Deus Militis - Soldiers of God

by Jonathan A Longmore

  By the time he received his orders from the Constable he had heard all he needed to from Erasmus. Now not only was he concerned for his own safety but that of the priest as well. Coming to Acre had turned into something more than a crusade and he promised Erasmus once his duty to the Kingdom was done, he would help him get his secret to England.

  ~

  Erasmus watched from the balcony outside the chapel entrance as de Capo mounted his horse, adjusted his sword and surcoat and reached down to take the shield from Hashim which he slung across his back. He looked up at Erasmus and gave a small nod before looking back down at Hashim who gave the smallest bow of his head and said, ‘Go with God Sayyid.’

  De Capo turned to his men and admitted to himself they were an impressive sight. He raised his arm and led the columns out in single file towards the gate. The wagons containing their stores and equipment for one week followed at the back with two Arab servants. As the sun rose above the eastern horizon the two columns changed from single file to file, two men abreast, and started to make their way towards Damascus. Forty two men wearing white cloaks over their red surcoats, shields strapped to their backs and lances held upright, a sight that made de Capo strangely proud as he knew these men could fight as well as they looked. He only hoped they would fight with honour and not hate in their hearts.

  A mile from the city de Capo raised a hand and both columns stopped. The men looked at each other and a murmur of disapproval swept through both columns. Leopold sat beside him and stared at the sight ahead, ‘This is going too far!’

  De Capo’s Saracen bodyguard sat on their horses in line abreast across the trail to Damascus. Each man had a round shield strapped to his arm and they all wore mail beneath their robes.

  Leopold turned and looked back along the two columns at the men who stared and talked amongst themselves, nodding and pointing at the four warriors, ‘You don’t expect us to ride with them?’

  ‘Yes Leopold,’ de Capo turned and smiled at his lieutenant knowing everything he did infuriated the man, ‘you will ride with them, the men will ride with them, and they will afford them the courtesy and respect they would expect themselves.’

  ‘They are Saracens!’ Leopold hissed, ‘We are sworn to kill them!’

  ‘And they are sworn to protect me, what do you suggest?’

  The frustration was obvious on Leopold’s face and he shook his head and spat on the dusty ground before staring grimly at the four men who sat dispassionately staring at the column, ‘You should have told me, I am your second.’

  ‘And there are no secrets between us, correct?’

  ‘The men don’t like this,’ said Leopold ignoring the question, ‘you are expecting them to fight alongside the enemy.’

  ‘They are not the enemy, they will fight alongside you and everyone here and they are also an advantage.’

  Leopold sounded dejected knowing his hands were tied without orders from de Fribois, ‘How?’

  ‘They know the land better than we do, they speak the language better than anyone here, their comrades will not attack us because of me and they will die to protect me, and that means you and the rest of the men,’ he took a deep breath, ‘so before you consign their bodies and souls to whichever dark pit you’re considering, remember….they trust you less than I do!’

  ‘I told you we would keep to the oath until it is proven illegal.’

  ‘You may have a long wait,’ de Capo said, ‘I understand the Pope is not the man he was.’

  ‘Nevertheless,’ said Leopold as he turned his horse and his back on the four Muslim warriors, ‘the oath will be kept by myself and the men.’

  De Capo sniggered, ‘And le Boursier?’

  ‘An unfortunate incident,’ Leopold shrugged, ‘one that will not be repeated.’

  The two men nodded a silent truce.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  The Spirit of the Eastern Wind was a literal translation of the Arabic name on the large twin lateen sail Dhow that tacked slowly towards Acre. It was midday before she was finally docked and the speed with which her crew moved once the ropes had been thrown to the men on the dockside and secured her was impressive. The cargo was mainly cotton bales and iron rods with a few urns of figs and dates. Before the valuable cargo was unloaded, the human cargo disembarked to be pestered almost immediately by beggars, prostitutes, water sellers and an array of other equally dubious men and women offering wares and services that were neither clean nor of good quality.

