“I think I would have liked this man,” Capussa said with an approving nod.
“Because he was right, or because he knocked me back into the ditch?” Percival asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Both,” Capussa said.
The Knight smiled. “I thought as much.”
Percival turned at the sound of approaching horses and saw Cynric, Tylan, and a clean-shaven Merlin riding toward him. The three men dismounted, and Percival walked over to meet them, with Capussa at his side. Capussa nodded to Cynric. “Does the enemy make preparation for battle?” he asked.
Cynric shook his head. “Not yet, but the Norse will attack again, once their foot soldiers arrive. The scouts say that may be tonight, but certainly by morning.”
“Aye, he will come,” Tylan concurred with a nod.
“Will the attack come tonight or at dawn?” Capussa asked.
“Ivarr would attack tonight, if he could,” Cynric said. “But the scouts say his men have been coming at a forced march for near a day and a half. They’ll want to eat and rest before battle. I wager he will come in the morning.”
Merlin nodded his agreement. “That would be the wiser choice.”
“How many men do we have?” Percival said.
Cynric looked over at Tylan.
“Near three hundred and more come by the hour,” Tylan said, looking across the field at a group of men carrying axes and logs toward the palisade.
“And what kind of men are they?” Percival asked quietly.
“They’re brave enough,” Cynric answered, “but most of them have never been in a fight before, and they’re not well-armed. Most of them only have axes, knives, and staffs. I can’t say how they will hold—”
“They will hold, my friend,” Capussa interrupted. “Thanks to the endless sea of trees in this land, and the two hundred axes at work out there, we will be able to put two hundred pikemen into the field by dawn.”
“A phalanx of pikemen may stop the cavalry, my Numidian friend, but they will only delay hardened warriors afoot,” Merlin said. “Once the Norse get among them, they will break our line, and it will become a slaughter. Ivarr will know this.”
“Then,” Percival said, “we must choose our ground well, so this does not come to pass.”
Capussa gestured toward a large, flat rock they had used as a makeshift desk earlier in the day. “Let us look at that map of yours, Merlin the Wise.”
The five men walked over to the rock, and Merlin rolled out a parchment, revealing a map. “I drew this after talking to the scouts and a local farmer.”
Percival pointed to the line on the map designating the River Wid. “Where will he seek to make his crossing?”
Cynric leaned forward and stared at the parchment for a long moment. “If he crosses to the south,” he said, “his men will have to ride through a foul marsh to reach this camp. A crossing to the north would be easier. There’s a path on this side. It runs alongside the river.”
“What is this ground like?” Capussa said, tracing the south bank of the river to the north of the camp.
“It’s flat until you reach this stretch,” Cynric said, tapping a spot on the map. “There’s a wooded hill there on this side of the river. The path runs along its base.”
“So the path there is bordered on one side by the river and on the other by a slope?” Capussa questioned.
“Yes?”
“Can a line of men take a position on this slope?”
Cynric stared at the Numidian for a moment and then answered, a tinge of excitement in his voice, “Yes, yes. I believe they could.”
“I would see this place,” Capussa said quietly and turned to Merlin. “A man named Hannibal led my people, and other barbarians, as you Romans used to call us, to a great victory. There was a fog that morning, and the enemy was drawn down a narrow road bordered on one side by a hill and—”
“On the other by a lake— Trasimene,” Merlin finished.
“Indeed,” Capussa said, a smile coming to his face.
* * *
CAPUSSA LOOKED ACROSS the darkened field at the ordered and fortified camp, alit in the light from the full moon. Three sides of the perimeter were protected by a ditch and a palisade of wooden stakes, and the fourth by a natural barrier of rocks. Sentries were posted at regular intervals along the barriers. Some of the roughly four hundred men enclosed within the camp perimeter were sleeping on the ground, wrapped in simple cloaks or blankets; others were talking quietly in circles around a score of cooking fires. Wooden pikes were stacked next to each fire, ready for use in the morning. Capussa nodded in satisfaction and took a drink from the silver flask he was holding before returning it to a pocket in his black cloak.
