“While you break every hard-won truce time and again, dishonoring all of us while doing so!” Raymond shouted, his temper, ever quick, was now on a razor’s edge. “You bring no honor to any discussion whatsoever. You caused this war, and you should be in prison for it!”
Châtillon put his hand on the hilt of his sword. “I do not need to listen to you, traitor!” he shouted. Talon and Yosef stiffened, wondering if the drunk lord would break even more rules and draw his sword in the presence of the King himself. Châtillon, however, while he might have been drunk was not insensible. He stood back with a sneer and called for more wine instead.
“I would listen to what Lord Talon has to say.” A clear voice cut through the acrimonious dispute, that of the Lady Sibylla, who touched Guy on the arm. “We should hear what he has to say, my Lord,” she insisted. Slowly the chambers quietened as people nearby gestured to others to quieten.
The King lifted his hand as though to say no, but then nodded. “Very well. What do you say, Lord Talon? If that is indeed what you are?” He sounded skeptical.
Talon gave the queen a thin smile and half bow of acknowledgment, then addressed the King directly. “Lord Raymond is right, my Liege,” he heard a snort of derision behind him from Rideford, but continued.
“We cannot wait for Salah Ed Din to come here to Jerusalem. Almost the entire Arab population would come at us with overwhelming numbers, and Jerusalem is not equipped to withstand a siege. He must be intercepted. We should march north and ensure that we are in a position of strength, with access to water, thereby forcing him to come to us. That is the only way we can defeat him decisively.”
His words were greeted by many who were nearby with approving nods and words of agreement, but Rideford, ever the man to oppose anything that came from the Count of Tripoli or members of his group, shook his head and shouted, “We destroyed Saladin at Montgisard and we will do it again! My Templars are all we need to cut him to pieces.”
“You demonstrated that amply well at Cresson!” Raymond retorted. “Montgisard was won by leaders far more capable than you will ever be! How many battles have you actually won, Rideford?” he demanded.
Talon lifted his hand and shook his head at Rideford, who appeared about to lose it yet again and attack Raymond. With an ugly look at Talon and Yosef, Rideford subsided.
“Where do you think we should go?” Guy asked Talon.
“He will try to cut Acre off as early as possible, because that is a significant port of entry to this land; so the army must intercept him before then by placing ourselves between Acre and Tiberius,” Talon replied.
Raymond brightened for the first time and slapped his thigh. “Yes, of course! I know exactly where you mean, Lord Talon. The springs of Sephoria! There is ample water and grazing for us there. We would be right across his path, and he would have to come to us across the dry lands. No water anywhere between Sephoria and Tiberius. His army would be badly weakened by thirst.”
Talon nodded. “Yes, my Lord. Your Majesty, the Sultan has somewhere between twenty-five and thirty-thousand men. They would be exhausted by the time they arrived to do battle, after a twenty-league march through waterless terrain. The battle would be on our terms.”
He received a long look of approval from Lady Sibylla, and Guy himself seemed persuaded. “Very well. We now have almost twenty-thousand men of our own. We should make our move as soon as possible. Give the orders, Marshall,” he told the senior man standing nearby, listening with great attention. “Lord Aimery,” he called out to his brother, “Prepare the army. I want every able-bodied man to meet the army outside of Acre, and then we will move to Sephoria.”
Talon and Raymond, accompanied by Balian, finally left the King’s chambers. “I am exhausted,” the Count said, and coughed. He looked weary and his cough had not improved. “You did well, Talon. We are the only voices of reason in that crowd of zealots.” He coughed again. “I shall go to my chambers now. Good night.” He left with Matthew and his Saxon in tow.
Balian and Talon watched them leave. “Lord Raymond is not a well man,” Balian remarked, then he put a hand on Talon’s shoulder. “You know this country like the back of your hand, Talon. I thank God that you were able to persuade the King, and not those hot-headed lords. But what did your man do to that unfortunate man earlier? I didn’t see anything, but I am could swear he did something to make him keel over.
