Medieval - Blood of the Cross

by Kevin Ashman

  This time he waited for an answer and stared at his comrade.

  ‘You know the answer,’ said the Knight quietly.

  ‘As do you,’ said Najaar and looked up to face the room. ‘Our leader has led us into many battles and fought shoulder to shoulder in the deepest of adversities. He alone decides the direction we take and even though we may disagree with him, his word is our bond. He has made a decision and no, I do not agree with it but I will carry out his will unto death.’

  He pointed at the hilt of the sword now motionless before him. ‘This is a weapon of death,’ he said, ‘but is forged in the shape of a cross. Some here would do well to remember that. The protection of innocents is the holiest of our paths and today we have the chance to save hundreds. Yes it may be a trick and we could lose our lives but the life of one child is worth the sum of everyone in here. Remember your vows, Brother Knights and do not forget we are but shepherds in God’s holy plan.’ He paused and looked around the room before continuing.

  ‘Now, enough meaningless talk and pay heed to our leader. The talk so far has been only of honour, let it now be of humanity but let me say this and heed me well. Should any man talk of cowardice in this room, no matter how brief the slight, then that man will meet me in a trial of arms this very morn, even unto death.’ He withdrew his sword from the oak table and jumped down to the floor before turning to face Khoury once more.

  Khoury bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment before continuing to address the Knights.

  ‘As I said, I sent petition to Baibaars and he has responded thus. He promises full safe passage from Chevalier to all within. We can remain armed and ride under our colours.’

  ‘Are there any conditions?’ asked Najaar.

  ‘Only that we go straight to Acre,’ said Khoury. ‘We will be shadowed by a full Halqa and if we deviate from the road, they will fall upon us with no mercy.’

  ‘And you believe him?’ asked Brother Joseph.

  ‘I have to,’ said Khoury, ‘there is no other option.’

  ‘And when is this to happen?’ asked Najaar?

  ‘At dawn tomorrow,’ said Khoury. ‘You will have noticed the Mangonels have already ceased their barrage and the rest of the day will see no threat of assault. Use the time well to pack what you need but give preference to the needs of the villagers. Remember, they have no home and are frightened. I recognise your fears and yes, there is a risk of treachery but we are well versed in the ways of war and should the Sultan break his bond, then we will make them pay the price of falsehood and take tenfold our number to the grave with us.’

  The gathering broke up and the men went about their business. There was much to do and less than a day to do it. Finally only Khoury and Najaar were left in the hall.

  ‘You have my gratitude,’ said Khoury.

  ‘I just hope you are right,’ said Najaar and followed the others out into the courtyard.

  ‘So do I, Brother,’ said Khoury to himself when Najaar had gone, ‘so do I.’

  ----

  The following morning saw all the Knights of St John lined up behind the gates of the castle, almost two hundred fully armoured men riding their equally impressive war horses. To one side stood the frightened villagers, each clutching at the meagre belongings they had managed to bring from their homes prior to the assault. Despite the numbers, the courtyard was strangely quiet as they waited for their leader to join them.

  Within moments a Squire appeared from around the corner closely followed by the order’s flag bearer and Sir Khoury, resplendent in his armour. They paused at the centre of the waiting Knights.

  ‘Brothers,’ said Khoury, ‘fellow Knights….servants of God. Today I ask a great deal. I ask you to trust me in my judgement and place your fate in the hands of the Lord. The other side of those gates waits a great army outnumbering us a thousand to one. Baibaars himself has granted safe passage and I believe him. However, should he resort to the trickery of the Infidels, then we will give a good account of ourselves and fall in the knowledge that we serve the one true God.’ He turned to Najaar. ‘Brother, you will lead us out under the banner. Take fifty men and form the vanguard. The villagers will follow flanked by fifty either side, the rest will bring up the rear. Should treachery be the order of the day, we are to form a perimeter and defend the villagers to the last man. Is that clear?’

  The Knight nodded his understanding.

  ‘Right, send word to the gates. Sir Najaar, lead us out and may God go with us.’