After a final look at the perimeter, the Numidian walked back to a long, flat rock where his sword lay. A fire burned in a shallow pit two paces away. Merlin sat on another rock to his right, and Cynric, Tylan, Bray, Keil, and a number of other newly arrived men were sitting on logs and rocks to his left, talking quietly. As he took a seat on the flat stone, Capussa looked over at Cynric and asked, “The Knight?”
“There is a spring just outside the wall. He bathes and then—”
“He will pray,” Capussa finished.
“Eight bowmen watch over him, at a distance,” Cynric said.
Capussa nodded his unspoken thanks and looked over at the fire.
Several minutes after Capussa sat down, Keil rose and walked hesitantly toward him. He sat down on a smaller rock a pace away, and Capussa glanced over at the younger man. “You would ask a question of me, my young friend?”
“Ah, yes, yes sir. The other night, you said, well, you said that you might—”
“Continue my tale of the time Sir Percival and I spent in the land of the Moors? Indeed, I did. Well, the night before a battle is as good a time for a story as any.”
As soon as he finished speaking, Bray and the rest of Cynric’s men moved closer.
“Now, where were we? … Oh yes, our time as prisoners of Khalid El-Hashem—our time in the arena.”
Capussa stared at the fire for a moment in silence and then spoke in a musing tone.
“I have been a soldier for more than two decades, and I have closed with the enemy and traded blows in the heat of battle many a time, but … it is a different thing to rise each day as a gladiator. When you awake and watch the sun rise, you know that you will be dead by sundown, unless you can defeat another man in mortal combat; and when you go to bed each night, you know that the next day will be same.”
Five other men walked over from the other side of the fire and sat down quietly.
Capussa nodded at them and continued. “I found, as did other men, that once I survived a month in the arena, the burden of fear receded. You become more comfortable with death. It’s as if he is a neighbor who you see at the village well each day. You greet each other and talk of things, and then part. With each parting, you breathe a sigh of relief, but,” Capussa paused, his eyes roving over the growing crowd of listeners, “you know that there will come a day when you will not leave the well. You know one day he will take you.”
Capussa was quiet for a moment, and his eyes grew distant.
“Some men couldn’t bear the waiting, and they would choose the day of their death, embracing a blow they knew would take them quickly. But this … this changes as the end of your time of imprisonment nears. Then you begin to hope again. You begin to think of a life where you will not have to meet death every day, and that is a dangerous thing.”
Merlin nodded in understanding.
“As fate would have it, Khalid was bound to release both Sir Percival and me in the same week, and as our last month approached, we pledged to remain vigilant that we might survive and live out our days in this—” Capussa smiled and made a gesture that took in the armed camp “peaceful land.”
After the chorus of laughter ended, Capussa returned to his tale. “Then fate cast us a boon, or so it seemed. In that last month, the pl
ague came to the City of Syene, and the ruling Vizier forbid public gatherings. Although Khalid was enraged at being denied the gold that he might otherwise have earned from the Knight’s blood, his rage was tempered by his new obsession—Sumayya.”
“Sumayya?” Keil interjected.
Capussa paused for a moment and stared into the night sky as the circle of listeners, which had grown to over forty men and boys, waited in silence for him to continue.
“Yes, my young friend, Sumayya. She was a Moorish princess. She was, it was said, the most beautiful woman in all of Egypt, and some claimed, in all the lands of the Moor.”
“Did you see her?” Keil said in a whisper.
“Keil, would you like to be the next log on that fire?” Tylan growled.
“No sir.”
“Then be silent.”
Capussa smiled. “I did indeed, but only her face, and as for that I will say this: I have never seen nor dreamed of such beauty, and I, my friends, have traveled through many a land and seen many a woman. Why, I could tell you stories …” Capussa said, shaking his head. “Ah, but that is for another day.”
A look of disappointment crossed Bray’s face, and he took a long draught of wine.