“I really wasn’t paying much attention, my Lord,” Talon responded briefly. “The man might have eaten something that disagreed with him, perhaps?” He glanced over at his impassive companion. Yosef, who understood perfectly, said nothing, as usual. Talon’s own mind was preoccupied with the alarming lack of understanding for their collective predicament within the court.
“It isn’t the same as before, my Lord,” he said, forcing a change of subject. “There is willful ignorance here that bodes ill for all of us. Under the former king, God bless his soul, there was much listening before decisions were made; and men like Sir Guy of de Veres were in command, men who underwood the worth of strategy, and valued the lives of the men they commanded.”
Count Balian gave a bark of rueful laughter. “Yes, indeed. I miss that, but we are in God’s hands now. Let’s see what transpires when we get to the Springs of Sephoria. Good night.”
_____________________
Chapter 14
The Springs of Sephoria
What more does war need?
A road, someone living, someone dead,
a river of sacred mud,
and the devouring heat of June.
—Nadia Tueni
In late June the primary army of the King of Jerusalem arrived on the outskirts of Acre. There gathered knights, volunteers and men-at-arms to augment those already in the army of the King. The Templars and the Hospitaliers had almost denuded their castles in order to bring as many men to the anticipated battle as possible.
As Talon and Yosef rode into the encampment, he noted large numbers of Genoese mercenaries, cross-bowmen for the most part, their elaborate badges and bright red tunics a clear indication to their origin. Volunteers from as far south as Gaza and as far north as Beirut were present, but not all of these men were well armed, nor were they disciplined. The knights of the Orders kept very much to themselves while they awaited the next move.
The meetings, which the King held each evening, became more and more acrimonious, which to Talon’s mind was astonishing. There were even scuffles actually inside the King’s large tent, as men who knew what to expect in a war argued with and shouted at the fanatical supporters of Rideford and Châtillon, who responded with sneers and shouts of ‘Cowards!” and “Pullani!” which was now used as an insult. His respect for the King, already low because of the manner in which he had taken the throne, dwindled even further.
“It is dangerous to have as king a man who has not the slightest idea as to how capable his enemy is, nor the consequences of ill-considered decisions,” the Count lamented.
News arrived that Salah Ed Din had crossed the Jordan just south of the Sea of Galilee near to the village of Sennabra and was disbursing his army, some to the nearby hills, while others set off to besiege the city of Tiberius. Rumor arrived hot on the heels of this news that the city of Tiberius had fallen, and that Raymond’s wife and her guardsmen had withdrawn to the citadel, preparing for a long siege.
The debate that followed the arrival of this news was loud and contentious. “We should march now and drive the infidels into the lake at once!” bellowed Rideford.
“My Lord,” Raymond pleaded with the King, “Remember that beyond Sephoria the road to Tiberius is bone dry, a desert without access to any water for an army. Yes, engage the enemy, but on our terms, not his. He must come to us or fail in his overall mission. Do not allow yourself to be provoked! If we camp at the springs there is water aplenty and good grazing for us while we wait, whereas his army will be dry and without any food for their animals. They will be seriously weakened by the time
they arrive before us!”
“Pah!” Rideford sneered “You, Raymond are a proven traitor and in league with Saladin. We have the strength to kill him and his rabble in front of the gates of Tiberius, but you want to skulk in the hills while he sacks our places of worship and our city!”
“I should perhaps remind you that it is not your city but mine under attack!” Raymond shouted.
“Where is your reason, Rideford?” he demanded acidly. “You have already destroyed two hundred men in an act of reckless insanity at Cresson!”
Talon and his companion Yosef stood aside, appalled, as the acrimonious shouting match continued. Then the King held up his hand for silence and said, “We will relieve Tiberius, but we will march in two stages. We go to the Springs of Sephoria, and then I shall decide what to do.” Raymond and his adherents had to be content with that.
