Baron's Crusade

by Griff Hosker

  “Sam, rise.”

  I heard him groan and I tried to lift him. He was not yet a man grown but he was wearing mail and it was hard to raise him to his feet. He must have begun to come to for it suddenly became easier as he pushed with his legs. He had his shield on his right side and so I supported him with my right arm and I held my shield over our heads. Arrows rained down. Some hit me and I understood the pain Brian had felt. Sam could not move quickly but I did not want us to fall and we plodded on to the encouraging arms of the knights, men at arms and squires who awaited us. Already two ladders were placed against the wall and they were just waiting for the last ladder to be raised. A final stone was hurled at us and it hit my shield. I had it slightly angled and the stone slipped down to the ground. Nonetheless, it numbed my arm. I could not worry about that for I was the one to climb this last ladder first.

  The squires had done their job and I shouted, “John, see to Henry Samuel.”

  I walked to the ladder. Padraig said, “Lord, your arm was hit. I will ascend first.”

  “Padraig, that is my place.”

  “And I am second. I would like to live beyond this battle lord and if you cannot protect me with your shield then I will die.” He was right and I nodded. He turned to Matthew and Mark who would hold the ladder for us. “Brace your feet and lean against it. You are big lads and it will stop the ladder from moving. For England and Sir Thomas!” He began to climb. Despite his age, he almost scurried up the ladder.

  As I began to climb, I saw that the other ladders, further along the wall, also had climbers upon them. We had not had the losses Walter de Brienne’s men had suffered and we now had a chance. I saw a spear come towards me. With my shield above my head and my right hand on the ladder, I could do nothing about it. It caught my upper right leg and broke mail. The head broke the skin but did not lodge there. As it fell, I felt blood begin to seep from the wound. Experience had told me that it would not impair me, not for a while at least. The plan was for us to secure the parapet and then the knights and men of Navarre would follow us. In theory, I would only have to fight for a short time but, first, we had to gain the parapet.

  I was stopped by Padraig who had reached the top. I heard blows striking his shield and I heard his curses, “Away you murdering heathen bastards!”

  I could feel the heat from the fire and the stones also appeared to be hot. As Padraig slowly climbed the last few rungs on the ladder, I followed him closely. If he began to fall my job was to hold him in place. I heard his sword ring against metal and stone which told me that he had reached the top and was fighting the defenders. Suddenly he was no longer above me and I hurried up the last steps. As I stood on the parapet and before I could draw my sword a Khwarzamian ran at me with a spear. I began to draw my sword and started to jump. The spear did not reach me for an arrow smacked into the side of his head. It struck so hard that the head and shaft came out of the other side. The red fletch told me that it was Cedric’s arrow. I looked around and saw that Padraig was fighting two men. Three men ran at me. Padraig and I had to buy time for the rest of our men to ascend. Our own little battlefield was a corner of the tower five paces by six. The fire on the projectile thrower had been so fierce that it was hard to see if the charred lumps had been wood or the men serving it.

  The three men who ran at me were not mailed but they held spears and had small, buckler type shields. We had practised this back in Elsdon with my men. My men were better than the three who came at me for one was too eager, thinking that odds of three to one meant that they would win. Instead of awaiting the attack I stepped forward and that made him lunge prematurely with his spear. As I deflected it with my shield, I brought my sword across his neck and body diagonally. I tore through flesh and bright blood spurted the warrior to his left. I back slashed with my sword and as the next man was temporarily blinded, he did not see the edge coming towards his head. The blow knocked him from his feet and stunned him. The last man had a free strike with his spear and the head rammed at my side. I was already turning when the blow struck. It ripped through my mail but, unlike my chausses, I had a padded gambeson beneath the mail and it was that garment which took the damage intended for my side. His charge had unbalanced him so that when I swung my sword it was at his unprotected back and my sword sliced through to his spine. I ran at the man I had stunned and rammed my sword down into his neck. Padraig had killed the two men he had been fighting although I saw that he had been wounded.

