Outcasts

by Martin Lake

  ‘I think you should send a couple of companies of horsemen to either side of the city, close to the shore,’ he said.

  ‘They can conceal themselves in the bullrushes. Even if they are seen from the city, the Franks will think them too far away to intervene. They will open the city for the refugees. As soon as they do our warriors can race for the gates and fight their way in.'

  ‘It is an idea full of possibilities,’ Saladin said.

  He turned to his younger son.

  ‘What do you say, Uthman?’

  The younger son studied the field a moment longer.

  ‘I think we should attack the refugees and slaughter them all,’ he said.

  ‘No,’ said al-Adfal. ‘To kill them would serve no purpose.’

  ‘It would,’ Uthman said. ‘We would win the treasure from their churches and the Templars. And if the Franks inside Tyre see their people being killed they will surely open their gates.’

  ‘Another idea full of possibilities,’ said their father.

  He turned to al-Adil. ‘What do you say, brother?’

  He shrugged. ‘I think we should wait,’ he answered. ‘I do not think the commander of Tyre will open his gates once he has seen us. I believe he will wait until dark. Let us be patient and also wait until dark. Under cover of night we can move closer to the city and, when the gates open to allow in the refugees, we can attack according to our original plan.’

  Saladin said nothing for long minutes. He had asked his sons' advice because he wanted to get them to think strategically. He also wanted to test them, to know who would be best suited to rule after his death. But now he regretted doing so. Both of their plans had some merit but both had serious flaws. He would have to try to reconcile the contrary views without either of his sons feeling they had lost face.

  He sighed. Perhaps I'm foolish to believe they would think like al-Adil and me, he thought. We have years of experience; they have the hot blood of youth. Besides, they want to prove themselves, to me, to their uncle and to my warriors.

  He sighed once again, still louder.

  ‘Both of you have given me good advice,’ he said at last. ‘al-Adfal, I like the idea of the flanking movement and will adopt that. I like the idea of taking the treasure, Uthman and I will order this; although I have no wish to waste effort in killing old men and women.

  ‘So, my sons, we will use both of your plans. But, as your uncle points out, the time to do it is when darkness falls. We must be patient.’

  He spoke quickly to his captains and they went amongst the troops, telling them to rest and eat.

  John, Bernard and Matthew watched proceedings with relief.

  ‘I thought they meant to butcher the column,’ John said.

  Bernard shook his head. ‘That is not the way of Saladin. He is said to be cruel when he deems it necessary but he prefers to show mercy if he can. I guess he must be thinking about the after-life.’

  ‘Surely he will be better welcomed in their paradise if he slays Christians,’ Matthew said.

  ‘Not needlessly,’ said a voice from behind them. They turned to see Khalid. He sat beside them. ‘You Christians judge everyone by your own behaviour. If we were like you we would have slain everyone in Jerusalem when we took it. The streets would have run with blood as they did when the Christians captured it from us. Your forebears slaughtered without pity. Yet Sultan Saladin let your people go.’

  ‘Not all of them,’ Bernard said.

  Khalid raised an eyebrow in question.

  ‘My wife, my two children and my nephew were taken into captivity. No mercy was shown to them.’

  ‘Yet you are free.’

  John nodded. ‘As you said, al-Adil is a man who admires courage. He freed the commoner knights.’

  ‘And now you are his men.’

  ‘Now we are his men.’ John paused. ‘Excellency, I would ask you about this. I accept that we owe duty to al-Adil. But does he expect us to fight against Christians? It would be wrong for us to do so.’

  Khalid smiled. ‘Wrong? But you Christians fight amongst yourselves all the time. Here in the Holy Land and, so I hear, in your homelands as well.’

  ‘But we do not fight with Saracens against our brothers.’

  ‘Do you not? That is certainly not the situation here in this past hundred years. Your Frankish barons have ever been ready to ally with us if it gave them advantage in a conflict with one of their fellow Christians.

  'And have you never heard of the wars in Spain? Have you never heard of el-Cid? He will fight against men of any faith, just as it suits him.’ He chuckled. ‘El-Cid is a hero. But he is a hero both for the Christians and for the Muslims.’

