The Templar Knight

by Jan Guillou

  They could argue about such things because it did not trouble either of them that they didn’t share the same belief. And Abd al-Malik was a man who refused to be upset by someone else’s belief. He had worked for Seljuk Turks, for Byzantine Christians, for the Shia Caliphate in Cairo, and for the Sunna Caliphate in Baghdad; he worked wherever the payment was best. When he and Arn met again in Jerusalem just before Arn was to take over his new command in Gaza, they had quickly come to an amicable agreement, although not merely for the sake of old friendship. Arn had not hesitated to offer a princely salary for Abd al-Malik’s services, because he knew how many lives of Templar knights such a wage would save. Looking at it that way, it was no great expense. Healing an experienced Templar knight and getting him back up on his horse was infinitely less expensive than training a newly arrived whelp from scratch.

  In those days there was no wealthier order in the world, and there were those who thought that the Knights Templar had more gold in their coffers than the king of France and the king of England combined. Presumably that was true.

  Gaza was thus not only a fortified city and the last outpost in the south to combat the threat of Egyptian invasions. Gaza was also a trading city, one of the eight ports of the Knights Templar along the coast up to Turkey. The harbor at Gaza also had a special advantage because, unlike the harbor in Acre, for example, it was ruled only by the Knights Templar. This meant, among other things, that they were able to maintain constant trade with Alexandria, war or no war.

  But Gaza also traded with Venice and Genoa and sometimes with Pisa. And the Knights Templar had their own trading fleet with hundreds of ships that were constantly sailing the Mediterranean. Because Gaza had two Bedouin tribes at its disposal, from there they could also link Venice with Tiberias just as easily as Pisa with Mecca.

  Of the goods that the Knights Templar sold to Franks, Germans and Britons, Portuguese and Castilians, sugar was the most important commodity. Sugar was coveted at the tables of many princes in those lands from which the Crusaders came; it was worth its weight in pure silver. The immense wealth that passed through the hands of Gaza’s customs master and all his scribes might have tempted ordinary men to enrich themselves.

  During Arn’s long sojourn in the service of the Knights Templar, however, such a breach had never been discovered. He recalled only one instance when someone’s white mantle was taken away because a gold coin was discovered on him, which the unfortunate had explained by saying that it was an amulet for good luck—which it demonstrably was not, since it brought only misfortune upon its wrongful owner.

  As a fortress master Arn had the right to five horses, while an ordinary brother had the right to four. But Arn had refrained from acquiring the extra horse because for a long time he’d been so set on obeying his vow of poverty that not even the sight of 50,000 besants in gold could entice him. And all the brothers he had known up till now were the same way.

  On the other hand, it was a relief for Arn to get rid of all hundred Egyptian prisoners, just as he felt both a sense of relief and of loss when he followed emir Moussa and Fahkr aboard the waiting ship bound for Alexandria. Moussa had come back to Gaza in person with Saladin’s ransom. They parted as friends and joked a bit that it would be a pleasure, at least for Fahkr and Moussa, to be able to hold Arn prisoner the next time they saw each other. Arn had a good laugh at that and pointed out that in that case it would have to be either a very brief or very long imprisonment, because unfortunately no gold besants would be paid for him. Such talk was pleasant enough for those who could not see into the future.

  But none of them could have imagined in their wildest dreams what He who sees all and He who hears all had in store for them.

  By the time Siegfried de Turenne’s wounds had healed enough that he could walk and ride somewhat, he was eager to try his weapons again. Concerning that matter he turned to Arn, because he found it best to begin by practicing with a friend of the same rank.

  They went down to the weapons master’s armory in the courtyard of the fortress and selected the weapons they thought it wise to start with: sword and shield.

  The practice weapons were the same as those they used in battle, but with blunt edges, not sharpened. The shields were likewise the same shape and weight as battle shields, but unpainted and with an extra-thick layer of soft leather so that they could withstand more blows.

