Baron's Crusade

by Griff Hosker

  “Thank you, lord. He is a good mount and deserves a better rider than me.”

  “I am no priest, knight. I cannot give absolution.”

  “I know.”

  “What is your name?”

  “Raymond of Lyon.” He took a breath, “I confess that I am a traitor and a renegade for I have aided our enemies. I beg forgiveness for my sin.”

  I looked down at him, “That is your confession?”

  “Yes, lord, now kill me with your dagger.”

  I shook my head. “That confession might satisfy God, although I doubt it. I need to know all.” Already there were two carrion above our heads. “If I leave now then you will have our friends from above for company. When darkness falls the rats will join them and feast on your flesh while you live.” I heard the clatter of Matthew fetching the horse. “Give us all and I promise you a swift end and a burial in the church at Acre.”

  He closed his eyes and then opened them again. “I was captured at Gaza. My young brother was my squire and captured with me. Many of those who looked to be poor and not worth ransom were slain except for me and my brother. I was told that if I kept them informed of the actions of the crusaders then my brother would live and when the prisoners were ransomed then he would be freed. He and the other poorer captives were taken by the Emir of Kerak.”

  “And whom did you tell about our raids?”

  “A mile south of Acre there is a farm. The man is half Muslim and half Frank. He serves An-Nasir Dawud. I told him when the King left for the north, and I was able to tell him of the chevauchée.”

  I shook my head, “Christians died! Was one life worth that?”

  “There is just my brother and me left for my family were all killed by Cathars. Surely you would do all that you could for your family.”

  “I might but I could never do that. What is the name of your brother?”

  “Geoffrey. He looks like me. Lord, I pray he lives but I beg you to try to help him. He had nothing to do with this. My actions are all mine.”

  I nodded. He was right and his brother was innocent of all treachery, “If I have the chance, I will try to help him. None of this is his fault.”

  “Thank you, Sir William, you are a good man, I am ready.” I had learned all that I was likely to learn and I said, “Go to God and receive your judgement.” I slit his throat. “Matthew put this knight’s sword on his horse. The least we can do is to keep it for his brother.”

  As we headed back Matthew said, “You know, lord, as much as I hated what the French knight did, I can understand his actions. If Mark had been captured then I might be tempted to become a traitor to keep him alive. I would not like myself but I would give anything to save my brother’s life.”

  Padraig said, “Better, Master Matthew, to try to rescue the brother. As soon as they released the knight, he should have followed the prisoners and made an effort to rescue his brother. The longer a man is with these heathens the less likely it is that they will survive. They are a cruel people.”

  I do not know what I would have done. What if Henry Samuel had been a prisoner? I suppose I would have done what Padraig suggested for it would be better to die trying something than becoming a traitor.

  By the time we returned home, it was dark. In my heart, I knew I ought to ride to the farm and find the other traitor but I was anxious to speak with my father and events conspired against me. In addition, there had been another disaster. Balian of Sidon had been ambushed two miles from Acre. It was a bold attack but the audacity had paid off as Balian and his men were not expecting it. Twenty knights perished and Balian himself was wounded.

  I was summoned by the Master of the Hospitallers to the hall where Balian was being tended. The Master was a kindly man. “Sir William, I understand you returned to the castle with the body of one of the knights of Burgundy.” It was simply stated and allowed me to explain what I had done.

  Balian glared at me and then, as the ramifications of my words sank in, he subsided. “You and your father were right then.”

  One of his knights shouted, “Let us ride and capture this spy!”

  Before I could counsel caution, a dozen knights had left the hall. The Master and my father, who were also in the hall realised the futility of such an action. The spy would hear them coming and, under night’s cloak, flee. Even Balian realised this and shook his head. They did not arrive back until after midnight and I learned, the next day, that the man had fled. The knights had burned his farm. It was a petty and vindictive act for it served no purpose at all.

