Crusade

by Elizabeth Laird

  Dr John laughed.

  ‘I’ve never wanted to fight anyone! I’m a doctor. My job is to save life, not to destroy it.’

  Adam, suddenly exhausted, closed his eyes. The doctor stood up.

  ‘That’s enough mental exercise for one day,’ he said. ‘Rest now, Adam. I’ll see you again soon.’

  It was three weeks before Adam, still shaky on his feet, but clearer in his mind, was able to leave the hospital and resume his duties with Sir Ivo. He still loved and admired the knight, but he felt detached from him too. He would never again try to share Sir Ivo’s belief in the rightness of this Crusade, and he would never again feel guilty about it. His head still ached, often, and Dr John still made him drink disgusting daily brews of herbs, but he was recovering. He was thankful too to be living within four walls again. It was stiflingly hot inside the narrow streets of Acre, but it was better than the filth and discomfort of the camp.

  The Fortis people had taken over a series of houses near the harbour, at the end of a small narrow street, and Sir Ivo had been allocated a pleasant little room off a courtyard, where the horses were tethered. It would be time, soon enough, once the negotiations over the prisoners had been completed, to set out for Jerusalem, but in the meantime it was pleasant to rest here.

  Several times, Adam had seen King Richard himself. He strode about, restless with purpose, exuding an energy that seemed almost to scorch those around him. Adam had been among the knights and squires in the Fortis train when Lord Robert had paid a formal visit to the King. The large hall in the principal building of Acre, where the King was seated, was hung with gorgeously coloured banners. Richard sat on a great chair, surrounded by princes and nobles from all over Europe. He had received Lord Robert graciously. The matter of succession to Lord Guy’s land and title would be handled once the usual fee had been paid. Father Jerome would thrash out the details with the King’s scribes. In the meantime, Richard had heard how valiantly the young lord had fought for the cause, and he would knight him himself before they left Acre. Lord Robert had better purify his mind and thoughts, fast and keep vigil, in preparation for the day.

  Adam, uninterested in the career of Lord Robert, was far more concerned with Tibby. Without Jenny to look after her, what would become of her? He assumed that Joan was caring for her, for the time being, at any rate. And Faithful? Was Joan looking after him too, or had he bounded off, as he’d done so many times when food was scarce, to forage on his own?

  He had gone in search of them as soon as he’d been able. It hadn’t been hard to find Joan. The poor hangers-on of the Fortis contingent had packed themselves into a couple of old booths in the bazaar area. It was a stone’s throw from the main Fortis quarters. Adam, coming round the corner, was shocked to see Tibby on her own in the middle of the busy covered street, filthy from head to foot, staggering about with a piece of ragged grey cloth in her hand.

  ‘Oh, so you’ve decided to grace us with your presence, then, Master Adam?’ Joan said, appearing suddenly from the shadows. ‘Thought we’d seen the end of you, now young Jen has gone. Silly girl! I told her what would happen if she went down there.’

  ‘I couldn’t come before,’ Adam said. ‘I was wounded. I’ve only just got out of the hospital.’

  Joan’s face softened. ‘Glad to see you looking all right now, anyway.’ She sighed. ‘You’re like me, I suppose. Missing her. And what’s to happen to the little one? Worries me sick, it does.’

  Tibby had seen Adam. She came running towards him on unpractised feet.

  ‘I can’t keep an eye on her all the time,’ Joan said defensively. ‘Got me own work to do. Toddles off, she does, soon as my back’s turned.’

  Tibby hurled herself against Adam’s legs and clasped him round his knee. He patted her awkwardly on the head and she stared up at him, still clutching her rag.

  ‘Jennet’s old coif that is,’ Joan sniffed, nodding at it. ‘Don’t try to take it off her. She’ll scream the walls of Acre down, what’s left of ’em.’

  Tibby let go of Adam’s leg and stepped back. Though her eyes were as blue as Lord Robert’s, and her hair, unlike Jennet’s, was fair, he saw a gleam of Jenny’s old expression in her eyes. ‘I suppose it’s up to me now,’ he said gruffly. ‘I’ll have to look after her,’ he said. ‘When we go home I’ll take her back to Jenny’s pa.’

  ‘You’ll look after her?’ scoffed Joan. ‘And how will you do that, mister squire? I think I see it. “Oh, sorry, Sir Ivo. I can’t polish up your armour right now. I’ve got to fetch the babby out of the fire.”’

