Templar Steel

by K. M. Ashman

  Taqi had never seen such a fine sight in his lifetime. At long last the many tribes had answered the call and had joined forces to cast the Christian devils from the holiest of cities once and for all. His heart pounded with pride and with joy, and the fact that he was to lead the first attack made the blood race through his veins like the heaviest of torrents.

  Behind Taqi’s men came the next force, ten thousand men and horses commanded by Shirkuh. He too had received Ballistae during the night and if everything went to plan, the sky above Jerusalem would be alight with flaming fireballs by the time the sun set.

  Shirkuh looked further back to the remaining ten thousand men. Amongst them was a thousand Mamluk warriors mounted on the best and strongest steeds, each man handpicked from the slave army due to their prowess in battle. The Mamluks also wore heavy plate and mail armour, with chainmail coifs hanging from their iron helmets. Each warrior bore a heavy lance along with a sword and a spiked mace for close quarter fighting. They were the Sultan’s bodyguard, sworn to defend him with their lives.

  In the centre was Saladin himself, dressed in lightweight leather armour covered with a decorated white cloak. He sat upon his pure black stallion and peered out over the front ranks of his army, hoping that within the next few hours he would finally see the results of many years planning come to fruition. In a few moments he would give the command to advance, and when he did, there would be no turning back.

  ‘My lord,’ said one of Saladin’s Generals, riding up to the Sultan, ‘your army is ready. We await your command.’

  Saladin looked up at the morning sun cresting the mountains to the east. The time had finally come, and he turned to the signaller at his side.

  ‘It is time to reclaim Jerusalem,’ he said, ‘sound the advance.’

  The man took a few deep breaths and raised the curved horn to his lips, but as he braced to empty his lungs, Saladin’s hand raised sharply up, stopping the signal.

  ‘Wait,’ he said, staring northward, ‘what is that’

  As he and his men stared up the slope, the morning sun glinted off a giant golden crucifix appearing over a ridge. For a few moments they were transfixed as it rose higher above the ground until a few seconds later, the men bearing the true cross appeared beneath it. The first ranks of the Christian army had arrived.

  ----

  Raynald urged his horse up the final slope. Beyond it lay the plains below Montgisard, the place where Saladin’s army was reported to be assembling.

  He looked to his own men on either side as they each rode slowly behind the true cross, knowing that the next few hours could be their last in this life. Behind them came the rest of the sprawling army, over ten thousand men including lancers, archers, infantry and even some civilians, each determined to deny Jerusalem to the Saracens.

  The going had been hard through the night and it had taken far longer than anticipated due to the need to keep the army as tight as possible but they had finally arrived and as the sun appeared in the morning sky, they crested the last rolling hill to stare down onto the plain below… and what they saw, filled their hearts with dread.

  ----

  Saladin stared up at the hill with barely concealed fury. He had been moments away from carrying out the will of Allah but even as he watched, the Christian army poured over the crest and began to form up on the forward slope. At the fore were rank after rank of mounted knights, each bedecked in the colours of the king or bearing their own crests upon their shields and tabards. Above them, hundreds of banners fluttered in the morning breeze, visible through the dust raised by the hooves of so many horses.

  Behind them came the lighter cavalry, the lancers and Turcopoles, fanning out beside the heavy knights to provide a wider front, while others joined the central ranks, creating the depth needed should the army advance to contact.

  ‘I was told Baldwin was encamped on the coastal road,’ shouted Saladin, ‘where have these men come from?’

  ‘They must have marched through the night,’ said a general beside him, ‘and used the shield of darkness to block our path.’

  As they both watched, the massed ranks of Christian infantry followed the cavalry over the ridge to join their comrades on the forward slope and amongst them, the many impressive banners of the king, flying proudly in the morning breeze as their bearers took their place at the head of the army.

  ‘There,’ said the general, pointing, ‘it is the Christian king himself.’

  Saladin stared at his adversary. Baldwin was well known to be a leper and it was impressive to see that despite his affliction, he still led his army on campaign.

