~
It was done quickly and efficiently; a hallmark of their trade was their ability to kill in battle and afterwards. De Capo’s Saracens had already been witness to what these men were capable of and they stood to one side and watched dispassionately as the bandits were dragged out into the centre of the ravine and beheaded one by one. A quick death was something they would not have received if the Sultan’s men had caught them.
The heads fell and the bodies were dragged away, left at the side of the ravine walls and the heads placed on rocks nearby. There they would be left as a reminder to anyone else thinking of attacking the lifeblood of the Kingdom of Jerusalem. Eventually there were only two men left, Faruq and a young man who had been chosen at random to live. He had one task, to return from where he came and spread the story there would be no mercy for those who attacked the Caravans, but before he was released he had to watch Faruq die, and it wasn’t pleasant!
He was stripped naked and rope was tied to his wrists and ankles and attached to four horses which were walked slowly in opposite directions. The screams reverberated through the ravine as his limbs were stretch and dislocated before finally being ripped from his body. It was cleverly done so as to maintain maximum pain and his torso was left with one twisted and nearly severed leg.
His death followed quickly and the young man chosen to live, watched ashen faced.
~
Salman and his rescued comrades had fallen to their knees, blessed their rescuers and sworn blind allegiance to them and their families for eternity. All de Capo wanted was a physician for his wounded and Salman praised Allah for his insistence that he always had one with every Caravan. The wounded were tended to, and they were all surprised at the tenderness and efficiency of the Muslim doctor. Wounds were cleaned and stitched and bound with clean cotton cloths and de Capo was pleased to hear that unless God decreed otherwise, none of the wounded would die. Three of the wounded horses had to be destroyed but the remainder had their injuries tended with as much tenderness as the wounded men.
The ravine would be their shelter for the night and four of the men from de Capo’s column were sent to meet the wagons at the Ataullah Oasis and return with them. The knights who had been killed were laid in the shadows with blankets over them. Leopold insisted they be returned to Acre for Christian burial and de Capo was not going to argue with that. Something had happened between Leopold and himself, a respect bordering on friendship, but a friendship that could not be outwardly displayed between themselves or in front of anyone else.
That evening, as the heads of the dead watched the living share hot food and stories as friends and saviours, de Capo took his Saracens to one side. They all crouched in a circle and listened to their charge, ‘It is time you returned to your own people.’
Kamil turned and looked at Talib and they quickly spoke in their own tongue. Ali and Bundar nodded as the two men spoke and de Capo just waited patiently until Kamil finally turned back to him, ‘Talib agrees with me, we cannot leave while your life is in danger.’
De Capo shook his head, ‘You all risk your lives staying here and you have killed your own people to protect the men who tried to kill you, the risk is mine and the debt is paid, tell Baktamar I heard him and I understand the danger of staying.’
‘He will not be happy,’ Kamil turned to his comrades and translated what de Capo had said. He waited while they all spoke briefly, ‘They are not happy,’ he said, ‘the debt can never be repaid!’
De Capo pulled Baktamar’s dagger from his belt and held it up in front of all of them, ‘This is the proof of the debt and one day it will be paid, but not today….I want you to go home, see your friends and families, because the day will come when you have to fight these men again.’
Kamil spoke his own tongue briefly and all four men stood. De Capo stood and faced them and Kamil nodded, ‘It is your wish Sayyid that we go?’
‘You go as friends, you go as warriors and you go with my blessing and the thanks of these men, they have said they were wrong about you and your presence has been my protection.’
De Capo embraced each man before they mounted their horses and looked at the men they had rode and fought with. Those men had seen them rescue Leopold and protect him against attack and it had confused them that the men they had tried to kill had risked their own lives to protect their enemies. Those that could, stood in respect, and watched as the four warriors kicked their horses into a canter and disappeared towards Damascus.
Leopold limped over and stood beside de Capo, ‘You’re letting your bodyguard go?’
He turned to face Leopold, ‘Do I need them?’
‘Maybe,’ replied Leopold as he turned away with the hint of a smile, ‘maybe not!’
Chapter Twenty Six
Geoffrey de Paganel stared arrogantly at de Capo as he led the men back into the castle. More than half were bloodied and bruised and on one of the wagons lay the bodies of their fallen comrades, still covered in blankets supplied by the Caravan. Salman had pressed a bag of gold into de Capo’s hands before they parted, for distribution between the men who had fought and saved the lives of his men and their livelihood. De Capo had taken Faruq’s horse as a prize but when he accepted the gold he handed the reins to Salman who clasped de Capo’s hands firmly and swore everlasting friendship.
The Caravan continued on to Tyre and de Capo and his men limped back to Acre, battered but victorious. Word of what had happened would spread fast and men would think twice before attacking another Caravan, at least for a while. The men who had been left behind in the Castle on the Mount would be told the details and for a while they would view de Capo with a modicum of respect.
Servants and stable hands rushed to take the horses, and men of the Order helped the wounded to the infirmary. The courtyard filled with the friendly banter and abuse of men of war. The banter ceased when the bodies of their comrades were removed from the wagon. They would be taken to a cool room and cleaned and dressed ready for burial and as de Capo watched, Leopold and de Paganel supervised that task with quiet efficiency.
