Outremer I

by D. N. Carter

  “I am not bored…I do not profess to know what eloquently means, but I do know I am not bored! Is anyone here bored?” the stonemason asked, looking around at everyone.

  “Confused, but thanks to Peter there, I think he just summarised up what you have just explained in one go…so thank you, Peter,” Sarah said and nodded at him.

  “I must apologise if I ramble at times and if what I try to explain is confusing, but the elements I am trying to impart are all valid and carry their own import. I shall try and keep the more complex details as simple and as brief as Peter just did, a good name by the way and so very appropriate for your choice of labour too, so I promise to not throw so many facts and disjointed information at you all again,” the old man explained apologetically.

  “Do not apologise, old man. I pray ye not to slacken or hold back whatever details and information you feel is necessary. I cannot profess to understand all that you explain…but it rings true within me, so I for one wish you continue,” the Spanish sailor commented.

  Of all the people sat around the table, he looked the most awake and fresh. It was only then that the old man noticed he was in fact writing, taking notes using a small quill. The Knight Templar followed the old man’s gaze and noticed this also.

  “Hey, sailor…what write ye?” he quizzed the Spanish sailor in a clipped tone.

  “Oh, just personal notes and observations…I trust this is acceptable, yes?” he replied as he finished off a word, and then looked up at the knight and then the old man in turn.

  “’Tis acceptable by me,” the old man replied softly.

  “Be careful, old man. He could be taking notes to use against you should he wish to speak of these things we here discus this eve,” the Templar said, suspicious of the Spanish sailor’s intent.

  “’Tis still acceptable for I have nothing to neither hide nor make apology for what I say. In fact I am pleased he doth take comment and put it to paper what I say,” the old man explained and smiled at the Spanish sailor.

  “Sailor, for my own record, what say ye name was?” the Templar interrupted.

  All around the table looked at the Spanish sailor as he gently placed his quill down.

  “I have not given my name. But if it pleases, I am a Spanish Jew, and my name is Ibn Gabirol. I am making notes for I too have already heard much previous this eve by other sources, especially in regard to the ‘Brethren of Sincerity’ and much from Sufi mystics I have met already,” Gabirol explained and sat up proud.

  “My, we are indeed blessed this eve to have such exalted company within our midst. I have heard of you before,” the old man said and gently bowed his head in respect.

  “You have?” Gabirol asked, puzzled.

  “I have read some of your works. Some of which I recognised at the time immediately as being heavily influenced by the Epistles of the Brethren of Sincerity. I also read some of your early work and ideas you have on the Zohar,” the old man continued to explain as all around the table looked back and forth at him and Gabirol.

  “I am honoured that you have read my works. Surprised, as I did not know my work had reached this far from Spain already,” Gabirol said, still surprised.

  “Oh, your work precedes you. You are so young still, yet possess the mind and intellect of someone far wiser and advanced in years,” the old man explained.

  “You embarrass me, sire, for I am but far from learned and wise, such as you most clearly are,” Gabirol replied, looking uncomfortable.

  “Do not be so modest. Your theory on the mystical import of language, the concept that man is a complete microcosm of the macrocosmic of God, and your specific interpretations of grammar and prayer are exceptional concepts, especially where related to the Kabbalah,” the old man detailed.

  “You know much yourself…and I am guessing you must indeed be a very well connected person of import, for my papers were known and made privy to just a small handful. Say ye how have you come to be in possession of my writings?” Gabirol asked, perplexed. All turned to look at the old man awaiting his answer.

  “Let me just say for now, and if you will indulge an old man, that I have my sources. Together with me, we seek out such works as yours and similar,” the old man answered.

  “This concerns me to hear. Do you have ill intent or wish me harm for my writings?” Gabirol asked and moved in his chair nervously.

  “Relax, young man, for that is neither my wish nor intention I assure you of that. But for you just telling us your name, I would have been none the wiser this eve of your presence. I seek writings such as yours to help spread knowledge and understanding, and before you leave this inn, I hope that you will honour me by taking some of my work with you,” the old man asked as everyone again turned their heads to look at Gabirol.