  When I dined with my father and told him every word which had been spoken by the dying knight, we did not know that the raid on the spy’s house would be a failure. It was the next day we discovered that. What we did speak of was the shame on the name of Raymond of Lyon. His brother, although innocent, would be tarnished by that shame. He would never be able to return to France. Our squires and pages looked at each other when they realised what the knight’s actions had begun. It was nothing to do with Geoffrey of Lyon and yet his life was now, forever changed. My father showed that his mind was improving day by day. As we spoke, he recalled events in the past which had been as cataclysmic. I was pleased that his memory was almost back to normal and he remembered more and was able to concentrate for longer periods. His touch remained a problem and he would often look at the palms of his hands as though he could see what the problem was and solve it. That was his way. He was always positive.

  Matthew said, “If this spy is caught then that might be an end to this problem, my lords!”

  “It will not matter if we find this spy and torture him. What more can he tell us? We know who he serves. The bigger problem is that we know not who we can trust. Before you brought us the news, I would have been certain that the spy could not be a knight but what you told me makes it clear that any knight could be thus suborned. There were many stragglers from the battle. There are many farms close to Acre whose owners have no love for Franks. We must accept, as a fact of life, that the enemy will know what we are about. The surprise will have to come from doing the unexpected on the battlefield and I am not sure that Thibaut of Navarre is the man to do that. He strikes me as a very unimaginative man.”

  I drank deeply from the goblet. The wine in this land was always good. Perhaps God had blessed it. “And will you not reconsider returning to England, father?”

  I saw Henry Samuel listening intently. My father also drank deeply and smacked his lips appreciatively, “I am tempted but the answer is no. I am no longer close to death and it is unlikely that I will have to raise my sword in anger. As much as I wish to see how much your new son has grown, I must remain here until the English element of this crusade arrives. I am the senior lord and if I departed, even with this wound, it would incur the wrath of the King. He has too much of his father in his veins for me to risk the retribution which might follow. “We have a half a year to wait here for I expect whoever leads this crusade to be here by May or June at the earliest. Then we can hand over the responsibility and sail home.”

  We spent three months awaiting the return of King Thibaut. We raided and we did not go hungry but the King and his attempts to negotiate back Jerusalem failed and they returned to Acre just as the weather improved. By then my father, except for his lack of feeling in his skin, was healed. His memory had fully returned and he had his strength back. He was able to practise with Padraig where it soon became obvious that his lack of feeling affected his swordplay. He would never be the warrior he once was. He was philosophical about it for he knew he had his life and that was much to be grateful for. My father’s bandages were removed and his hair had begun to cover his scar. It would be barely noticeable within a month.

  More crusaders arrived; this time overland. None were English. Walter of Brienne was a powerful lord from Sicily. He had lost lands to the Emperor Frederik and came to gain power. Guiges of Forez brother, Alan, was another French lord who had lost land in France and Italy. He too sought power. Odo of
Montbéliard came from Cyprus where his family had land and power. He sought to gain Muslim lands now that they were in apparent disharmony. Then there were the young lords of Outremer, the brothers Balian of Beirut and John of Arsuf. Nether had taken part in the battle of Gaza but now saw an opportunity to take land for when Thibaut of Navarre returned from his fruitless sojourn in Antioch he was, finally, ready for action.

  For the English contingent, the politics and posturing were irrelevant. We were here to ensure that Jerusalem remained Christian. I believe that the King and the Duke had similar intentions. The plotting and the coalitions which abounded in Acre did nothing to further the crusade. So it was, in the middle of May, that my father and I were delighted when we were summoned to the presence of the King. Duke Peter and Raoul de Soissons were also there.

  “We have heard that the Emir of Damascus may be able to end this impasse in which we find ourselves. He has let it be known that he is willing to talk but he does not wish an army camped outside Damascus. Duke Peter has agreed to go with some of his knights and the English brotherhood.” The King smiled. “You seem above the plotting with which Acre is riddled. Are you well enough to travel, Earl?”

  I saw my father nod, “I am more than well enough I am desperate for the air in Acre is more poisonous than it was. I would be honoured.”

