximately 240 taken captive, 230 had been slaughtered, some at Hattin, most in the Damascus citadel. All had had their heads brutally severed from their bodies in a bloody spectacle that had gone on repeatedly in front of the other captives, first at the Horns encampment, then at the citadel. One of the young nobles received by the queen had recognized the Templar intelligence officers, Conrad de Morgarten and Lucien de Aubric, among the captured monks. He had seen both men in the execution line in Saladin’s camp at Hattin, but had not seen them at Damascus.
The young noble’s graphic description of the demise of the warrior monks shocked the queen and her small retinue. Standing beside her sovereign, Gabrielle collapsed in a faint at the horrific news.
Queen Sibylla sent her envoy to Damascus rather than Acre.
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In the weeks following the Christian defeat at Hattin, Lucien found himself traveling with Muzaffar al Din Gökböri, not as a guest but not exactly as a ca
ptive, either. He was something in between. He eventually realized that Gökböri kept him at his side in order to learn more about him. His freedoms were severely limited, but he was treated well and his battle wounds were attended to, though they had never been life threatening.
He was given new clothing, and his hair and beard were trimmed, the latter being shaved close to his jaw after his attendants despaired of its battle filth. He was fed well, and his dehydration was treated, but he was required to remain with the Blue Wolf, under his close observation.
He was not asked to renounce his faith or his allegiance. Nor was he asked to fight when the great general went into battle. But whether by happenstance or intent, he became a witness to the methodical conquest of the kingdom, from Hattin to what he knew would eventually be Jerusalem.
The Hospitaller Grand Master had died soon after Hattin of his battle injuries, and the Templar Grand Master became a personal prisoner of Saladin, and thus a witness to the collapse of the Latin strongholds, as well. His circumstances were not as tolerable as Lucien’s. Though Lucien did not often see him, when he did, de Ridefort was in chains. Their encounters with one another were never pleasant. The ex-Templar was sure that the sultan had something particular in mind for the Grand Master, else he would have been in the Damascus citadel with the other barons and the king.
Lucien was not sure why General Gökböri had taken such a personal interest in him. He had sent Conrad back to Damascus with the promise that he would be released. Before they had separated, Lucien had asked his friend to go to Jerusalem and tell Gabrielle what had happened to him. He had no idea when Conrad would be set free or reach Jerusalem. The battle at Hattin was now barely a fortnight old. But there would surely be news reaching the queen in Jerusalem. It sorely grieved him to know that Gabrielle would not know whether he was dead or alive.
Countess Eschiva had surrendered Tiberius the day after the Christian defeat at the Horns. From there, Saladin’s great Saracen army had marched to Acre. It had taken three days for the strategic coastal port to surrender Then it had been an upward sweep north to Tyre.
The sultan had split his forces, confident of little resistance now that he had nothing to fear from the Christian field army. The crusader castles at Toron, Nablus, Jaffa, and Sidon were taken. Saladin’s tempestuous and ambitious young nephew, Taqi al Din, took nearly all of them, one after the other.
Lucien was glad that Gökböri had been relegated to a defensive role in Saladin’s army. He had no desire to see his fellow Christians being attacked and killed in their strongholds and cities. To his vast relief, the Blue Wolf was the man the sultan sent in after victory to organize the peaceful control of the citadels’ defenses once they were seized. When order was re-established, Gökböri and his unit moved on to the next conquered stronghold.
And as the Turk did this over and over, Lucien saw that the man was an extraordinarily capable administrator. His thoroughness on the battlefield was matched by his meticulous oversight of the transfer of power in each captured city and citadel, with particular concern for the human issues involved.
While Taqi al Din went inland, Saladin attacked up the coast. Tyre had already been assaulted once by his nephew, but Saladin gave it another go. The northern port proved elusive and tough to capture. Resistance was strong, and it was amply and easily supplied with its needs on the seaward side of the city. Thousands of Christian refugees and fighting men had poured into Tyre in the weeks after the Battle of Horns.
When it became clear that a much longer, bigger siege was going to be necessary, Saladin moved back down the coast to Ascalon. His soldiers had been in the field for many months now and were beginning to complain about going home to wives and farms. The sultan could not afford to lose his army before taking the prize, Jerusalem.
By the time Saladin joined his forces outside of the southern port of Ascalon, the Crusader Kingdom had been reduced to Gaza, Safed, Tyre, a few isolated castles in the south, and the castles in Oultrejourdan. Kerak and Montreal were still holding out despite the loss of their commanders.
Ascalon took a great deal of effort to conquer. King Guy was brought over from Damascus and offered his freedom if he could talk the Christians within the city into a peaceful surrender. Though he pleaded with the residents and commanders of the besieged city to do so, they refused. The Templar Grand Master was forced to add his pleas to those of his king, but both men received nothing except insults and accusations.
Guy was then sent to be confined at the captured castle of Nablus, and the assault began again. It was a protracted one, and the sultan lost two of his best commanders, one being the esteemed chief of a powerful Bedouin tribe. Finally, after a grueling ten day siege, Ascalon fell into the hands of the Muslim forces.
