by D. N. Carter
Taqi stood still in surprise, his mouth open, lost for words.
“Come, my son. I have much to explain to you as I am sure you have many questions. Like I told you before we left, I have friends everywhere, and that is why I knew this route would be safe for us. Well…it should have been safe for us but for him,” Firgany explained as he put his arm around Taqi and both looked down at the dead sailor lying nearby.
As they stood looking at the dead sailor, Firgany followed the angle the arrow had taken. It was from a different direction that either the sailor’s bandit friends or Rashid’s men had come from. Taqi noticed the quizzical look on his father’s face.
“What is it, Father?” he asked as Firgany started to trace the drips of blood across the path and into the bushes. He leant inside the bush and pulled out the arrow that had killed the sailor. He studied it carefully as he approached Taqi and Rashid just as Alisha looked up still cradling Nicholas’s head as his injury was being tended to. Her face was streaked with old tear tracks.
“I have seen these before…but a very long time ago,” he answered, bemused, as he looked over the large arrow. “Look, note the length of this arrow, the quality of the fletched feathers and long draw you would need to pull and fire this,” Firgany explained as he looked at the other arrow on the floor nearby that had passed straight through the heads of the other two masked men.
“It is not of our make or doing,” Rashid said, taking the arrow from Firgany as he went to pick up the other arrow.
Alisha looked at the arrow.
“Father…may I have a closer look, please?” she asked. Firgany held the second arrow near so she could study it. She immediately noticed a small symbol near the arrow head itself. It was the same as the symbol upon the dagger she had been given. She half smiled but was also nearly sick and had to gulp to stop herself from doing so.
Firgany noticed her reaction. He held the arrow up close and looked at the symbol.
“I have seen this before. I know whom it belongs to but this cannot be,” Firgany stated and started to scan all around the area. Rashid, seeing the concern in Firgany’s eyes, also looked likewise. He clicked his fingers and pointed to several exposed areas. Immediately several of his men rushed over and started to check out the surrounding area. One of the men started shouting and pointing up to a high ridge about half a mile away. The sun partly blocked their view but they could all see a large figure astride a large horse part silhouetted looking down at them. “Abi Shardana…,” Firgany said quietly.
“Surely not, my friend…for she would be in her seventies or eighties by now?” Rashid replied as he squinted to see the figure better. “Perhaps her offspring?” he remarked and shrugged.
“No, the symbol would be different…,” Firgany answered and continued to stare at the lone figure in the distance. He raised the arrow high and waved it. The person on the horse raised their hand back, pulled the horse up onto its hind legs only, held that position momentarily, then turned away and rode out of sight over the skyline of the hill.
Alisha placed her hand over the dagger in her waistband. Her mind was asking a thousand questions all at once. Should she mention she has a dagger with exactly the same symbol on it? Who is Abi Shadana? Why would anyone like that be following her all the while, she thought. She felt utterly drained. She looked down at Nicholas. He was unconscious but looked peaceful. He had a strong face yet handsome and boyish still. This man had undoubtedly saved her life by taking the crossbow bolt, and he had done so without hesitation and so valiantly. Her mind drifted to thoughts of Paul. Would he have done the same? she wondered. She then shook her head, angry at herself for even thinking such a question.
Firgany could see the state of Alisha. This would be a day that she would not forget in a hurry. He could see her gaze fall upon the man that had his head almost cleaved in two. It was an unpleasant sight as he lay dead, his brains partly out and in the dirt, a bird already pecking at them. Rashid motioned for one of his men to cover it immediately from view. He looked at Taqi.
“My son, are you okay?” he asked.
“Me…yes…I think so, Father. Yes,” Taqi replied as he surveyed all around him. He then sighed and just shrugged a smile.
“He takes after you clearly. He did not panic or show any fear,” Rashid said closely to Firgany in his ear and placed his hand on his shoulder.