  As soon as the two walked outside in the raked sand on the practice field, Siegfried de Turenne attacked Arn with furious power, as if it were important to practice at full strength from the first instant. Arn parried him with a laugh and slipped away effortlessly; then he lowered his sword, shook his head, and explained that this was no way to exercise a wounded arm and thigh; it would only lead to more pain. Then he began aiming blows at Siegfried’s shield side, now low and now high, using slow, obvious moves as he studied his friend, who was having more and more trouble raising and lowering his shield with his injured arm.

  Then Arn changed his practice moves to go in close and pull back, back and forth, so that Siegfried had to lunge and retreat, stretching his injured thigh each time.

  Soon, though, Arn stopped the practice, saying that it was still obvious where his wounds were located, but it would be unwise to proceed any further just now. Yet it looked as if Siegfried was on his way to becoming the same fit man he’d been before Mont Gisard. At first Siegfried wouldn’t hear of stopping, because he believed that pain was something a Templar knight should be able to endure; it made a man stronger and tougher. Arn thought that this was true for men who were well, but it didn’t apply to the wounded, and he would order Siegfried bound to his bed if he heard any more such nonsense. Even though they were brothers of the same rank, they were now in Arn’s domain, so he could forbid Siegfried to practice with anyone but himself in the future. They turned in their weapons in spite of Siegfried’s complaints, and then they went to the church to sing the none.

  After the none on Thursdays Arn held a majlis outside the eastern wall of the fortress, where he decided disputes and judged criminals together with the learned physician Utman ibn Khattab. He invited Siegfried to come along and watch, as it might be interesting for a fortress master from the north to see the different sort of problems that required adjudication down here in the south. One condition, however, was that Siegfried had to wear his full Templar garb with mantle and sword.

  Siegfried went along to the court mostly out of curiosity. But he also tried to convince himself to go there with an open mind, not to be too hasty in his judgment of anything that at first might seem foreign or repugnant. He reminded himself how the odd customs of Gaza still produced very good results when it came to the skill of the Saracen physicians.

  But at first he saw only what seemed to him a tasteless spectacle. It was like a mockery of all things holy when not only God’s Word but also the Koran were brought out and laid on a table before the tribune, where he sat together with Arn and the Saracen doctor named Utman ibn Khattab. A large crowd of people had gathered round a square marked off by ropes and guarded by black-clad sergeants with lances and swords. The proceedings began with Arn reciting the Pater Noster; only a small number of the onlookers seemed able to follow along. But then Utman ibn Khattab recited a prayer in the language of the infidels, and most of the listeners knelt and bowed their foreheads to the ground. When that was done, Arn declared that the first case should be called, and a Palestinian peasant from one of Gaza’s villages stepped forward with a woman, her hands bound behind her back, and another woman at her side. He pushed the bound woman down in the sand before him. The second woman, who was wearing a veil over her face, he shoved behind his back as he bowed to the three judges. Then he raised his right arm and rattled off a long prayer, or perhaps it was a homage to Arn. To Siegfried it was merely gibberish.

  Then the Palestinian peasant began to state his case clearly, and Arn translated in a whisper to Siegfried so that he could follow along with the argument.

  The b
ound and humiliated woman was the peasant’s wife. He had refrained from the right given to him by the true faith to kill her for her adultery. This leniency was entirely due to the fact that he wanted to respect the law within Gaza, which he, like everyone in his village, had sworn to obey so that they might have security in their lives. But now he had caught his wife in a grave sin, and as a witness he had brought along an honest woman who was his neighbor in the village.

  Then Arn interrupted the monotonous lamentation and asked the honest woman to step forward, which she did as silence sank over the audience. Arn asked whether what her neighbor had said was true, and she confirmed it. He asked her to place her hand on the Holy Koran and swear before God that she might burn in Hell if she swore falsely, and then she had to repeat the accusation. She obeyed, but she was already trembling as she held out her hand to the Koran, and she placed it very gingerly as if afraid she might be burned. But she repeated the accusation word for word as was asked of her. Arn then asked her to step back and leaned over to Utman ibn Khattab, who made a quick whispered comment that Siegfried could neither hear nor understand, but he saw that the other two finally nodded in agreement as if they had reached a decision.