What surprised Lucien was that, like Acre and a few other captured cities, Saladin offered generous terms. The residents of the city and the merchants were allowed to remain, though many chose not to, while the garrison of the city and their families were taken to Egypt, where they were put up in decent housing until they were transported back across the Mediterranean to their homelands.
After Ascalon, Saladin attacked the Templar citadel of Gaza, to the south. Once again, Gérard de Ridefort was used to induce the castle garrison, his own Templars, to surrender without a fight. Because every Templar vowed unquestioning obedience to the Grand Master, the men inside Gaza had no choice. The moment their leader appeared before the walls, draped in chains, he ordered them to lay down their arms, and they did.
Seated next to the Blue Wolf on a magnificent black Arabian, Lucien watched the surrender with a mixture of disgust and relief. While he did not want to see more of his brothers die in this war that had for all intents and purposes been lost at Hattin, he was disgusted at Master de Ridefort’s theatrical display. The crazy bastard really knew how to play to a crowd.
As he watched the performance, it occurred to Lucien that Gérard de Ridefort had grown mad, as well as fanatical. His choleric temperament, blind dogmatic convictions, and unremitting self-righteousness had escalated to the point of madness. In the time Lucien had served under him, his excessive zealotry and wild rages had grown more frequent, making it increasingly impossible to deal with him.
Until recently, Lucien had managed to avoid him, but it was inevitable that they crossed paths during their mutual confinement. Each time they did so, Lucien saw a man who had and would continue to lead the Order and the kingdom into disaster. He had badly tarnished the image of the Brotherhood and the Temple. And history would, no doubt, place the loss of the kingdom heavily on his poor leadership.
Saladin had promised the Grand Master his freedom if he got Gaza to surrender and, quite frankly, Lucien suspected the sultan had had about all of de Ridefort’s maniacal behavior he could handle. Lucien certainly had. A dozen times, the Grand Master had threatened to have him not only arrested, but hung as a traitor. He handled the personal attacks de Ridefort made on him, but it took all of his discipline to keep from physically assaulting him when he called Gabrielle vile names.
Knowing that he was probably going to be released on the morrow, de Ridefort delivered his most scalding attack his last night in the Muslim camp. Seated across from Lucien in the tent where they usually took their meals, under the watch of a huge, heavily armed Mameluk guard, the Grand Master stared at him with a malevolent parody of a smile.
"Just how is it that you are here, de Aubric?" Gérard began. "Are you giving the whoresons information about our defenses as they march up and down our land?"
"They have requested nothing of me, de Ridefort. Unlike you, I have not been asked to extract a surrender from anyone."
"Insolent bastard!"
"So you've stated on numerous occasions."
Lucien stared wearily at the man he had once served. He had a wild look about him these days. His hair was disheveled and matted. His beard dirty and untrimmed. His clothes soiled with stains. And his atrocious odor reminded Lucien of Gabrielle’s asse
ssment of ‘smelly lamb’s wool drawers’. Their captors had offered him clean clothes and the like, but de Ridefort had rejected them, leaving his appearance to reflect his growing dementedness.
"What do you think to do after this, de Aubric? Return to Jerusalem and marry de Châtillon's harlot now that she is free?"
Lucien's jaw clenched, but he did not respond to his former Master’s baiting.
"The Order will never let you, you know. We will hunt you down wherever you go and arrest you. I will see you excommunicated and imprisoned, maybe even hung for treason. You will not be free of my wrath and vengeance, even should you sail back to your homeland. As far as I am concerned, you have aided the enemy. You are a traitor! No matter what that devil Saladin takes, we will win it back, as soon as the Pope rallies men from the continent to take up the cross and reclaim the Holy Land. This is not over."
"I never thought it was." Lucien knew what Gérard said was true. More Christian soldiers would come, eventually. The kings of Europe and the Pope would not let Saladin keep his grip on the Holy Land.
"You will not escape our reach, Lucien de Aubric, ever, as long as you live."
Lucien looked at him askance. "Find a worthier endeavor, de Ridefort. I am not worth your persecution."
"You and that adulteress whore will both feel my…."
Lucien leaped off his floor cushion and lunged at him, tackling him. Behind him, the Mameluk guard surged forward to separate the two men just as General Gökböri entered the tent. Both men reached him as Lucien rose and reached down to grab de Ridefort by the front of his tunic. Before they could stop him, he flung the older man single-handedly through the opening of the tent, out onto the dirt.
By the time, Lucien broke free of the Mameluk’s restraint, de Ridefort was being drug to another pavilion by two more guards.
"Come with me Lucien de Aubric. I wish to speak with you," General Gökböri said beside him.
They walked to Gökböri’s luxurious pavilion and sat on cushions of the finest heavy silk. The emir clapped for his servant and had the man pour two cups of the thick rich coffee Lucien knew the general greatly favored.