by Jack Hight
Reynald grinned and raised his sword. ‘Time to win my freedom.’ His eyes widened in surprise as Yusuf pushed off from the wall and charged. He ducked Reynald’s hurried blow and drove his shoulder into the Frank’s gut, knocking him backwards. Then Yusuf brought his shield up, wincing in pain as he smashed it into Reynald’s face. As the Frank stumbled back, Yusuf sprinted past and scooped up his sword. He turned to face his enemy.
Reynald stood unsteadily, his face a mask of blood. His left arm hung useless at his side. Yusuf’s own arm ached with pain, and his ribs burned. Nevertheless, he stood straight and forced himself to smile. One of the first lessons he had learned from John was to never show pain.
‘Have you had enough?’ he asked. ‘Or shall I teach you a final lesson?’
‘You dirty son of a whore,’ Reynald growled. He limped forward, swinging his sword backhanded at Yusuf’s head. Yusuf dodged away, slashing at Reynald’s back as he passed. Reynald spun around and came after him, but again Yusuf slipped away, scoring a stinging blow on Reynald’s sword arm.
‘Hold still, you cunt!’ Reynald snarled. ‘Fight me.’ He swung at Yusuf, who ducked the blow and sidestepped another before backing away. ‘Fight me!’ Reynald roared and charged Yusuf. This time Yusuf stood his ground. At the last second he ducked and threw his body at Reynald’s knees. The Frank flipped over Yusuf and landed hard on his back. Yusuf jumped to his feet and kicked his adversary’s sword away. Then he placed a booted foot on Reynald’s chest and held his sword to the Frank’s face.
‘Do you yield?’ Yusuf yelled over the roar of the crowd. Reynald scowled and tried to rise. Yusuf stomped hard on his gut. ‘Do you yield?’
‘I yield,’ Reynald wheezed.
‘Louder!’ Yusuf commanded. ‘So they can all hear you.’
‘I yield!’
Yusuf stepped away and looked about him. The crowd was cheering madly, men stomping and pounding on the wall around the arena as they chanted his name: ‘ Yusuf! Yusuf! Yusuf!’ He spotted Nur ad-Din and bowed low to his lord. Nur ad-Din rose and vaulted over the wall into the arena. He strode over to Yusuf and embraced him.
‘Well done, Yusuf,’ he whispered in his ear. ‘I have not been blessed with a son of my own blood, but Allah has sent me you instead.’
Chapter 19
JUNE 1163: ALEPPO
John crouched atop the gatehouse of Khaldun’s home and looked down into the dark courtyard. He had only been to visit Zimat a dozen times since his return to Aleppo over a year ago; they both knew how dangerous each visit was. But tonight the sky was moonless and the streets dark. It was a night for thieves — or lovers.
John dropped down into the courtyard and pressed himself against the wall. After a moment he crept to the side door and slipped inside. As he walked down the hallway past Ubadah’s room a board creaked beneath his foot. He froze. There was no sound of movement in the house, and he continued on to Zimat’s room. He pushed the door open. The room was dark and he could just make out Zimat asleep in bed. John entered and closed the door softly behind him. He removed his boots and breeches, then sat beside Zimat, gently pushing a strand of dark hair away from her face. She smiled in her sleep. John kissed her lightly on the lips, and her eyes opened.
‘You should not have come,’ she murmured, but her smile said otherwise.
‘I had to see you. It has been too long.’ He pulled off his caftan and started to get into the bed beside her. Zimat pushed him back.
‘Wait. Let me look at you a moment longer.’ John stood naked, self-conscious as he began to harden. ‘Your zib is happy to see me,’ Zimat teased. ‘Bring it here.’ She pulled the sheets back, and he slid into bed beside her. ‘I am glad you came,’ she said as she laid her head on his shoulder. With her finger, she gently traced patterns on his bare chest.
John stroked her hair. ‘I have news,’ he whispered. ‘Yusuf says the new Frankish king, Amalric, is gathering an army. I met him once, when I first came to the Holy Land. He was only a boy and now he is a king.’
‘ Shhh,’ she said, putting her finger to his lips. ‘I do not wish to discuss the Frankish king.’
‘What do you wish, my lady?’ Their eyes met, and her hand moved down his chest, past his stomach. ‘That is what I was hoping for,’ he murmured and rolled over so he was on top of her. He kissed her soft lips, her neck. She moaned softly. Then her body stiffened. Her eyes were wide with fright. John turned and saw Ubadah standing in the doorway. John had not seen him for months, and the boy was taller, his face thinner. He looked more like John than ever.