  Arn stood up and recited a text from the scripture of the infidels, which Siegfried could not understand until Arn translated it to Frankish. And Siegfried found that they were astonishing words, for the gist of it was that four witnesses were required to prove adultery. And if it was not proven, then no man or woman could speak of it. Here a man had produced only one witness, which gave him no right to accuse his wife.

  After this explanation Arn drew his dagger and strode over to the bound woman as a gasp of fright went through the crowd. But he did not do what some had feared. Instead he cut off the rope binding her hands and declared that she was free.

  Then he did something that surprised Siegfried even more. He announced in both Arabic and Frankish that the woman who had sworn to the sin of adultery had sworn falsely, and that she would be punished. Henceforth she would have to serve the wrongly accused woman for one year, or leave the village. And if she did not obey, she would receive the punishment reserved for a perjurer, which was death.

  And the man who had brought forth one person to bear false witness would now, as prescribed by the law of the Holy Koran, be taken away and given eighty lashes.

  When Arn had pronounced his judgment, everyone stood as if petrified at first. Then two sergeants came forward and seized the man to be whipped and dragged him away to turn him over to Gaza’s Saracen provost marshals. The two women retreated horror-stricken back into the crowd. When all three were out of sight, a loud roar of conflicting voices broke out, and it was evident that there were people both for and against the judgment. Siegfried gazed out over the crowd and noticed a group of elderly men with long beards and white turbans, whom he surmised must be some sort of infidel clergymen. He guessed from their calm conversation and nods of agreement that they must have found the odd judgment to be both wise and just.

  The next case involved a dispute about a horse, a case that was now called out for the second time since the judges had set aside the case until the horse was presented. Now it was brought forward into the empty square beyond the cordon by two men who seemed to be having a hard time holding the horse by the bridle. The case proved to be simple in that both made claim on the horse and likewise accused the other of horse thievery.

  Arn asked them both to swear on the Holy Koran that they were telling the truth, and they did so, taking turns holding the horse, which the audience found extremely comical. But neither of them hesitated to swear the oath. And there was nothing to indicate that either one had sworn falsely, although one of them had to be a perjurer.

  Arn had another muttered discussion with his Saracen assessors and then reached behind him to signal to one of his guards. He whispered an order which Siegfried could easily hear, to call out the butchers from the slaughterhouse and a cart.

  Then Arn stood up and spoke first in the incomprehensible language and then in Frankish so that Siegfried and the others could understand. It was sad to see when someone bore false witness, Arn explained. Today a man had forsworn his soul and would burn in Hell for the sake of a broken-down horse.

  There could be only one verdict, he warned, drawing his sword and raising it high as if to make an exaggerated downward stroke. Both the men who laid claim to the horse looked equally terrified, but it was hard to tell which of them was the perjurer.

  Arn watched them for a moment with his sword raised, then he turned slightly and swung with the sword in only one hand, severing the horse’s head. He jumped quickly away so as not to be kicked by its death throes or drenched by the blood spurting in all directions. Then he calmly wiped off his sword with a rag taken from under his tunic and slid it back into its scabbard, raising his hand to put a stop to all the noise from the crowd.

  The horse now had to be divided into two pieces of equal size, he explained. That meant that the man who was a liar would get half a horse in payment. But his punishment from God would be all the more severe.

  One man would get only half a horse even though he told the truth. His payment would be all the greater from God.

  The slaughterhouse butchers brought their cart and loaded up both the horse and the horse’s head, strewed sand over the blood, and quickly took the cart away, bowing to Arn.