  “There seems to be fate played out this eve,” the Knight Hospitaller interjected as he eyed the Spanish sailor.

  “Indeed so. Gabirol, you know of the teachings of the tenth century Sufi mystic Mohammed Ibn Masarra (AD 883–931), I suspect. He introduced Sufism to Spain, for those of you who do not know of him. And as I recount my story of this sword,” the old man said and leant over and pulled nearer his large sword, “perhaps you can assist me to confirm certain details about our Sufi friends. But also the books of Thoth and Hermes, as I know all in this room, save one, know not about them but will need to,” the old man explained as he looked over his sword before gently placing his hands upon it as it lay flat on the table in front of him.

  “Hm, sorry to interrupt again…but…but it is wonderful we have another amongst us to confirm things…but, I got lost back there when you mentioned micro and macro orgasm. I know we are dealing with the sacred feminine but now I am lost and confused,” Simon the fishmonger said, part cringing as he looked across at Sarah.

  “Orgasm!” laughed out the Genoese sailors loudly. Sarah looked at Stephan who frowned trying hard not to laugh too. All looked at the old man. He sat up straight then started to laugh also. Soon everyone around the table was laughing. Simon went red with embarrassment but eventually started to laugh. It took several minutes before everyone calmed down and stopped laughing. Peter the stonemason had tears rolling down his cheeks he laughed so hard. Sarah leaned over and punched him to silence him, which made him laugh even more.

  “Oh ’tis good to laugh, my friends,” the old man said as he wiped his face.

  “The words were ‘microcosm’ and ‘macrocosm’ and they are words not well known outside our spheres of learning, but new words we use to express what we can see, or understand and perceive, the micro, as in very small, and macro, as in very big,” Gabirol explained as all listened to him.

  “You explain it well and with confidence,” the old man remarked and looked at Gabirol for a few moments.

  “You are too kind, for my words are but pale compared with your eloquences. Pray you continue with your story if you will,” Gabirol said and nodded respectfully.

  Chapter 8

  Death Whispers! Mysteries Born!

  Castle Blanc, County of Tripoli in the Levant, 1178

  The last rays of the setting sun fell across Alisha’s face as she sat on the part grassed base of a lemon tree, her head resting against the trunk enjoying the warmth. The scent of lemons filled the air and the only sound was from the leaves gently rustling in the light breeze. Sat with her eyes shut, her uncovered legs outstretched, she was wearing just a thin cream coloured dress tied at the waist. The air was warm and her mind drifted to thoughts of Paul, how her father and Taqi were doing and that soon they would be back. Raja had needed a lot of looking after and Alisha was savouring the tranquil moment of a stolen afternoon alone in the lemon grove. She had carved her initials and Paul’s deep into the tree trunk with her dagger. She also carved the date in Christian chronology and then the Arabic date beside it. She hoped he was thinking of her. She had protested very vociferously when her father had told her she would have to stay behind at Castle Blanc, but she had come to love the place. Reyna
ld had not returned for some weeks and she felt surprisingly safe. Always Nicholas would not be far. The countryside was beautiful and colourful and she loved walking around the relative safety of the lemon and orange groves. She would often look out for the tall female knight who had undoubtedly saved their lives when ambushed, but never caught even a glimpse of any other persons remotely tall enough. Her very timely intervention had certainly got people talking and fired Alisha’s imagination. Who was she? Her father only mentioned her name once, but it had stayed with her. ‘Abi Shadana.’ She would quiz her father hard upon his return she vowed.

  “Alisha!” Nicholas called out from some distance.

  Startled, she jumped to her feet quickly, pulled her dress down straight and ran her fingers back through her hair. She looked around to see where he was.

  “Alisha,” he suddenly said standing almost directly behind her dressed in his full heavy chain mail and surcoat. He was sweating having clearly been running. He leaned against the lemon tree to catch his breath, his left hand resting upon the pommel of his sword, his right hand upon the tree trunk. “Alisha, you must come quickly…”

  “What? Why, what has happened?”