  Adam grinned at the picture she’d conjured up, then frowned, trying to think things out.

  ‘If I can get money to pay you,’ Adam said, almost breathless at the thought of the responsibility he was undertaking, ‘so that you don’t have to do the laundry any more, but could spend all your time just looking after Tibby, would you do it?’

  Her lined old face broke into a wistful smile.

  ‘Would I do it? And not break my back and rub my hands sore every day? Of course I would! Anyway, it breaks my heart to see her so neglected.’

  Adam nodded, and summoned up a smile for Tibby.

  ‘I’ll come back tomorrow,’ he said. ‘I’ll have sorted it out by then. She’s my family, after all.’

  ‘So she is!’ Joan agreed happily. ‘Your niece, in a manner of speaking, seeing you’re brother to Lord Robert.’

  Adam didn’t answer. It wasn’t what he’d meant. To him, Tibby was family because she was Jenny’s child, not Lord Robert’s. But the realization that she was in fact his own blood relative pleased him.

  I’ll do it, he thought. I’ll look after her. All my life.

  ‘You haven’t seen – you don’t know where Faithful is, do you?’ he asked, feeling almost timid, knowing how much Joan had always disliked the dog.

  She put her hands up in a defensive gesture.

  ‘Oh so that’s it, is it? No, no, Master Adam. I’m not looking after that brute of yours too.’

  ‘I don’t want you too,’ Adam said hastily. ‘I just want to find him, that’s all.’

  ‘In and out of here he is, all day long,’ Joan grumbled. ‘Getting in the way, stealing food, howling at night like a soul in torment. Surprised he ain’t found you yet. He goes off searching every day.’

  A few hours later, Adam broached the subject of Tibby with Sir Ivo, as the knight was leading Grimbald out of the city to take him for a gallop on the open land near the river.

  ‘She’s alone in the world now, you see,’ he said nervously, not sure how Sir Ivo would react. ‘Lord Robert’ll never admit she’s his, and I’m her uncle, I suppose, as well as her godfather. I feel I ought to – well, it’s like she’s my responsibility.’

  Sir Ivo listened in silence, his brow creased. Adam waited, hanging back while Grimbald shied at a group of noisy soldiers who were throwing stones at a scorpion.

  ‘It does you credit, Adam,’ Sir Ivo said at last. ‘And I’d like to help. But my own finances, I fear, are in a very bad way. I’m living on credit as it is. Until we return home and I can get back the income from my own small manor, I don’t have a penny to spare.’

  ‘I’ll keep a careful account!’ Adam said desperately. ‘I’ll pay you back every groat, I promise, once my own – well, when Brockwood is made over to me.’

  ‘You mean it hasn’t been yet?’ Sir Ivo raised his eyebrows. ‘I think you’ll find it has. Go and see Father Jerome. He’ll tell you what’s what. He should advance you any money you need.’

  Adam walked thoughtfully back to the city, glad to be out of the blinding August sun. He had found the heat even harder to bear since the injury to his head.

  ‘Ah! So pensive!’ came a fluting voice ahead.

  He looked up. Jacques was hurrying towards him, his lips parted over his dirty broken teeth in an insincere smile.

  ‘What a miracle you are, young Adam or – Master Adam, as we must now call you. Given up for dead! Carried lifeless from t
he battlefield by the upright Sir Ivo! Hovering – yes, hovering – for days, between life and death, only to return to us, full of strength and vigour.’ He leaned forwards to peer more closely. ‘Though still pale as a Scotchman’s backside,’ he said with satisfaction. ‘Not surprising, seeing as how you was knocked flat, and your head split right open. Dear me! What a tragic loss you would have been to all your dear friends! How we would have mourned!’

  ‘Get away from me, you cheat,’ said Adam, through gritted teeth.

  A flash of pure hatred sparked in Jacques’s eyes, to be extinguished at once with another false smile.

  ‘Tut tut, my dear. No need to be so very sharp. A good boy like you too. Quite the little saint, I hear. Not that there’s any need. Tibby has other opportunities you know. Very much in demand. Shame, don’t you think, to take her back to drudge her life away in England, like her poor ma?’

  ‘What do you mean? What are you getting at?’

  Adam scowled at him, suddenly uneasy, hearing menace in Jacques’s silky voice.

