by Ann Turner
Leopold of Austria argued with King Richard about his flag flying on the ramparts of Acre alongside the English and French flags. Richard demanded that the Austrian flag be brought down, as Leopold was not equal to the combined armies of the English or French Kings with his contingency of German and Austrian crusaders. Leopold refused, saying that he had as much right as anyone present to have his colours placed alongside the English and French. In a fit of uncontrollable rage at the obstinacy of the Austrian, Richard climbed to the top of Acre’s walls, tore down the Austrian flag and trampled on it. It was an insult that Leopold would never forgive or forget.
Leopold left the Holy Land with his supporters and, soon after, King Philip began his preparations to return to France, leaving Richard as sole leader of the remaining depleted armies of crusaders. At first, Richard stormed and raged, shouting at Hugh and Simon. He called those who had gone cowards, sons of whores and no better than the infidels they were fleeing with their miserable tails between their legs.
Saladin sent the first payment of the ransom to Richard. However, this was not acceptable to the king, who remained infuriated with Philip for deserting him, and looking for a scapegoat to blame. He decided that the Saracen leader was using delaying tactics as an excuse not to comply with the terms laid down and, in a moment of Angevin rage, instructed his solders to take two thousand of the hostages to the hill of Ayyadieh that overlooked the Saracen’s camp. There, he would make sure that the hostages were executed by decapitation and disembowelling, knowing it would be in full view of Saladin and his men. This would prove to anyone who came into conflict with the Lionheart, that they would regret their decisions.
The hostages were selected and were reluctant to be shepherded away, until the men among them began to assume that they were being led from the camp to be released. It was further assumed that those still remaining would attain their freedom soon, as their lord Saladin would barter for their release. There was joyful singing and laughter from the unsuspecting doomed souls, and the children rattled their chains happily as they ascended the hill. The guards ordered them to halt once they had reached the summit of Ayyadieh, where the hostages waited, expectant for their chains to be removed and for news of their release to be declared. They would soon be able to walk back to their fellow countrymen and freedom.
Slowly, the guards drew their swords and began to circle the hostages. Their faces were hard and their eyes were cold as they closed in on the circle. The hostages huddled together, finally realising that they had not been brought here to attain freedom. They had been brought here to die. One brave man made an attempt to escape, but he was killed before he could stumble forward five paces. The men pushed the women behind them, while the women pushed the children into the centre of the ever-decreasing circle. They pleaded with the guards to spare the children as their quarrel was not with them, but it had no effect.
The sounds of men, women and innocent children screaming was carried through the air on a hot breeze into the Saracen camp. It was met with unbelievable horror and disbelief. The men in the camp stopped what they were doing and watched as they looked towards the brow of Ayyadieh, which slowly turned violent red from the letting of blood. They watched as their fellow countrymen, women and children were slain before their eyes and they cursed Richard Plantagenet, desiring him dead by a thousand knives.
Aubrette also witnessed the massacre, with a sense of foreboding. She stood with her hands covering her mouth and her eyes wide in terror. Could this seal her own fate? Najid, beside her, was trembling with fury and muttering obscenities the English king. Around them, others were reacting with identical rage and she became aware that the men were beginning to turn their hate-filled eyes onto her. To these men, she was a guilty Christian and as blameworthy as the English king. The assistance she had given them after the fall of Acre had been forgotten.
‘Protect me, Najid,’ she whispered.
Najid turned to look at her and she saw the murderous look of hate in his eyes. Her protector was no longer standing by her side. He was again the enemy and she was the captive, at the mercy of every Muslim soldier in this camp.
‘Why? Did your Christian God protect our women? Who was there to stop your king from murdering our children? Their blood shall stain his name for eternity. Allah shall have his revenge and your God shall not stop him,’ Najid replied, venomously.