  Peter of York and Rafe War Axe had joined us and I shouted, “England! Shield wall!”

  Sir Stephen and my knights heard me. They turned and joined up with Padraig and my men. Raoul de Soissons and the Bretons were attacking the other side of the tower. We simply had to hold the fighting platform until we could be reinforced by fresh men who would not have done as we had done and fought to gain a toe hold on the tower.

  “Are you badly hurt, Padraig?”

  “It is not the slightest wound I have ever had but do not fear, lord, I will protect your side.”

  More of the enemy emerged from below and this time we did not advance. We would let them charge at us. Some of the men we faced were mailed and there were at least three who were askari with mail from head to toe. They advanced towards us and I saw that they were not using spears but had fine swords. Three of the mailed askari came towards Padraig, Sir Stephen and myself.

  I could feel the blood slipping down my leg. Already the leg was stiffening and movement would soon be difficult. I raised my sword and pointed the tip at the askari. He was a skilled man and his blow came down towards my head. I raised my shield and the blow made my arm shiver. Already numbed by the stone thrown from the tower it would not afford me as much protection as I might have wished. I would be slow to raise it. There was little point in using the tip of my sword. I would have to break bones beneath the mailed man I fought. I knew from experience that the bone which protected the shoulder was not the strongest and so I swung at it. He raised his shield but my strike was so hard that it cracked his buckler and made him recoil a little. That gave me encouragement and so I lifted my sword to hit at his right shoulder. He could not move his shield quickly enough and I heard him grunt as my sword connected. It was not as hard as the first blow but he was hurt. As I pulled back my arm, he swung again at me and this time my numbed arm was slow to rise. Although I caught his sword, I merely deflected it into the side of my helmet and my ears rang. My father’s wound told me the danger of such a blow. Had I had the use of my shield arm I would have punched him. If my head was not hurting, I would have butted him. I had few options left but one weapon which remained to me were my spurs. I had forgotten to take them off when we had begun our attack and I had been lucky not to trip whilst climbing the ladder. Now they came to my aid. The askari did not wear chausses for their mail hauberks came to below their knees. I hooked my right leg behind the askari and dragged it back towards me. The rowel was sharp and I tore through his tendons. He screamed and dropped to his other knee. Raising my sword, I fell upon him driving the tip of the sword through his eyehole. The point embedded itself in the fighting platform.

  Standing I picked up the dead askari’s sword and hacked into the back of the head of the askari fighting Sir Stephen. It was a well-struck blow and I must have broken something for he stiffened and then fell back as though poleaxed.

  Behind me, I heard the cry, “Navarre! Let us through England for you have done your duty!”

  I raised my visor and shouted, “Let them through! Break ranks!”

  This was a practised manoeuvre and turning our shields as one we stepped back and the knights of Navarre stepped through the gaps we left. I knew then, as blood dripped down my leg and my left arm hung uselessly that we had won and we had taken Jerusalem. Our crusade had achieved its objective.

  Chapter 13

  I went directly to Padraig. He had been hit in the side by an axe. It had broken his mail and sliced through to his gambeson. It was a long cut and a deep one. He a
lready looked pale. I turned to Peter of York, “Shout down to Mark and ask him to fetch a healer.”

  “Aye, lord.”

  “Rafe, take one of those turbans and try to staunch the bleeding.” I looked around, desperately seeking some alcohol but there was none. I found a waterskin and handed it to him. “Lie back and rest.”

  He nodded to my leg, “And you, too, are wounded, lord. Heal yourself.”

  “It is a cut only and as I will have to remove my chausses I will wait.”

  He drank deeply and then sank back, “This is poor country, lord, for it is full of disease, contagion and,” he waved an irritated hand at the creatures which flew around, “these damned insects. If a wound does not kill you then these little bastards will!”

  Rafe and Peter began to take the mail and gambeson from Padraig. Peter shook his head, “It would have to be a tough insect to bite your thick skin!”

  Padraig put down the waterskin and rubbed his head, “They seem attracted to this red hair. Perhaps I should shave it off!”