  ‘Mean? Me? Nothing at all! What should I mean? You should get out of the sun, my dear young master, before it boils you alive.’

  He was gone before he’d finished speaking. Adam stood watching him, one hand shading his eyes, as the pedlar flitted away across the open ground, making for a gully near the river. Adam was about to turn away when he saw two men, wearing the turbans of Turkish merchants, step out from behind some fallen rocks. They raised hands in greeting, and Jacques hurried over to talk to them.

  I’ve seen him talking to them before, Adam thought. What’s he up to now?

  It took all Adam’s courage, the following morning, to visit Father Jerome in the monk-like cell he inhabited close to Lord Robert’s much more magnificent rooms, but the result of the meeting astonished him. Father Jerome frowned at the mention of Jennet, but looked thoughtful when Adam pointed out that her daughter was now destitute. No mention was made of Lord Robert, but it was clear that Father Jerome understood the situation perfectly.

  ‘This is a charitable impulse, Adam, and it does you credit,’ he said, his voice sounding almost warm. ‘I shall certainly make available the money you need for this purpose, and it will be set against the revenues from Brockwood, which are already piling up, no doubt, and will be at your disposal when you return home.’

  Adam, not knowing how to answer, felt dazed by the large ideas these words had opened up. He looked up to see that Father Jerome was actually smiling at him.

  ‘And I’ll take this opportunity to congratulate you on your behaviour since discovering the truth about your birth. You’ve been wise and cautious. Go on like that, Adam, and you’ll do well.’ He had one last surprise in store. ‘Lord Robert’s to be knighted tomorrow, by the King’s grace. There’s something he wishes to say to you before he begins his vigil tonight. He’s in his quarters now. I suggest you go there at once.’

  Two of the least pleasant of the Fortis squires were sitting on the steps leading down into the courtyard of the house next door, which was the Fortis headquarters.

  ‘What do you want?’ one said to Adam rudely.

  The other stood up unwillingly.

  ‘He’s to go straight in. Don’t you remember?’ He called in through the open door, ‘The dog – I mean, Adam Fitz Guy here to see Lord Robert!’

  To Adam’s amazement, Lord Robert was sitting in a large tub of water having his back scrubbed by a servant. He looked uncharacteristically anxious when he saw Adam.

  ‘Turn your back,’ he commanded sharply.

  By the time Adam had turned round again, he was out of the bath and a cloth was wrapped round his lower half.

  Adam waited in silence.

  ‘I’m to be knighted tomorrow,’ Lord Robert said. He spoke with none of his usual swagger and sounded almost thoughtful. He nodded towards the empty bath. ‘The purification of the body. And tonight, there’s my vigil.’

  Sir Ivo’s words came back to Adam.

  To become a knight, a man must be clean in body and mind, he’d said earnestly. All wrongs must be put right. At his vigil, a knight is naked before Our Lord.

  Lord Robert was licking his lips nervously.

  ‘I acknowledge that you are my father’s son,’ he blurted out, all in a rush. ‘And that therefore you are my brother.’ He wasn’t looking at Adam, but at someone behind him. Turning, Adam saw that Father Jerome had followed him in, and that he was nodding with approval. ‘And I swear,’ Lord Robert hurried on, ‘that, unless you seek to harm me, I will never seek to harm you, and that your inheritance is assured by me.’

  He sighed with relief, as if he’d spat out a bitter mouthful. Adam knew what he had to do. He dropped down on one knee.

  ‘I swear,’ he said gruffly, ‘that you are my liege lord. I won’t ever take up arms against you, or harm you in any way, or ask for any more than what Lord Guy – our father – left to me.’

  Lord Robert had flinched at the words ‘our father’, but he was ready to finish the business off. He leaned down, took Adam’s hand and pulled him to his feet, not quite managing to hide his grimace of distaste.

  ‘We’re agreed, then,’ he said, shaking Adam’s hand.

  ‘Yes. We’re agreed.’

  Adam could tell that Robert was longing for him to go, but he knew he had to talk about Tibby.

  ‘There’s the child,’ he said in a low voice, which only Robert could hear.

  Robert flushed again, a much deeper red this time. There was guilt in his face, and uncertainty.

  ‘I’m going to take her,’ Adam said, sounding much older than he felt. ‘I’m going to look after her. Jenny, she wasn’t my real sister, but near enough to it. That makes Tibby my niece twice over.’

