~
Leopold and two of his men stood on the summit of the hill while the remainder of the column followed the path around the base. He scanned the undulating landscape stretching in all directions as far as he could see. They had made good progress and from his vantage point he could see across the border into Mameluk territory. He squinted as he saw dust rising in the distance and guessed a caravan from Damascus was making its way towards them on the road to Tyre. The road, such as it was, wound between the seemingly endless hills like a length of rope thrown carelessly on the ground. A direct route to anywhere was not possible and it snaked through valley floors, gullies and ravines, naturally finding the lowest contours of the land. There were a thousand places able to conceal men waiting to pounce on a Caravan and travellers, and it was rare to see anyone travelling alone because of the dangers.
Leopold turned to the two men with him, ‘Can you see anything, apart from the dust in the east?’
Both men searched the view before them as well as their eyes would let them but they couldn’t see any more than Leopold. He had learnt to trust his instincts and those instincts told him there were men out there waiting to fall on the unwary and slaughter, rape and steal. If de Chauvigny was here he would order them to wait until the Caravan had been attacked before intervening. They would massacre the offenders and any survivors from the Caravan, help themselves to any valuables before returning to Acre with the sad news they were too late to prevent the attack, but report the perpetrators had still been hunted down and punished; but not this time! This time he would follow his orders and protect the Caravan and he had no idea why he was happy to do that.
He looked west and saw the tiny figures of his column and wagon making their way steadfastly towards the Tyre Road, ‘If we can see that caravan so can anyone.’ He turned to one of the men beside him, ‘Re-join the column, leave four men with the wagon to make their way to the road and go north, tell the rest to meet me on that escarpment there,’ he pointed east and watched as the man mounted his horse and made his way carefully down the rock strewn north side of the hill.
Leopold turned to the man beside him, ‘Mount up Alvaro, I can smell death, and he is on our side!’
~
The gully was dry and desiccated and the cracks splitting the hard surface were simple evidence of the power of the sun. It was a miracle anything could survive in this wilderness, but thorny bushes and bristly grasses still managed to find the water buried deep in the crusty ground. The two men sat on their horses in the eastern entrance to the dried out riverbed and waited patiently as the sun rose slowly over their heads. They didn’t have to wait long, as the sound of hooves pounding the ground echoed along the rocky walls, loud enough to make their horses jittery. They both used soothing voices and gentle hands to control them as the knights with the black cross appeared around the bend.
The leading knight held an arm high and the column of men stopped and stared at the two riders.
~
De Capo turned in his saddle, ‘Henry, keep the men here.’
Henry nodded and de Capo nudged his horse forward accompanied by Kamil, Talib and Bundar who were all pleased to see their comrade Ali and their own Lord, Baktamar.
As Ali joined his comrades, de Capo broke formality and rode close enough to Baktamar they could have touched if they wanted to, ‘As-Salaamu `Alaykum,’ said de Capo with a smile.
‘Wa-Alaikum-Salaam,’ replied Baktamar looking past him at the small column of knights who watched with sullen expressions, ‘Ali tells me your knights scare easily when they see the Sultan’s men.’
‘Aye, I think they fear your vengeance,’ de Capo looked serious; ‘they are the men who attacked you.’
‘And you are now their Lord… is that not so?’
De Capo nodded, ‘I have been given that dubious honour.’
‘An honour that would not have been bestowed upon you had you not found us that day.’
De Capo grinned and slouched in his saddle, ‘Aye, the fates weave their magic in strange ways.’
‘Indeed,’ replied Baktamar, ‘and you have placed another cumbersome debt on my shoulders, and the shoulders of my men by being responsible for banishing the Butcher from these shores.’
‘Ha,’ laughed de Capo, ‘perhaps I should apologise to you and ask the Butcher to return.’
‘Then it would be easy to fight these men….you know of the new Sultan?’
‘Aye, he is a man to fear I think.’
Baktamar agreed, ‘There will be many deaths, and he will drive your people out of this land as he did the Mongols, I give you this warning for what you have done for us because we will never be able to repay you. You should leave this place and go home de Capo, this way I might save your life.’
‘I will consider that my friend.’
‘You hunt bandits?’
‘Aye, the Caravans are being attacked too often.’
It was Baktamar’s turn to grin, ‘Only on your side of the border!’
‘Perhaps we have been too lenient,’ de Capo said, ‘however you have met these knights and they have a habit of making men remember them!’
Baktamar looked past de Capo at the line of men who stared sombrely in their direction, ‘Indeed they do,’ he shook his head slightly and scratched his beard in thought, ‘my men protecting you from your men, perhaps that is a story for our grandchildren…..and they would not believe it!’
