“Much more than that,” Balian said, reaching over to pour them more wine. “I was curious, so I asked the constable. According to Amaury, we have twelve hundred knights, including the Templars and Hospitallers. We have four thousand mounted serjeants and turcopoles, and about fifteen thousand infantrymen. So, all in all, over twenty thousand men.”
Denys grinned. “That many?”
“Unfortunately for us, Saladin’s army is almost twice that number.”
Denys’s jaw dropped. He’d assumed that they’d be outnumbered by their Saracen foes, for that was almost always the case. He’d not realized the disparity was as dire as that, though. “Are you sure, Balian?”
“Ilyas and Dāwūd are,” Balian said, naming two of their best turcopole scouts.
“Jesus wept,” Denys said softly. “We ought to thank God fasting that Guy has actually begun to listen to us. Otherwise, he’d have taken the bait when Saladin tried to lure us out of Saforie on Monday.”
“Let’s hope he keeps heeding us,” Balian said, knowing that Guy was getting more bellicose advice from Reynald de Chatillon and Gerard de Ridefort. “Reynald is nursing a new grudge for all the damage Saladin did on his spring raid into Outrejourdain. As for Gerard, that lunatic has never met a disastrous decision he did not run headlong to embrace.”
Despite the bitterness in Balian’s voice, Denys had to smile at that apt description of the Templar grand master. Before he could respond, Ernoul stumbled into the tent. “One of the king’s men is seeking you, my lord,” he panted, “and he says it is urgent.”
He’d been followed into the tent by a knight Balian recognized as a member of Guy’s household. “Thank Christ you are both here, my lords! The king wants you.”
Even if the man were not so agitated, Balian would have known something was amiss; an urgent summons from the king was never a good thing. “What has happened, Sir Aubert?”
“A messenger has arrived from the Countess of Tripoli. She says Saladin has launched an attack upon Tiberias, taking the town in just an hour’s time. The castle still holds out, but she entreats the king to send aid straightaway.”
* * *
Guy’s red command tent was already crowded by the time Balian and Denys reached it. Guy was flanked on one side by Reynald de Chatillon and on the other by Gerard de Ridefort, but that was not necessarily his doing; Balian knew both men were quite capable of shoving their way to the forefront, especially in a council of war. Denys’s cousin from Caesarea was the last one to arrive and as soon as he moved into the circle of lords, Guy signaled for silence.
“The Countess of Tripoli has sent a message that she is under siege at Tiberias and the town has already been taken. Some of the townspeople were able to reach safety in the castle. Those who could not are dead or prisoners. She said Saladin himself is leading the attack, and she fears the citadel will fall to him if we do not come to the rescue.”
Guy turned to the Count of Tripoli. “My lord count, since it is your wife in peril and your city under siege, it is only fair that you get to speak first. What would you advise we do?”
“Nothing, my liege.” Raymond disregarded his stepsons’ dismay, keeping his eyes upon Guy. “Saladin is setting a trap for us, with my wife as bait. If we leave Saforie and march to relieve his siege of Tiberias, we will be doing exactly what he wants us to do. He wants to force a battle and we must deny it to him, for it is not a battle we can win.”
Guy was dumbfounded by Raymond’s response. “If we do nothing, the castle is likely to fall to Saladin!”
“I expect that it will,” Raymond agreed calmly. “But I would rather have that happen than we lose the kingdom.” When two of his stepsons started to protest, he stopped them with a raised hand. “Saladin is not going to harm my wife. If she is captured, he will make sure she is treated with the utmost respect until a ransom can be arranged.”
Hugues seemed willing to accept Raymond’s reassurances. His brothers were less certain and the youngest, Raoul, asked plaintively, “How can you be sure of that?”
“Because I know Saladin, lad.” Raymond glanced challengingly at the other men. “I know him better than any of you.”
“I daresay you do,” Gerard said with a sneer and Reynald laughed.
Raymond ignored them, turning back to face Guy. “Even if Saladin takes Tiberias, he cannot hold it for long. When he withdraws, I will reclaim it and repair the damage done. The loss is mine and I am willing to accept it if need be, for nothing matters more than the survival of Outremer.”
