The Knights Dawning (The Crusades Series)

by James Batchelor

  “Very funny, brother. Our problems just got a lot bigger than I thought.”

  “Should we tell the others?” William asked dubiously.

  “I think we need to bring the others in on this at once.” Henry declared. “But only Roland, Niel, and Anthony,” he said. “We don't need any panicky idiots doing something unpredictable right now.”

  They called the others to them, and Henry took over. “We have reason to believe that this meeting place is at the foot of that mountain,” he pointed, “Mount Alamut. The mountain fortress of the Nizari,” he explained. He was rewarded with blank stares. “Surely you know the Nizari?”

  “You mean those Moors that use all those crazy herbs before battle to dull pain and give them mythical strength?” Neil shrugged. “What’s different now that we know the enemy’s name?”

  “It is not just an ordinary army,” Henry explained. “The Nizari are a radical Muslim group. The stories about them are no doubt exaggerated, but it is impossible to separate fact from fiction anymore. The Hashasheen, as they were designated by their enemies because of the herbs they were said to imbibe, were a splinter group from the Isma'ili Fatimid, the Shia Muslims. They disagreed over the leadership, as is usually the case in these situations, much like Pope Innocent III and King John disagreed over the new archbishop of Canterbury. Anyway, the Nizari, or al-Da'wa al-Jadīda as they refer to themselves, split off. Their name means New Mission to distinguish themselves from the Old Mission, the Fatmid. The Nizari did not have the manpower to fight traditional armies, so they became a secret society of intrigue and assassination. They train men and women known as Fedayeen to infiltrate governments, societies, armies, everywhere. That is what they do best.”

  Neil shrugged. “It sounds like good news for our purposes. We were expecting an army, and they will not have one. We deliver the ransom, get our man, and go home.”

  “The danger is the farther reaching effects of this group. They could have men anywhere. They very well might have men at Dawning Court. No Saracen is above suspicion. They might be perfectly harmless, but we would never know until it was too late.”

  They rode for a time in silence, each pondering this new information.

  “So I guess she was not sneezing, then,” William repeated to lighten the mood. “You know, brother, I could hear your little tirade about me from where I was riding.” An awkward silence followed William’s declaration as they waited for his reaction. “A bungler, eh? You know this is the same as when we were children. If we did not let you be King Richard in our games, you acted like this.” Still no one spoke. “You remember, when we used to pretend to be at the siege of Chalus-Chabrol.”

  “Oh please, no,” Henry dropped his face into his hand.

  “No no, this is exactly the same thing. You're just mad that I am not Pierre Basile anymore and you don't get to be king.”

  “Oh? This I have to hear,” Anthony prodded.

  “Henry, because he was older, always insisted on being King Richard and pouted for hours if we did not let him. He would play King Richard, and I always had to be Pierre Basile, the boy who shot King Richard with his crossbow.” William grinned to recount the dramatic scene that they had reenacted a thousand times as boys. “He would lay dying from the gangrenous shoulder wound my errant bolt had caused and look down at me and say magnanimously, 'Free this child, for he has stood boldly in the face of insurmountable odds and defended himself with only a frying pan. What's more, take one hundred shillings from my purse and bestow it upon the lad. No harm will come upon you today.’” William was dramatically reenacting the larger-than-life portrayals of their boyhood game.

  Neil, Anthony, and Roland were all roaring with laughter. “I cannot restrain the tears, your majesty,” Neil interjected. “Your soul is too noble for words!”

  “Don't waste too many tears on him,” William said. “No sooner had his King Richard breathed his last breath then he was on his feet again as the cruel Captain Mercadier. ‘This boy has killed our beloved king. Seize him and have the flesh flayed from his body!’”

  “At which point, as I recall,” Henry shot back, “you would then act out a violent, horrible torture victim, writhing and screaming at your punishment. Which was a just punishment, by the way.”