  The sound of the horses hooves echoed down the covered corridor as the column made their way to the gates leading out onto the plateau. As they approached, a team of sergeants pulled away the locking bars and swung them open revealing the dusty world outside. The column made their way out and nervous hands rested on the pommels of their swords as the strength of the enemy was revealed before them. All across the plateau thousands of Mamluk warriors stood silently as the Knights left the castle. Each was dressed in the white thawbs of their people and everyone dressed the same, underlying the common theme of their slave ancestry.

  The Column continued slowly, matching the pace of the slowest villagers. To one side, Khoury saw Baibaars sat upon a white charger, watching them closely as they passed. Khoury turned his horse and rode slowly toward the Sultan, stopping a few paces short.

  ‘You have your castle, Baibaars.’ he said. ‘I hope now you prove to be a man of your word and give my people safe passage.’

  ‘My word is good, Christian,’ said Baibaars. ‘Tell them to ride in safety unto Acre. But know this, one heartbeat after the last have entered those city gates they once more become my mortal enemy and should I see them on the field of battle, I will cut them down with as little thought as a scorpion kills its prey.’

  ‘Understood,’ said Khoury, ‘though you may find that this prey fights back.’

  Baibaars nodded in acknowledgement.

  ‘And your word, Sir Knight,’ he said, ‘how honourable do you hold that?’

  ‘Dearer than my life,’ said Khoury.

  ‘Then travel in safety, for my Halqas will ensure you are not endangered on your journey.’

  ‘Until we meet again,’ said Khoury.

  ‘Until that day,’ answered Baibaars.

  Without another word, Khoury turned his horse to re-join the column.

  Husam al din approached Baibaars.

  ‘Sire, do you want me to give the order to cut them down?’

  ‘Not this time,’ said Baibaars. ‘I will allow them their lives for there will be a time for killing soon enough but there is one more thing I would take from this man.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘His pride,’ said Baibaars. ‘Once they are down on the plains, send a rider and give the Christian a message.’

  ‘What message?’ asked Husam.

  Baibaars pointed to something on the floor to one side.

  ‘One that will wound him more than any blade,’ he said.

  ----

  An hour later, Khoury rode alongside Najaar at the head of the column. The tension had eased and they started to believe they would actually make it.

  ‘Sire,’ called a voice, ‘a rider approaches.’

  Several of the Knights turned and drew their swords but Khoury stood them down,

  ‘Put away your swords, Brothers. He is a messenger only.’

  The rider approached and bowed slightly with respect though never took his eyes from the Knight.

  ‘Sir Khoury,’ he said, ‘my master, the illustrious Sultan Baibaars berates himself for forgetting your gift.’

  ‘What gift?’ snarled Najaar, ‘what trickery is this?’

  ‘No trickery,’ said the Mamluk, ‘a simple gift to demonstrate the graciousness of our people in allowing you your lives after your humiliating defeat.’

  ‘This was no defeat,’ said Najaar, ‘it was a negotiated surrender instigated by us. Magnanimity is ours.’

  ‘Perhaps this will tell otherwise,’ said the mess
enger and threw a linen bag at Khoury’s feet. ‘Travel well, Sir Knights for we will meet again on the field of battle.’

  Khoury waited until the rider was well on his way back to the plateau before dismounting and looking inside the bag. What he saw made his blood run cold as he realised the implications.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Najaar.

  Khoury took one corner of the bag and upended it, tipping the contents onto the desert floor. At first Najaar didn’t recognise the bundle of feathers and blood and he looked at Khoury in confusion.

  ‘I don’t understand?’ he said.

  ‘Pigeons,’ said Khoury, ‘the rest of the homing birds that were supposed to be in Acre. Hugh de Revel sent no message of surrender, Najaar, it was all a falsehood. The bird courier must have been captured and Baibaars used them against me. He is right, Brother, we have just suffered a humiliating defeat. I just gave up the most powerful castle in the Holy-land as a result of a simple forgery.’

  ----

  Ten days later, the city of Acre appeared on the horizon and the column paused for a rest before the last leg of their journey.