  Rafe laughed as he unrolled a turban, “You have got so little hair anyway I do not see why you bother!”

  I knew what they were doing. They were bantering because the blood was still flowing and all three were trying to make light of it; this was their way. I went to the parapet and looked over. Below me, I could hear fighting as the Navarrese cleared each floor of the defenders. I saw Father Paul hurrying across to the tower, Mark carried his bag. The other two priests laboured behind them.

  “Hurry, Father!”

  When I turned back, I saw that they had finished bandaging Padraig. Other warriors had been hurt and they were being tended to by their fellows. It was what we did and we looked after our own. Padraig’s eyes were closed and I looked at Peter of York. He stood and said, quietly, “He lives but it is a deep wound, lord. I fear that he will not fight again in this crusade.”

  Sir Stephen had joined us and had overheard our words, “Is this not over, Sir William? We have Jerusalem and we have a truce.”

  “There are still Christians held in the south and remember, we have yet to rebuild Ascalon but you may be right. When Richard of Cornwall brings the English barons then our work here is done and we can go home, but they have yet to reach us. Until then we must maintain our vigilance.”

  Henry Samuel appeared at the top of the ladder. He was grinning and lithely jumped over and then held out a hand to help Father Paul. Mark and John followed and then Matthew who carried some of the other priests’ bags. I saw that Padraig had passed out; it was probably the blood he had lost.

  As soon as Father Paul took off the bloody turban, he shook his head. “This is a deep wound and stitching will not do it.” He pointed to the burning embers of the projectile thrower. “Rekindle the fire and heat up a spearhead. I will cauterize the wound once it is cleansed.” He turned to the other priests. “I will tend to Padraig, see to the others.” He glanced at my leg. “And I will tend to Sir William too!” My men and squires formed a protective circle around the priest as he probed in the wound for any foreign objects or cloth which might infect the wound. The blood flowed as he did so. I knew that Father Paul knew his business but it seemed to me that this cure was worse than the ailment. John had tended his father’s forge before he became a page and he soon had the flames glowing. He cleaned a spearhead and washed it before plunging it, to hiss, in the flames. He kept adding unburned wood and fanning the flames to make the fire as hot as he could. There was skill in what he did for he had to ensure that the shaft of the spear did not burn.

  Father Paul nodded, happy that the wound was clean, “Right, John, fetch the spear. Rafe and Peter, hold his arms, Mark and Matthew, his legs.”

  Although Padraig looked insensible, I knew that a body will often react to pain even though the patient is unconscious. It proved to be a wise precaution for even though he was held when the spearhead was applied his back arced. There was a hissing as the metal touched flesh and then a smell of burning hair and flesh. Then the priest handed the spear back to John, “Put it back in the flames in case we have need of it again.” He bent over Padraig to see if any blood continued to seep and when he rose, he nodded, seemingly satisfied.

  I said, “Rafe and Peter, watch over him. When this tower is secured have him carried to the hospital. Mark and Matthew can help you.”

  Father Paul said, “First, my lord, your squires can remove your chausses. I will tend to you.” His voice was firm and I knew he would not brook a refusal. My squire and his brother were well used to removing chausses and this time they only needed to remove one. I saw that there was more blood than I had expected and the wound was deep. “John, fan the flames. My lord, sit!”

  This time, when he poked, it was my leg and I was awake. It hurt and I had to force myself to ignore the lancing pain of the sharpened knife he used to remove pieces of wood and metal. He shook his head. “Had we left the metal inside the wound you might have lost the leg.” He took the skin of vinegar from his bag and said, “Mark, Matthew, hold his arms. Rafe and Peter keep his legs still.” I knew what was coming and I braced myself but I was still not ready for the shock of the vinegar cleansing the open cut. I did not shout out but I know not how I did not. When the priest said, “John!” then I knew that the pain to come would be even worse.

  Father Paul was clever and the vinegar had numbed the leg just enough so that when the white-hot spearhead sizzled against my leg the pain was not as bad as it might have been. This time, however, I could not control my voice and I yelled so loudly that those being tended stared at me.