‘Maybe not,’ replied de Capo as he glanced back at his bodyguard, ‘I’m grateful for your concern. Your men have risked their lives by simply entering the city, but they can leave if they wish and return with you to their own people.’
‘The debt is not paid,’ said Baktamar firmly, ‘until I know you are safe.’
De Capo shook his head, ‘I told you there is no debt my friend, and if you think there is one, I release you from it.’
Baktamar sat up straight, ‘No! Only Allah, blessed be his name, can release us from such a debt, but if it pleases you my men will stay until the next full moon when they will leave, unless you desire their company so much you wish to keep them!’
De Capo relented and nodded, ‘If I return to Acre alive you can consider the debt repaid.’
‘And I,’ smiled Baktamar, ‘will consider that.’
‘Perhaps we will meet again?’
‘I fear not,’ Baktamar looked serious as he continued, ‘my men are nervous riding in these lands, I will take them across the border and wait for these four dogs to join me,’ he nodded at de Capo’s bodyguard, ‘trust me when I say war is coming.’
‘I hear you,’ said de Capo grimly.
Baktamar opened a bag tied to his saddle and pulled out a dagger in a scabbard. The handle was made of ivory engraved with patterns of finely interwoven gold lines; the scabbard was decorated with intricate patterns of interweaving gold and silver swirls and encrusted with emeralds, rubies and diamonds. He held it out to de Capo who took it and slowly removed the blade to find a series of Arabic inscriptions on both sides, ‘This is my gift to you de Capo my friend, it is proof of our meeting, proof of a debt that cannot be repaid, with this blade our families are linked forever.’
De Capo stared at the dagger before replacing the blade and sliding it into his belt, ‘I have nothing for you!’
Baktamar smiled and shook his head, ‘I have my life, and because of you my soul.’
De Capo looked confused as Baktamar continued, ‘A wise man once said it is the duty of the warrior to reclaim a soul lost in battle, for if he does not then he will be cursed to wander the darkness between worlds forever…..now my friend, I will depart and leave you to lead these murderers in battle, there is a Caravan entering your land on the Tyre Road from Damascus, it will be attacked before tomorrow night.’
De Capo held out his hand to Baktamar and they gripped each other’s forearms. Baktamar inclined his head slightly, ‘As-Salaamu `Alaykum.’
There was nothing more to say, their eyes said it all.
Baktamar backed his horse away, turned, broke into a canter and disappeared out of the gully.
De Capo turned in his saddle and raised an arm to Henry, the hunt was on!
Chapter Twenty Four
The caravan was important, the biggest since the Mongols had been defeated and it would take a fast man to the count of sixty to run from the head to the tail. It was an assortment of camels, horses and wagons heavily laden with goods of all descriptions, bales of cotton and silk, dried herbs, spices, perfumes, leather hides, rugs, clothing of all descriptions, iron rods and steel plate, weapons, armour and finally gold and silver; locked in a chest that had more armed guards than any other part of the caravan.
The guards had been recruited in Damascus and their payment was always enough to stop them being greedy. Their leader Faruq was a veteran from various campaigns whose wounds finally meant he could no longer keep up the fast pace that was needed in the Sultans army. Most of the guards walked, shields slung across their backs, swords at their sides and spears resting on their shoulders as they loped along beside the desert hardened animals. Faruq rode a grey Arabian he called Jabbar; meaning powerful. He was one of the few to ride a horse, even the leader of the Caravan, Salman walked beside his camel at the head of the long line, as did the other merchants and their servants.
They stopped before they crossed the border and it had taken a long time for all the animals to be prepared for the night. The next day, before the sun had risen the Caravan was on the move again and they crossed into the Kingdom of Jerusalem as the first light appeared in the east. Now was the dangerous part of their journey. They knew they would not be attacked in the Sultans territory. It was well known anyone who did would be emasculated and sold into slavery; and their family would follow with all the male children being castrated. With that threat there were no attacks and Caravans travelled in safety. The guards were for the Christian lands!
To reach Tyre they first had to negotiate the valleys and ravines that wound through the series of hills which made up the border lands. With rocky slopes high on either side, the Caravan wound its way along the well-worn path made by man and beast over the centuries. They followed the route with trepidation, knowing if they were going to be attacked it would be before they reached the relative flatland in the west. It was a precarious journey and by midday they had reached the Jabel Silim Ravine that careened carelessly south before eventually winding chaotically back to the west. In places it was narrow, maybe one hundred and fifty feet across and the rocky sides rose at an angle before sloping away to join up with the hills it separated. Rocks jutted out and boulders sat precariously as if placed there by a giant hand ready to roll them down onto the men and animals below.