Guy was still marveling at Raymond’s sangfroid; he could not imagine himself reacting like that if Sybilla were the one trapped by a Saracen siege. Some of the other lords were regarding Raymond with grudging admiration, even those who blamed him for the disaster at Cresson Springs, for they realized this was not an easy choice for him. It was a natural instinct for a man to want to protect his own. Neither Reynald nor Gerard shared their approval, though, and the grand master was quick to make his feelings known.
“Your devotion to our kingdom would be easier to swallow if you and Saladin had not been such close friends just a few weeks ago,” he jeered.
Raymond responded again with icy indifference, a weapon he could wield with peerless skill. Addressing Guy alone, he said gravely, “Sire, Saladin besieged Tiberias to lure us out of Saforie. He needs a decisive battle, needs a great victory. For years, he has been using jihad as the reason for his attacks upon other Muslims, claiming they must be united in order to drive the infidels from their land. Now that he controls Aleppo and Mosul, his people expect him to honor that holy vow. That is why so many thousands of volunteers flocked to his banners, why we are so vastly outnumbered. But he cannot keep them in the field for months. Crops will soon be ready for harvesting and men will start missing their women, their families. If we refuse to march into his trap, if we deny him his jihad, his army will soon break up as it has always done.”
“If you fear facing Saladin’s ‘thousands of volunteers’ on the field,” Reynald taunted, “there is still time for you to skulk back to Tripoli. Most of them are civilian zealots, not real soldiers, eager to die for their false prophet and false faith. I say we oblige them. Hell’s flames can always use more firewood.”
Raymond did not find it as easy to shrug off the charge of cowardice as he had the accusation of disloyalty and he said sharply, “I will march if our army does.”
Gerard gave a snort of disbelief. Before he could launch another attack upon Raymond’s good faith, though, Denys spoke up. “I also think it would be madness to try to relieve the siege at Tiberias. Does that make me a coward, too?”
“Or me?” Balian pushed his way toward Guy. “I cannot believe we are actually considering this lunacy. Even if we were not so outnumbered, we’d never make it to Tiberias. That is over sixteen miles away as the crow flies, closer to twenty miles on these roads. Surely, I need not remind you that July is hellishly hot,” he said, aiming a scathing look in Gerard’s direction. “We could never cover a distance like that without enough water for thousands of men and horses, and every spring, every cistern, between Saforie and Tiberias will be guarded by Saladin’s soldiers. All he’d have to do would be to wait for heat and thirst to do his work for him. And if we lose this battle, we lose the kingdom, too, for we have stripped our castles and towns of defenders.”
Reynald and Gerard both started to object, but now that Denys and Balian had given voice to their own concerns, the other lords were quick to echo them. Guy found himself assailed by indignant voices as men emphasized the dangers of the heat, the lack of water, the distance, and the size of the Saracen army. When Balian pointed out the folly of doing exactly what Saladin wanted them to do, there was almost unanimous agreement with that. By the time that Humphrey, who rarely spoke up in councils of war, expressed his concern that they could be caught between Saladin’s army at Kafr Sabt and his elite askar
force at Tiberias, it was obvious that Reynald and Gerard were very much in the minority.
Guy had heard enough. Relieved that there was such a consensus among his lords, he announced that there was no need for further discussion. “It would be foolhardy to leave Saforie, where we are secure, have ample water, and are well situated to move against Saladin should he threaten other areas of the kingdom. Our very presence here will be a deterrent against an assault on Jerusalem. As long as he fears we could attack his rear, he will confine his aggression to Tiberias. And since Count Raymond is willing to absorb that loss and does not fear for the safety of his lady, we will adopt the strategy that our kings have employed so successfully in the past. If there is to be a battle, it will be at a time and place of our choosing, not Saladin’s.”
* * *
Gerard stood in the shadows, watching the king’s tent. It was nearly midnight. Men had retreated to their tents or curled up in bedrolls before the fires; it could be surprisingly chilly at night in the hills. He could hear the snoring of nearby blanket-clad bodies, the snorting of a hobbled stallion, the crackling sounds of the closest fire, and an occasional burst of muffled laughter, followed by a few sleepy curses. Waiting did not come easily to him; as a youth, he’d often been told that he did not possess enough patience to fill a thimble. But he had no choice.