  “Well I could not be upstaged by my older brother, now, could I?”

  “That shouldn't surprise you,” Neil added. “William is still determined not to be upstaged by anyone.”

  William grinned at him. “The jealousy of the lesser players is always directed at those actors with important parts. I ignore you.”

  William and Neil rode up ahead, still laughing at the old story, but Henry was obviously agitated. So they rode in silence to find the new road to Mount Alamut.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

  “Mother, that servant you sent me is so lazy, you may as well have sent no one at all!” The anger was apparent in Thomas’ voice.

  Martha looked up in her customary posture, hunched over the small writing table. “Walter? That's strange. I never had any complaints about him in the two years he was in my house.”

  “Well of course not, but you have enough help to cover for him. But in my home where the help is so sparse, his failure to perform is far more apparent.”

  “Well then, you must send him away at once,” Martha insisted.

  “I was going to do just that,” Thomas assured her. “But then I started talking to him, and he has a family with a sick child, and I could not bear to release him despite his lackluster performance…” Thomas hesitated slightly. “But because he is not pulling his weight, I really need someone to step in for him.”

  “Strange, I don't remember hearing anything about a sick child, and I make it my business to know about such matters where they concern those who serve in my house.”

  “Well, it sounds like it is a pretty recent occurrence. He has taken ill suddenly,” Thomas said quickly. “You probably would not have heard about it.” He looked forlornly at her. “It was a big disappointment because Annie was so looking forward to his help to really put the affairs of the house in order. And he is just not much help at all. Annie is really struggling, I’m afraid.”

  “Well perhaps if you were not too busy drinking yourself to death, you would have more time to help her,” Martha said sharply.

  “What are you talking about?” Thomas demanded. Never one to be called out for his faults, Thomas’ ire rose instantly.

  “Your brothers are off attempting to rescue Richard without you because you were so drunk as to be incoherent when they needed you.”

  “I already told you of the difficulty I had. They tasked me to find John and see about enlisting his help. I found him in the most wretched condition, I feared for his life. Truthfully, I did. I dared not leave him, but I never imagined they would depart without me. They did not even let me know.” Thomas shook his head regretfully.

  “Of course, and the last time you were seen before that, you and John were getting liquored up in some seedy little tavern.”

  “Who told you that? Did Henry tell you that? I knew he would take it like that. I was not drinking! I do not drink! I was there trying to talk some sense into John. And, yes, John was drinking, he has a problem. But unlike Henry, I thought his safety more important than reporting his indiscretion back to you. I was not willing to abandon him in some dirty little tavern in that condition. He would have been at the mercy of any common rogue that might perpetrate any form of evil upon him. I cannot believe Henry ran back and told you that ‘we’ were drunk.” The disgust was apparent as he spat the last part out.

  “And why must it have been reported to me? Do I not have eyes to see and a mind of my own to understand?”

  Thomas sat down looking burdened. “John was in a pretty dark place. He made me follow him into the woods, and I was very afraid he would do something drastic. So I stayed with him. He opened up to me, and I sat with him all night while he cried and lamented his life. He was talking about
trying to take Dawning Court back by force. I talked him out of it, but he's not in a good state. I just cannot believe Henry claimed I was drunk. Anything to turn you against me, I suppose.”

  “And why would he want to do that?”

  “To curry favor with you, of course. Richard is out, Edward’s out, John is out. If he makes me look bad, then there is no one left between him and the baron’s seat."

  “Ah, I was not aware his sights were set on Dawning Court.”

  “Well what else? Mark my words, he has designs of his own. More so than perhaps any of the other sons.”

  “Well it is good to know you are completely innocent of such aspirations yourself,” Martha said absently, but she wore a thoughtful expression.

  “I never said that,” Thomas said, looking at the ground. “It may be that I have spent too much time with John. I am so worried about losing my brother, I'm sure I have seen too much of the other side. I know I do not help Annie enough. And now that's she’s pregn—” he stopped abruptly when Martha looked up sharply.