  ‘I am no hero, John said.

  ‘Not yet,’ Khalid said. ‘But who knows what Allah plans for you?’

  CHAPTER 23

  THE GATES ARE SHUT

  Tyre

  Simon glanced back to the south, dreading to see the Saracen horsemen galloping towards them. To his astonishment, they had not moved. He called to Eraclius and Balian.

  ‘God be praised,’ Eraclius said. ‘God has smitten the infidel, robbed him of all movement.’

  ‘I think it more likely that Saladin has decided to halt his army,’ said Balian.

  ‘For what reason?’ Eraclius asked.

  ‘I don’t know. But it will not be for our benefit.’ Balian glanced at the column of refugees and beyond towards the walls of Tyre.

  ‘I don’t think he's given the slightest thought to the refugees. He is intent on taking the city.’

  ‘But why is he waiting?’

  ‘I suspect he is waiting until everyone has entered the city. No commander wants to fight a battle with a mob of people in the middle of the battlefield.’

  ‘Then we should hurry.’ Eraclius turned to Simon who pretended that he had not been listening. ‘Simon, get the priests to the front of the column and be quick about it.’

  As Simon turned, Balian held out a hand to halt him. ‘I know you from somewhere.’

  ‘Yes, my lord. I am Simon Ferrier, one of the commoners you knighted at the siege.’

  Balian nodded. ‘Ah, yes. One of the two Englishmen.’ He glanced around. ‘Is your cousin here?’

  ‘No my lord. He is with the captives.’

  ‘He could not raise a ransom?’

  ‘No, my lord.’

  Balian held him in his gaze. ‘Yet you were able to do so?’

  ‘Yes, my lord. We had enough money for one but not for both. He begged me to go. I did so but only because I know I will be able to raise money for his ransom from his brother, Alan. They are estranged and John will not plead for aid from him. Alan is a captain in Prince Richard’s army. He will accede to my request, I am certain.’

  ‘You have thought it through well, Simon,’ Balian said in a quiet voice.

  ‘Yes, my lord.’

  Balian nodded, slowly. Simon felt a churning in his stomach and was glad when Balian turned away.

  He spent a frantic time trying to organise the priests and donkeys. Finally he managed it. He dismounted from his donkey and led the line of priests at a run towards the city, overtaking the exhausted refugees. His grooms ran beside him, whipping at the donkeys, cursing at the priests.

  Finally, in a state of collapse, they reached the gate of Tyre.

  It was shut against them.

  ‘What is happening?’ cried Eraclius as he hurried up with Balian. ‘Why haven’t you gone into the city?’

  Simon swallowed hard. ‘The gate is shut, my lord.’

  Eraclius pulled his horse to a halt.

  ‘Shut?’

  ‘Yes my lord.’

  Balian rode to the gate and pushed at it. It did not move. He hammered upon it with the pommel of his sword. No one answered.

  ‘My lord,’ said Jerome, pointing upwards.

  Balian urged his horse towards Jerome and looked up to where he was pointing.

  High above their heads a burly man leaned over the battl
ements and scrutinised them.

  Balian stared at him for some moments, then raised his hand in greeting.

  ‘My name is Balian, Lord of Ibelin,’ he said. ‘These people are refugees from Jerusalem. We seek shelter from the infidel.’

  ‘So you’re Balian,’ the man said. ‘The man who surrendered the Holy City to the filth of Satan. I wondered what you would be like.’

  Eraclius exchanged a quick glance of disquiet with Jerome.

  ‘Who am I addressing?’ Balian called.

  The man wiped his fingers across his nose. ‘I am the commander of Tyre.’

  ‘The last I heard, Reynaud of Sidon commanded here.’

  ‘He has left to secure his castle at Beaufort.’

  Balian frowned at this. He was a friend of Reynaud and knew he would not have left without good cause.

  He stared at the man on the battlements. ‘So who are you?’ he asked.

  ‘I am Conrad, son of William, the Marquis of Montferrat.’

  Balian relaxed visibly. ‘I know your father well, and your late brother. Tyre is in good hands.’

  Conrad nodded.