  “Your aunt…she collapsed whilst walking the stairs in the Keep. We cannot rouse her,” Nicholas explained as he looked up and at her, still catching his breath. Without a word, Alisha took off running as fast as she could back towards the main walls that surrounded the Keep. Nicholas stood up straight, took a deep breath and was about to run off after her when he noticed the carved initials. He ran his fingers over them. ‘I envy this man yet I know nothing of him…for that, my Lord, I ask you to forgive me my sins and thoughts for this woman…but she has my heart,’ Nicholas thought. He sighed and shook his head as he ran his fingers over her initials again, then quickly set off after her.

  Moments later, Alisha ran up the wide stairs leading into the Keep, rushed across the foyer and straight up the main internal staircase. She swung so heavily around the first wooden banister support, it creaked loudly. Without stopping she ran up the stairs, reached the third level and almost broke the door to Raja’s chambers.

  “Raja…oh Aunt Raja…,” Alisha said emotionally and out of breath as she rushed up and knelt beside her bed. A female Knight Hospitaller was already wiping Raja’s forehead with a dampened cool cloth as another female was lighting an incense stick. Alisha looked up at the female Hospitaller, searching her eyes for any assurances or comment as Raja lay perfectly still upon the bed. “Well?” Alisha finally snapped.

  The female Hospitaller momentarily froze, then stopped wiping Raja’s forehead, then looked directly Alisha.

  “I am pretty certain her heart has failed her…but I await for confirmation from my master,” she explained.

  “Then where is he?” Alisha shot back, looking behind her then around the room, panic and alarm registering on her face. It was a sense of panic she had never felt before and it made her instantly fearful. She grasped Raja’s hands tightly. “Please Raja…wake up…please.”

  “I have sent for him but he is half way to Crac de l’Ospital castle already. I have sent word by our fastest horse courier,” the female Hospitaller explained.

  “Oh no…Raja, please wake up. Do not leave me here alone…please,” Alisha pleaded as tears began to well in her eyes.

  “Whatever ailment has befallen her these past weeks has weakened her heart. Her pulse is very weak, her colour has drained. I do not think she will survive this.”

  “No! No that cannot be!” Alisha cried and grasped Raja’s hands even tighter. Part of Alisha felt angry towards the female Hospitaller for how ‘matter of factly’ she had just stated things. She looked up at her hoping she had heard her wrong.

  “Sorry, but it is so…I am so sorry,” the female Hospitaller stated. “Here, try and get her to take this…it is but a small amount of cedar and silver birch paste. It will thin the blood and ease the pressure from her heart, as well as ease some of the pain.”

  Alisha looked at Raja, then placed her head over Raja’s hands and started to sob. The female Hospitaller stood up straight and looked at her colleague, who feigned a pained smile of acknowledgement they had done all they could. After a few moments, Alisha looked up as the last rays of sunshine beamed through the large window shooting long horizontal sunbeams across the room culminating in light bursts upon the far wall. The sunbeams seemed to rise up the wall as the sun set lower. The effect only added to Alisha’s sense of despair and foreboding as the room darkened. The female Hospitaller lit a single candle and as she did, Raja moved and slowly opened her eyes.

  “Dear child…do not concern yourself this hour. I shall see another sun rise yet,” Raja said, her voice broken as her throat was dry, and she forced a smile, seeing the tears running down Alisha’s face. Gently she raised a hand and wiped away a tear with her finger. “Tough as old leather me,” she joked as pain made her wince and she fought to catch a breath. “Please, please leave us,” Raja said as she looked at the female Hospitaller.

  “We shall, but not for long. And you must drink and take the solution she has for you,” the female Hospitaller said and then looked at Alisha. “She must take it now.”

  Raja nodded her head as the other female Hospitaller opened the door. Alisha turned to see Nicholas standing outside with his fellow Brother Knight Baldwin de Fontina, or Upside as she recalled, looking in anxiously. Nicholas shot a look of concern upon seeing the tear streaks on her face.

