Outcasts

by Martin Lake

  The nobles of Antioch were even worse. They played an elaborate charade whenever they saw him, calling him poet and troubadour of love. But they did not wait for him to pass by before showing the real contempt they felt for him.

  It was not because he was sleeping with a prostitute. That was common and the men of the city spent so much on the trade they made the flourishing whore market one of the richest and most esteemed in the world.

  No, sleeping with a whore was not the problem.

  The problem was that he had fallen in love with her.

  The only one who did not seem too concerned about this state of affairs was his master, the Patriarch.

  But that may have been because he had slightly misunderstood the situation.

  'Keep her while she's useful to us,' he said. 'She's giving us good information about what goes on in this charnel house of a city.'

  He passed some coins over to Simon. 'Keep little Gabriella sweet,' he said. 'She's fallen in love with you, my boy, and a woman in love is the most pliable of all tools. Keep the delusion going while she remains useful to us.'

  Simon nodded but did not answer.

  Such words were an agony for him. He had fallen in love; he had lost his soul and mind to her. What he did not know, and yearned to, was exactly what Gabriella thought about him.

  CHAPTER 41

  VOICE OF THE EMIRS

  The Saracen Camp at Tyre

  Saladin looked out to sea. His guards stood at a respectful distance, wondering about his plans.

  On the evening of the defeat at Tyre he had pulled his army ten miles south. The whole of the following day he had been too busy to give any thought to anything other than getting the army organised and listening to reports of casualties. He had been most troubled about al-Adil. The doctors eventually announced that his injury was clean and he was soon limping around and making light of it.

  This morning, two days after the defeat, Saladin bent his thoughts to other matters.

  After a long silence he turned to his companion. 'Have you ever sailed on the sea, Khalid?' he asked.

  Khalid shook his head. 'Never, Excellency. My feet are happiest on the earth.'

  Saladin smiled. He turned his gaze once more to the sea.

  'Out there lies the Kingdom of the Franks,' he said. 'Somewhere out there, across the sea. It is teeming with warriors. When they hear we have taken Jerusalem they will send another Crusade against us.'

  'They will regret the decision, lord.'

  'Perhaps. But they will be able to land their ships at Tyre because I have failed to conquer it.'

  'I was told that the first army of the Franks did not come by sea but overland, by way of Constantinople.'

  'That is true. But if they had a port such as Tyre in their hands they would have sailed straight to it.'

  Khalid drew a deep breath. 'If they had been unlucky enough to find Sultan Saladin as an enemy, then no armies, fleets or ports would have sufficed to allow them to have taken Jerusalem.'

  Saladin turned to his young captain, considering his words. He smiled and placed his hand upon his shoulder. 'I thank you for these thoughts, Khalid. Perhaps I have allowed myself to be too troubled by this madman Conrad.'

  He climbed on his horse and cantered back to the camp.

  As soon as he arrived, the good humour that Khalid had instilled in him was dampened by the sight of King Guy and Gerard de Ridefort, Grand Master of the Templars. They lounged beneath a cedar tree and did not trouble to rise as he approached.

  'Good morning, Saladin,' Guy called. 'I glimpsed you standing by the shore, staring out to the west. Did you see any ships upon it? Ships from Tyre? Or ships from France?'

  'I saw only the waves, breaking upon the shore,' he answered. 'And then, when I arrived at my camp, I saw my captives.'

  He rode past without a further look.

  'You will see more, this morning, Saladin,' Guy called. 'Your emirs are gathered in front of your tent, demanding your presence.'

  Guy watched as Saladin rode towards his tent. A malicious grin played upon his face.

  He turned and stared at Khalid and the three men who rode behind him.

  'So, Emir Khalid, you are still playing protector to the vainglorious serfs?'

  'Men of courage such as these need no protection,' Khalid answered.

  'Men of courage,' said Gerard de Ridefort. His face broke into a grin and he pointed at Matthew. 'This one is not a man.'

  He stood up and stared, searching Matthew's features.

