Outremer I

by D. N. Carter

  “Paul…whatever you do…do not mention camels to my Lucy,” Theodoric whispered.

  Paul frowned, puzzled at his remark.

  Paul lay upon the bunk in the caravan with Alisha next to him. It was early evening but after a light meal, as they had not felt particularly hungry, they both decided to try and grab some sleep whilst they could. Light was still entering through the small rear window as Paul looked at Arri, who was thankfully sound asleep. Outside he could hear people talking and laughing. Life goes on as normal he thought but also a little confused as to how they could all just carry on as if nothing had happened. This had been a massively monumental day in their lives. He knew the blacksmith and his wife would never forget the day and it had profoundly altered theirs forever. He sighed heavily and pulled Alisha closer. Tara’s face would likewise be forever burned into his mind. Taqi did not appear to have been affected at all and wondered why not. He turned on his side to look at Alisha. It was only then that he noticed she was not asleep but just staring at him, a single tear slowly falling down her cheek.

  “How long have you been watching me?” he whispered and wiped the tear away.

  “I cannot sleep,” she replied in a very quiet whisper. She placed her hand upon his face. “Are you okay?”

  The very moment she asked the question, Paul suddenly felt overwhelmed with emotion. It rose within him like a cascade of water being poured into a small bowl and overflowing. His stomach churned and a lump in his throat swelled so large it hurt. He gulped. He stared at Alisha; her beautiful eyes glistened in the low light. That she could have been burned alive in the caravan just hours ago made his heart miss a beat. Alisha could see the anguish in his eyes and another tear rolled down her cheek and she pulled herself nearer to him and rested her face against his. As Paul wrapped his arms around her back and felt her breathing, smelt her hair and perfume, the events of the day finally overwhelmed his senses and he started to cry. As he shook, Alisha just held him tighter and cried with him.

  Hours later, all was quiet save for the rustle of leaves outside from a gentle wind blowing up from the coast. A fox screeched out somewhere far off. Paul awoke with a jolt having dreamt of Tara. She was smiling at him repeating over and over it was all right. As he sat up quickly, sweating heavily, Alisha turned over but still asleep. Arri sucked his thumb, stirring. Paul’s mind would not rest. He could see the man’s face clearly whom he had killed…the look of surprise on his face when Paul’s sword had entered him. Paul ran over the scenario again and again. All the things that could have gone wrong…the caravan catching fire, Alisha not being able to get out, if Tara had not followed him and how he would have been too far away when they attacked. Tara had without doubt been instrumental in saving their lives…and the sword. Even now, hours later, Paul could still sense it as if still in his hand. What manner of sword was it really? he pondered as he shook his head, still feeling exhausted. But it was a weariness he had never experienced before. He felt nauseas. He needed some fresh air. Very quietly he got down from the bunk careful not to disturb either Arri or Alisha. Even now Paul could taste blood in his mouth and smell it but at least the night air was warm as he opened the rear door. He pulled on one of Taqi’s expensive cotton shirts and stepped down into the fresh air quietly shutting the door behind him after taking down his sword from the peg where it hung and was about to close the latch when he recalled what Alisha had said. She wanted the latch removed so she would never again be locked inside from the outside.

  Taqi was lying asleep against the wall beneath a stretched tarpaulin sheet. Paul laughed to himself. He could see two guards posted as sentries a short distance away along the wall silhouetted against the half-moon light. A candle still burned away in Princess Stephanie’s caravan, which surprised Paul. As he belted his sword to his waist using a piece of rope as he had still not recovered his scabbard, he approached her caravan. He could hear talking inside. As he listened he realised it was Theodoric and Sister Lucy discussing something with Princess Stephanie. As Paul strained to hear what they were saying, he nearly jumped out of his skin as Brother Matthew tapped him on the shoulder.

  “’Tis rude to eavesdrop,” he said looking at Paul with a hard stare.

  Suddenly Tenno tapped Brother Matthew on his shoulder causing him to flounce around.

  “’Tis also rude and dangerous to sneak up upon a person in the dark,” Tenno stated and looked down at Brother Matthew.

  Paul could not help but smile as Brother Matthew part hunched himself away as Tenno stood closer to him.

  “I am watching you…both of you,” Brother Matthew said as he backed away.

  Tenno stared at him then winked at Paul.

  “I do not trust that one,” Tenno remarked as Brother Matthew walked away.

  “He is only doing his job,” Paul replied quietly.

  “Do you know how many evils I have witnessed by people claiming they were just doing their jobs? They use it as excuse to indulge in their own uncontrollable base desires and twisted perversions.”

  “He does not strike me as evil,” Paul commented.

  “Young Paul. You have a natural instinct. Trust it…and you will sense the darkness that dwells in that man’s soul,” Tenno replied.

  Paul immediately thought and recalled how just before the bandits had attacked, he had actually felt strange. He shook his head no. The image of his sword slicing straight through the small defensive shield and the arm of the man he had killed flashed across his vision as if actually happening again. Paul froze, wide eyed. Tenno saw his expression.