The King’s army arrived at the springs of Sephoria late in the afternoon of July the second. The land was green and well-watered; as Talon and Raymond had surmised, it could easily support the nearly twenty-thousand knights, men-at-arms and hangers-on who now spread out over the low pastures around the springs. There was much good fodder for the animals.
Talon and Yosef stayed close to the Count, who looked around him with satisfaction and said, “We can easily defend this place. Look over there towards the east. It is bone dry, almost desert. They must come from there, marching over twenty leagues to reach us. We will be fresh and ready, while they will be parched and exhausted.”
Talon agreed and made preparations to settle in for the night. That evening, however, things were to change. Another desperate messenger arrived from the Count’s wife, begging for assistance. Tiberius was being attacked from all sides. She was not sure if she could hold out for more than a week. It set the council off once more on another round of acrimonious debates, but this time the Count’s own sons stood up and begged the King to help their mother.
Their father raged at them, but they became stubborn and defensive. “Our mother is being besieged by the infidels, Father!” One of them exclaimed, “while we sit here in comfort! It is unconscionable! You have never been fond of her, but she is our mother!” He almost shouted this in front of the knights and the King himself.
Raymond seethed and took his sons aside, but they were angry with him and clearly worried more about their mother’s fate than the good sense of waiting for the Sultan.
Guy began to waver. Others put in their words in favor of staying, but the words with the most impact were those of Raymond. The exasperated Count stood up in front of all the nobles present and called out for all to hear. It was an impassioned plea for common sense.
“The lady in question is my wife, that is true! The city under siege is my city, that also is true! However, everything I and others present have told you is also true!” he shouted.
“I am a Christian first and foremost, and although I love my wife and my city, I also know that to leave this place would be the utmost folly! It would be precisely what the Sultan wants. Don’t you see? He is laying siege to Tiberius to draw us into a trap! I would rather lose my relatives and my lands than lose the Holy Kingdom of Jerusalem, as we would surely place it in peril if we leave the Springs. I beg of you all to listen to reason. We can defeat him here but not at Tiberius. He knows this and awaits us for this very reason.”
He paused, then continued. “Hear me!” he begged. “I say again to you, all of you, that we would never arrive in any condition to fight, should we leave these springs. Do not forget that Salah Ed Din’s army is between us and the lake, so we would have to fight to reach water, and that after twenty leagues of dry, dusty road. If the heat of the day—it is July, for God’s sake—does not kill half our men, then thirst will drive the rest mad!” He turned to the King imploring him. “I beg you, my Lord. Stay here and we will win. Leave and we imperil the Kingdom itself! I have seen many an Arab army, but this is the largest by far. We must be prudent!”
“You would try to frighten us?” Raynald de Châtillon sneered. ‘We all know you prefer Saracen company to ours!”
“I am no traitor, my Liege!” Raymond stated to the King, and then turned his venom on Châtillon. “It is common knowledge, Châtillon, that you like to rape Arab women! Your crimes have brought us to this, you filthy scoundrel!” he retorted angrily. “But listen to me when I say that unless we use a sensible strategy we will all die.”
Rideford could not hide his hatred of Raymond any more. “Traitor!” he shouted. “You have dealt with the enemy to enrich yourself at the expense of all others. You are a wolf in our midst, and I, for one, will not put up with it any longer!” Many of his followers took up this cry.
“I have said it often enough in the past, but I shall say it again,” Raymond shouted over the noise of arguing men. “The Arabs have an infinite supply of men, horses and material, but we Crusaders must go to distant lands to beg for men and equipment from parsimonious kings who are slow to provide what we need, and when they do it is always slow in coming. We must be prudent and pick our battles. We must not be reckless at this time!”
Others joined with Raymond to persuade the King to stay, despite the vitriol spouted by Rideford and Châtillon. Finally Guy de Lusignan gave a reluctant nod. “We stay,” he said. Raymond and Talon, along with many others, breathed a huge sigh of relief.