  Henry Samuel said, “Well, uncle, you have a reminder of the battle of Jerusalem and it will stay with you forever!”

  I shook my head, “Thank you, nephew, that is a great solace to me!”

  It took until evening to eliminate the last of the defenders. The Emir was not amongst the few prisoners we took nor the bodies we searched. It was as we had thought before the attack, he was at Nablus. My father was anxiously waiting for us when we emerged from the captured tower.

  He saw that I limped and that Matthew was carrying my weapons, “You are hurt?”

  “A cut and Father Paul has sealed the wound. It is not as bad as your wound father so fret not.” I pointed behind where our other men carried Padraig who still slept. “Padraig’s wound is worse. He and Richard Red Leg can now be your fellows!”

  The King had given us a large house for us to use while the men who had not fought scoured the city for any sympathisers of the Emir. Groups of warriors were discovered and dealt with. The use of Greek Fire had eliminated any sympathy we might have felt for the men who were summarily executed; they had been asked to surrender and refused the offer. He then told us of his plans. He would divide the army into two. Half would go to Nablus where the Emir held out while Jerusalem was repaired and made stronger. We remained in Jerusalem until June when King Thibaut took the bulk of his army and the three military orders to Nablus. There An-Nasir Dawud still held out against the crusaders who were besieging him. It was when we reached Nablus that victory came within our grasp and, at the same time, perhaps inevitably, the crusade began to fall apart! The discord began in Jerusalem when the other leaders arrived from the siege at Nablus. There was no reason that they should have left the siege except for the fact that they wanted to say that they were there the day that Jerusalem fell. Over time the fact that they did not raise a weapon to take it would be forgotten and the chroniclers would just note that so and so of wherever was there when Jerusalem fell into Christian hands.

  As we headed south, to Nablus, the bickering and the plotting for power had begun. It seemed that all wished to be given more than they had with the exception of the King, the Duke, and, of course, my father. The three of them rode alone for they had made it quite clear that their sole purpose was the crusade. Behind us, we could hear men arguing about which towns they wanted when Nablus was taken. I thought their words were unnecessary and premature for all the towns which the Em
ir of Damascus had given us had been apportioned to those lords of Outremer who had lost land. Having secured Jerusalem and more land than they had held for more than fifty years they should have been content but they were not for they were greedy men. There was a secure border with Muslims who were no longer enemies. That was seen as my father’s contribution although, of course, it was King Thibaut who was given the accolades. All that remained was to rebuild Ascalon and to recover the captured knights. I was given the task of guarding the three men for they wished to speak without being overheard.

  “Do you think, Sir Thomas, that we will have to fight at Nablus?”

  For some reason, even the King deferred to my father. My father shook his head, “The Emir must know that he is isolated. His allies, the Ayyubid Egyptians, are too far away to aid him and there is still a power struggle in Cairo. We took Jerusalem with relatively low losses and the Emir of Damascus took Beaufort easily enough. The Emir of Kerak will negotiate. There may be threats but he will have to agree to peace or risk losing all. He still has great fortresses to the east and he knows, as did As-Salih Ismail, that the Mongols are a far more dangerous threat than we are.” He gestured behind him with his thumb, “As the plotters behind us so ably demonstrate, I fear, King Thibaut, that they will lose Jerusalem before my grandson is knighted!”

  “Surely not, Sir Thomas!”

  “You are a good man, Duke Peter. Not all knights are as noble as you are. There will be one, perhaps two, who seek to take total power. Once the alliance is fractured it will crumble.”

  We reached Nablus not long after noon and saw that the siege was not being prosecuted as forcefully as it might have been. Guiges of Forez had been in command and he had merely dug a ditch around the town. There were no siege engines to be seen. The King just gave him a look of disdain when he saw the lack of effort. He turned to Duke Peter and my father, “I think that the two of you should ride to the gates under a flag of truce and ask for its surrender. You were the ones who attacked his caravan and took Jerusalem. I think he will fear you.”