‘Mother, what are you doing?’ the boy demanded. ‘Who is that man?’
‘It is nothing, my son.’
Ubadah’s eyes narrowed. ‘It is him,’ he spat. ‘The ifranji! I will tell Father.’ The boy disappeared from the doorway.
‘No, wait,’ John called. He grabbed his caftan from the floor and pulled it on as he chased after the boy. He caught Ubadah in the hallway and grabbed his arm. The boy began to scream: ‘Father! Father!’
‘Quiet,’ John hissed, lifting the boy from the ground with one arm and clamping his free hand over Ubadah’s mouth. He turned to move back down the hall when behind him a door opened. Khaldun stepped out.
‘Ubadah?’ he called sleepily.
The boy bit the hand John held over his mouth. ‘’Sblood!’ John cursed and pulled his hand away.
‘Father!’ Ubadah cried. ‘Help!’
John ran back to Zimat’s room, kicking the door shut behind him. Zimat had pulled on a robe and was sitting on her bed, her face buried in her hands. John handed Ubadah to her, and she clutched the boy to her chest. ‘We are lost,’ she cried. ‘Khaldun will kill us both.’
John found his belt and drew his dagger. ‘I will not let him touch you,’ he promised. He moved to join her on the bed and stumbled as the floor lurched beneath him. ‘What is happening?’
The shaking grew worse, becoming a rolling as if he stood on the deck of a ship at sea. Dust drifted down from the ceiling, and the washbasin in the corner fell over with a loud crash. Ubadah began to cry. ‘It’s an earthquake!’ Zimat shouted. ‘We must get out.’
John took Ubadah from her, and they headed for the door. Suddenly it swung open, and Khaldun stepped into the room, sword in hand. When he saw John, his eyes went wide. ‘You!’
Then the ceiling above Khaldun collapsed, and he disappeared amidst the debris and dust. John put his arm around Zimat and pulled her back against the wall opposite the door. The shaking was so violent now that they could barely stand. They sank down against the wall, and John pulled Zimat and Ubadah close to him, holding them in his arms.
‘God save us,’ he whispered. ‘Naudhubillah.’ Then there was a loud crack above them. John threw himself over Zimat and the boy just before the rest of the ceiling collapsed.
‘Oh, yes,’ Yusuf breathed as he lay on his back in Asimat’s bed with her on top of him, her hands on his chest and her hips moving rhythmically. She moaned in pleasure, then arched back as she began to move faster. The bed shook beneath them as they climaxed together. Asimat stopped and looked down at him, a smile on her face, but the shaking did not stop. Yusuf heard shouting and men running in the hall.
‘An earthquake,’ he whispered.
‘You must go,’ Asimat said as she rolled off of him. ‘The guards will come for me.’ Yusuf climbed from the bed and began to pull on his breeches. ‘There is no time for that,’ Asimat hissed. She took his other clothes and cast them out of the window. ‘Go!’
Bare-chested and barefoot, Yusuf slipped out of the window just before the door to the room crashed open. ‘Khatun!’ a guard called. ‘Come with us. We must leave the palace.’
Yusuf began to inch his way along the ledge. The trembling was growing worse, and after only a few feet he stopped to keep himself from falling, his fingers digging into the thin cracks between the stones. Still the shaking worsened. To his right, a section of the ledge, where he had stood only moments before, buckled
and fell away, dropping down the sheer slope. Yusuf felt the earth roll under him, and to his left, a stretch of wall ten feet wide shook and then collapsed outwards, spilling stones and a screaming eunuch guard into the void. The man’s cry was cut short as he hit the rocks below.
Yusuf managed to edge forwards and swing through the gap opened up in the wall. He found himself in a hallway and crossed to the far side, where he leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. Five eunuch guards rushed by, pulling two women in nightgowns after them. Not one of them even looked at Yusuf as they sprinted past and rounded a corner further down the hall. There was a deafening rumble and the corridor filled with dust as the ceiling in the hallway to the right collapsed. Yusuf pushed away from the wall and ran in the opposite direction, after the guards. He was rounding the corner when he collided with the eunuch, Gumushtagin. The two men staggered back, staring at one another in surprise.
‘Yusuf!’ Gumushtagin exclaimed. ‘What are you doing in the harem?’