Aubrette looked around. If she tried to run, she would not get far. She edged closer to him, not knowing anymore whether this was wise. If others attempted to end her life, would he stop them or would he unite with them? However, she was still under his protection. Najid had been commanded to guard her and she felt a peculiar sense of security being near him. To her dismay, he moved away.
‘Take me to the sultan,’ she entreated, reaching her hand out and laying it on his arm.
He looked at her small trembling hand with an expression that was nothing less than utter disgust, before moving his arm away and looking into her face. ‘Why? Do you think he can save your Christian life?’
‘Just take me, please. I feel safe near you and him,’ she entreated.
‘The good it will do you,’ he stated, crossly picking up the chain and tying it around her waist. She did not complain this time, but he drew his scimitar. Aubrette gasped with fear. ‘Walk,’ he instructed.
As she started to move, Najid pushed the blade against her back. They walked slowly to Saladin’s pavilion and she was harshly aware of the many Muslim eyes watching as they headed into the heart of the camp. Several spat on the ground at her feet, others drew their scimitars, while some slowly moved their thumbs across their throats, vocally cursing her. She did not need to know their language to understand what they were saying.
‘They want your blood in retaliation,’ Najid said, quietly.
Aubrette allowed her gaze to remain forward, refusing to engage in eye contact with anyone. ‘I know,’ she answered, weakly.
Saladin and Al Adil had emerged from the pavilion to stand with their men and watch. They wanted to be with them and to feel the indescribable pain with them, as the screams carried through the air and reverberated around the camp. Saladin uttered a loud damnation on the Lionheart, for him to feel the same pain as he now suffered seeing his innocent women and children cut down.
The brothers saw Aubrette approaching, and the sultan turned to watch as she came and stood humbly in front of him. He and Najid exchanged a brief, harsh conversation. Najid sheathed his scimitar and untied the chain, before standing back. Al Adil came to stand directly in front of her and raised his hand, ready to hit her across her face. Saladin snapped his brother’s arm down and spoke severely to him, reprimanding him. Al Adil returned the comments with equal fury and they argued belligerently in hushed tones, until he turned away in disgust and re-entered the pavilion.
Saladin looked down at her and she trembled anew. This was not a man who would keep her safe. He swiftly moved forward and grabbed Aubrette’s face, pulling her close. She could feel the heat of his breath on her cheeks and see the hatred in his dark eyes.
‘Say your prayers to your Christian God, as you may meet Him soon.’
His baleful words chilled her. Tears stung her eyes and trickled over his knuckles. How could Richard have done this? What tactical advantage could this slaughter have possibly provided? Would this be where her life would end, surrounded by Saracens? Who would mourn for her? Rowena? Simon? Maybe only those two.
‘Please do not kill me; this has nothing to do with me. I weep and grieve for the mothers who have lost their sons, and the wives who have lost their husbands.’ Distraught, she pleaded for her life. Saladin looked deep into her eyes, as if attempting to find justification to his decision.
He released her, pushing her away roughly before shouting for Najid. After speaking to him, Saladin turned away. He wanted nothing to do with this pathetic Christian woman. He woul
d decide upon her fate later; there were more important issues to occupy his mind now. Najid bowed and turned to Aubrette, with a grim expression on his face.
‘You will come with me,’ he said, attaching the chain once more.
Aubrette felt her legs tremble and she stumbled sideward, causing Najid to catch her to prevent her from falling. He pulled her upright, though it took all her strength to remain standing. She attempted to appear courageous, but her lower lip was trembling and she could not control it. She felt huge tears roll down her face and her breath caught in her throat. Her chest became tight. Najid was going to take her away and execute her in revenge.
‘Come with me,’ he repeated.
Knowing she was only stalling, Aubrette took a difficult step forward and then another to stand by his side. Together, they walked past the ferocious solders – some still openly cursing her – until they came to her tent, and he dropped the chain from his hand, still leaving it around her waist. She went into it and stood alone in the centre, praying aloud to her God so that Najid could hear. She was preparing herself for what was to come next. Najid watched her, his face blank and his mouth a hard thin line. He drew his scimitar and her breath caught again in her throat as she looked at the razor-sharp blade. She prayed it would be swift and painless.