  ‘Whatever this day brings,’ said Saladin, ‘the king of the Christians deserves respect.’ A horseman rode through the Saracen ranks and approached the Sultan.

  ‘My lord,’ said Shirkuh as he neared, ‘what are your orders?’

  Saladin took a deep breath and looked around at his gathered forces. The numbers of Christians now assembling on the slopes seemed impressive, but his own army still outweighed them two to one and he was confident of victory should it come to battle. Despite this, he knew the fight would be horrific but to come so far just to turn away now was unthinkable.

  ‘My thoughts are these,’ he said eventually. ‘Shirkuh, you will take two men and ride to King Baldwin to offer terms. Tell him that if he stands aside and cedes Jerusalem, we will share access to the city with the Christians. We can live alongside each other, brothers in piety, yet each serving a different master. Do this and no man needs to die this day.’

  A murmur of surprise rippled through the men closest to Saladin, shocked at the generosity of the offer.

  ‘And if he declines?’ asked Shirkuh.

  ‘Then he must accept responsibility for the consequences,’ said Saladin, ‘and these sands will be stained with Christian blood.’

  ‘So be it,’ said Shirkuh and turned his horse away to do his Sultan’s bidding.

  ----

  Up on the slope, Baldwin dismounted from his own horse and accepted a gourd of water from one of his servants, drinking deeply before pouring the remainder over his face. The air was heavy with dust from the movement of so many men and horses and he coughed heavily, desperate to clear his lungs. William of Tyre joined him with his own flask and both men stared down onto the plain.

  ‘So, the stories were true,’ said Baldwin eventually, ‘the Sultan has been playing us as fools. For weeks we were tempted by his lures yet all along, he mustered a great army under our very noses. It is only by the good fortune of lesser men that we now have a chance to foil his plans.’

  ‘That and the grace of god,’ said the prelate.

  The king nodded but did not turn from the impressive sight below him. Thousands of Saracens stood waiting in columns, anticipating an advance to Jerusalem. In the distance, even more were frantically trying to cross the muddy fields caused by the swollen river. The Saracen forces were remarkable and though he would never admit it aloud, Baldwin silently doubted the ability of his hastily assembled army to emerge victorious.

  ‘Where is Raynald?’ he asked eventually.

  ‘Down there,’ said William pointing further down the slope, ‘at the head of the vanguard.’

  ‘Come,’ said the king, ‘we should join him.’

  To the sounds of the many sergeants organising the army into formation, Baldwin and the prelate made their way through the throng to join the Regent at the forefront of the massed army. As they walked the assembled knights pulled aside their mounts to make a path and the two emerged besides Sir Raynald with unobstructed views of the Saracen lines.

  ‘My king,’ said Raynald with a slight bow, ‘it seems we arrived not a minute too soon. It looks like Saladin was preparing to move his army northward.’

  ‘And an impressive army it is,’ said the king. ‘Did you suspect such strength?’

  ‘To be truthful, I did not but numbers do not always win wars.’

  ‘They are twice as strong as us,’ said the
king. ‘What is it that makes you so confident?’

  ‘Our men are far better than theirs in close quarter battle,’ said Raynald, ‘and we have the advantage of this slope. To reach Jerusalem they have to pass this way and to defend from height is an easier task.’

  ‘Do you think they will attack us?’

  ‘If they want Jerusalem, then there is no other option.’

  Baldwin stared past the army to the far distance.

  ‘Is that their supply caravan?’

  ‘I think so,’ said Raynald, ‘they have become bogged down, but it is only a matter of time before they are across and Saladin will have all the supplies he will need.’

  ‘So time is of the essence.’

  ‘It is, your grace. Our own supply caravan is delayed, and we can last a day, two at most but whatever our tactics, we must act soon.’

  ‘Our men are tired, and the horses need rest.’

  ‘I have arranged water and food to be distributed as quickly as possible,’ said Raynald. Give me an hour and we are yours to command.’