  “She’s what?”

  “Oh well, you might as well know. We have not officially announced it yet, but Annie is pregnant.” Martha could only stare at her son. “That is why that lackadaisical servant has been such a disappointment. We truly need the extra help.”

  “She’s pregnant again? What terrible luck.” As it usually was, Martha’s honest reaction was the first to show.

  “Well it wasn't exactly luck,” Thomas said bashfully.

  Martha’s eyes narrowed. “You mean you planned this?”

  “What difference does it make? I want five or six children; I figured I might as well get to it.”

  “That's wonderful. You are living in a family-owned house, constantly begging for handouts, the children you do have spend most of their time naked in the mud, you and your wife can hardly speak a civil word to each other, and it seemed a logical time to you to have another child? Because more children will make any bad relationship better, right?”

  “Now you’re trying to tell me how to live my life?” Thomas fired back defensively.

  “Why should I bother? You never listen. You never seem to learn anything from others’ mistakes but seemed determined to make every single one yourself.” Thomas’ lips pursed into an angry line. “Annie does not have easy pregnancies! She cannot manage the house as it is. How will she fare while pregnant and caring for two young children?”

  “That's why I need more help,” Thomas pleaded desperately.

  “You put me in a difficult place here. On the one hand I think you need to feel the sting of your own bad decisions; but on the other I cannot sit by and watch a family collapse in upon itself if there is something I can do to prevent it. What shall I do?”

  Thomas’ face broke into an involuntary half smirk because he knew she was about to give in. But to conceal his smugness he quipped, “You could send another servant like the last one. Then you are not really helping me, and your conscience is placated.”

  Martha could not help laughing. “I’ll see what I can do,” she sighed.

  “Thank you,” Thomas said, standing up to leave. “Thank you for everything, Mother. What would I do without you?”

  “Probably learn to stand on your own two feet and be a man,” she said, but smiled tolerantly as he kissed her and left the room, excited that he had once again gotten his way.

  But as Thomas left the castle, his mother’s final words kept echoing in his head: “Stand on your own two feet and become a man.” So Anisa was right. Even his own mother did not think of him as a man.

  Perhaps he was not a man after all. He began to feel that a display of his prowess was necessary. He could no longer be the lovable jester that everyone laughed at and dismissed. His fist tightened on the reins. Those that did not take him seriously now would tremble at the very mention of his name.

  He bypassed his house and the chance to tell Annie the good news and went straight to the training yard.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

  “It is time,” Henry said to the few knights that remained with him. "We cannot all go to the meeting.”

  “Sir Henry,” said Timothy. “Would it not be better, safer, I mean, if we all went?”

  Henry shook his head. “It is too much leverage that we cannot afford them right now. If their intentions are to dispatch us, they will be heavily armed, and they will have us all. We would have already sprung the trap while trying to set it.” He looked around at the eight knights and William assembled around him. “Only one of us must go. His safety will be in his fleet-footedness. There would be little value in disposing of a single knight, and the Moors will know that. If they are truly after money, they would not dare harm him. And if they are after all of our heads, disposing of the one would only warn us of their treachery.”

  “And what if in their rage over not being obeyed, they murder Richard and the unsuspecting knight?” Timothy asked boldly. “Who would you send on such a fool’s errand?” Henry inspected each of the faces of the young knights in turn.

  William was standing at the back of the group, leaning on his spear, munching casually on a hunk of dried meat, entertained by the proceedings as he often seemed to be. As Henry inspected each face as a potential candidate for this errand, William was nodding fervently or shaking his head to vote for who he thought should be chosen. His votes tended to be indications of how much he liked or disliked each particular knight more than any actual considerations of the skills required. Henry deliberately ignored William until finally his gaze came to rest on his younger brother. It stopped there. “Ahhh, not me,” William whined loudly.

