God's Warrior

by Hilary Green

  ‘You can see what is happening. You must stop it! Stop them before more damage is done.’

  ‘Stop what?’ Bohemond pressed on without breaking stride.

  ‘The looting! The killing! You swore to protect the Christians. You must stop them!’

  Bohemond shook himself free of the grip on his arm. ‘Take your hands off me! This is war! By the mass, I’ll strike you down if you get in my way!’

  Two of his men grabbed Ranulph from behind and threw him aside with such force that he collided with the crenellated battlements edging the walkway so violently that he was in danger of overbalancing and pitching to his death. Winded, he could only watch as Bohemond forged onwards towards the highest point to raise his banner.

  As he dragged himself to his feet another thought, more terrible still, struck him. He careered back down the stairs and, to his great relief, found that Firouz and Marc had followed him and were about to start upwards in pursuit.

  ‘Mariam!’ he gasped. ‘Where is she living?’

  Firouz understood at once and turned on his heel. ‘This way!’

  They plunged back into the maze of streets. Twice their way was blocked by Franks and Turks locked in desperate struggle and they had to make a detour. Once there was no way round and they fought their way through, swords slashing at anyone who impeded them. In the darkness it was hard to tell friend from foe. Terrified men and women spilled past them, heading for the nearest city gate.

  At last they came to a substantial house in the higher reaches of the town. Ranulph cursed as he saw that the main doors had already been beaten in. In the courtyard another battle was in progress. Four men in Turkish dress were blocking the way to an inner court in the face of a determined attack by five or six Frankish soldiers. A little further back, two knights in the colours of Tancred’s retinue waited to see the outcome. Three of the Turks were servants, from their dress, but in the centre of the line was a tall man with a hooked nose and iron grey hair, who was laying about him with a scimitar with more fury than skill. Ranulph halted, staring. This was the man who had been his rival in that summer when he had courted Mariam; the man chosen by her father as a useful ally in the silk trade; the man she had married when he failed to return. A man whose death he would have earnestly prayed for a day earlier. Now, all he needed to do was hold back and let others accomplish the deed.

  With a yell he leaped forward, sword in hand. The Turk recognised him instantly and raised his scimitar in defence.

  ‘No, Hamid!’ Ranulph shouted. ‘I am with you!’ and as he spoke he whirled about and took his stand on the Turk’s left. Marc and Firouz moved quickly to join him but Ranulph shouted, ‘No, Firouz! Find Mariam. Guard her with your life.’

  Firouz nodded once and turned away into the inner courtyard. One of the Franks, seeing Hamid temporarily distracted, stepped in and launched a thrust that would have pierced the Turk’s heart had not Ranulph struck it down with his own weapon. The point of the sword ripped through Hamid’s tunic but the Turk struck it aside and fought on. While the Frank was unbalanced Ranulph ducked under his shield, swung his sword backhanded and cut his hamstrings. The man collapsed, screaming. His friend slashed at Ranulph’s legs and doubled up as Ranulph retaliated with a kick to his belly. Marc thrust at the face of another of the assailants and laid his cheek open while Hamid’s whirling scimitar caught a third on the neck and almost severed his head from his shoulders. The remaining three quickly decided that there were easier pickings to be had and ran for the street. That left Tancred’s two knights.

  For a moment nobody spoke or moved and the only sound in the courtyard was the rasping breath of men who had pushed themselves to the brink of exhaustion.

  ‘Apostate!’ spat one of the knights.

  ‘Murderer!’ Ranulph spat back. ‘Killer of children and ravisher of women!’

  There was another pause. The knights looked at each other. Whatever the prize, a fight with two of their own kind was not what they had anticipated.

  One said, ‘The Turk is rich. Let him buy the safety of his family.’

  Outside in the street they could hear the cheers and shouts of men in search of booty coming closer. Ranulph looked at Hamid. They could hold off the two knights, but if a new influx of attackers arrived the outcome was uncertain, to say the least. The Turk seemed to come to the same conclusion.

  ‘There,’ he said, jerking his head towards a door. ‘That is my storeroom. I have no gold left to give you. It has all been spent to buy food for my family. But there are bales of silk in there. Take what you want.’