  William pointed down onto the plain.

  ‘Look, they are sending riders.’

  ‘He wants to parley,’ said Raynald. ‘Perhaps the sight of so many Christian men willing to fight and die in the name of God has forced the Sultan to have a change of heart.’

  ‘We will see,’ said the king. ‘Tell your men to let them through.’

  A few moments later, Shirkuh and the two riders at his side reined in their horses in front of the Christian army, staring around at the thousands of hostile faces.

  ‘We would speak to your king,’ he announced loudly, ‘tell him we are here with Saladin’s words and seek audience.’

  ‘I am here,’ said a voice and the front ranks parted to reveal Baldwin sitting on a rock, flanked by William and Raynald.

  Shirkuh dismounted and walked between the walls of men to stand before the young king, bowing his head slightly in recognition of Baldwin’s station.

  ‘King Baldwin,’ he said, staring at the king’s uncomfortable perch, ‘I did not expect to find you on so humble a throne.’

  ‘A simple rock formed by God’s hand is greater than the most spectacular of bejewelled seats made by the hand of man. Would you not agree?’

  Again, Shirkuh inclined his head, impressed at the way the king had already bettered him with nothing more than words.

  ‘I do,’ he said. ‘My name is Shirkuh ad-Din and I am a General in the Sultan’s army. I am here at the behest of my Sultan.’

  ‘Why did he not come himself? His safety would have been guaranteed.’

  ‘Perhaps so,’ said Shirkuh, ‘and there may well be a time when you both share wine in an air of peace, but perhaps it is too soon to engage in such things.’

  ‘If it is peace you want,’ said the king, ‘I assume you are going to return whence you came.’

  ‘Alas we cannot do that,’ said Shirkuh, ‘and our claim to the holy city is well documented. However, the great An-Nasir, Salah ad-Din, Yusuf ibn Ayyub, exalted sultan of Syria and Egypt, has generously offered you terms which, if agreed, sends every man on both sides back home to their wives and children without a drop of blood having been spilled.’

  ‘And these terms are?’

  ‘Cede the road and open the gates of Jerusalem. Do this and the Sultan will ride through alongside you as an equal, accompanied with no more men than those that ride at your side. Equals in strength and role.’

  Baldwin stared at Shirkuh with shock. He was not sure what he had expected but it certainly was not this.

  ‘You want us to give Jerusalem to you?’ he asked with incredulity.

  ‘No,’ said Shirkuh, ‘simply to accept that the city belongs to men of all faiths and should be shared as such. If the gates are open to all, then all blades can remain sheathed. Of course, you will remain king of Jerusalem but will allow access to any pilgrims irrespective of nationality or religion.’

  Baldwin glanced at William and saw the Prelate’s face contorted with barely concealed rage. Raynald too was seething with anger and a murmur of unease rippled through those men near enough to hear the offer. Raynald made to step forward, his hand on the hilt of his sword but Baldwin’s arm shot out to block his way.

  ‘General Shirkuh,’ he said standing up from the rock. ‘Your offer was unexpected and needs consideration. I request that you now withdraw and give us time to discuss it amongst ourselves.’

  ‘I understand.’ said Shirkuh, ‘but before I leave, know this. Before this month ends, Saladin will ride through the gates of Jerusalem. Hopefully it will be at your side but either way, there will be no withdrawal from this place. The choice is simple, peace or war. We will return at dusk for your answer.’ He nodded again and turned abruptly to march away to his waiting horse.

  The king watched him go before turning to walk back up the hill alone.

  ‘Your grace, where are you going?’ asked William.

  ‘To consider the offer,’ said the king.

  ----

  An hour later, Baldwin sat in the shade of a canopy raised against the increasing heat of the mid-morning sun. William paced nervously while Raynald stood staring out over the army towards the Saracen positions. They had been discussing the options and the mood was strained.