“As is the way of it,” Capussa continued, “every man of wealth and power in the land sought Sumayya’s hand, and although her father, a wealthy Emir, could have traded his daughter to the wealthiest and most powerful suitor, he would not. He let it be known that Sumayya would choose her own husband. This meant that all of Khalid’s gold would avail him nothing in his quest for this woman’s hand, for you see,” Capussa leaned forward, as if to tell a secret, “Khalid looked rather like a cross between a vulture and a rat.”
The description drew a howl of laughter from the crowd.
“Yet, Khalid would not be denied this prize. He believed that he had within his hands the means to make this beauteous young woman accept his hand in marriage, for he had Sir Percival.”
“Sir Percival?” Keil said, confused.
“Sir Percival,” Capussa answered with a solemn nod. “You see, Sumayya’s father would often come to the games in the arena and wager on the fights, and although she hated the bloodshed, as a dutiful daughter, she came as well. Over time, the princess came to admire Sir Percival for the honor, courage, and mercy he displayed in the arena, and it is said she even prayed for his life before each battle. Now Khalid, being a clever man, saw an opportunity in this. He asked Sumayya if she would like to meet Sir Percival, and indeed, the princess did. And so it came to pass that Sumayya spent many an afternoon with Sir Percival.”
Merlin’s eyes widened ever so slightly when he heard this, and Capussa smiled inwardly, knowing even the old Roman was mesmerized by the story. As he drew out his silver flask to take a drink, the Numidian remembered listening to the stories his father had told around the village fire when he returned from his long sea voyages. The man was a master, weaving a spell over his listeners that left them begging for more when the tale came to an end.
After taking a drink from his flask, the Numidian continued with his tale.
“The princess was always veiled when she met the Knight, and the meetings took place in the presence of her father, Khalid, and many guards. However, what Sumayya and Sir Percival spoke of was not known to Sumayya’s father and Khalid, for Sumayya was as learned as she was beautiful. She, like the Knight, spoke the language of the Romans, a language the Emir and Khalid did not understand. So the two of them were able to keep their words secret.”
Keil opened his mouth to say something, but Merlin spoke first.
“Do you know, my Numidian friend, what it is they spoke of during these … meetings?”
Capussa started to shake his head, and Keil’s face fell, but then the Numidian slowly raised his right hand, as if he had just recovered a long forgotten memory.
“The Knight is a man of few words and keeps his own counsel, but over time, I did learn something of what was said between the two. The princess wanted to learn about the Knight and his land and its people. So Sir Percival told Sumayya of your King Arthur, Queen Guinevere, and the Knights of the Table; and no matter how long he would speak of these things, Sumayya wanted to know more, for she’d never heard of such a noble and wonderful thing. And the Knight, for his part, desired to know of the princess and her life, thoughts, and desires as well.
“So it came to be, over time, that Sumayya came to care greatly for the Knight, and I suspect, he for her. Now Khalid, being a cunning man, could see that these feelings offered him the means to achieve his evil ends. But then, that is often the way of it—a thing of innocent goodness between two noble souls becomes the bait for the foulest of traps.”
Capussa hesitated for a moment, and the crowd of men around him waited in silence for him to continue. Tylan’s brow, he noted, was now as furrowed as Keil’s.
“It happened the day before our release. I suspect Khalid used Sumayya’s feelings for Sir Percival to induce her father to visit on that day, possibly by offering Sumayya one last meeting with the Knight before he became a free man. Sometime after dusk, three of Khalid’s guards came to our quarters and ordered us to gather our armor and to follow them to the armory. We were told that our time of release was near, and we would no longer have need of it.”
Capussa stood up and walked over to the fire, warmed his hands for a moment, and then turned around and faced his waiting audience.
“We were led out of the walled area where the gladiators were confined, and from there, through a series of beautiful courtyards. As we passed through the last courtyard, we could see Sumayya and her attendants sitting at a table at the far end. A moment later, the wooden gate that separated the courtyard from the desert outside burst open, and men on horseback rode in and thundered toward the women. The men guarding Sumayya threw down their swords and ran, leaving the women to face their attackers alone.”