‘If you are going to kill me, then get it over with,’ she said, shakily. ‘I shall meet my God with a clear conscious.’
Najid stared at her still, his brown eyes cold and unblinking. He slowly turned around and moved to the entrance of the tent without speaking, resting his scimitar on his shoulder.
The delay was unbearable. She wanted him to slay her, not keep her in this uncertainty, but still he did nothing. ‘Why are you torturing me? Just do it now, please,’ she repeated, her voice still shaking.
At first, he was silent, then without turning, Najid spoke: ‘My master has told me to protect you with my life. He does not want your worthless blood on his hands. He will show your king that he is merciful to innocents and not a savage.’
Aubrette’s legs gave way underneath her and she groped for a chair, collapsing heavily on it. Not believing what she was hearing, the tears rolled again, but this time in absolute relief. Her body shook uncontrollably and she could hardly breath, gulping lungful’s of air. She was alive.
‘Oh my God,’ she whispered, putting a hand over her pulsating heart. ‘I thought I would die.’
Najid looked round at her. ‘My sultan has said there would be no advantage in killing you, so be grateful he made this decision. No one in your camp would have cared if you had lived or died – perhaps your husband only.’
‘I have no love for my husband. I have never felt any affection for him, or he for me. If I never returned, he would not miss or weep for me,’ Aubrette complained, bitterly.
Najid’s eyebrows raised. ‘My own wife and children would honour my memory.’
‘Then you are lucky to be loved like that. Only my sister and her husband would be sad for me, I think.’ Aubrette stopped talking with a small gasp. The mention of Simon brought his face back into her mind.
‘So you are not alone in the world; be grateful for that. No one should be alone.’ Najid’s voice became low as he thought of his own family, who were waiting for his return.
Saladin exacted his revenge for the slaughter of the innocents on Ayyadieh. He ordered the Christian soldiers held captive to be executed in a similar style, and made certain that Richard was aware. Aubrette hid in her tent, burying her head in her pillow. She pushed the palms of her hands over her ears, but still heard the screaming voices of the hostages as they were murdered one by one. Still in their chains, they were unable to defend themselves or escape. The shrieking gradually grew less and less as each man succumbed to a scimitar, until an empty silence hung in the air.
Aubrette remained in her tent, afraid to leave but comforted by Najid’s presence. Their enforced togetherness had brought them close again, and they would sit and talk about the events that had brought them to where their lives now crossed. When Najid left to take a rest from guarding her, he would be replaced by other men – none of which attempted to converse with her. With them, Aubrette learnt to remain silent and to sit at the table with her own thoughts on what could be happening at the Christian camp and in Acre. She knew the king would not try to rescue her and she wondered how her life would progress if she was forced to remain here. Would Saladin attempt to assimilate her into his religion? And, if he succeeded, what would happen to her as a converted Muslim woman? She knew her future did not lie with Najid. He had a wife and was anxious to return to her. Aubrette was determined to remain a Christian, and would prefer to die than betray her God. She was born a Christian and would die a Christian. These were brave thoughts, but would she be so brave stood in front of Saladin? Given the choice between death and life, she knew deep down that she would always choose life – even if it resulted in life as a Muslim woman.
Saladin commanded she attended him, with Najid by her side. The chain was not used. She arrived at his pavilion and Najid remained outside. This time, there was no meal waiting for her and no civilised welcome. He stood, dressed all in black, and watched her with dark eyes. His face was emotionless and his lips were tight. Behind him stood Al Adil, his brother, similar in height and just as darkly handsome.