  One man wearing the soft, close wound turban of a desert nomad and free flowing robes over cotton tunic and trousers pushed his way through the crowd, snarling at one toothless hopeful who dared to touch the leather bag he carried close to his side, reinforcing his displeasure by flashing the steel of his curved dagger. The threat was unmistakeable and a path quickly cleared for him as no-one was interested in having their flesh sliced open.

  He left the chaos of the docks behind him and headed into the bedlam of the city with its constant battering of all the senses. Dodging his way through the interminable crowds and moving out of the way for any knights who arrogantly strode through the narrow streets, he finally reached the gateway into Montmusart.

  Finus de Linario was Sicilian, but with his dark complexion and Arabic features, in particular his nose, he was able to pass as an Arab without arousing any suspicion. His ability to speak the language fluently and his understanding of Islam had stood him in good stead over the years he had been working for the Grand Master. He was an invaluable asset and could blend into western or eastern society in the time it took him to change his clothing.

  Before he walked through the gateway into Montmusart he stopped and leant against the separating wall, slipped to his haunches and spent some time simply watching the people pass to and fro. He had been doing this too long to be surprised by the unexpected and he watched and waited for anyone following him. Acre was a dangerous place and amongst all the thousands of people there were spies and assassins working for each and every sect that made up the populace. Even the far reaches of the Imperial Order of Jerusalem could not foresee, nor prevent every eventuality, and so he sat and waited and watched until he was satisfied he was not being followed.

  He stood and walked through the gate into Montmusart and as an extra precaution darted to one side and sat in the corner of an alleyway in the shadows. His skill and experience in doing this task for so long had enabled him to remember faces and details of people he had only seen briefly. That ability had served him well in the past and once more he sat and watched. A small boy ran into the alleyway and nearly bumped into him; he stopped and stared at him with wide brown eyes before turning and running off to be lost in the crowds. Finus smiled at the innocence of the child, but the smile was cold, he would have cut the child’s throat if he thought him a threat.

  Finus stood, and with one final scan of the faces in the crowds made his way towards the Castle on the Mount. He was no stranger to the City or the castle, and as he rounded the final corner he stopped once more and checked to see if anyone was following. Satisfied all was well he headed towards the guards at the castle gate who recognised him as he approached.

  Once he passed through the outer gate he was met by the commander of the guard, Edwin, a Man at Arms from the north of England, ‘Finus!’

  The two men clasped forearms, the greeting of men who understood each other and knew the other’s worth.

  ‘I need to speak to Leopold,’ said Finus, ‘without de Capo knowing.’

  ‘You know about him?’

  ‘Everyone knows about him, the Grand Master is not a happy man.’

  ‘Has the Pope been petitioned?’

  ‘Yes,’ Finus said without much conviction, ‘but he is weak and useless.’

  ‘But you have orders?’

  ‘For Leopold,’ Finus replied as he glanced about, ‘where is he?’

  ‘You’ve missed him; he’s out with de Capo, on the road to Damascus to protect the Caravans.’
>
  ‘When is he due back?’

  ‘Not for a week.’

  Finus was perturbed, he had his orders, de Chauvigny had been clear on what he had to do and that had been backed up by de Fribois.

  ‘Who is in charge while they’re away?’

  ‘Sir Geoffrey de Paganel…..I’ll have to tell him you’re here.’

  Finus nodded and steeled himself to meet the one man he disliked above all of them.

  De Paganel was enjoying the opportunity to be the commander, albeit for only a short time. He strutted around the castle wearing just his gambeson and sword, checking men and equipment and even checking on the stables to ensure the horses were in good condition, even though he knew they were better looked after than the men. By the time Finus appeared with Edwin, de Paganel was in his quarters eating the midday meal. He squinted as the shadow of the two men appeared in his doorway and wiped his mouth leaving a faint smear of red wine on the sleeve of his tunic, ‘Who is that?’

  ‘Edwin, Sir Geoffrey….Finus is here with orders.’

  Finus stepped through the doorway and stood to one side of the table as de Paganel burped and smiled as he held his hand out, ‘At last, the orders we’ve been waiting for I trust.’