‘I–I wanted to make sure that our lord was safe.’
Gumushtagin’s eyes narrowed as he took in Yusuf’s lack of clothing. ‘You came straight from your room?’ Yusuf nodded. ‘You lie,’ the eunuch hissed. ‘The path across the palace is blocked. There is no way through.’
Yusuf opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. Gumushtagin sneered. ‘The Honourable Emir Yusuf — our lord will be most interested to hear what you were doing in his harem.’
Just then, the floor lurched beneath them, knocking both of them to the ground. The wall to their right collapsed outwards to reveal the night sky. The floor buckled and tilted sharply, sending them both sliding towards the gap. As his feet slid out into space, Yusuf managed to grab hold of a piece of the wall that still stood. With his other hand, he grabbed Gumushtagin’s wrist as the eunuch slid past into the void. Yusuf strained to hold on to the eunuch as he dangled over the rocks far below.
‘Don’t drop me!’ Gumushtagin squealed. ‘Don’t drop me!’
The jagged stone that Yusuf held to keep from falling was cutting into his fingers, and Gumushtagin’s wrist was slowly slipping through his hand. ‘Hold on to me!’ Yusuf shouted, and the eunuch locked his free hand around Yusuf’s wrist. Gritting his teeth, Yusuf managed to pull Gumushtagin up until he could grab hold of a section of the wall. Then, slipping his fingers into the cracks in the broken floor, Yusuf crawled up to a flat section. He reached back and pulled Gumushtagin up after him. The two lay there, gasping.
Again, the floor began to roll beneath them. Yusuf got to his feet. ‘It’s not safe here. We must get out of the palace.’ He helped Gumushtagin up, and they made their way through corridors littered with fallen stones. The stairs leading to the ground floor were still intact. They hurried down, through the rubblestrewn entrance hall and out into the night. Yusuf looked back. Jagged holes had appeared in the walls of the palace, and to the left, an entire wing had collapsed.
He turned around. A crowd had gathered near a gap in the wall, where a section some twenty yards wide had fallen outwards. Yusuf started that way when Gumushtagin grabbed his arm. ‘You saved my life. I will not tell Nur ad-Din what I saw tonight.’ Yusuf nodded and turned to go, but Gumushtagin did not release him. He leaned close. ‘I will say nothing, but I will not forget. You ruined my plans for Tell Bashir, Yusuf. If you cross me again, then I will tell Nur ad-Din what I know.’ He released Yusuf. ‘I will be watching you.’
‘I understand.’ Yusuf hurried on and found Asimat on the edge of the crowd, standing safe beside Nur ad-Din. ‘My lord,’ Yusuf said and bowed. ‘Praise Allah, you are safe.’
The king had a far-off look in his eye. He did not appear to see or hear Yusuf. ‘Allah has sent us a message,’ he murmured. ‘He is angry with me. We must attack. We must attack.’
‘Go,’ Asimat told Yusuf. ‘Our lord is not well. I will tend to him.’
Yusuf waded into the crowd, looking for Faridah. Everywhere, servants and mamluks from the palace were on their knees wailing. Others hurried from person to person, looking for friends or loved ones. Yusuf found Faridah sitting with her head down and her knees drawn up to her chest. She was covered in grey dust. Qaraqush knelt beside her.
‘Faridah!’ Yusuf cried. ‘Thank Allah you are well.’
She looked up. The right side of her face was covered in blood. Her eyes widened in disbelief. ‘Yusuf,’ she whispered as tears came to her eyes. ‘You’re alive!’ He knelt down and embraced her. Yusuf could feel her shaking as she sobbed against his shoulder.
‘I found her in the rubble,’ Qaraqush told him. ‘She was lucky to survive.’
‘Have you seen John?’ Yusuf asked.
Qaraqush hung his head. ‘No. No one has.’
Yusuf nodded. He felt a pain in his chest as he clutched Faridah to him. Tears began to form in his eyes, and he released her. He would not let his men see him cry. He turned away and went to look out past the gap in the wall. The scene in the town below was hellish. Fires had spread, filling the air with black smoke and illuminating entire city blocks that had collapsed into rubble. Yusuf looked to the street where Khaldun’s house had stood. He could not see the house amidst the rubble and clouds of smoke.
‘Zimat,’ he whispered.