Later that night after a short discussion with Tripoli, Talon and Yosef went to bed in the open next to their horses. “What do you think, Lord?” Yosef asked sleepily.
“We are to stay… for the time being, but Tripoli has few friends here,” Talon remarked. “Not even his sons will talk to Raymond now.” He rolled into his cotton sheet. The night was warm; the July heat took some time to dissipate.
*****
During the night, under the blaze of stars when most men slept, with the exception of the pickets and guards, Grand Master Rideford slipped into the tent of the King and woke him.
“My Liege, you must hear what I have to say!” he insisted.
The King was tired after the long journey from Acre and the endless debate that had followed, but he sat up and sleepily waved Rideford to a chair.
“You know that Tripoli is a traitor, Lord! He made an alliance with Saladin, which he is still holding to. These pullani are all the same! They are as dishonest as the people they live with! He certainly cannot be trusted, and neither can anyone trust his words. That other fellow who is with him is also in league with the infidels. His reputation is terrible! Ask Châtillon about that!”
Guy stirred uncomfortably. “But what about the water issue and our strong position here?” he asked feebly.
Rideford pressed his case. “Tiberius is a Christian city and we must defend it! And Tripoli is lying about the water. There are springs at Hattin, on the slopes, where we will dominate. Are we going to sacrifice Tiberius for the sake of a traitor and a coward, my Liege?” he exclaimed. “Why, my knights will cut through the Saracen ranks like a knife through butter, I can guarantee it. They are thirsting for revenge after the betrayal at Cresson. We will not only reach the lake in a timely manner, we will take the city back without much of a fight.” He looked hard at the tired King, slumped in the lamplight. “You do know that it was he who betrayed my knights at the springs of Cresson, don’t you, Lord?” he lied. “I have supported you in every way, my Lord. You do owe it to me to listen,” Rideford finished.
“What do you want me to do?” Guy finally asked.
*****
Talon was woken to the sound of trumpets in the very early hours of the morning and the bustle of a large army waking up in the darkness. He stumbled out of his light cotton covering to find that the entire army was preparing to leave the safety of the springs.
He found the Count striding about, beside himself with rage and frustration. He coughed, then snapped, “I said that this king was so stupid that the last person to whisper in his thick ear would be heard! Well, Talon, we are now all going to hell. You had better pr
epare yourself and get ready to leave. We are under orders to go to Tiberius.”
“Why the change of heart?” Talon asked, his own heart sinking.
“That imbecile Guy couldn’t even offer a good reason. Simply that we must prepare to leave for Hattin.” Raymond sounded thoroughly unhappy. “Rideford, the swine, got to him last night and made him change his mind.”
“It makes no sense to march during the day,” Talon stated, as he peered up at the first streaks of light in the east. “It is going to be dangerously hot today!”
“That does not appear to have occurred to the King, nor to any of his closest idiots,” the Count retorted, shaking his head in disgust. “I have instructed my men to bring as much water for themselves as possible. I would do the same if I were you.”
Talon needed no persuasion. He instructed Yosef to fill their skins and to find or steal two others. Yosef hurried off to comply, while Talon saddled their horses and made preparations for the long march to Hattin. He had a deep sense of foreboding. He looked around him as the army began to move off. Already there had been numerous desertions by the volunteers and even among the mercenaries. Always nervous about bad leadership, many of these men had decided that the wind blew the wrong way and had departed in the darkness.
As the army lumbered into motion, Talon took it upon himself and Yosef and some of the lighter horse scouts to explore the road that led through the foothills to the west of the Sea of Galilee, and soon they were well ahead of the army. As light from the east began to flood across the hills, he realized what a dangerous move this had been. They could now make out distant bands of Turkish cavalry waiting for the army to take the winding road into the hills and he knew without a doubt that Salah Ed Din was already well aware that the Christian army was attempting to go for Tiberius.
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