  The knights consulted each other’s eyes again. ‘Watch them!’ the first one said, and disappeared into the storeroom. The other shifted his grip on his sword nervously but Ranulph raised his free hand in a gesture that indicated he need not fear an attack. Moments later the first man reappeared, laden down with bales of richly coloured material. His companion grabbed an armful and they both hurried out into the street. As they met the oncoming mob Ranulph heard one of them shout, ‘No point in going in there, boys. Nothing left.’ They had that much honour at least, he reflected.

  At his side, Hamid suddenly doubled over clutching his chest and groaning. Ranulph looked over his head to the servants, who were still gazing about them with wide, terrified eyes. ‘See to your master,’ he ordered and turned away to enter the inner court.

  Marc came with him. ‘Would you mind telling me what we are doing here?’ he inquired.

  Ranulph stopped and looked at him, aware for the first time that he had unquestioningly put himself at risk fighting on what must seem to him to be the wrong side.

  ‘It’s … it’s too complicated. I’ll explain later.’ He paused. For some reason it was becoming difficult to order his thoughts. ‘But thank you, thank …’ He stopped. A staircase led up to the upper storey and a women was coming down it. She was holding a small child in her arms and two others, little boys, clung to her skirt weeping. At the bottom of the steps she halted and they looked at each other across a distance of perhaps ten paces. She was white with fear and strain, and where the coif that covered her hair had slipped he saw that there were traces of silver amid the dark; but the beautiful moulding of the face and the huge dark eyes had not changed, and the familiarity after so long took his breath away.

  She said, ‘They told me you were dead.’

  ‘I know. I was a captive. I could not get word to you – and when I was free again I heard you were married.’

  She made a small sound that might have been forgiveness or alarm and took a step towards him. ‘You are bleeding!’

  He looked down and realised for the first time that he had been wounded, though how or when he could not recollect. From somewhere under his hauberk blood was falling in heavy drops and he could feel that his breeches and chausses were soaked with it. The courtyard was lit with torches in sconces along the walls. He looked up, and the light blurred and seemed to ebb away and he was falling into darkness.

  11.

  He was being moved; hands tugged at his hauberk; someone was touching his leg and making it hurt. He wanted to tell them to stop but his voice would not obey him. Gentler hands raised his head and a cup was held to his lips. He swallowed and tasted wine sweetened with honey and then a bitter after taste, and that part of his mind that was still capable of thought registered poppy – and something else?- and then all thought ceased. He was in darkness, and in the middle of the darkness was a single point of fire; and out of the fire came a voice – God’s voice? His own? ‘‘Behold a pale horse and him that sat on him was death’ – the same phrase, repeated over and over again.

  When he woke again sunlight was streaming through a window above the bed he lay on and etching an oblong of light on the tiled floor. From the angle, he knew that the day was far advanced towards evening. He was naked and lying in clean linen sheets and the wound in his leg throbbed dully. For a few seconds he drifted in a pleasant sense of safety and peace; then memory awoke and he started up
from his pillow, intending to rise. The walls of the room swung from side to side like a ship in a gale and he sank back. Just beyond his line of sight someone moved and a hand was laid on his shoulder.

  ‘Please, sir, lie still. The medicus said you must rest.’

  Ranulph looked up and found Dino leaning over him. ‘Dino? How did you get here?’

  ‘We followed the army into the city, sir. The fighting was more or less over, but the streets were full of dead bodies. We were very much afraid that you might be one of them. It took a long time to find you, but in the end we met someone who said they had seen you come into this house.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘Fernando and me, sir. And I brought Brand. He is here, safe in the stable.’

  Ranulph tried to speak but his voice caught in his throat and he could only whisper. ‘Water!’

  Dino held a cup to his lips and he drank. The water was cool and unmixed with any drug. He said, ‘Mariam? Is Mariam safe?’

  ‘The lady Mariam is well, sir. She tended your wound and staunched the bleeding.’

  ‘God be praised! And Marc?’

  ‘Sir Marc is outside in the courtyard, sir. Shall I ask him to come to you?’

