Courageous

by Dina L. Sleiman

  Her sister stiffened and leaned forward with a glare in her eye and a sharp edge to her voice. “Your call was to set the captives free. Is not the Holy City of Jerusalem being held captive by the Saracens?” Honoria pounded the table before her.

  “But I did not see that! I did not feel that!” Sapphira heard her own voice growing shrill and desperate. “You must believe me. You say I am the spark of this crusade.”

  “My dear.” Sir Ademar crossed to her and placed a soothing hand upon Sapphira’s shoulder. “Though I have great respect for you, I must side with your sister. The children’s crusades were led by fiery vision alone, and just look at what happened. This crusade is different, for we temper vision with wise experience and leadership. I think we should remain here and move forward as soon as possible. Not backward to Tripoli. If we lose ground now, we might never regain it.”

  “Is it wise leadership, or is it my battering-ram of a sister set upon her own stubborn way once again?” Sapphira slapped her hand over her mouth, unable to believe she had said as much in front of this group. She had not wanted to let emotion cloud her thinking, yet her stupid, childish nature had gotten the better of her.

  Honoria bristled. “I think we can all see who is being stubborn here, and I think we can all see why we cannot let a changeable thirteen-year-old make decisions for an entire army.”

  General grumbles of assent came from the group.

  “That is all,” Honoria nodded to dismiss her.

  “That is not all.” Sapphira pulled herself as tall and straight as possible. “Will you not even pause to pray about this?”

  “Prayer is always advisable,” Father Andrew said, pressing his hands together.

  Honoria pressed her fists into her hips. “I feel confident in my decision.”

  Though Sapphira wished to throw a royal fit, she would not be accused of behaving like a child again. She lifted her chin and forced her voice to remain calm. “At least let me take my own troop back toward the coast. Surely you will grant me authority over them, if nothing else. And we will do our best to rally the Templars at the fort near the sea to join our cause.”

  Finally, that seemed to break through Honoria’s stubborn shield and capture her interests. She leaned one ear in toward Sapphira. “The Templars are faithful to Count Bohemond. I doubt they will support us.”

  “But perhaps if they hear from me in my own words. It has worked before.”

  Randel and Rosalind moved forward to flank her on either side. “My lady,” Randel said, “allow us to do this thing. We have faith in Sapphira’s ability to hear from God. If there is the smallest chance that danger is heading this way, would it not be better for the children to be long gone?”

  Honoria looked to Ademar and then Haverland and shrugged.

  Meanwhile Sapphira noticed silent messages passing from Rosalind to Rumsford and back.

  “I see no harm,” Rumsford spoke up. “If they feel strongly about this, they will only bring fear to the camp, and none of us needs that. Allow them to go on their mission. Surely they can pray for us wherever they are.”

  “This is true,” Father Andrew said. “And fear would only serve to weaken their faith.”

  “But even if they rally the Templars, there are only thirty or so knights at the fortress,” Haverland said.

  “Thirty or so of the best trained, most highly experienced knights in all of the Outremer,” Randel countered. “And if we can draw them to our cause, perhaps more Templars shall join.”

  “I, for one, would be happy to have Garrett safe along the coast,” Sir Ademar said. “’Twas harder than I had expected to see him here during the fighting.”

  “True enough.” Haverland relaxed from the tense and combative way he had been holding himself. “I almost wish Humphrey was well enough to travel on horseback.”

  Honoria twisted her mouth as she considered this. “Fine. Go. But this had better not be about that boy Philippe. I reared you better than that.” She glared straight into Sapphira’s eyes. Into her very soul.

  “I swear it is not.”

  “They should take some of the guides,” Ademar said.

  His words reminded Sapphira of her new acquaintance. “Can we please take Rabia and her father and brothers? I should like to keep them safe with us.”

  Honoria shot her a warning look. “I wish to hear no more about this supposed danger. Do I make myself clear? I will send you on this mission with your requested Sufi guides, and in return, you will keep your mouth closed until you leave this place.”