  Nobody said anything for a few moments more.

  ‘Lord Conrad,’ said Balian at last. ‘Will you open the gates?’

  ‘No.’

  Eraclius’ mouth opened wide in astonishment but for a moment no words came. ‘What do you mean? There is a Saracen army not five miles away. You must let us in.’

  ‘Must I?’ Conrad answered. ‘Who says I must. My concern is the defence of this city. We cannot accommodate or feed a horde of newcomers. Besides, if I open the gates the Saracens will try to enter the city.’

  ‘But they are miles away, man.’

  ‘Most of them, yes. But they have placed a force of horsemen to the north. A fisherman saw them from his boat. There may be others who are also hidden from us.’

  The refugees outside the wall turned to the north, dreading to see Saracens hurtling towards them. All remained quiet.

  ‘Then all the more reason for you to let us enter,’ cried Balian.

  ‘I will not. I will take you and your knights and men-at-arms but that is all.’

  Simon’s heart beat fast at Conrad’s words.

  ‘You would leave these people to the Saracens?’ Balian said.

  Conrad leant down towards him and shook his head. ‘I do not do this gladly. But my concern is to keep the city safe. I have already sent a ship to the Pope telling him of the loss of the army at Hattin and the surrender of Jerusalem. Avenging armies from the west need the port of Tyre to remain in Christian hands.’

  ‘But how will a few refugees jeopardise that?’ cried Eraclius.

  ‘I have told you,’ said Conrad. ‘Fighting men only. I will open the gates to none other.’

  Balian gestured to Eraclius and Jerome and they rode a little way into the distance. Simon hesitated for a moment then hurried after them and placed himself next to the Patriarch.

  ‘What shall we do?’ Balian asked.

  ‘We must get into the city,’ said Eraclius.

  ‘It is barred against us,’ Balian said. ‘I do not think this Conrad is a man likely to change his mind.’

  ‘Then we are at the mercy of Saladin,’ said Jerome.

  ‘Not all of us,’ said Balian. ‘He has offered sanctuary to fighting men. Perhaps it would be best if they joined him to give him aid in the days ahead.’

  ‘But that would be to desert the people,’ cried Eraclius.

  ‘I know,’ Balian said. ‘But it might be best for the kingdom in the long term. At any rate, we should let those who have been offered sanctuary the opportunity to take it.’

  Eraclius stared at Balian. A look of contempt transformed his face. But before he could speak Balian placed his hand upon his shoulder.

  ‘I will not go,’ he said. ‘I have decided to stay with the refugees.’ He turned towards Jerome.

  ‘I am your servant, lord,’ Jerome said. ‘Where you go, I go.’

  ‘Can’t the rest of the fighting men stay?’ asked Eraclius.

  ‘There are few of them with us,’ Balian said. ‘And of knights only Jerome and Simon here. I think those who can bear arms would be of more use in the city.’

  ‘And if there are no soldiers amongst the refugees,’ Jerome said, ‘then perhaps Saladin may be more inclined to show mercy.’

  Eraclius nodded, seeing the sense of this.

  ‘But where will we go?’ Simon asked.

  ‘North,’ said Balian. ‘To Tripoli. And if that is already taken by the Saracens then on to Antioch.’

  Eraclius sighed. ‘What about the treasures of the church?’

  ‘You must do with that as you see fit. If you send it into Tyre Conrad will make use of it to pay his men and to buy food.’

  Eraclius thought for a moment. He shook his head. ‘It is too precious for that. Too holy.’

  ‘As you wish. But you should realise that the weight of it will slow us down.’

  ‘It is my holy duty, Lord Balian.’

  ‘As you say.’

  Balian made his way back to the gate. He called up to Conrad and told him that he agreed with the plan. Then, summoning the others, he headed towards the huddle of refugees.

  The light began to fail. As Balian approached them the refugees gathered up their possessions, ready to make their way to the city.

  Balian raised his arm above his head.

  ‘The commander of the city cannot take us,’ he cried.

  There was immediate consternation. People shouted aloud, some wept, others cursed. Heads began to turn towards the Saracen army.