Yusuf led Qaraqush and a dozen mamluks into the city, dodging past debris. The facade of the great mosque had collapsed outwards, spilling massive stones into the main square. A fire raged in the shattered remains of the mosque. Yusuf passed a soot-covered imam who was tearing at his grey beard and shouting repeatedly, ‘Allah has forsaken us! Allah has forsaken us!’
Yusuf turned down a crowded side street. Some men and women were weeping openly. Others stood dumbstruck as they stared at the ruins of their homes. Here and there, men dug frantically through the rubble. Yusuf reached the end of the street and stepped past the broken gate to Khaldun’s street. There were fewer people here, and the air was thick with choking black smoke. He passed a young girl covered in grey dust, stumbling down the centre of the street and calling loudly for her mother. Yusuf crawled over a pile of rubble that had spilled into the street from a collapsed building and came to the wall around Khaldun’s home. The wall still stood, lit brightly by a fire blazing across the street. A eunuch guard sat in the open gateway, his head cradled in his hands. As Yusuf approached, he saw that the man’s scalp was wet with blood.
‘Where is my sister, Zimat?’ Yusuf asked. The guard looked at him dumbly. ‘Khaldun, your master. The boy Ubadah. Where are they?’ The guard turned away, shaking his head. Beyond him, Yusuf could see that the home had collapsed into a pile of stones, wooden beams poking out here and there. Yusuf hurried through the gate, crawling on to the ruins. ‘Zimat!’ he called out. ‘Khaldun!’ He turned back to where Qaraqush and his men were waiting in the street. ‘Search the rubble. Find them!’
Yusuf’s men spread out across the remains of the house, and he crawled forward over the debris. He had scrambled far ahead of his men when he heard a sound, like the mewing of a cat. It came from a large mound of rubble just ahead of him. Yusuf put his ear against the mound. It was no cat that he had heard; it was a woman crying out, her voice muffled by the rubble. Hurriedly, Yusuf began to pull aside debris. The crying grew louder. He pulled another stone aside and could see through a crack into a space beneath the pile of rubble. ‘Zimat!’ he called into the crack.
‘I am here,’ she called back weakly.
‘Hold on! I’m coming.’ Yusuf was frantically pulling stones away. He could see Ubadah, lying motionless, and Zimat’s arms holding him. They were huddled in a narrow space in the rubble. He pulled another stone aside, and he could see Zimat’s face. He grabbed a large, flat rock and straining, rolled it aside. Zimat lay before him, curled around Ubadah. Over them, shielding them both, crouched John. He was covered in dust, and blood ran from the back of his head. He looked up at Yusuf, and their eyes met.
Yusuf took a step back, his face pale. He blinked in disbelief. ‘John?’ he murmured. ‘What are
you-’ He stopped as he realized what he was seeing. The blood began to pound in his temples. ‘What is this?’ he whispered.
Behind him, he could hear Qaraqush shouting: ‘My lord, did you find something?’ Yusuf turned to see the mamluk some twenty yards off, making his way towards them.
Yusuf turned back to John, who had extricated himself from the rubble. He had taken the boy from Zimat and was helping her up. ‘You must go,’ Yusuf hissed at John. He took Ubadah from him. ‘Go!’
John nodded and scrambled away, around the pile of rubble. Yusuf put his head to Ubadah’s chest and heard his heart beating. He turned towards Qaraqush. ‘The child lives!’ he shouted. ‘Zimat too!’
The shouting awoke Ubadah, who looked about, confused. ‘What happened?’ He looked up and saw that Yusuf was holding him. ‘Uncle?’
‘Yusuf!’ Qaraqush called. He had stopped only a few feet away. His eyes were fixed on something at his feet. ‘You must come and see this. Leave the boy.’ Yusuf handed Ubadah back to Zimat and stepped over the rubble to Qaraqush. The mamluk pointed at a gap in the debris. ‘There.’ Half of Khaldun’s face was visible through a pile of masonry and fallen beams. His eye was open, staring sightless up at the heavens. Qaraqush put his hand on Yusuf’s shoulder. ‘I am sorry, Yusuf.’
Ubadah had broken free of his mother and now appeared at Yusuf’s side. ‘What is it?’ His eyes fell on his father’s face. Yusuf lifted up the boy and carried him away, but it was too late. ‘Father!’ Ubadah cried. ‘What has happened to my father?’
Yusuf began to speak, then looked at Ubadah’s face. The words died on Yusuf’s lips. He did not know what to tell the child. His father lived, but Khaldun was dead.