“He has grown much this past year for sure,” Firgany replied, looking at Taqi with pride and admiration. But he felt almost overwhelmed at the sense of his helplessness when they had first been ambushed. He had put his children’s lives at risk and very nearly cost them their very lives. He sighed heavily and shook his head.
“Please, come, my friend. Today has ended well enough considering. And we have all that you requested for your sister. I shall make sure your daughter and these two are returned to Castle Blanc safely whilst my best men escort you to Mawsil and back. These are dangerous times, my very dear friend,” Rashid said and started to usher Firgany away from the area.
Taqi helped one of Rashid’s men to lift the injured Brother Baldwin onto his horse as two more men set up a hastily constructed stretcher that would carry Nicholas back.
“I and my family shall be forever indebted to you and Nicholas for what service you have done this day. Please make sure he knows that,” Taqi expressed almost tearfully as the realisation of what had occurred finally started to register in him. He sniffed and wiped his face immediately.
2 – 2
“I shall. And you did well this day,” Brother Baldwin responded.
“I did nothing,” Taqi answered and started to shake a little.
“My friend…you did not panic…you held your fear in check. That is not nothing, believe me. You should be proud,” Brother Baldwin countered.
“I do not even know your name, Templar.”
“My name…I am Brother Baldwin de Fotina, though my friends call me Upside.”
“I shall remember you and Nicholas always for this day,” Taqi said, grateful, then turned and looked at his father and Rashid as they walked talking with each other. ‘The actual Grand Master of the Ashashin, and he rescues us and he is friends with my father. What more do I not know of him, I wonder?’ Taqi asked himself.
Port of La Rochelle, France, Melissae Inn, spring 1191
“Oh my sweet Lord, I fear I would have died of fright on the spot,” the waitress said, looking shaken.
“Dear maid, I know of some who have indeed done just that in similar circumstances,” the Templar said looking at her directly.
“What? Died of fright?” Simon the fishmonger interjected instantly.
“Yes!” the Templar responded.
“Who dropped dead with fright?” the drunken man suddenly chipped in as he sat up and rubbed his eyes. Everyone looked over at him. “What? What have I missed? Has someone died?” he asked, puzzled, and went to stand but staggered briefly before steadying himself on one of the main beams. He blinked his eyes several times, looked around confused at the bar, empty but for those around the table. “Am I missing something here?” he asked.
“Just the telling of a story,” the old man said softly and patiently as the man staggered towards the main table.
“Oh…oh good. I do so like a jolly good story,” the man stated as he looked around for a spare chair to pull up.
“Before you do continue, can you just clarify for my simple mind.…this Gypsy stuff, how did you get the details for all of that?” the Spanish sailor asked, puzzled.
“Gypsy stuff. You mean Egyptian stuff?” the old man replied.
“Are they not the same thing with their Ta Rah or Tarot cards? I thought they were the same?” he responded and shook his head.
“It is said that Gypsies are descendants of Egyptians. Yes, they use cards that supposedly originated from ancient Egypt, specifically by way of such books as the ‘Book of Thoth’ and the ‘Emerald Tablets’, but these books, and details we have, are all but pale copies as passe
d down and written in ancient Greek only, all of which are scorned by the Church and condemned as heretical and blasphemous. That is why they remain hidden and restricted from public and general view; but they exist, just as Paul would learn from both Rick and others in time, as will all of you when the climate for learning is again opened up for all,” the old man explained.
“We were once taught certain ancient Egyptian details as part of our learning. But that was from an ancient Greek writer too. We could not read the actual pictograms. We still cannot,” the Templar explained as if to validate and endorse the old man’s claim.
“That would be the Greek writer and philosopher ‘Manetho’. In time his writings will be revealed to the wider world. ’Tis a real pity that the Church sits upon them and guards them…but all is revealed when the time is right. And there are those amongst us who know how to read the pictures of the ancients, though very few are they and very guarded are they of what they do know,” the old man explained quietly.
“This Paul you talk of…did he know the language of the ancients?” asked the drunk as he squeezed himself in between the stonemason and the fishmonger.