Finally, the tent flap opened and Amaury de Lusignan emerged, followed by the Bishop of Acre, who had the precious duty of safeguarding the True Cross. While it would normally have been in the custody of the patriarch, Eraclius had entrusted it to a surrogate caretaker, claiming that he was not well enough to join the campaign. Some of the men were skeptical of Eraclius’s convenient illness, for his fondness for luxury was well known, and few thought he’d have enjoyed a sojourn in an army camp. Even though they were allies, Gerard was also suspicious of Eraclius’s sudden ailment. But right now, he had no thoughts to spare for the patriarch, most likely tucked comfortably in bed with the mistress so notorious that Jerusalemites called her the patriarchess. All he cared about was the coming confrontation with Guy.
Once the bishop and Amaury had headed off toward their own tents, Gerard made his way around the sleeping men. He’d almost reached the royal tent when the flap was pulled back again and Guy’s squire slipped through the opening. He jumped as Gerard suddenly materialized beside him, relaxing once he recognized the grand master. He answered Gerard’s quiet query readily enough, explaining that the king was not sleepy yet and wanted some wine. He did not even blink when Gerard pressed a few coins into his hand and suggested he take his time with the errand, for he’d been secretly in the Templar’s pay for months. He liked Guy, who’d proven to be a good master, but he rationalized his disloyalty by assuring himself that he was merely passing on gossip and rumors, nothing harmful to the king. Now he happily tucked the coins away in his scrip and ambled off toward the supply wagons, whistling under his breath.
“Back so soon, Julien?” Guy looked up in surprise from the letter he was reading, his smile waning at the sight of the Templar grand master. Whilst he knew Gerard was very unhappy about his decision to hold the army at Saforie, he was in no mood to rehash the argument. He could not dismiss the other man out of hand, though, for he owed Gerard better than that; he and Sybilla might not have been crowned if they’d not been backed by the powerful order of the Templars. “Come in, Gerard. I was about to go to bed, but I can spare some moments for you.” He yawned then to make sure that Gerard took the hint.
“Sire, I regret having to disturb you at this hour. It is urgent that we talk, though, for I fear your kingship may be at stake.”
Guy sighed softly. It was never easy with Gerard. “I know you disapprove of my decision not to go to the rescue of Tiberias. But almost all of my lords agreed with me, including the Hospitallers. I see no need to go over it again—”
“Sire, forgive me for speaking so bluntly. You are making a great mistake, for you are walking into a trap.”
Guy frowned. “What do you mean?”
“My liege, Raymond de St. Gilles is utterly untrustworthy, as he has proved time and time again. He did all that he could to deny you and Lady Sybilla the crown, even if that meant civil war. Nor would he accept you as king as the other lords did. Instead, he formed a diabolic alliance with Saladin, showing himself to be a traitor as well as a would-be usurper. After his shameless scheming caused the death of so many good men at Cresson Springs, he realized he’d gone too far and he pretended to seek a reconciliation. But nothing has changed. He wants your crown. Frankly, I would not be surprised if he conspired with Saladin to set this trap. That would explain why he seems so unconcerned about his wife’s safety, would it not?”
“I’ll admit that his willingness to let his wife be taken prisoner is surprising. Yet I doubt that he is still plotting with Saladin. Raymond argued persuasively against the battle that Saladin supposedly wants. So how am I ‘walking into a trap’ by holding our army at Saforie? That makes no sense.”
“The trap is one being set by Raymond, sire, not Saladin. Although if he succeeds, the Saracens would benefit, too. He is trying to discredit you with the Poulains, to raise doubts about your resolve and judgment, even your courage. You need only think back to what happened four years ago when you refused to do battle with the Saracens. Many of the lords advised you against fighting. Yet you were then severely criticized for that and your enemies were able to turn Baldwin against you. If it worked once, why would it not work again?”