  'Yes. I remember you,' he said. 'It was I who chose you to haul around that broken-down leper.' He laughed, remembering the incident.

  'I recall that as well,' said Guy. 'You chose the biggest, ugliest brute you could find.'

  De Ridefort nodded and turned once more to Matthew.

  'What did they call you?'

  'It was Ox,' Guy said.

  'Ox. That was it.' de Ridfort beamed. 'No, my lord. It wasn't Ox. It was Mule. That is what they called him. Mule.'

  'Better a mule than a donkey,' Matthew answered. 'Especially one who brays praises of a king who has lost his throne.'

  The Grand Master's jaw dropped. He could not believe what he had heard. 'How dare you talk like that to your betters?' he cried.

  'If I were talking to my betters I would not speak that way,' Matthew answered. He spurred his horse and rode away.

  'That was pithy, Matthew,' said Bernard. 'It was most unwise but it was pithy.'

  The King and Grand Master stared at them in fury.

  The friends followed Khalid and Saladin. It was as Guy had said. A large crowd of emirs and captains were waiting in front of Saladin's tent. They were silent which was unusual and ominous.

  Saladin salaamed to his men and they rose and salaamed back.

  'Good morning, my friends,' Saladin said. 'It is always a pleasure to see you.'

  The emirs looked uncomfortable, their eyes shifting anxiously from side to side.

  Finally, one man stepped forward.

  'Salutations, mighty Sultan,' he said.

  Saladin opened his arms in mock surprise. 'I think I should be worried when Emir Walid speaks in such civil tones to me.'

  The emirs laughed at his joke.

  'It is with uneasy heart that I tell what I have to,' Walid answered.

  'I know it must be,' Saladin said, giving him a serious look. 'Please sit.'

  'You have won many great victories, Excellency,' Walid said. 'You have fought with greater success against the infidels than anyone since the earliest of days. Your warriors, and your captains, have been proud to aid you in your task.'

  Saladin nodded. 'Not more proud than I to have led such lions.'

  Walid smiled appreciatively. But then his face grew more serious.

  'However, Excellency,' he said, 'I have to tell you that many of these lions are tired beyond endurance. They have fought with you for six long months, many miles from their loved ones. They fight, they march but they are exhausted. They long for home. Worse, many are beginning to sicken.'

  'Six of my company have died of the flux,' said another of the emirs.

  There was a murmur of assent from the rest.

  'The days grow short,' Walid continued. 'The worst days of winter will soon be upon us. Our warriors begin to weaken.'

  He fell silent.

  Saladin looked at al-Adil. His brother's face wore a pained expression and he nodded to confirm what Walid had said.

  Saladin turned back to the company.

  'It is a foolish general who does not heed the advice of his captains,' he said. 'I sense that you have long troubled over telling me this.'

  They nodded.

  Saladin gave a long bow. 'I thank you for your wisdom and for your counsel,' he said.

  He turned towards Walid. 'Especially, old friend, I thank you for your courtesy. Though why my captains should choose a brigand like you to be their diplomat is beyond me.'

  Walid slapped his thigh with pleasure and t
he rest of the company roared with laughter. The tension relaxed and all turned expectant faces towards Saladin.

  'No man,' he continued, 'no matter how strong, no matter how brave, can fight without rest. Look at my little brother here, for example. See how he hobbles.'

  'He was so tired he fell off his horse,' cried a voice, causing much merriment.

  Saladin joined in the laughter and held his arms out. 'My brother's spirit is willing but his flesh? Maybe his flesh needs some care.

  'You are right, my friends. As it is with al-Adil, so it is with your men.'

  He paused for several heart-beats. Only when the silence seemed to hang in the air did he speak. His voice was soft.

  'Emirs, I will heed your advice.'

  The captains cried out with pleasure.

  Saladin waited until the noise had quietened and then spoke once more.

  'Walid has compared me to the great warriors of the early days of Islam. If you will allow me, then I would emulate them still further. They knew that it is one thing to conquer the lands of the infidel, quite another to hold on to those conquests. They had to give thought to this and so must I.'