  ‘Yes – no, wait. I need to piss. Help me up.’

  ‘No need for that, sir.’ The boy reached under the bed and produced an earthenware bottle.

  When Ranulph had relieved himself he said, ‘Now ask Marc to come in, please.’

  Marc appeared at once and took Dino’s place on a stool by the bed, reaching over to grasp Ranulph’s hand. ‘Thanks be to God! For a little while we thought we had lost you.’

  Ranulph felt his leg and found it swathed in bandages. ‘Am I badly wounded?’

  ‘A nasty cut to the inside of the thigh. You must have sustained it during that last fight. You were losing so much blood that you could not have fought on for much longer. It was Mariam who stopped the bleeding by tying a belt round your leg. She said you had taught her what to do.’

  Ranulph frowned, searching his memory. ‘Yes. Years ago, when one of the servants got into fight. Did she do all this, too?’ He indicated the bandages.

  ‘No. She told one of her people to go to the hospital to fetch the medicus. The boy was afraid to go because the fighting was still going on, so I went with him to give him the protection of my sword. The hospital was overwhelmed and the doctor did not want to leave, but it seems he is a close friend of the family, so he came. He cauterized the wound to stop the bleeding, cleaned it with vinegar and stitched the edges together.’

  ‘I don’t remember any of that.’

  ‘Mercifully, you were unconscious. The doctor gave you a draught to make you sleep. But later you became delirious. You kept repeating something about death and a pale horse.’ He frowned. ‘That phrase. It’s from the Holy Bible, isn’t it? ‘

  ‘The book of Revelation,’ Ranulph agreed.

  ‘I don’t know why it disturbed your sleep so violently.’

  Ranulph lifted a despairing gaze to his friend. ‘Don’t you see, Marc? I am the rider on the pale horse. I have brought death and destruction to these people.’

  Marc’s expression was grim. ‘It was not you. As far as I can make out, as soon as the army came though the gates, the local Christians turned on their hated enemies the Turks and killed them. But it is true also that our soldiers slaughtered Christians and infidels indiscriminately. Whether it was revenge or blood lust or the desire for booty I do not know. A mixture of all three I should guess. All I do know is, if this is Holy War, I am ashamed to be part of it.’

  ‘But I am the one to blame!’ Ranulph said urgently. ‘It was I who found Firouz; I who persuaded him to betray the city to us. The sin is upon my head! Firouz! Is he safe?’

  ‘Unhurt, but very disturbed in spirit. He keeps saying you swore to him that the people would be treated with mercy.’

  ‘And so I did! And I thought I had Bohemond’s word that it would be so. Where is he – Bohemond I mean?’

  Marc shrugged ironically. ‘Busy establishing himself as Prince of Antioch, I imagine.’

  ‘Yes, that is all he cares for. I was a fool to trust him!’ Ranulph let his head sink back onto the pillow. After a moment he said, ‘How long have I been here?’

  ‘Less than a day. It was midnight when we opened the gates. Now it is almost evening.’

  ‘What is happening out there now?’

  ‘I have hardly ventured out, but I believe we are in the control of the city. I heard that the citadel is still holding out, but Yaghi Siyan is said to have fled, leaving his son in command.’ He laid his hand on Ranulph’s again. ‘You must not blame yourself too much. Kerbogha’s army is almost upon us. If we were still outside we would be trapped between him and the city walls.’

  ‘Better that than the destruction I have wrought on these people,’ Ranulph said.

  Marc shook his head. ‘You must not think like that. Your intentions were good. You are not to blame for what followed.’

  But Ranulph turned his face to the wall and did not answer.

  Sometime later he roused from a semi-slumber to find Dino beside him with a bowl and a spoon, but he closed his lips and turned his head away and after a while the boy gave up trying to persuade him to eat. Later still he became aware that there was someone else in the room and opened his eyes to find Firouz standing at the end of the bed, his face a blank mask.

  Ranulph raised himself on his elbow. ‘Firouz, I do not ask you to forgive me. I cannot forgive myself, and I do not believe God will forgive me either. I have brought desolation to your people and I am damned for it.’