“Raymond’s voice was the loudest against going to the aid of Tiberias! How could he blame me for following his own advice?”
“I agree that is not fair, my liege. But that would not stop him. He knows the Poulain lords would rather have one of their own as king, that they are resentful of the favor you’ve shown your countrymen from Poitou. Whilst they may not be as treacherous as Raymond, that does not mean you can trust them, either. There is no such animal as a tame wolf, sire.”
Guy was shaking his head. “I do not believe that would happen,” he insisted, but Gerard caught the note of doubt in the king’s voice.
“Sire, even if the lords at tonight’s council truly believe it would be wiser to remain at Saforie, that is not a view shared by the rest of your army. A king’s sworn duty is to protect his vassals and the Lady Eschiva, who holds Galilee in her own right, has sought your aid. If you ignore her plea, you risk losing the support of your liegemen. Many will be outraged that you’d let a highborn woman fall into the hands of infidel barbarians. And they will then question whether you’d come to their rescue if they were under Saracen attack. Some of them will even doubt your courage and that is fatal for a king, especially for one who has not yet proven himself on the battlefield.”
“I am no coward!”
“I know that, my liege. But that is what your enemies will say about you if you fail to act, and there will be many to believe them, including some of my Templar brethren. Raymond and his allies will do all they can to fan the flames, spreading false rumors, denying that they advised you not to rescue the countess, pointing out that the kingdom can no longer rely upon aid from England now that you have grievously offended the English king.”
“What mean you by that?”
“Sire, you have not thought of that? Of the money King Henry has been sending to the Holy Land for the last fifteen years? Nigh on sixty thousand marks, a vast amount from a man not known for his generosity. He was pressured by the Church to make amends for the murder of Thomas Becket in Canterbury Cathedral, and he avoided taking the cross by donating money.”
“I know that already!”
“But do you know the stipulations that he placed upon the money, sire? It was to be held by the Templars and the Hospitallers and none of it was to be spent without Henry’s express consent. Knowing how great your need was, I disregarded that restriction and gave you all of the money under the control of the Templars so you could hi
re soldiers. If we can tell the English king that his money made it possible for you to defeat Saladin and save the kingdom, I am sure he will pardon you for spending the funds without his permission. If we must tell him that the money is gone and we have nothing to show for it, I doubt that he will take it well. He is not renowned for his forgiving nature, as you know. Was it not his hostility toward the de Lusignans that compelled Amaury and then you to leave Poitou for the Holy Land?”
Guy could not hide his dismay. “You never told me that we needed Henry’s consent!”
“You did not ask, sire. All that mattered to you was getting money to hire routiers and mercenaries. And you were quite right, for nothing is more important than protecting the kingdom from these godless heathens.”
Guy had begun to pace as he tried to grasp the implications of what he’d just been told. “What am I supposed to do?” he demanded. “Lead our army to certain defeat to avoid the wrath of the English king? Even if Raymond is deliberately trying to sabotage my kingship, surely all the other Poulain lords are not lying, too? They seem convinced that we’d be doomed if we leave Saforie.”
“Sire, do you think Reynald and I are lying when we say this is a battle we can win? Why would we put our lives and the fate of the kingdom at risk if we did not truly believe that? We have as much battlefield experience as these Poulain lords and we are confident that we can reach Tiberias in a day’s march and raise the siege. Unlike the Count of Tripoli, we have no reason to lie to you and we want your kingship to succeed. We seek only to end the danger posed by this accursed infidel once and for all.”
Gerard paused then, waiting for Guy to respond. When he did not, the grand master knew that he had won. Once again, he’d managed to pull this well-meaning but indecisive man back from the brink of disaster. After Saladin was defeated—and he would be defeated, for God was on their side—Guy would be acclaimed throughout Christendom as the savior of the Holy Land. And whatever his other faults, Guy was not ungrateful. Gerard knew he and he alone would have the king’s ear, the king’s favor, and the king’s trust, enabling his Templars to exact retribution upon their enemies, be they Muslim or Christian, and to rule the Kingdom of Jerusalem by keeping a light hand on the royal reins.
The Land Beyond the Sea Page 76