  Finus didn’t move but kept the leather bag pressed close against his side, ‘The orders are for Leopold.’

  De Paganel glared at Edwin, ‘Did you tell him?’

  ‘Aye,’ Edwin nodded, ‘I told him.’

  ‘Give me the orders,’ de Paganel ordered as he held his hand out again.

  Finus did not like de Paganel, not many people did, he made people fear him and that was the only respect he was entitled to as far as Finus was concerned, but he feared de Chauvigny and the Grand Master more and he had his own instructions, ‘I am to give them only to Leopold.’

  ‘I am in command,’ roared de Paganel, ‘now hand me those orders!”

  Finus took a deep breath and shook his head, ‘I cannot do that Sir Geoffrey, the Grand Master has made it clear if any person sees the orders before Leopold there will be consequences.’

  De Paganel had never been a subtle man and he knew he could force Finus and look at the orders, but even he was scared of de Fribois. He had seen first-hand what the man was capable of and de Chauvigny was only marginally better, ‘And if Leopold is killed, what are your orders?’

  ‘I am to return to Cyprus with the orders still sealed.’

  De Paganel stared furiously at Finus as he realised whatever the orders were, he was not trusted enough to carry them out. He had no choice but to accede to whatever Finus wanted,

  ‘It seems I have little choice,’ de Paganel hissed through clenched teeth, ‘but to allow you to stay here until he returns.’

  Chapter Twenty Three

  De Capo looked up at Mount Meron as his men set up camp. He had pushed the men hard in order to reach the gully at the bottom of the hills leading up to the mountain before nightfall, and good fortune had favoured them on a journey without incident. Leopold was a natural military leader and ordered pickets set up in a circle around the camp as soon as they stopped. Horses were unsaddled, cooled, fed and watered before tents were raised and the Arab servants set about digging fire pits and covering them with carefully placed shelters preventing the fires being seen from a distance. The smoke was carefully controlled and once the first flames caught, apart from the initial burst, the smoke was kept to a minimum. The only thing they could not control was the aroma freshly made flatbreads created. Apart from the bread, the rations were cold meat, fruit and spiced vegetables soaked in oil and herbs. Without the servants the food would be dull and dry, hard, chewy and flavourless.

  His bodyguard kept close to him, and while two men stayed within swords reach, the other two prepared their own meal. On the occasions de Capo had allowed the men to rest on the journey his bodyguard had taken it in turns to unfurl their prayer mats and pray. That act alone had set the men muttering amongst themselves and it was only the forceful words and threatening looks from Leopold that quelled them. He turned as Leopold approached and glanced at the two bodyguards who watched for any suspicious movement from the German knight. Leopold ignored their stares and turned to half face de Capo, ‘We’re being watched.’

  ‘Friends,’ said de Capo, ‘have the men noticed?’

  Leopold looked at the two bodyguards, ‘Yes, and they are nervous, and nervous men make mistakes……we have Saracens with us and Saracens watching us…what if you’re wrong?’

  ~

  De Capo had noticed the men on the horizon mid-morning, forty, maybe fifty horsemen he could make out and he had spoken to Kamil who was obviously the man in command as nothing was said or done without deference to him, ‘Friends or enemies?’

  ‘They are not your enemy,’ Kamil replied, ‘but your men only live because you command them.’

  ‘Where did you learn my language?’

  Kamil smiled, ‘My father was a great and wise man, he always said it is good to know your enemy’s language, even better when they do not know yours…I learnt from a prisoner, he was happy to teach me for the chance to live.’

  ‘A Christian knight?’

  ‘Indeed he was,’ said Kamil, ‘a good man, like you he was also a man of honour.’

  ‘What happened to him?’

  ‘He fell in love with a slave girl.’

  De Capo nodded, ‘Ah.’ He had heard of similar stories of men who had thrown off the mantle of Christianity and embraced Islam simply to be with the woman they loved, ‘He still lives?’

  Kamil nodded, ‘And he has children, the slave girl was released as a favour to me, and I let him go as payment for the gift of speaking your language.’