  ‘Sire, the Halqas have gone,’ said Najaar, ‘but a smaller unit remains on a distant hill. I assume they wait to see we reach the city.’

  Khoury didn’t answer but sipped from his water skin, deep in thought.

  ‘It has been a long journey brother,’ he said eventually, ‘in more ways than one.’

  ‘It is done, brother,’ said Najaar, ‘put it from your mind. Within the day we will sit amongst fellows under the same crest and thank the lord for our deliverance.’

  ‘Not, I Brother,’ sighed Khoury. ‘From here you travel alone.’

  Najaar turned in his saddle to look at his comrade.

  ‘What nonsense is this? We ride together unto the arms of our order.’

  ‘I can’t Najaar, I have made an unbreakable oath and intend to keep it’

  ‘What oath?’

  ‘I promised Baibaars that when the column was safe, I would deliver myself into his custody as hostage. The Mamluk patrol waits for me.’

  ‘What?’ gasped Najaar, ‘you never said anything about this before.’

  ‘I knew there would be protest,’ said Khoury, ‘so kept my counsel.’

  ‘Brother, you cannot go back,’ said Najaar, ‘we will not allow it.’

  ‘The decision is not yours to make,’ said Khoury. ‘Hugh de Revel said to pursue the best terms I could and my custody was Baibaars’ demand. There was no other choice.’

  ‘But the letter was fake. There is no honour in keeping a bond made on falsehoods.’

  ‘The letter was fake but the terms of surrender were made between Knights. Baibaars has delivered his part of the deal by providing safe passage. I will not go back on my word and run like a brigand. No, the die is cast and I will return with Baibaars’ men. If the Lord is merciful, perhaps our paths will cross again but until that day, this must be goodbye.’ He held out his arm and after a moment’s pause, Najaar grabbed it in respect and friendship.

  ‘The unit is yours to lead now Najaar,’ said Khoury. ‘Lead them to safety in the Lord’s name and do not seek retribution for Baibaars’ trickery. This land changes with every dawn and I fear the path of our order is misted before our eyes. Lead them to a future where they continue to serve the poor and if that lays on far off shores, then so be it.’

  ‘I hold the reins of leadership only until the day you return, Brother,’ said Najaar.

  ‘Then until that day,’ said Khoury before turning his horse and galloping back along the column.

  ‘Where’s he going?’ asked a fellow Knight as he passed.

  ‘To fulfil an oath,’ said Najaar, ‘and to do what all men should aspire to. Redeem his honour.’

  ----

  Chapter Sixteen

  Acre

  Dafydd looked over at the city with fascination. The fleet had arrived at last and after a journey of almost three months by land and sea, the Holy-land lay before him. The entrance to the harbour was protected by a single tower rising from the sea and a huge chain stretched at water level between the tower and a stone building on the far shore.

  ‘That’s the Tower of flies,’ said a man alongside him. ‘The chain protects the harbour from sudden seaborne assault and is only lowered to the sea floor to allow friendly ships passage.’

  ‘A strange name for such an imposing structure,’ said Dafydd.

  ‘A name is a name,’ said the sailor with a shrug and went about his duties.

  As the fleet waited Knight and Knave alike looked at their destination with awe and wonder. This was where Lionheart ousted Sah-la-Dhin’s occupying forces less than a hundred years earlier and had subsequently gone on to slaughter almost three thousand Muslim prisoners before campaigning toward Jerusalem.

  The perimeter of the ancient city was walled, a necessary defence against the repeated attacks from various adversaries across the centuries yet one side was open to the sea. This was the important factor that ensured the city was always difficult to besiege due to the constant availability of resupply from neighbouring Christian countries. At the far edge of the city eight towers looked inland, giant sentinels always on the lookout for the infidel.

  ‘Do you know the names of the towers, boy?’ asked a voice and Dafydd turned to see the Captain behind him.

  ‘No Sir.’