Capussa raised a hand and pointed into the distance and spoke more rapidly. “The Knight, who was walking ahead of me, ran toward the women. I followed, seizing one of the swords dropped by the fleeing guards as I ran. By the time we reached the women, the horsemen had left through another gate, leaving the women untouched. A moment later, Khalid, surrounded by guards, ran into the square and confronted us. Sumayya told Khalid that we had come to her rescue, and although Khalid thanked us for our noble effort, he said that he, nonetheless, had no choice but to enforce the law.”
“The law?” Tylan said, his eyes wide.
Capussa nodded his head in regret as he returned to his seat on the rock, and then spoke in a solemn voice. “Any prisoner bearing arms outside the arena was to be put to death. That was the law of their land. And, I, alas, was bearing arms.”
“No!” Keil exploded. “It was a trap! You were saving the princess!”
Capussa held his hands out, palms up, as if in surrender.
“Indeed, it was a trap, and a clever one. Khalid had known that the Knight and I would go to Sumayya’s aid, and he had assumed we both would seize the swords left by the guards—the guards he’d paid to drop their swords and run away. Had the scheme worked as Khalid had planned, both Sir Percival and I would have been condemned to death … unless—”
“Sumayya agreed to marry Khalid, in which case Khalid would show mercy. Yes, it was quite a clever scheme. I will give him that,” Merlin finished.
“But Sir Percival wasn’t carrying a sword!” Keil cried, standing up in outrage. “How could Khalid force her to marry him?”
“Patience, my friend,” Capussa said with a calming gesture.
“When Khalid realized his trap had only ensnared me, but not Sir Percival, his wrath was great, for he assumed Sir Percival would depart, leaving me to my fate, and he with no hold over Sumayya. Worse, Sumayya, being a clever girl, saw through Khalid’s ruse, and this made it certain she would not only never be his bride, but would be a dangerous enemy in the future.”
Capussa stood up and stretched, looking over the c
rowd of men waiting intently for him to continue. “There is more to this story, but I would not keep you up on the—”
“No, you must go on!” a chorus of voices pleaded from the crowd.
Capussa nodded in acceptance and sat back down. He was silent for a moment and then shook his head slowly in disbelief.
“It was at this point that Sir Percival did something most noble, a thing that to this day brings tears to my eyes. He met secretly with Khalid and struck a bargain. It was agreed that the Knight would return to the City of Alexandria with a parchment confirming he’d served the one-year sentence imposed upon the son of Jacob the Healer, and he would then return … and trade his life for mine.”
Capussa was staring at the ground when he finished, but he could see the shock on the faces of his enraptured audience.
“Now, Khalid didn’t believe the Knight would return, and his ire was such that he was reluctant to delay my death. He only agreed to delay my execution until noon on the day of the second full moon. This only gave Sir Percival sixty days to travel near three hundred leagues up and down the River Nile. Although it could be done, it left him no time to spare.”
Capussa raised his balled fists in front of him and slowly stood.
“When I learned of this bargain, my grief and rage could not be restrained. I told the Knight not to return, and that if he insisted on doing so, I would die by my own hand before I allowed him to yield his life for mine. But this was to no avail. The Knight told me that he had pledged to return, and return he would, whether I was dead or alive. So taking my own life would only ensure that the loss of his was an empty sacrifice.
“And so it came to pass that the Knight left in the morning and undertook the long journey to Alexandria, and as he promised, he returned before the rising of a second full moon, prepared to die in my place.”
“But … you live, you both still live,” Bray said, shaking his head in confusion.
Capussa smiled and nodded. “Indeed we do, my friend. You see, Sumayya saved both of our lives. On the day of the second full moon, I was brought into the arena, where I was to be beheaded. As always, a great crowd was there to witness the spectacle, for Khalid had told many of his bargain with the Knight, and many had agreed to pay to see what would happen that day.
The Return of Sir Percival Page 21