  ‘He is a fortunate man to have found such love.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Kamil had replied, ‘such love is rare and has to be cherished once found.’

  ‘What if you’re wrong?’ Leopold repeated.

  ‘I’m not,’ de Capo said as he glanced at the lowering sun, ‘but I will ride out and invite them into our camp if you wish, and you can sit and share your mistrust with each other until the sun rises.’

  ‘That will not be necessary,’ replied Leopold. He scanned the countryside about them and wiped the moisture from his face, ‘It will be cold soon enough, what are the orders for tomorrow?’

  ‘I will take my column east, past the Sea of Galilee as far as the border and turn north towards the road to Tyre. You will skirt south round the mountain until you reach the road to Sidon, head north and we’ll meet at the Ataullah oasis in three days.

  Leopold nodded his agreement, ‘Do you want prisoners?’

  ‘No,’ de Capo was a merciful man but those who preyed on the vulnerable would pay the penalty, ‘that shouldn’t be a problem for you, should it?’

  Leopold remained po-faced as he replied, ‘We will not be held accountable for the punishments we hand out?’

  ‘Not unless they are innocent!’

  Leopold gave a curt nod and walked off to check the pickets as de Capo made his way to the top of the gully accompanied by Kamil and Ali where he stared towards the Horizon. He squinted as he tried to make out a figure in the distant, ‘Is that Baktamar?’

  Kamil followed his gaze, ‘Should my eyes be any keener than yours?’

  ‘I would like to meet him tomorrow.’

  ‘I will send Ali,’ said Kamil, ‘and he will meet you on the road.’

  ~

  Leopold and his column left before the sun had started to rise above the eastern horizon. The fire pits and been extinguished and filled when day was still a promise, but the Arab servants managed to produce warm flatbread and cold chicken for the men to eat before they started their second long day.

  De Capo watched as they left the gully and headed towards the southern side of the mountain before turning his attention back to his own men. His lieutenant, now Leopold had left, was a young knight by the name of Henry Challock, an Englishman who could trace his ancestry back to a Saxon nob
le who fought against the Bastard when the Normans invaded. He had listened carefully to Leopold and his head nodded constantly as he was given his orders.

  De Capo approached him as he prepared his horse for the coming day, ‘Leopold had a lot to say!’

  Henry looked over his shoulder, ‘Aye.’

  De Capo waited for a few seconds but Henry had said all he was going to without prompting. He glanced about at the rest of the men as they all prepared for the day, ‘Are the men ready?’

  ‘Aye,’ replied Henry.

  De Capo glanced towards the east and could see the light diffusing in the sky as the sun started to move slowly towards the horizon. He was determined to get Henry to speak to him correctly, ‘Is there anything I should be concerned about?’

  Henry continued checking straps and buckles and slid a spare sword into the scabbard attached to the left side of his saddle, ‘No.’

  ‘You are a man of limited words,’ de Capo said a little irritated, ‘as my lieutenant I expect you to speak with me properly, even if you don’t like me.’

  Henry stopped what he was doing and looked down at the ground, slowly he turned and met de Capo’s eyes, there was no malice in his voice, ‘I don’t dislike you Sir Ralf, I wish we could have met under other circumstances, but,’ Henry sighed and looked around at the men, some of whom had stopped to listen, ‘we are an ancient order and do not like outsiders, it’s just the way we are.’

  ‘I understand,’ said de Capo. He looked briefly over his shoulder to see Kamil move a little closer. He knew they were nervous, not for themselves but for failing their duty and allowing any harm to come to him. Turning back to Henry he asked, ‘So what did Leopold have to say.’

  ‘That you are not to be harmed,’ explained Henry, ‘his orders are that you return to Acre alive and in one piece.’

  ‘Then I am to trust you?’

  Henry gave a curt nod, ‘Aye.’ He turned back to his horse and continued his preparations.

  De Capo took a deep breath and placed a hand on Henry’s shoulder, ‘As soon as the men are ready we move out.’