  Balian held his hand up. ‘Conrad of Montferrat will allow only fighting men to enter the city. I know that this is dreadful news for the rest of us. But there is insufficient food in the city for all.’

  Eraclius nodded. ‘Besides, my people, you must realise that within hours, the infidel will launch an assault upon the city. You have survived one siege. Do not be eager to enter into a second.’

  ‘But what will we do?’ cried a woman. ‘What will we do?’

  ‘We will trust in God,’ said Eraclius.

  ‘And I will lead you north to safety,’ said Balian. ‘Let those fighting men who wish to go to Tyre leave now. Conrad will open a postern gate for you.

  ‘The rest of you, gather your children and your possessions. The Patriarch and I will lead you to safety.’

  At that point there came a shriek from the very rear of the refugees. The Saracen army was marching towards them.

  CHAPTER 24

  KING GUY'S CONTEMPT

  The Saracen camp near Tyre

  A Saracen soldier hurried over to Saladin. ‘Our spies within the city have sent us a message,’ he said. He handed him a parchment.

  Saladin read it and passed it to his brother. ‘Bring me King Guy,’ he told a soldier.

  Khalid watched these proceedings with interest.

  ‘Something is happening,’ he said. ‘Come with me, my friends.’

  John, Bernard and Matthew followed Khalid towards where the Sultan and his brother stood deep in conversation.

  A few minutes later two soldiers returned with a man dressed in costly garments.

  He was tall and slim, with thick, flowing hair and, despite the months of captivity, neat trimmed beard. His face was set and cold. His lips were thin and bloodless.

  John stared at him in surprise.

  ‘That looks like the king.’ he said, tugging on Bernard's sleeve. 'But I thought that all the nobles were killed at the battle.'

  ‘That's him,’ said Bernard in a weary voice. 'That is Guy, King of Jerusalem. He was one of a handful to survive the battle. I doubt my wife's brother was so lucky.'

  Matthew scowled at the king as he strode past them without a glance.

  Saladin beckoned King Guy towards him and pointed out the mass of refugees crowding in front of the locked gate of the city.

  ‘The commander of the city has allowed only fighting m
en into the city,’ Saladin said. ‘He has refused the rest of the people entry.’

  Guy did not reply.

  Saladin’s eyes narrowed. ‘What would you have me do?’

  ‘I care not,’ Guy answered.

  Saladin and al-Adil exchanged looks.

  ‘But you are their king,’ al-Adil said.

  ‘They are only peasants,’ Guy said. ‘I do not concern myself with the likes of them.’

  ‘They are not peasants,’ John said. ‘These are people with enough wealth to buy their freedom. The peasants have been taken as slaves.’

  Guy turned towards him. His lips closed tight and his eyes narrowed.

  ‘Who are you?’ he asked.

  ‘Sir John Ferrier,’ John answered.

  Guy looked John up and down, very deliberately. He turned away as he spoke, ‘Let Saladin take those people as slaves, also.’

  Saladin took a step towards Guy. ‘But you are their king,’ he said. ‘You are their protector.’

  ‘I have no army with which to protect them,’ Guy answered. ‘So you must do with them as you wish.’

  Saladin and al-Adil walked away a pace and conferred. At length they returned.

  ‘We have no more need of slaves,’ said Saladin.

  Al-Adil nodded. ‘The slavers will not thank us for flooding the market still more.'

  Guy shrugged with indifference.

  ‘Because of this,’ said Saladin, ‘we shall let the refugees go north and seek sanctuary in the empire.’

  ‘As you wish.’ Guy crossed his arms and said nothing further.

  The brothers watched him for a moment longer, their faces showing incredulity at his lack of concern. Eventually al-Adil touched his brother on the arm and the brothers walked away.

  They spoke together for a moment and then Saladin summoned his captains and gave swift orders.

  Within minutes the Saracen army began to march towards the city.

  Guy turned and stared at the three friends.

  ‘You say you are knights. How is that possible? Your speech and your bearing are uncouth. Why do you ape your betters in this way?’

  ‘We do not ape our betters,’ John said. ‘We are knights.’

  ‘You are an Englishman by the sound of your speech.’

  John nodded.