  “Paul…,” Tenno said quietly and placed his hand upon his shoulder. Paul blinked several times before realising Tenno was gently shaking him. “Paul…fear not. ’Tis just a flashback if what you see is what happened earlier today. Is it?” Tenno asked as Paul looked at him and just shook his head yes. “It is normal. They will pass.”

  Paul shuddered as the images seemed so real again as if he was actually back there at that moment. His mind raced to try and understand how his sword had so easily sliced through the shield, the man’s arm and then straight through him. Paul felt sick again. He shook himself and took a deep breath.

  “Tenno…why are you still up this late hour?” Paul heard himself ask not really knowing what the time was.

  Tenno raised a small piece of parchment rolled up and tied with a piece of red ribbon.

  “I was just performing a little ceremony. But I saw you leave the caravan,” Tenno answered.

  “Ceremony?” Paul asked expecting Tenno to tell him about some kind of after battle ritual.

  “For my youngest. ’Tis her birthday this day.”

  “I did not know,” Paul replied awkwardly. Tenno sighed heavily as he unrolled the small parchment scroll. “How old is she?”

  “Amaya…huh! She will be seven years this day,” Tenno said clearly saddened as he studied the Japanese writing on the scroll barely visible in the moonlight.

  “That is a lovely name,” Paul said as he could not think of anything else to say.

  “Yes. It means ‘night rain’. Huh…as you can probably guess, she was born as it was raining,” Tenno explained and sighed again, looking down. “I think of her every time I hear the rain!” They both stood in silence for several moments. “But before I do this ceremony for her, I must go and swallow my pride and thank Theo for his timely intervention when they thought I was a bandit,” Tenno said as he looked towards the door of Princess Stephanie’s caravan. He thought for a moment. “But on second thoughts…that can wait.”

  Without any further word Tenno turned his back on Paul and walked away towards the raised mound near to where Tara had been killed. Paul just watched him as he slowly became smaller as he went further away.

  Port of La Rochelle, France, Melissae Inn, spring 1191

  “This Tenno, he is an honourable type…yes?” Gabirol asked.

  The old man simply nodded yes as he pulled the sword around and nearer to him on the table.

&
nbsp; “My heart breaks for him,” Sarah said as Ayleth nodded she agreed with her.

  “You mentioned Balian de Ibelin. I served under him several times. He was a good man. One of the best,” the Templar commented.

  “Yes. It is but a great pity there were not more like him in Outremer,” the old man stated.

  “You mentioned a black haired young knight dressed in green named Percival. Is that true as it seems a bit too close to details given in the Holy Grail legends…or have I got that wrong?” Gabirol asked as he shook his head and gestured with his hands back and forth.

  “The Green Knight and Percival. All I shall say at this point in this tale, so as not to give too much away too soon, all myths and legends have their origins in fact,” the old man explained.

  “I feel for the blacksmith and his wife…the poor dears,” Miriam said and sighed.

  “Paul had but known Tara a very short time. And one single act of sacrifice by her changed Paul deeply that day. In an instant, someone who had been totally insignificant one minute had been utterly transformed into a life changing, life influencing individual. Such is the way in life,” the old man said directly to Miriam. “People are affected by other people, sometimes in ways we do not understand at the time.”

  Miriam looked at the Templar, who nodded he agreed with that statement and openly held Miriam’s hand tightly. His brother shook his head, smiling.

  “I suspect your days as a Templar rapidly draw near to a close,” the Hospitaller said.

  “I think they already have,” the Templar replied and waved in his left hand the sealed document the old man had given him previously and raised Miriam’s hand with his right.

  “Oh lovely…do we all get invited to any wedding?” Sarah interrupted, clapping her hands excitedly. Stephan shook his head, bemused, and smiled at her.

  Miriam rested her forehead against the Templar’s and they both smiled before he openly kissed her. They then laughed as Simon started to clap and cheer loudly.

  “I do a great deal on wedding attire,” the wealthy tailor chipped in.

  “Was that a proposal of sorts?” Ayleth asked aloud.

  All looked at the Templar and Miriam.

  “It may be. We have only just met…but as we discussed last eve, we feel like we have known each other a life time,” the Templar answered as Miriam just smiled at him then wrapped her arms around him.

  “I think you did more than just discuss things,” Simon stated. Sarah stood up and looked at him. “A joke. ’Twas just a joke!”

  The Templar and Miriam just smiled together and shook their heads it was okay. Slowly Sarah sat back down.

  “So how many ships were lost in the storm you mentioned? I vaguely recall years ago there had been some great storm that sank many ships with the loss of many lives,” Peter asked.

  “That was the very storm. It caused much devastation all along the coastal routes and many many ships were either sunk or severely damaged. The implications of the loss of so many ships had a direct impact on the whole of Outremer. Fortunately most of the Templar and Hospitaller ships had wisely remained in port so suffered very little damage,” the old man explained.

  “Pity they did not learn from it and build better replacement ships,” the Genoese sailor remarked dismissively.

  “Why do you say that?” the farrier asked, puzzled.

  “Huh! Have you been on a ship recently?” the Genoese sailor asked. The farrier shook his head no. “Most are filthy floating flea pits full of rats, cramped and stinking. And heavens alive if you are unlucky enough to be bunked below decks…especially the lower decks where all the crap from above falls down upon you. Piss, shit, animal and human as well as vomit. Not nice!”