  Robert stared at him in amazement, tried to speak and failed.

  ‘I’ll pay you,’ he whispered at last.

  ‘No need for that,’ said Adam, feeling wonderfully powerful all of a sudden. ‘There’s something you can do, though. She’s your serf, and so’s her grand-daddy, Tom Bate. Make them both free.’

  ‘I will. I promise, by the Holy Cross. I will.’

  ‘Tell Father Jerome now then,’ Adam went on stolidly, afraid that, when this moment passed, the promise would be conveniently forgotten.

  ‘There’s no need. I heard,’ Father Jerome said, behind Adam’s shoulder. ‘It will be done. Go away now, Adam. There’s more to be done tonight before the knighting tomorrow.’

  Lord Robert’s knighting was, after all his anxious preparations, a hurried affair. Hollow-eyed from his all-night vigil and edgy from his fast, dressed with scrupulous care in his polished chainmail and carrying one of his father’s great helmets, he presented himself at the King’s apartments at the appointed time.

  King Richard wasn’t there. He hurried into the great hall a quarter of an hour later, his face troubled.

  ‘There’s no other way out,’ Adam heard him mutter to one of his earls. ‘Saladin hasn’t paid up. He’s trying to keep me trapped here. What else can I do?’

  He went through the motions of knighting Lord Robert automatically, with a distracted look on his face, and almost dropped the ceremonial spurs as he handed them over.

  As soon as he had tapped Robert’s shoulder with his sword, called him ‘Sir Robert’ and told him to rise from his knees, he hurried away, calling out to his commanders to bring the Turkish prisoners out of the dungeons, take them out of the city to the open ground and do what they had to do.

  Tension had been mounting in the Saracen camp. Salim felt it crackle in the quarrels breaking out between the different factions of the army. He read it in the lines that scored the doctor’s forehead under his unruly turban, and he heard it in the fretting of his mother, who worried endlessly about Ali.

  He was seldom admitted now to Saladin’s great pavilion, though Dr Musa attended the Sultan almost every day, but like everyone else he saw how the chieftains were slowly melting away, taking their troops with them, and he heard the
rumours that, for all his efforts, Saladin was unable to raise the vast sums of money he had promised to pay Malek Richard for the lives of the garrison of Acre.

  The white heat of July had long since turned into the sultry heaviness of August and it was now nearly September. The Crusaders rested and celebrated inside the city walls, waiting for the negotiations over prisoners and ransoms to be resolved. Saladin, trying to assemble the money he’d promised to pay, waited to see what would happen. One day, soon, he knew that Malek Richard would lead his army out of Acre and set out on the road to Jerusalem. He’d be ready when that happened. Acre had been lost to the Franks, but Saladin would never give up Jerusalem.

  ‘It’s tomorrow,’ Salim’s father said, as he held out a glass to Khadijah with a trembling hand. She filled it with hot mint tea from the kettle Salim had found for her.

  ‘What’s tomorrow, Baba?’ Salim asked.

  ‘The deadline! The devil Richard’s demanded his money by tomorrow.’

  ‘What’ll he do if the Sultan doesn’t pay?’ Salim asked anxiously.

  ‘What’ll he do? Nothing!’ exploded Dr Musa. ‘He’ll wait! He must! The prisoners are safe. If he harms them – just think of it! The whole world will fall on his cursed head. Now then! We must occupy ourselves. You will restore some order to the medicine chest, which you’ve allowed to fall into a deplorable condition. We’ll need it any day now. We’ll soon be back on the road again.’

  The next day began as usual with the normal routine of prayers and chores, though dread could be seen on every face. Messengers ran urgently in and out of the Sultan’s great pavilion, and everyone kept a watchful eye on the distant gates of Acre.

  As morning turned to afternoon, a shout went up.

  ‘The gates are opening! They’re coming out! The prisoners are coming out!’

  Salim, his heart in his mouth, hurried as fast as he could to his old vantage point. It was still early in the day and the sun was behind him. He could see the city clearly, the phalanx of armoured Frankish knights on their great horses, the men-at-arms with their pikes and swords and the ragged, stumbling remnants of the garrison of Acre, nearly three thousand souls, with their children trotting behind them. From inside the city came the sinister sound of church bells tolling.