  And so, we left Acre to ride beyond the land controlled by the crusaders to meet with As-Salih Ismail. He was not a politician like the Emir of Homs he was a warrior who had defeated the Christians at every turn.

  Chapter 11

  The Emir had been quite clear in his instructions. We had to bring no more than one hundred men in total and that included servants. It was why the King had chosen not to travel to Damascus. He would have needed a larger entourage. It suited me for I enjoyed the company of Duke Peter. He was like my father in so many ways. The men he took were all knights and their squires. We were the ones with the men at arms and archers. There were few of them but they could be used as scouts. As my father said, once we had left the Sea of Galilee and headed through the Muslim controlled land, “If the enemy wish to ambush us then no number of scouts will help us. We have to trust to God and the word of our enemy but I feel more comfortable with our archers ahead of us.” He smiled at Duke Peter, “Perhaps this is a test set by God to see how determined we are to achieve peace.”

  The Duke laughed, “Then I am happy to be travelling in your company, my lords, for there are many in the Holy Land who care not about our convictions. I know that the King and I chose to heed the Pope’s call for we wish to serve God. Many of those in Acre serve themselves and seek land. They wish to be King of Jerusalem!” He shook his head, “There was only one King of Jerusalem and he was crucified by the Romans!”

  I asked, “What do you know of this Emir of Damascus, As-Salih Ismail?”

  “That he is a warrior a little older than your father and that may explain why he is held in such high regard by the other leaders. Even the Egyptians heed his words and deeds. If he says something then it is so. He served with Saladin and is said to be a fine warrior and general. I have hopes for this meeting but they are not high. This is a man who believes in his religion as fervently as any Archbishop. He does not want us here.” He shrugged, “He asked for the meeting and as the alternative is a battle, we will try this first.”

  My father had told him about the spy and the prisoners held by the Egyptians. I continued to press the Duke, “But if we cannot get a negotiated peace then where does that leave the captives?”

  “That is a most interesting question and one I would love the answer to. The Egyptians do not care for coins. They are fanatical. If we achieve a negotiated peace, they could take it out on the prisoners and slaughter all of them.”

  That was not the news I wished to hear. The spy I had killed had been a traitor but I had made a promise, however vague, to try to do something about his brother. One did not break the word given to a dying man.

  We were passing through the land upon which Jesus had walked. I was seeing names that the priests in Stockton Church had told us about. The fishermen of Galilee and the wedding at Canaan. They had been names until now and here I was riding the same land and yet it seemed unreal. I did not think that any of those who lived in Stockton would ever manage to make a pilgrimage here to this land. There had been a pilgrimage of peasants but it had ended in disaster with most of them ending up their lives as slaves. Perhaps it was better just to read the story and not witness the reality.

  Damascus was and always had been, a Muslim stronghold. No Crusader had even come close to holding it for longer than a week or so. That might have explained our invitation. We could spy all we liked but, as we rode through the gates and the immensely thick walls, I knew that Franks could never take this city without an incredible loss of life. We were viewed with suspicion rather than hostility as we rode through the streets. I guessed that this draconian leader, this Muslim warlord, had let the people know that we were not to be dishonoured in any way. A column of horsemen had escorted us to the palace. These were not the Khwarzamians we had fought. These were the real Turkish askari. They were mailed from head to toe and rode horses which were almost as large as ours. Around their heads the horses wore mail hoods. I doubted that the horses, mailed as they were, could carry the warriors on their backs for great distances. The warrior in me worked out that they probably rode to battle on a different horse and then charged to fight on these mighty beasts. Even Dragon, the warhorse I had brought, could not compare with these. They had to be the Emir’s bodyguard and he was making a statement.

  When we reached the palace, it was a Frank who emerged. He had grey hair and a beard. He smiled, “I am Rufus of Tyre and I am the Emir’s slave. Would you ask your knights to retire to the hall which has been prepared for them? The four senior lords and their squires and pages will be housed in the palace.”

  I looked at my father; I did not wish to be separated.