“In time he did learn much about them. He had to learn about astrology, the Tarot cards as mentioned that seem to be becoming so popular these days, but also many other subjects,” the old man continued to explain.
“But I am more interested in what happened with Alisha. How come this mystery woman seems to follow her and how come Firgany was friends with the famous Rashid, the Old Man of the Mountains? We have all heard of him. Does this mean that Firgany was some kind of Ashashin spy too, or what?…Please, I am confused,” Peter the stonemason asked.
“I shall answer that in good time, I promise. But please, so I do not lose the thread of this story, may I for now continue? For all will be answered, I promise you,” the old man asked politely.
“Yes, please do. I just hope this Alisha does not turn out to be a bit of a heart breaker…she sounds too nice to be like that,” Sarah exclaimed and clasped her hands together as she rested forwards upon the table.
“No, I can assure you she was not a heart breaker. Well, not a deliberate heart breaker, as you shall learn. Yes, she felt emotions towards Nicholas…I mean who would not after such an extreme and highly charged event shared together like they had experienced? But always in her head and, more importantly, her heart, was Paul. But things moved quickly anyway as Rashid delegated a team of his men to escort her and the two Templars all the way back to Castle Blanc, with one of Rashid’s men constantly monitoring Nicholas. They even removed the bolt, cleaned the wound, cauterised it and stitched it closed and bandaged it. They ensured Alisha had the hemp and medicines Firgany had requested for Raja and just short of Castle Blanc left them secure in the knowledge they were safe,” the old man explained with a smile on his face.
“But what about Reynald? Did he not go mad knowing the feared Ashashin had been so near and had helped Firgany and the knights?” Simon the fishmonger asked.
“Oh he was not best pleased when he returned to Castle Blanc and learnt of their involvement. But it was several days after the event when he returned so the Ashashin were long gone. Alisha explained to Raja what had happened, and that some strange knight with large arrows had saved them just before Rashid had arrived. She confessed to Raja that the arrows had the same symbol upon them as the dagger she had been given. Raja advised that she should keep the dagger a secret from her father for now. Raja also made quite a remarkable recovery and was soon up and about and walking. She was greatly encouraged to learn that Rashid’s men were the escort that would personally take and bring back Firgany and Taqi across their lands direct as she knew they would be well guarded the whole journey. Alisha felt greatly comforted and assured knowing the horrible sailor was no longer a threat and she also got to see Nicholas daily as he too improved. She also felt compelled to write a message to the family of the Templar who had died…but the Marshal of the Keep said he could not forward it as the knight’s family may not understand.”
“Did not Rashid also know of this Abi Sha…whatever her name was, is?” the Hospitaller then asked.
“Abi Shadana. And yes, he likewise knew of her too,” answered the old man.
“Pray tell how?” the Hospitaller asked, intrigued.
“Firgany, Rashid and even Philip had met her many many years before in their past, when they were but mere boys themselves. She was in part instrumental in guiding all three upon the paths their lives would all take. It is why and how they all became good friends…but that I shall also explain further later,” the old man explained. “As our Templar and Hospitaller friends here could probably confirm, close bonds were frequently made between Templars, Hospitallers and their Muslim counterparts and contemporaries. It was not uncommon due to mutual respect, honour and joint ventures. A fact our Church is not happy or eager to reveal, but that is the reality of life in Outremer,” the old man explained.
Simon the fishmonger rubbed his head hard.
“I can’t even remember what I asked ten minutes ago so I do hope you can recall all that you say you will cover later…”, he commented.
“My mind is all that I have so fear not, I do not forget…and I shall recount the details, I promise. Anything I cannot recall, I have the diaries and journals I can refer to. The only thing that may hold me back is the late hour. So we may have to continue on the morrow’s eve,” the old man explained.
“No, please. You must continue and finish this night as my brother and I leave on the morrow’s tide.…please! We sail soon to join King Richard and his Crusade,” the Hospitaller pleaded.