  He paused and looked around at his captains, weighing up how far he might be able to push them.

  'I suggest that I disband half of the army, those who are sick, those who have wives and children, those who are most exhausted.

  'The rest, the youngest, the healthiest, the ones who still rage in their hearts when they see the infidel squatting on our lands; these I will keep in arms for a little while longer.'

  He fell silent. He sensed his brother scrutinising the men for their reaction so he bowed his head as if awaiting their decision.

  The captains began to murmur amongst themselves, considering his proposal and how it might be received by their men. Finally, after long minutes, Walid bent and listened to the front rank of the emirs.

  Saladin had remained all of this time without moving, his shoulders bent, his face to the ground, his arms open as if in prayer.

  As Walid approached, al-Adil spoke.

  'You have decided?'

  Saladin straightened.

  'Yes, Excellency,' he said. 'Your plan seems good to us. We are happy and our soldiers will be so as well.'

  'God is great,' cried the emirs. 'God is great.'

  Saladin salaamed and the assembly broke up.

  Khalid left the company and hurried over towards the friends. 'You heard?' he asked.

  They nodded.

  'What does this mean for us?' John asked.

  'That is for you to decide. You are al-Adil's men. He said that for saving his life he would reward you in any way you choose. I think the time of choice is now upon you.'

  He turned and strode off to tell his men about Saladin's plan.

  Matthew turned towards the others.

  'What shall we do?' he asked.

  'I shall ask for my freedom,' Bernard said. 'I must find Agnes and the children.'

  'I will help you in this, my friend,' said John. 'And then I will seek out my cousin and slay him.'

  The three men stood in silence. Each seemed to be holding his breath.

  Finally, Bernard touched John on the arm.

  'Why this sudden hatred for Simon?' he asked. His face was troubled and perplexed.

  John rubbed his forehead wearily, as if seeking to soothe away the thoughts which raged inside him.

  'I cannot tell you,' he said. 'If I were to, you would understand and support me. It is best you do not know.'

  Bernard and Matthew looked at each other. It seemed clear to John that they had talked about this together already, more than once.

  'It is a terrible deed to kill a man,' Matthew said at last. 'Still more if he is your kin and once your friend.'

  'I know.' John's face grew hard and set.

  Matthew placed his hand upon John's shoulder. 'If you want to tell me, I will listen.'

  'Like a priest,' John said bitterly, shrugging Matthew's hand away. 'I need no confessor.'

  'I did not offer that,' Matthew answered.

  John stared at him with cold determination.

  'I do not seek your help in this, Matthew,' he said. 'Nor even your approval.'

  He half turned away, as if he did not want them to see his face any more.

  'I have said what I will do. I will help Bernard find his family and then I will hunt for Simon.'

  They fell silent. Across the camp a loud roar of joy rolled like thunder as the men received news of the plan. It echoed against the hills to their rear and then faded.

  'We have said what we will do,' Bernard said. 'What about you, Matthew?'

  Matthew sniffed. 'If I was alone here then I would consider staying here and fighting with Khalid and al-Adil. But I owe my succour to you two. You offered me friendship when I had received only hatred. I too, will come with you and help you find your loved ones.'

  Bernard shook him by the hand.

  'I would like to set off straight away,' he said.

  'Then let us find al-Adil,' Matthew answered, 'and see if he will stand by his pledge.'

  They sought out Khalid first and told him.

  He listened carefully to them and shook his head, deep in thought.

  'Are you sure about this?' he asked.

  'Why wouldn't we be?' Bernard said.

  'The world is a huge place, Bernard. Your wife and children could be anywhere. Damascus, Cairo, Aleppo, Baghdad, Persia, even India or beyond. How do you think you will find them? It will be like searching the desert for a shred of cloth.'

  'Nevertheless, I must do it.'

  Khalid stared at him for a while as if trying to fathom the strength within the man.

  Finally he nodded. 'I understand. And I would do the same if I were in your position.'

  He placed his hand upon Bernard's shoulder. 'I will come with you to al-Adil.'