  Hot anger filled Sapphira, threatening to burst from her chest in an unladylike bellow. But it was clear she could not protect them all. Utilizing the diplomacy she had been taught from birth, she clenched her teeth and said, “Fine. I agree to your terms.”

  At least she could keep her friends safe. ’Twas better than nothing. The rest would be in the hands of God.

  “’Tis not fair,” grumbled Brigitte as she stuffed her belongings into her pack. “We have just gotten settled here.”

  A part of Rosalind felt the same, but the unease plaguing her had lifted the moment the decision to leave had been finalized.

  “War is not about being settled.” Sadie crossed her arms over her chest. “It is about playing one’s role and doing one’s duty. It is about keeping one’s comrades safe and defeating the enemy.”

  Tears slid down Brigitte’s cheeks. “I realize that. But despite all our instructions, despite all our training, it did not become real until I saw Humphrey and Philippe racing down that hill toward an enemy army. ’Twas all just play and make-believe until that moment. And now I just want to stay hidden away in these walls, where we can be safe.”

  Issobelle gave Brigitte a squeeze from the side. “’Tis harder than any of us understood. But we fought well under pressure. Even you. Now we have been tasked with an important mission, and we must accomplish it.” The younger girl seemed to lend Brigitte a bit of strength.

  “I do not understand why it must be us!” Brigitte insisted, stomping her foot.

  Rosalind wished she could share the real reason they were leaving, but they had promised not to stir up trouble whilst in the camp. “I cannot explain why, but I believe we will be safer by traveling to the Templar fort.”

  “We are always safest in the center of God’s will.” Sapphira tied her sack up tight. “And I believe this is what He wants for us.” She pressed her lips together, clearly wishing to say more, just as Rosalind did.

  But her simple words seemed to hearten all of the girls. Though they oft found Sapphira trying, they trusted her ability to hear from God. Elsewise, none of them would be on the crusade.

  Rosalind could not quite register that the leaders of this crusade had dismissed Sapphira so quickly. Were they daft? Why had they not felt the same unease Rosalind had? Might God have a purpose even in their stubbornness?

  She did not understand nearly enough about such matters. All she knew for certain was that she must follow God’s leading in her own heart. And she thanked God that she had not been denied that right. She would take the children far away from this place. But they would be alone with little defense for the next few days. And who knew if the threat Sapphira felt so strongly might yet chase after them.

  Lillian and Issobelle joined Rosalind near the door. They stood strong and straight with their bows and quivers upon their backs.

  “We are ready,” Issobelle said. “Good thing we left most of our fripperies on the ship.”

  Sadie and Sapphira strapped their swords around themselves in final preparation. Rosalind was likewise armed. And they all wore their plain tunics, for they would try to remain inconspicuous while traveling in such a small group.

  Rosalind hated to leave everyone else behind. They should all be heeding Sapphira’s warning and heading back to crusader-held territory. But she had no power, no authority on this trip. And Randel and Sapphira had leveraged all of theirs just to save this small group.

  “Come, g
irls.” She led them all outside into the bright sun.

  Clearly the boys viewed this new adventure in a different light. The twins were bouncing about in their excitement even as their mother attempted to hug them good-bye. Not knowing the danger, she had wished to keep them with her, but the energetic duo would not miss out on the fun. Garrett and Jervais, who both sat polishing their swords, beamed with anticipation.

  Garrett looked up as they approached. “We are going to visit the Templars!”

  “I know,” Rosalind said, attempting to smile.

  Randel held extra sacks full of provisions, and their Sufi guides were preparing horses for everyone. At least they could move swiftly if needed and would not be slowed down by hundreds of foot soldiers.

  Rumsford approached. For all she had thwarted his advances, the man had defended her admirably this day. She walked to him and offered him a hug. “I cannot thank you enough for your support.”