‘Since the fall of Acre and the murder of my warriors, women, and children of Allah, I have reached the decision to return you to your countrymen. There has been no attempt at a rescue and you have no value to me as a hostage.’ He leant forward and continued with a lower voice. ‘My informants tell me that your king and his army will be moving down the coast in several days. You shall be escorted to a place close to your camp, where you shall be free to return to your own people. You will tell your king that I was honourable to you and held you in comfort, protecting you during your captivity. For a woman, you have an unusual courage. I decided to allow you your life after I was told that you assisted my warriors, your enemies, when they came back wounded by the Christians. You saved many lives and for this, your life shall be saved. You will go now and soon you will be informed of your release.’ He dismissed her and turned to his brother.
Aubrette left the pavilion, her heart beating wildly and feeling giddy with excitement. She was going home and she would be safe. She had survived this terrible nightmare. She looked to where Najid was waiting for her, talking with his comrades, and seeing her, he hurried over. They returned to the tent. On the way, she revealed Saladin’s plans for her.
He surprised her with his answer. ‘I am sorry to hear this,’ he said, quietly, not believing it.
She attempted to make him repeat the statement, but he refused, leaving her mind in a whirl of confusion. She was sure that she had heard Najid say: “I am sorry to hear this”. What did he mean?
As they approached the tent, he took a deep breath and said: ‘Then, as tonight could be our last together, and you are now my guest and not my captive, let us go to the dunes behind the camp to watch the setting sun as beloved.’
Aubrette agreed to this immediately. She and Najid were no longer enemies, so there was nothing to prevent this fledgling friendship from developing in their final days together – even though both knew it was destined not to last. They spent the afternoon together, eating and talking intimately, and learning about each other. Their friendship quickly blossomed into a deep affection, as they told stories of their lives and laughed together. Aubrette felt deeply happy with this man, and did not want to think about the moment that they would have to part.
As the day was drawing to a close, they climbed the dune and stood watching the setting sun, arm in arm. The dying orange disc slowly descended towards the horizon, as slim fingers of pink and gold-edged clouds streaked across the sky. They watched the mountains darkening with shadows in the distant, as the sun disappeared behind them, shooting dying rays skywa
rds. Eventually the sun succumbed to the coolness of the evening, stealing the blistering heat of the day. In this magical moment, the ambience of the twilight air was perfect.
Aubrette, held in Najid’s arms, looked up and started to count the stars as they appeared one by one in the darkening sky. She counted in her language and Najid repeated in his own. Then, just as she began to lose count of the numerous stars sparkling above, Najid reached down and kissed her exposed neck, sending a thrill through her. She closed her eyes and sighed at the delightful sensations pulsating through her body. He kissed her neck again, his lips moving upwards to hers, and their mouths joined in their first kiss together.
‘Would you object?’ he whispered in her ear.
He made her feel so special, so wanted and so desired. Knowing what he was suggesting, she ached for him to continue. ‘No,’ she breathed. ‘No one can feel as I do now.’
Najid understood this to mean that he could now pursue and satisfy the desire that had been rising inside him for days, and which he had resisted. He was euphoric that Aubrette felt the same. ‘Lay with me,’ he insisted, removing his cloak and throwing it on the sand.
Without hesitation, Aubrette lay on it. She looked up at Najid as he removed his tunic and she watched the hairs on his hirsute body rise as the cool evening air brushed over him. She was trembling for him now with a delicate, yet concupiscent emotion she had never felt with Simon. This lust was organic and natural in its evolution.
He knelt beside her. His hands moved under her head, raising it to kiss her again. She responded to the firmness of his mouth on hers by tugging her dress from her shoulders. He loosened it, pulling it further down as she wriggled free. She felt pure pleasure in revealing her nakedness to him. Najid was aroused at the sight of her fair, soft flesh glowing in the evanescing light, and she felt his tongue move over her flesh, covering her with tender kisses. The delightful thrill of his full, soft beard was provocative, stimulative and titillating to her. He then gently lowered his body onto hers and his hips pushed forward.