  They could see the camp breaking up as they walked towards al-Adil's tent. The men who had been selected to depart were gathering up their possessions and heaping good-natured insults upon their friends who had to stay. There was much laughter and even more haggling over goods. Those who were leaving wanted to travel as lightly as possible; those who were to stay were keen to relieve them of their goods at the cheapest price possible.

  They waited outside the tent until a guard opened the flap and beckoned them in.

  Al-Adil rose and gestured them to sit on camp stools. A servant brought them each a drink.

  'You have come to ask me to fulfil my promise to you?' al-Adil said.

  'Yes, my lord,' Bernard answered.

  'Speak, then, my friends. If it is within my power then I will accede to your request.'

  'We want to be released from your service, lord,' Bernard said. 'My wife and children have been sold as slaves and I wish to find them.'

  'It is granted, of course.'

  Al-Adil sipped at his drink. 'You know where your family have been taken?'

  Bernard shook his head. Al-Adil's eyes widened and he glanced at Khalid.

  'I have told Bernard his quest will prove impossible,' Khalid said. 'His family could be anywhere in the Muslim world or even beyond. They may no longer even be together.'

  'It is as Khalid says,' al-Adil murmured. 'But I don't suppose that will sway you for one moment.'

  'No, my lord.'

  Al-Adil smiled and touched his forehead in salute.

  'Then go with my blessing and with all the aid I can give to you.'

  He clapped his hands and a servant appeared. 'Get me a clerk,' he said.

  'And what of you two?' he asked John and Matthew. 'Will you go with your friend?'

  'I have sworn to,' said John.

  'And I will not forsake him,' said Matthew.

  Bernard looked at Matthew and smiled.

  'It is good,' said al-Adil. 'A man on a perilous quest has need of staunch friends.'

  The flap of the tent opened and an elderly man entered with parchment and ink. Al-Adil gestur
ed to him to sit.

  'Khalid,' al-Adil continued, 'I want you and the other emirs to see if any in the army has knowledge of Bernard's family.'

  Khalid nodded.

  Al-Adil pulled a map onto the carpet in front of them and pointed to it.

  'We are here,' he said, pointing to Tyre. 'My guess is they will have been taken to the slave market of either Cairo or Damascus.'

  He placed his fingers on these cities, both of them more than twice the distance that Jerusalem was from Tyre.

  'Tyre is a hundred and fifty miles from Jerusalem,' he said. 'Damascus is half that distance from her but Cairo is three hundred miles from Tyre. These cities are far distant from each other, and you may well have to journey to both. I will give you good horses, armour, weapons and gold. You will need them.'

  'You are truly generous, my lord,' Bernard said.

  'I will do more than give you these gifts,' he said. 'I will write a letter, demanding that anyone you meet is to give you all the aid and assistance you desire. I will sign it and get my brother to counter-sign it. This document will be worth more than any gold that I give to you.'

  He turned to Khalid. 'I cannot spare you otherwise I would send you with them,' he said. 'Do you know of anyone who would be a good guide for them?'

  'I could ask,' Khalid answered. 'I doubt that any would willingly volunteer.'

  'Perhaps not,' al-Adil said. 'But ask, nonetheless.'

  He dictated a short letter to the clerk.

  'I want copies for me,' said al-Adil.

  He glanced at Bernard. 'If Khalid cannot find a guide for you where will you go?'

  'Perhaps to Tyre, my lord,' he said. 'We might be able to find news of them there.'

  Al-Adil frowned. 'You might. Or you might find other things.'

  He turned and watched the clerk as he began to make the copies.

  'Perhaps your plan is a sensible one,' he said at last. 'However, my heart misgives me. I think that you may not be well received in Tyre. The world has grown savage and many men's hearts are cankered with suspicion and hate. If you go to Tyre go warily, I beg you.'

  He rose and salaamed to them. 'I will see the copies are signed by Saladin and send them over to you. Khalid, help them choose three of my best stallions, good armour and give them one thousand dinars each.'