  He patted her back and then let her go. “I hope you know what you are doing.”

  “I hope so as well.”

  He turned to face the group. “Godspeed to all of you. Take good care of one another.”

  In just a moment they would ride out of this place. A small part of Rosalind hoped that they had been mistaken. That the army full of Englishmen would be fine. That they would find them still here and intact when they returned a week hence with a troop of Templars.

  But the odds of that seemed impossibly small.

  Chapter 19

  About an hour into the journey, Randel steered the entire group beneath the shade of a lone, gnarled olive tree. They were well away from the camp, and ’twas high time to tell them the truth.

  They looked to him with anticipation. For leadership, for instruction. A mixture of pale and tan faces, blue and brown eyes, males and females alike. Even their Sufi guides.

  He braced himself for the speech he must deliver. “I need to share with all of you the true reason that we left. Sapphira believes she heard from God and that our army is in great danger. Rosalind and I agree with her. It was not safe in Jezeer, and so we convinced Honoria to send us on this mission.”

  The children gasped. Sick looks crossed their faces.

  “But my father . . . ” Garrett whispered.

  “Our father and our mother,” Lillian cried, guiding her horse closer to her twin brothers.

  All playful excitement was gone from their faces now, as the boys grasped their sister’s hands.

  “We cannot just leave them!” Issobelle shouted. “We have to go back!”

  Sapphira moved to Randel’s side. “We did everything we could to warn them.” She took a moment to share the specifics of her warning and their encounter with the leaders of the crusade. “I tried to convince them, and Randel and Rosalind supported me, but they would not listen.”

  A very flustered Brigitte pulled herself up and adjusted her hair. “Wait. If they did not believe Sapphira, then we should not despair. She might have misunderstood.”

  “I hope I am wrong,” Sapphira said, her voice trembling, “but I do not believe I am.”

  Randel reached out and placed a hand on Sapphira’s shoulder in a show of support.

  Sadie, always stalwart and prepared, clasped her sword by the hilt. “Either way, we should stay focused and rally the Templars.”

  “I agree.” Jervais looked ready to battle as well. “If this is true, they shall need us more than ever.”

  “We shall all take care of one another,” Sadie said. “We can do this.”

  Randel nodded to them all. He watched and waited as they continued registering this challenging news.

  “We felt uneasy in the camp as well,” spoke up Abu-Wassim, their Sufi guide. “My daughter had a dream of an impending threat and awoke in a fright.”

  Rabia shyly glanced up.

  “We will do all in our power to keep you safe,” said the eldest son, Wassim, for whom the father had received his own title. “But we should not tarry here long. If trouble is approaching, we should be as far away as possible.”

  “I agree,” Randel said. “Children, you are stronger than you think. You are well trained and ready to face this challenge. More than that, you are strong in the spirit, as you have demonstrated on more than one occasion. I have full confidence in this group.”

  Randel turned his horse and headed up the winding mountain passage. Soon they would reach the crest of this path and start down the other side.

  Rosalind caught up with him. “You did well. I know I do not say it enough, but you are a fine soldier and an admirable leader.”

  That warmed his heart, as kind words always did, but Rosalind’s most especially. Again, he felt that tug toward her. That desire to be the man she needed. To give her the love she feared. But he could not.

  Finally they reached the peak of the trail. The rock wall that had enclosed them opened and allowed them to look over the expanse of valley far below them.

  And that is when he saw it.

  He held up a hand to halt the group. Only Rosalind shared the shocking view.

  Hordes of soldiers filled the valley, at least four times more than the ones they had brought from England. Smoke rose from odd places. He could no longer spy the red flag of his homeland waving over the prison walls.

  And then the barren terrain of the valley of Jezeer melted from his vision.

  For a brief moment darkness seemed to engulf him. And then he was in that other place. The one he only visited in his nightmares.