  The mask cracked and Ranulph saw guilt and anger at odds with something that looked almost like compassion. Firouz said hoarsely, ‘We are taught that there is always forgiveness for those who truly repent.’

  ‘Is there?’ Ranulph responded hopelessly. ‘Perhaps through the blood of Christ there is still mercy even for me – but I shall carry the guilt with me to the end of my days.’

  Firouz moved a little closer. ‘I am more to blame than you. I was the one who betrayed my city and opened the gates to your soldiers.’

  ‘You know I acted from the best motives. I truly believed that I had Bohemond’s word that the Christians in the city would not be harmed. I thought it would be best for all of us if we could bring the siege to an end.’

  Firouz sank down onto the stool by the bed and Ranulph saw that he was exhausted. ‘At least you came to defend Mariam. God alone knows what would have happened if we had not been here. Hamid could not have fought them off alone.’

  The name brought back a memory. Ranulph said, ‘I saw him collapse. Is he all right?’

  Firouz bent his head. ‘He is dead. His heart could not sustain so much violent activity.’

  Ranulph groaned. ‘One more to add to the weight of my guilt.’

  ‘Not so! You might have had good reason to let him die, but you fought at his side.’

  ‘For Mariam’s sake, not his. How has she taken it?’

  ‘She grieves, as any Christian must for the loss of a life. But she never loved him. Her care now is all for her children.’

  ‘Can I see her?’

  Firouz raised his eyes and for a moment his gaze held Ranulph’s. Then he shook his head. ‘No. It would not be fitting.’

  Ranulph lay back. ‘No. You are right, of course. Please tell her … tell her … No, say nothing. It will be better that way.’

  When Firouz left Dino came in again with more gruel, but as before Ranulph turned his head away. He even refused the cup of water that was offered him. As night fell, Marc brought a stranger into the room, an old man wearing the dark robe and cap of a doctor of medicine. His beard was grey and he stooped, but his eyes were sharp and authoritative. A second, younger man followed carrying a bag.

  ‘Ranulph, this is Ibn Butlan, the doctor who dressed your wound.’

  Ibn Butlan approached the bed and Ranulph said, ‘I thank you, sir, for your attention
, but there are many worthier patients who deserve your time more than I do.’

  ‘It is not for us to decide who is worthy and who is not,’ the old man replied. ‘It is true that there are many in the hospital who need me, but the lady Mariam is a friend and a fellow Christian who has held the faith even in the face of persecution. When she asks for my help I cannot deny it.’ He leaned closer, appraising Ranulph with a steady gaze. ‘They tell me you are refusing to eat.’

  ‘I have no appetite.’

  ‘And to drink, also. You know as well as I do that without water death follows quickly.’

  ‘It would be better so.’

  ‘You wish me to believe that I have abandoned my other patients and used my skills to save your life, only for you to throw it away?’

  ‘I am grateful, but you were not to know that the life you saved is worthless.’

  Ibn Butlan frowned. ‘You are arrogant, if you believe that you have the right to decide whose life is of worth in the eyes of God. It is for Him to chose the moment and the manner of your death. It may be that he has yet some purpose for you that you know nothing of.’ He reached down and laid his fingers on Ranulph’s wrist, feeling the pulse. Then he turned and gestured for his assistant to come forward. ‘You will give me a sample of your urine, please.’

  The assistant produced a glass flask, which Ranulph filled with some difficulty. The younger man held it up to the light and the doctor peered at it for some moments. Then he nodded and turned back to Ranulph.

  ‘It is as I thought. There is an imbalance in the humours. An excess of black bile.’ He sighed. ‘If it were in my power I would prescribe a diet rich in soft, moist substances, fruits such as plums, figs or raisins, and meat such as mutton. But alas such things are luxuries beyond our reach in the present circumstances. In some cases blood-letting or a purgative might be indicated, but in your weakened state I will not prescribe that. I will send you a curative draught of oxymel and myrrh, and my assistant will show your page how to make a poultice of yarrow to promote the healing of the wound. But above all, you must drink. Take water with a little wine and submit your life to the will of the Most High. I will return tomorrow to see how you are doing.’