He glanced about and his eyes caught those of Erasmus who stood on the balcony watching until he saw the bodies in the wagon. He gave a small nod to de Capo and made his way down to the courtyard and followed the men carrying the corpses. Although they had been dead for two days he would still administer the last rites. He claimed their souls would stay with the bodies until the rites had been completed.
The castle was a hive of activity and it seemed everyone had their task to do on the return of a patrol. He stood by his horse until a young Arab boy appeared and held his hand out for the reins. De Capo untied the bags behind his saddle and watched, exhausted as the horse was led away to be fed and watered. He felt redundant as he realised de Paganel and Leopold, even though he was wounded, had taken over and started to issue orders.
De Paganel seemed to be in his element as he gave instructions, and while he ignored de Capo, Leopold turned and looked in his direction before limping over to him, ‘The men are well versed at what to do, they will spend the rest of the day repairing their equipment and preparing weapons, they will rest and eat, and tomorrow they will be ready to fight again.’ He looked at de Capo and for the first time his face softened, ‘I’ve spent the last two days thinking, we can never be comrades but we can be allies. There is much you don’t know about us and much you can never know, but while I live you will not be harmed. I owe you my life and those of the men who returned. I hope I do not have to fight your friends, as I am also in their debt.’
De Capo smiled, ‘Aye, allies is good enough for me, what of the burials?’
‘They will be prepared and tomorrow they will meet God and plead for the sins they have committed.’
‘Very well,’ de Capo nodded at Leopold’s injured leg and arm, ‘you best get those wounds checked, you’re no good dead to me now.’
Leopold turned away and limped back towards de Paganel who watched with interest.
Hashim appeared at de Capo’s side and looked about with concern on his face, ‘Sayyid, your men?’
‘They have gone home Hashim, I don’t need them any longer.’
Hashim moved closer and kept his voice low so only de Capo could hear, ‘You are still in danger!’
De Capo smirked at the comment, but the smirk vanished as he looked at the worried expression on Hashim’s face, ‘Bring my shield and helmet, we’ll talk in private.’
~
‘His name is Finus,’ Hashim said softly as he glanced at the closed door checking no one had opened it and was listening undetected, ‘He arrived the day you left…I have seen him before, many times, he is the Grand Masters messenger.’
De Capo had removed his mail and plate and stood with a beaker of wine in the shallow breeze from the window. It was late afternoon and he wanted to fall onto his bed and sleep, but Hashim had put paid to that. He took a huge swallow of wine and held his beaker out for more, ‘Do you know what the message says?’
Hashim shook his head, ‘No one knows Sayyid, the message is for Leopold and no one else is allowed to see it.’
‘How do you know this?’
‘One person hears and this castle is like a market place, news travels fast Sayyid, de Paganel was angry because he was not allowed to see the message, but now Leopold is back I fear for your life!’
De Capo took a deep breath and thought hard about what this news meant. He had to visit the Constable and explain the recent events but the arrival of a messenger from de Fribois was not good news. If it had been official news a message would have been sent from the Constable. He thought about Erasmus and the scroll he was hiding. That problem had been pushed to the back of his mind over the past few days, but now he was back this scroll was just another added complication. He wondered again at the story Erasmus had told him, it seemed so long ago and the events of the past few days had made what Erasmus said seem ridiculous and unreal, but the man was passionate and adamant about the scroll and its importance. He turned to Hashim, ‘I will talk to Leopold tomorrow, but today I would like a bath.’
Hashim was surprised but inclined his head and left to arrange the hot water. De Capo stared down at the gate and drank more wine and started to feel light headed and relaxed. For one night he wanted to forget everything, but that would never happen and he turned and poured more wine and thought of England.
~
Finus entered Leopold’s quarters accompanied by de Paganel who sneered at his superior,
‘Friends with the traitor?’
Leopold gritted his teeth at the pain in his thigh and arm, ‘Hold your tongue,’ he snapped, ‘good men died, go and do something useful like pray over them!’
‘There is a message from the Grand Master, I should hear it.’
‘You’ll hear it if I think you should,’ Leopold was in pain and irritated by de Paganel’s self-importance, ‘now leave us.’
Gritting his teeth, his eyes flashing angrily, de Paganel turned and stormed out of the room and Finus raised an eyebrow at the exchange between the two knights.
‘You have the message?’
Finus pulled the parchment out of his bag and handed it to Leopold who took it and stared at the unbroken seal, ‘Do you know what it says?’
Finus shook his head, ‘I never know; I simply deliver them.’
Leopold sighed and placed the parchment on the table, ‘Does he require a reply?’
‘The Grand master always requires a reply,’ Finus half smiled at Leopold who already knew the answer.
‘I’ll read it in private and give my reply after I have buried my dead.’
Finus gave a small bow of his head, ‘As you wish.’
Leopold sat and stared at the parchment when Finus had left, and for once in his life he hesitated, knowing what it would say, and knowing he had started to doubt the wisdom of his Order against the life of a man he had started to respect. Battle forges men into what they are and Leopold had seen de Capo fighting. He seemed to have no fear and a man with no fear was a hard man to kill, and Leopold knew he no longer wanted to kill such a man. He slowly cut through the seal, read the contents twice and stared at the door deep in thought.