  Rufus of Tyre saw my look and smiled, “I am sorry, lord, I should have used your names and titles: The Duke of Brittany, Raoul of Soissons, the Earl of Stockton and Baron William of Elsdon, will be accommodated in the palace.”

  I felt a fool but I was also suspicious. How did they know so much? The spies in our camps had to be more numerous than we thought. Our men took our horses. I saw Padraig and Cedric cast looks which would have turned many men to stone, at Rufus of Tyre.

  “We have some way to walk, Sir Thomas. I can have a litter fetched for you if your wound troubles you.”

  My father waved a hand, “I can walk but, Rufus of Tyre, you interest me. How did you come to serve this emir?”

  “Like you, Sir Thomas, I was at Arsuf and, like you, my knight was slain.” He shrugged, “I was younger than you and I was taken as a slave. The Emir found me when he was just the lord of a hundred serving Saladin. He was interested in me for I worked hard and he bought me from the man who had taken me and was… let us say the Emir of Damascus saved my life. It proved to be my salvation. I have risen with the Emir and I am happy.”

  “But you live amongst the Muslims!”

  He stopped and turned to address the Duke of Brittany, “I am now a Muslim, Duke, and I find the life to be better than when I was a Christian.”

  Raoul of Soissons could not hide his horror, “You have rejected Christ!”

  Rufus smiled, “But his father is still the same God we worship. He is the God of Abraham. I sleep well at night.”

  The palace was cool after the heat of the city and the road. It was clean and I felt dirty as I laid a trail of dust along the stone floors. It was almost as if he was reading our minds for he said, as we neared a large pair of double doors made of cedarwood, “You will need to refresh yourselves before you meet the Emir.” He pointed to a second set of double doors to our right. “Those are your quarters. There are eight rooms and there is a bath with slaves who wait to tend you. They were chosen for their ability to speak French and English.” He smiled. “They
have learned the language from the many prisoners we have taken. There are cooler clothes for you to wear. You will not need your mail this night. Here you are as safe as in any fortress in Brittany or England. I will fetch you in two hours.”

  He opened the door and we entered. Closing it behind us we stared at the half-naked slaves who awaited us and the enormous bath which we could see.

  My father broke the silence, “This is a clever man. Already we are intimidated by all of this; the preparations have been made to make us in awe of him before we meet him. He intends to make demands which will be unacceptable to us and this is a way of striking the first blow. Let us enjoy the pampering.”

  He was right of course but I now feared meeting this emir.

  The four of us bathed first and then my father said, “It would be churlish not to let our squires and pages enjoy this. I am certain the emir will comment if we do not allow them to bathe and be attended by these slaves.”

  While our squires and pages enjoyed the bath we were taken to marble slabs where the slaves worked on our naked bodies with strigils and then oiled our bodies and hair. I felt uncomfortable but my father took it all in his stride. I felt better when I realised that our squires and pages would have to endure this and they would be even more uncomfortable than I was.

  As we were being dressed Raoul began, “I wonder what this emir…”

  My father wagged a finger, “These slaves speak English, French and Breton. Let us keep our thoughts to ourselves, eh? This is not the place to let the Emir know of our position.”

  The clothes that the slaves dressed us in were incredibly light. It was almost like a lady’s dress but it felt cool. I was almost afraid to go to the feast in case I spilled food upon it. Rufus nodded approvingly and said, “Now you smell and look civilised.”

  My smile turned to a frown. I did not like this turncoat.

  He led us to the double doors we had seen and they were opened. We walked down a long corridor which had a fresco painted on the wall. It was of Muslim warriors slaughtering Christians. I recognised the shields of the Knights Templar and worked out it was Hattin. There were two guards at the end and when they opened them, I saw the room in which we would dine. It took my breath away. The table was laden with food and there were enough slaves around the side to guarantee one slave for each guest. I knew this because there were just eight people in the huge room. This would be a relatively intimate meal. As I had expected there were no women. This was a Muslim country.