The old man looked around the table at all the faces looking at him intently.
“I am tired, but I am able to continue if you so wish me too. Do you all wish for me to continue?” he asked.
Without hesitation all around the table said yes or nodded in agreement at once. The old man smiled. He took a sip of water and looked at them all again in turn.
“Then continue we shall,” he said.
La Rochelle, Manor House, Rue de Stella Maris, summer 1178
Paul awoke again, sweating a fever. His ears hurt with an unbearable pain. He had suffered an ear infection and it had lasted nearly a month. Nothing the local Hospitallers had given him seemed to work to alleviate the pain or reduce the large swelling behind his left ear. He could hear the front door as someone was knocking the large door knocker heavily. He heard his father open the door and greet whoever it was calling, but he simply turned over in his bed and pulled the pillow over his head. A few minutes passed then he heard footsteps on the landing approach his room and then a light tap on his bedroom door followed.
“Paul…it is me, Sister Lucy. May I come in?” she asked quietly, her voice calm and soothing.
Paul frowned and closed his eyes tighter and pretended he had not heard her.
“Paul…I have a letter here from Tortosa addressed to you. I shall just pop it under the door,” she explained. Paul leaned over on his bed to look at the base of the door as a sealed letter started to appear, but it stopped half way. Sister Lucy tried to push it harder but the wax seal was too thick. “Paul, it is too thick so I shall keep it and return when you are feeling better,” Sister Lucy said and pulled the letter away.
Quickly Paul sat up on his bed. ‘A letter from Tortosa for me. It can only mean it is from Alisha’ he thought. Hurriedly he grabbed his robe and flung it on, quickly opened his bedroom door and rushed after Sister Lucy, who by now was already half way down the stairs. As Paul caught up with her, she turned, smiling, just as Philip stood at the bottom of the stairs also smiling, his arms folded.
“We thought that may have got you out of bed,” Philip said with a broad smile.
“Ahh, what. You mean you tricked me?” Paul moaned instantly and flounced.
“Not a trick.” Sister Lucy smiled and raised two wax sealed parchment envelopes in her right hand. Paul reached out to grab them but she snapped her
hand back fast. “Not so fast, young man. You sort yourself out and properly clean yourself up, get dressed and then you can have them,” Sister Lucy smiled, teasing him.
“Honestly?” Paul sighed heavily and shrugged his shoulders.
“Yes, honestly. You will not get any better wallowing away in your bed any longer,” Philip replied.
Reluctantly Paul returned to his bedroom but rapidly washed his face, under his arms, got dressed and rushed back downstairs to the kitchen. He stopped the moment he saw both letters placed in the middle of the large central table. Both Philip and Sister Lucy were drinking a warm drink. Paul sat down opposite them and hesitantly picked the letters up.
“Open the earliest dated one first. They were sent weeks apart but they arrived together only this morning,” Philip explained.
Paul checked both envelopes, noted which was the earliest date marked and quickly cracked the wax seal, pulled the red ribbon strings apart and unfolded the letter, his heart beating faster.
“Brought some colour back to your cheeks if nothing else,” Sister Lucy said smiling.
Paul started to read the letter rapidly smiling from ear to ear.
“Oh dear, Alisha says that Raja was not well during the sea crossings, but she is improving now ashore. She visited the chapel we spoke about… er…she says there was definitely tension in the air when they arrived at Tortosa but they have befriended a couple of Templars…one named Nicholas.” He paused. “Who is lovely and really helpful!” Paul moaned with a look of horror almost.
Philip and Lucy looked at each other and smiled.
“Is that jealousy I detect there?” Philip teased. Paul looked up at him quickly then carried on reading.
“Oh…it is okay. She had some problems with some sailors and this Nicholas intervened…and she is thinking of me every day and misses me,” Paul continued and smiled broadly as he quickly then broke the wax seal on the second envelope. As he opened it, it contained several sheets. As Paul read the longer letter, he shrank lower on the bench and sighed.