Chapter Twenty Seven
De Capo woke before the sun had risen. His body still ached from the trials of riding for days, and though the fighting he took part in was short and swift, he still suffered from minor bruising caused by blunt blows his gambeson did not fully absorb. The bath he took when the hot water finally came was like a relief, not only to his body but his mind as well, and for a few minutes he soaked and allowed Hashim to scrub him with scented Spanish soap. He slept well that night and the wine had pushed away any worries he had.
Hashim remained in de Capo’s quarters and when he woke, fresh water and fruit waited for him, a refreshing start to the day, but a start that included his mind being once more invaded with the knowledge Hashim had imparted the day before; that and the business with Erasmus.
By the time the sun appeared as a sliver of light on the eastern horizon, de Capo was dressed in mail and surcoat. He would visit the Constable after the burials which would take place before noon. The bodies would be placed in the crypt beneath the castle where they would remain for eternity, ‘or’, he thought,’ until the Saracen finally drive us out and destroy any vestige of our being here.’
Before long the sun lit up his room like a million candles and he sat at his desk and looked at the parchments left for him by Efrayim, documents he had to read, sign and seal in order to allow the daily function of the castle to continue. With power and responsibility came administration and he briefly wondered if there would be a time when that wasn’t so. He sighed and placing his right elbow on the desk he rested his mouth against the upright hand, and using his other hand picked up the first document and lazily read it. Dealing with these issues early in the day was his preferred method but by the time he had read half the document, his mind wandered back to the reality of this Finus and the contents of the message.
~
Leopold had not slept well. As de Capo was rising from a good night’s sleep, Leopold rolled off his bunk and with the message pushed inside his gambeson he left his quarters and strolled along the battlements checking the sentries. The message was clear, Erasmus was in possession of a scroll that the Pope wanted and de Capo had to die. The Grand Master had endorsed the orders from de Chauvigny and given Leopold the instructions he had craved so long for, but now he had them his mind was in turmoil. De Chauvigny was so different to de Capo. Where one was cruel, brutal and efficient, the other was fair, brutal and efficient and the difference was startling and frightening for Leopold who believed himself to be as cruel as de Chauvigny.
All his fighting life he had served in the Order; and, privy to its secrets, he believed in the cruelty they carried out in the name of the Pope and his quest, the quest that was the founding reason for their existence. That quest could soon be over but there was something troubling him about this scroll. Erasmus was the Pope’s appointment; he was the priest the Pope trusted, the priest who knew as much, if not more than all of them, so what was it about this scroll that meant so much, why did he hide it? That very act dictated to Leopold that Erasmus was a traitor and should be treated as one. He should be tortured and forced to hand it over, but one small act had made Leopold think about what he was doing.
For the first time he was starting to question how his Order operated. That small act was four Saracen warriors saving his life and putting themselves between him and the men trying to kill him. Leopold stared across the city and tried to justify what his next actions would be. He pulled out the message and read it once more in the light of a torch and as the sun appeared on the horizon he made his decision!
Chapter Twenty Eight
The corpses were wrapped in white cotton robes and after the small but meaningful service, the circle of knights who stood surrounding them, heads bowed and swords held in front of them wit
h blades to the floor all turned to face their dead comrades and knelt.
Erasmus knelt in the centre of the corpses and prayed as the men of the Order filed past in full armour. De Capo stood and watched at the unusual rite as each man drew his sword and tapped it gently on the chest of each corpse, a symbol, he was told, that each man was and would forever remain a brother to them, in steel and in their hearts.
As the commander, de Capo had been informed he was to complete the ritual last. It was his honour and a mark of respect for the men who died under his command. Leopold would be the last man to go before him, but as Leopold stepped forward, de Capo grabbed his shoulder and stopped him. Leopold snapped his head round but before he could speak de Capo simply shook his head and stepped in front of him. He might be the commander but he knew they were really Leopold’s men. When Leopold finally stepped forward as the last man and completed the ritual on each corpse, his men glanced at each other, and the looks on their faces indicated they were confused. De Paganel didn’t suffer from the same confusion and he glared at Leopold with suspicion and mistrust.
Erasmus stood and approached each corpse and sprinkled holy water over the heads of each man as he gave a benediction passing them into the care of God. He fell to his knees again as the bodies were lifted by their chosen bearers and carried solemnly down the stone steps to the crypt below the castle. There, it was hoped they would remain until the day of judgement came and the dead rose to take their place beside their Lord Jesus Christ.
Chapter Twenty Nine
De Paganel was surreptitious in his movements and he slowly made his way towards the door as the bodies were carried down into the crypt. No one saw him leave and once out of the packed room he made his way towards Leopold’s quarters. The door was unlocked and he pushed it open, glancing behind him to see if anyone was watching, he saw no one, not even Finus who sat in the shadows of the gallery on the opposite side of the castle. Watching without being seen was an art he had managed to perfect over the years.
Deus Militis - Soldiers of God Page 17