  “’Tis disgusting. Why on earth then did Firgany always go by ship?” Ayleth asked. “I mean the boat I travelled upon from Britain was not like that.”

  “Ayleth, you were lucky enough to sail upon a military orders ship. And Firgany likewise only ever sailed upon properly captained and manned ships,” the old man answered.

  “Are you saying the ships we sail on are not good enough, for our crews are the best there is,” the Genoese sailor shot back defensively.

  “No, not at all. But the infestations upon ships were a concern that Paul was aware of and he spoke with Tenno about it at some length. Paul promised that one day he would use the knowledge Tenno was teaching him about the great Japanese and Chinese vessels to design and build his own great vessel that would be clean and free of infestations using the practices employed by the Hospitallers.” The old man paused. “It gave Paul something to focus his mind upon. A sense of purpose and direction as the very last thing he wished to become, especially after the bandit assault, was a warrior and a knight. Any ambition he had harboured about that, he firmly decided to abandon. Though he still much admired those who took up the calling,” the old man added as he looked at the Templar and Hospitaller opposite.

  “But with a sword like that,” Peter said, pointing to it on the table, “he could have become the greatest knight in the world. And why would he copy what the Japanese and Chinese built?”

  “Why…Chinese vessels of enormous size and great design were sailing the seas nearly two thousand years, if not longer, before even the Greeks and Egyptians had started to build their mighty ships. We could do well to learn from them. Plus, they even held the old ‘lost’ knowledge the blacksmith spoke of regarding the making of such weapons as this…though of this kind I seriously doubt!” the old man explained as he looked at the sword.

  “I recall you said the blacksmith mentioned the pattern on the blade was called, er, let me see,” Gabirol said as he flicked back through his notes. “Here…that it is called ‘Calbrin or Caliburn’…meaning knotted?”

  “I did. And yes that is what it means.”

  “Then…does not that mean the sword is in fact one and the very same mythical sword of King Arthur…for I know that Caliburn is another name for Excalibur,” Gabirol stated and looked at the old man with a piercing stare.

  All immediately stared at the sword. The old man smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

  “I would not claim as such. But as I just mentioned, all myth and legend has its origins in fact. This sword, my friends, is not the only one of its kind. And perhaps the legend of Excalibur has been taken from the interpretation of Caliburn. But that sword is another story that contains much relating to symbolism and allegory. About knowledge and wisdom. And if you further indulge an old man’s whim, show patience, then the tattoo I shall fully reveal,” the old man said and looked at each of them in turn. “And more about this sword.”

  Ayleth stood up and slowly walked down the side of the table and approached the sword. She looked at the old man and gestured to pick it up. He nodded yes. Gently she picked it up with both hands looking at it almost mesmerised. She looked back at the old man and smiled.

  “Please…may I see it properly?”

  The old man simply nodded again yes.

  Ayleth gently pulled the handle to unsheath it. Her mouth opened as she withdrew the blade, her hand looking tiny upon the two handed grip. Just as the tip of the sword left the scabbard, the blade suddenly shot upwards pulling Ayleth’s hand and arm upwards just as the blade stuck into the large beam above their heads. Ayleth let out a slight yelp but held the handle firmly and looked at the others. She gasped momentarily in surprise as the old man smiled at her and shook his head. Simon sat back in his chair looking alarmed and shocked.

  “What is it doing?” Peter asked aloud.

  “Fear not. I think Ayleth has just revealed a part about herself she probably did not even know herself,” the old man answered.

  “Really…pray tell you let me know,” Ayleth said excitedly and placed both her hands upon the sword and tried to pull it free from the beam. As she struggled, the Hospitaller stood up and moved behind her and placed his hands over hers and pulled down hard. The blade did not move and remained stuck. The Hospitaller grimaced and pu
lled harder but it still would not move. Ayleth looked at the old man and part laughed, surprised.

  “Ayleth…just relax. Breathe in and then tell your mind and see it in your mind, the sword just coming away as you pull, and so it shall be,” the old man explained softly.

  The Hospitaller looked at him, puzzled, but released his grip and stood back. Ayleth looked at the sword for several moments, took a deep breath and relaxed, then with just one hand upon the large sword, she pulled it down. It fell away from the beam instantly much to the sheer delight of Ayleth as she held it in front of her.

  “It is so light…so very light,” she said excitedly and smiling broadly.

  “To you, it probably does feel so, but to others, not so light,” the old man said, smiling at the obvious delight upon Ayleth’s face.

  “’Tis truly Excalibur I would wager!” Peter commented utterly bemused and intrigued.

  “Before you accept that as your final decision upon this sword…let me first tell you the remainder of this tale,” the old man said quietly and proffered for Ayleth to hand him back the sword. “And you, dear child. Today shall be a day you will not forget… for today you will learn things about yourself. Good things so do not look so alarmed,” the old man said as Ayleth suddenly looked worried.

  Road to Korykos and Kizkalesi castles, Cilician Armenia (Turkey), 1179