  ‘They all have names,’ said the Captain, ‘and you will know them well within days. That one there is called The Tower of the Countess of Blois and guards the only landward gate into the city. Step through those gates and you should sleep with one eye open.’

  ‘Who was she?’ asked Garyn looking at the tower.

  ‘Some Frenchwoman who died over forty years ago,’ said the captain. A granddaughter of King Louis VII of France I believe.’

  ‘And that one?’

  ‘That one is known as the Accursed tower and pray you never have to sample her gifts. Any who enters those walls are seldom seen again.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It is a place given over to the confinement of prisoners and hostages. Pain and torture fill her walls and tales of atrocities poison the breath of any who have been lucky to escape.’

  Dafydd balked at the thought of being confined in any space in the sweltering heat and was about to ask more questions when the chain started to disappear below the sea and the signal came to dock.

  ‘Man the oars,’ roared the Captain, walking away, ‘take us in, easy now.’

  Within moments the anchor had been stowed and banks of oarsmen eased the ship toward the dock. Garyn joined Dafydd on the bow and watched as the vessel nestled snugly against the stone quay.

  ‘Secure the ropes,’ shouted the Captain, ‘and drop the rails. Prepare the ramps.’

  Ten minutes later Garyn walked down the gangplank and onto the dock. At long last he was in Acre, the gateway to the Holy-land.

  ----

  The town was alive with activity and it seemed to Garyn there was hardly any space that wasn’t filled with someone either making their way to the business of the day or standing still and staring at the new arrivals. The column had been met by representatives of Sir John of Cambridge and while the Knights and Squires were led toward the far castle, the common soldiers were led through the heart of the town and into a row of dilapidated stone buildings. Finally they stopped before a door obviously damaged by a recent fire.

  ‘This is it,’ said the soldier, ‘your quarters for the duration of your stay.’

  ‘Are we not to stay at the castle?’ asked Garyn.

  ‘The castle?’ answered the man with genuine surprise, ‘I think not, young sir. That place is not for the likes of you or me. Only nobility sleep there, along with Knights of the realm. Even as we speak, Longshanks is being entertained by Sir John. Your master will be welcomed there as will all the other lords on Crusade but your bed lies within these walls. Be thankful for the shelter for those who once made their homes here now sleep bene
ath the stars.’

  ‘They have been turned out?’ asked Garyn.

  ‘They have,’ said the guide, ‘but worry not, they were the lowest of the low and deserve no better.’

  ‘But…’ started Garyn.

  ‘Garyn,’ said Brother Martin, ‘let it be. You are in a different world now and you would do well to talk less and listen more. You find us a bed space and see if you can find stabling for the horses when they arrive. I will join you shortly.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘I have business to attend,’ said the Monk, ‘but will return before dark.’

  Garyn watched him go before the guide called him forward.

  ‘Here you go, young sir, a castle of your very own.’ He showed Garyn an open doorway and followed the boy in. The room was ten paces long and the same in width. In the corner a stone stairway led up to an open flat roof, bordered on all sides by small walls.

  ‘This is good,’ said Garyn. ‘At least there is plenty of space.’

  ‘I would grab the best space you can quickly,’ said the guide, ‘the ships are arriving every hour and before long the rooms will run out. I need to fit another ten in here before the day is out so stake your claim while you have the chance.’

  ‘Another ten,’ asked Garyn.

  ‘At least,’ said the man. ‘Make the most of it as it’s either this or you sleep on the sand by the dock.’

  Without another word he left the building and disappeared into the city. Garyn looked around before dropping his pack in an alcove toward the back. He climbed the stairway and sat out on the roof watching the bustling streets below. Though it looked fascinating, he knew that if he was to find his brother, he wouldn’t be here long. His journey lay on the other side of the city walls, out in the lands of the Mamluk.

  ----

  Up at the Castle, Sir John of Cambridge welcomed Cadwallader outside the great hall.

  ‘Cadwallader,’ he said grasping the Knight’s arm, ‘good to see you again old friend.’

  ‘Sir John,’ said Cadwallader. ‘I am surprised to see you still here. I thought you would be long since buried.’