  Smoke surrounded him. Screams met his ears. He slashed his sword again and again. Stumbled on a slick pool of blood, although he knew not whose it might be. He was responsible for his men, his troop, this castle.

  And he was failing miserably. It seemed all was lost, but he continued to fight. His enemy in the black surcoats came at him one after another. Sweat and soot filled his eyes. He could hardly see. Then, in a flash, it was no longer black before him, but the ivory and crimson of his own soldier. And before he could stop, his sword pierced deep into the man’s belly.

  He froze. Struggling for breath as his blood turned to ice. He watched the man collapse onto the battlement. The young face crumpling and contorting. The hazy, smoky world swirled around him.

  “Randel. Randel!” Rosalind tugged at his arm hard, dragging him from that awful place.

  He could not find his voice, but focused on the valley below, teeming with dark enemy soldiers much like ants mobbing food upon the ground. Each fighting to take their piece of the spoils. He felt the pull as if they fought to take a piece of his very soul.

  The responsibility now fell upon him to save his entire army.

  Rosalind did not understand the war that waged within Randel—only witnessed the devastating aftermath playing across his face. This was not merely about the army crowding into the valley below. That much was clear. At one point she feared he might lose his breath and all consciousness along with it. But the children were yet at his back, and they had not witnessed his panic.

  For now, she must find her own courage and take charge. “Abu-Wassim,” she called in a light voice. “Could you and your sons please join us? Children, stay put for a moment longer.”

  They did not appear entirely deceived by her ruse, but perhaps they were not yet ready to see what lay beyond, for not a single person protested.

  The other adults joined her and Randel.

  Abu-Wassim wiped his face with a loose end of his head wrap. “I did not expect it so soon. There must have been an army passing by as they traveled from Arabia to Egypt. Both sides have been calling for reinforcements.”

  “We left just in time. Allah be praised,” said the elder son, Wassim.

  “But look.” The younger brother pointed to the valley far below. “They are not fighting. A white flag waves over the prison.”

  “Are you certain?” Rosalind squinted and attempted to discern the scene below her. They had traveled many miles already through the winding mountain paths. Although
she suspected he was correct, she could not make out the details clearly enough.

  “He has the eyes of an eagle,” Wassim assured her. “He is certain.”

  Randel no longer appeared ready to collapse, but he remained still and quiet.

  “Let the children approach,” Abu-Wassim whispered to Rosalind. “It will be easier for them to comprehend if they see it for themselves.”

  Rosalind had not had opportunity to become acquainted with this man during their brief hours together, but she spotted peace, wisdom, and strength in his eyes. He was a father. And far more of an adult than either she or Randel. She must trust him in this. “Of course.”

  With a simple wave, she gestured for the children to approach. They did so with trepidation and spread out silently upon the rise. The sight before them was not unexpected but was difficult to digest, nonetheless. Sapphira pulled her horse close to Rosalind and the other adults.

  “We must . . .” Sapphira’s voice emerged soft and breathy, then seemed to catch in her throat entirely. She tried again. “We must pray.”

  Sapphira slid from her horse, and the rest followed suit. Garrett and Sadie took either side of Sapphira and clasped her hands, much as they had that day Rosalind spied them in the armory. Then the other children joined the chain of support, rounding off with Rosalind. Randel finally seemed to rally himself and came to them as well, taking both Rosalind and Sadie’s hands and linking them all in a circle.

  Only the Sufi family stood to one side. Then Abu-Wassim fell to his knees facing east, their standard prayer posture, and his family followed his lead and sent up petitions as well.

  Rosalind knew not what to think. They did not worship the same God. Or did they? Rosalind was not even sure. Certainly not their Jesus. But Sapphira caught Rabia’s eye and nodded her way. Perhaps at a time like this, one should not bicker over characteristics of the Divine. Only pour out their hearts in sincere prayer.

  Sapphira began to lead their group in one of the songs she had taught them around the fire. “‘The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures . . .’”