  ‘With respect,’ snapped the prelate, ‘you cannot seriously be considering the offer. To open the gates would invite the unbelievers into the heart of Christianity itself. Within years we would be back where we were before we first wrest Jerusalem from the Saracens. Seventy-seven years of bloodshed and sacrifice for what? Nothing more than to hand it back like a scared child.’

  ‘I suggest you curb your manner,’ said the king. ‘I welcome your counsel, but rudeness does not become you, nor is it necessary.’

  ‘My apologies,’ said the prelate, ‘my heart advanced my feelings before my thoughts. It will not happen again.’

  ‘Good,’ said the king. ‘I understand your concern but as a man of God, does not the prospect of peace excite you? Would you not prefer that thousands of Christian children see their fathers again and wives embrace their husbands? Surely that in itself is a godly aim and deserves consideration?’

  ‘Not at the expense of the holy city,’ said the prelate. ‘I will take up the sword myself and fight in God’s name if I thought for one second that the walls will fall to the Saracens.’

  ‘Your words surprise me,’ said the king. ‘I expected the opposite.’ He turned to the Regent, still staring out over the Saracen army. ‘And what of you, Sir Raynald. Am I to be just as surprised and hear you change your argument to one that pursues peace?’

  ‘No, my king,’ said Raynald, ‘you will not. I agree with the prelate and advocate driving these people back whence they came. Jerusalem is ours and must remain so at all costs.’

  ‘So you think we should engage them in battle?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘And you are confident of victory?’

  ‘I am, but to achieve this, we must act immediately. His supply caravans will soon be across the river along with many more men. We cannot afford to wait any longer.’

  ‘I thought you said we were in the stronger position and enjoyed the territorial advantage?’

  ‘We do, but don’t forget, our own supply lines are weak, and we will last only so long without fresh food and water. Saladin will know this and can afford to wait.’

  ‘So what do you suggest?’

  ‘I think we should do the opposite of what he expects.’

  ‘And that is?’

  Raynald turned to stare at the king.

  ‘The only thing we can do, your grace, and that is to immediately attack with everything we have at our disposal.’

  ----

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  The Saracen Positions

  November 25th

  AD 1177

  Saladin sat in his campaign tent, picking on a platter of cold meat and dates. It had been several hours since Shir
kuh had returned and they were still no closer to knowing whether the terms had been accepted. Most of the men in his army had taken the time to rest their horses while others had left their positions to eat from the communal pots provided by the few supply wagons already through the mire. Despite the enemy position looming above them, Saladin knew that Baldwin was an honourable man and would not attack whilst terms were being discussed. Besides, the Christians would be foolish to try such a thing and would be slaughtered out of hand.

  ‘My lord Saladin,’ said a voice outside the tent, ‘we have received a message from the Christian King.’

  The Sultan got to his feet, leaving his platter on one of the silken cushions. He ducked out through the flap and saw one of his men bearing a parchment sealed with the wax seal of Baldwin. He turned and nodded to one of his advisors who could speak the king’s language.

  ‘Read it,’ he said.

  The advisor broke the seal and unfurled the document.

  ‘My lord,’ he said, ‘it says the following.’

  ‘To Sultan Salah ad-Din, leader of the Ayyubid Empire and Sultan of Egypt and Syria. I thank you for your offer of a truce but regret that the terms are unacceptable to me and my people. Jerusalem is the place where our Lord Jesus Christ took his last breath and has been reclaimed in the name of God.

  In addition, we see your foray into our lands as an insult and demand you leave immediately. If you do not, then you must face your own God with the deaths of thousands upon your conscience.

  Jerusalem is in Christian hands and will remain so as long as I have a single breath left in my body.

  We do not recognise your counter claim and reject your offer forthwith.

  The messenger looked up, his face ashen at the implications.

  ‘My lord, it is signed by the king himself.’

  ‘It may be signed by the king,’ said Saladin, ‘but the words are from the mouth of his Regent. Baldwin has allowed himself to be seduced by the warmonger Raynald, and now there will be blood on his hands. Summon my generals, we are about to wage war.’