  Then followed a number of disputes that were completely without interest to Siegfried, mostly dealing with money. Arn and his Saracen judges most often reached a compromise, except for one time when they caught one of the disputants in a lie. He was taken away for whipping.

  The last case of the day was, as far as Siegfried could gather from all the whispering and curious looks from the spectators, something out of the ordinary. A young Bedouin woman without a veil and a young Bedouin man in beautiful clothes stepped forward. They asked for two things: first was asylum in Gaza and protection from their vengeful parents. The second was that they might have permission to be united as man and wife before God by a kadi from the believers of Gaza.

  Arn explained at once that their first request was granted the moment it was spoken. They both had asylum in Gaza.

  As to the second request he had another long, whispered discussion with Utman ibn Khattab; both of them seemed concerned, because they were frowning and shaking their heads as they talked. It was obviously not an easy question.

  Finally Arn stood up and raised his right hand for quiet, and the noise subsided at once. Everyone waited with bated breath to hear his verdict.

  “You, Aisha, named after the wife of the Prophet, peace be unto him, are a Banu Qays, and you, Ali, named after a holy man whom some call caliph, are a Banu Anaza. Both of you are from different tribes in Gaza, and you obey the Knights Templar and myself. But it is not that simple, since your kinsmen are enemies, and it would lead to war if I allowed you to be united before God. For that reason you cannot be granted what you asked for at this moment. But this matter is not concluded, on that you have my word. Go now in peace and enjoy Gaza’s asylum!”

  When Siegfried heard the Frankish translation, which Arn delivered this time as he had all the others, he was astonished at how a brother in the divine order of the Knights Templar could sink to such depths as to take up the petty problems of these savages, such as whether or not they might marry. But he found Arn’s dignity admirable under such circumstances, and he had truly not failed to notice the respect with which both believers and infidel Saracens had accepted all the judgments.

  In the next few hours he did not have much time to discuss everything that had filled his head, because they first had to go to vespers and then to the refectorium. There they ate together with all the other knights in the same part of the hall, but silence was enforced during the meal.

  Between the evening meal and completorium and the time following with wine and the giving of orders for the next day, they did have plenty of time to converse.

  Beca
use Siegfried was unsure of what he actually thought about the matters, he preferred at first to speak mostly about the authority of the judges, as if for the sake of argument he wholly accepted this form of justice, in which slaves were treated as Christian human beings. He was even more amazed when Arn explained that it was the Saracen Utman ibn Khattab who was the actual judge, because unlike Arn he had long experience in such work. This was especially true when the sharia was to be interpreted—the law of the infidels.

  The fact that Arn behaved as if he were the judge was nothing but play-acting, but it was necessary, and Utman ibn Khattab had no difficulty understanding that. Gaza did belong to the Knights Templar, and they had to make clear to everyone in Gaza who held the power.

  Siegfried admitted that it made a big difference if one had so many infidel subjects as Arn did here in Gaza. For instance, he knew very little about the Bedouins.

  Arn asked if he would like to meet some Bedouins, because Arn was going to do exactly that the next day; it had to do with the young runaways, who had in full collusion committed a bride-robbery.

  Siegfried found it unseemly that Arn as the fortress master should get involved in such a trivial argument over how the infidels paired off. But Arn assured him that it was definitely not a triviality, and this would become clear to Siegfried if he accompanied him on the next day’s visit.

  Mostly out of curiosity Siegfried agreed to go along.

  As they rode out the next day to visit one of the Bedouin camps, Siegfried protested that they were riding alone, without the escort of a single squadron. After all, they were two knights of fortress master rank, and many a Saracen would love to show off their severed heads on the point of a lance as he rode in among his own kinsmen.

  That was assuredly true, Arn admitted. And it was not entirely unlikely that on some unfortunate day both their heads might be conveyed in that manner. The Saracens especially seemed to love seeing the heads of Templar knights on the points of lances, whether it had to do with their beards or something else. Worldly Franks were clean-shaven, after all, and their heads probably looked less amusing on the tip of a lance.