  “Who else?” Henry challenged.

  “Anyone, I don’t care. Send the little guy,” he said, gesturing at Timothy with his jerky. “Or send Anthony. It is his job to protect my person.” He said the last with conviction as if the matter were settled.

  “Would your conscience allow you to send men into a dangerous situation into which you would not willingly go yourself?” Henry asked primly.

  William did not answer for a moment while he chewed and swallowed. Then, “Definitely,” he said, taking another bite of his jerky. “It seems to me that that is the point of being the leader.”

  Henry stepped up to him and spoke quietly, hoping the other men could not overhear. Timothy gave Anthony a sidelong glance. “William, you know as well as anyone how dangerous this mission is, but it must be done. The whole thing turns on this meeting. We need someone who can think on the spot. This was your plan; you must make it work.”

  “I never said anything about riding out of my way that far in this heat,” William protested. “You go, and I will wait here under that shade tree and be very anxious until you return.”

  Henry pulled him aside a few steps. “You know there is no one here that is your equal in one-to-many combat. If things go badly, you stand the best chance of anyone of getting out alive. That is a fact! All foolishness aside, there is no one else to do this.”

  “Ohh,” he protested again. “Are you really making me do this?”

  “You have to do it, William. Now,” he said, looking at the sun, “you haven’t much time; you had best be off.”

  Henry gritted his teeth and forced himself to listen to William’s complaints all the way to his horse as he gave William a leg up into the saddle. William looked down at him from his perch. “This is because I made fun of your short cloak, isn't it?”

  Henry smiled despite himself. “Yes, it is. Now go!” He slapped the rump of William's mount and sent it galloping off with William still calling complaints over his shoulder until he was out of earshot.

  Timothy stepped up beside Anthony, who had watched the whole exchange with interest. “Sir, meaning no disrespect to the noble family, but would it not have been better to send a knight for such an important task?”

  “Sir Henry knows what he is doing,” Anthony assured him, still looking after the brothers. “There is no better choice for this than Wi
lliam.”

  “But Sir, what assurance have we that he will carry out this critical task? Or that he is even able?”

  “Don’t worry about that, Sir Timothy. I give you my word of honor that William will fulfill this mission.”

  “Is that your word to give, sir?”

  Anthony stiffened slightly at being second-guessed by this younger knight. “William will accomplish this task,” Anthony said firmly. “Nothing can dissuade him from it now. Should all the forces of Damascus be lying in wait for him, he will ride into their midst and deliver his message.”

  Timothy bit his lip for a moment to repress his insolence but finally could not restrain himself. “How can you hold such confidence in a disavowed son of a nobleman?”

  Anthony ruminated for a moment. “William Dawning cares nothing for his own life, and nothing is impossible to the man who has nothing to lose.”

  “Sir Anthony, I would never contradict you; however, the only thing he was concerned about was his own life. He does not share your valor or courage or that of the Dawning family.”

  Anthony smiled at Timothy and patted him on the shoulder. “It appears so to you, because you are seeing exactly what he wants you to see.” With that, he returned to his preparations.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

  It was high noon when Abdul and Imar rode out into the crossroads. They had been hiding in the hills since before dawn to ensure the Dawnings did not attempt some bit of treachery. There had been no sign of the knights, but they had fifty men hiding in the rocks on either side of the road in case the treachery was yet to come. They were sure the Dawnings would try something; they just were not sure what that might be. They had to come for their brother. The ransom note had indicated they were to meet here at high noon on this very day. The plan from there was simple: The Dawnings would deliver the money. Abdul was to lead them back near mount Alamut, where Richard would be delivered to them. They would then be allowed to return the way they had come, where the fifty men in hiding would fall on them and destroy the Dawnings at the moment they thought they had attained their freedom. The plan was brilliantly simple, as most good plans were. It eliminated the Dawnings and had them paying for the privilege of dying at the hand of the Nizari. It was wonderful.