  “Alisha, is there anything we can do?” he asked, standing at the threshold of the room.

  “There is nothing you two can do, save pray this next hour for her,” the female Hospitaller said quietly as she walked past him. As the second female Hospitaller left the room, Nicholas just stood in the doorway. Raja gently stroked Alisha’s hair. “Leave them for a while. We will return again shortly,” the female Hospitaller whispered to Nicholas just out of sight. He nodded in acknowledgement.

  As Alisha sobbed, her face buried in the sheet next to Raja, he slowly backed away and closed the heavy wooden patterned door. As he turned away, he felt his stomach churn and felt desperately sad for Alisha. Brother Baldwin punched his arm hard.

  “Get a grip, Brother…and fast, for you show way too much affection openly,” Brother Baldwin said pulling Nicholas away from the door. As he did so, Nicholas winced in pain and put his hand over his left side. Blood was oozing out from the part healed injury from the crossbow bolt. “You push yourself too hard. You should not have run as fast as you just did,” Brother Baldwin remarked and started to usher him away.

  Alisha looked up at Raja as she gently stroked her face and wiped away her tears.

  “Ali, I am not yet ready to depart this world. I have a future with Philip. My heart has been torn I am sure, but it can and will heal…hopefully before your father returns with Taqi. So shed no more tears, please,” Raja said weakly.

  “I am afraid…I do not know what to do or what I should do if anything happens to you. I need you, Aunt, and better,” Alisha sobbed.

  Raja looked at Alisha as the tears just streamed down her face. She had grown up in so many ways, especially over the past year, she thought, but she was still so very young and still viewed life with the innocence of youth. She placed her hand against her soft face. Her hand was cold but Alisha grasped it with her hands and held it tightly against her face.

  “You are far stronger than you realise, child. Perhaps soon it is time that your father and I explain a few things about you…things you need to know…,” Raja said almost in a whisper, her voice trailing off as she closed her eyes.

  Alisha’s eyes widened in panic fearing the worst. But she remembered what her father had taught her about checking someone’s heartbeat in their wrists. Quickly she tried to find a pulse, panic rising as she could not. She took a deep breath, placed two fingers across Raja’s limp wrist and waited. It seemed an age before finally she felt the feint pulse of Raja’s heartbeat. She sobbed even more with relief.
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  Alisha knelt next to the bed for some time just holding Raja’s hand whilst she lay asleep. Her day had gone from one of tranquil peace and beauty to one of fear and anxiety. It was a deeper sense of anxiety that she had never before experienced. The ambush had been swift, terrifying even, but it all happened too fast and was over with just as quickly. But this sense of foreboding she could not shake off despite what Raja had said. Raja would die soon, very soon and she just knew it. A light tap on the door drew her attention. She stood and opened the door to see the two Hospitaller females. She stood aside as they entered and quickly checked over Raja. They tucked her up in the heavy cotton sheets and fur bed cover. The room was now dark save the single candle burning away on the side dresser. They managed to rouse Raja enough to get her to sip some rosehip and powdered birch bark.

  “She will sleep easier now. You must also rest, child,” the female Hospitaller whispered.

  Alisha simply nodded in agreement just looking at Raja sleeping. She moved onto the bed and lay next to her as the two female Hospitallers quietly shut the door behind them as they left. Alisha lay awake and watched as the candle slowly burnt down until in the early hours it went out and she fell asleep. It was a fitful sleep as she constantly awoke and checked Raja was still breathing. Alisha had not drawn the heavy black-out curtains and as the sun rose, long sunbeams once again stretched out across the room eventually falling upon Raja’s face. She woke and smiled when she saw Alisha asleep next to her. She stroked her hair softly. Slowly Alisha stirred but then sat up fast when she realised Raja was awake.

  “Aunt, you awaken!” Alisha exclaimed, smiling, and rubbed her eyes.

  “Yes, child, I am. But listen to me…I said I would see another sunrise… but I know too this one will be my last,” Raja explained softly.

  “No…no…no it shall not be so, please do not say such things,” Alisha said frantically, alarm on her face.