The men in the Caravan and the guards protecting them scanned the sides and the ridges either side with nervous eyes. The perfect place for an ambush, and once the entire Caravan had entered men could appear and sweep down and massacre them at will.
Faruq trotted to the front and slowed to a walk beside Salman, ‘How many times have you come this way?’
Salman looked up at the man he was paying a small fortune for the pleasure of keeping him and his colleagues alive, ‘Twice a year I make this journey, and this is the twenty-third year.’
Faruq pulled the shield from his back and strapped it to his arm as he glanced around him. He wore a loose fitting robe over the mail vest protecting his torso. The leather vest beneath the mail chaffed his neck and he adjusted the padded tunic beneath until he was comfortable again. The steel skull cap he wore beneath his turban had never fitted properly since he was attacked by a mad man with a hammer a few weeks earlier, and now the ill-fitting helmet was causing him some discomfort, ‘Have you never been attacked?’
‘Several times,’ said Salman as he continued to stride alongside his camel, eyes darting from one side to the other, ‘but we have always managed to defend ourselves.’
Everyone was armed with at least a sword, even those who did not know how to use one effectively. A weapon was essential on a trip like this and Salman kept one hand on the hilt and the other on his camel’s lead rein.
Faruq adjusted his turban and cursed the man who had struck him. Unfortunately for that man, he had received Faruq’s blade across his neck and had bled to death within seconds. The body had been thrown in a ditch and the dogs had feasted well that night, but Faruq still cursed him, ‘I’ll send two men ahead to make sure it is clear.’
Salman nodded and raised his hand in acknowledgement before replacing it on the hilt of his sword. He wasn’t getting any younger and he was thinking seriously this would be his last trip. His wife hated his time away and every time he went, she never expected him to return. He watched as two of Faruq’s men galloped past him and disappeared around a curve. As the shadows had shortened with the rising sun he decided it was time to stay at home and spend his days loving his wife and laughing at his grandchildren. His son who bought up the rear of the Caravan would have to make the next trip without him.
The Caravan meandered its way along the ravine floor, and the further they went, the more Salman glanced anxiously about, he turned his head and saw Faruq twisting in his saddle and looking back along the long line of men and animals. There was still no sign of any danger and Salman continued at the same solid pace he had used for the past twenty three years and said a silent prayer. He looked back again at Faruq and saw him walking his horse back along the Caravan and talking to his men. Most of them had scars from some wound or other and they kept themselves to themselves, rarely talking to anyone but each other. Salman was happy enough with that, as long as they did what they were being paid to do.
‘Salman, stop!’
Salman turned when he heard his name being called and saw Faruq trotting towards him
~
De Capo had reached the Tyre Road just before midday and it was obvious from the tracks the Caravan had passed through. After leaving the wagon to make its way to the Ataullah oasis, he and his men had made good progress. They had stopped late at night simply to rest the horses and the men had eaten cold rations and wrapped themselves in their cloaks as they huddled in the desert chill. He always marvelled at how hot the day could be and the night so cold.
Henry dismounted and knelt by the tracks and looked in both directions, ‘This is a big Caravan!’
‘Any signs of men following?’
Henry stood and walked across the hard dusty ground scanning it carefully, slowly he shook his head, ‘Nothing I can see, if they are going to be attacked they must be waiting ahead.’
De Capo watched as Henry stared to the west, ‘What are you thinking?’
‘I’m thinking the Jabel Silim is the place to attack, not too far from the border and deep enough into our lands to stop anyone running back.’
‘Is there a quicker way to get there?’
‘Aye,’ said Henry, ‘for us there is, but if the caravan passed this way as early as I think, they will already be there.’
~
Salman continued walking as he watched Faruq turn his trot into a canter, ‘Stop the Caravan!’
Salman looked about but could see no reason to stop, and stopping a caravan this big was not the best thing to do, both men and animals lost impetus and there was still a long way to go before nightfall.
Faruq stopped in front of Salman forcing his camel to come to an ungainly halt, ‘I said stop!’
Salman was angry and he tried to push past Faruq, ‘What are you doing? We cannot stop here, this is madness, we must continue!’
‘There is nowhere for you to go,’ said Faruq as he backed his horse away.
Salman stopped as he stared at the horsemen in front of him. Faruq’s two men who had gone ahead had returned, but they were not alone as a horde of men appeared on foot behind them.
The way was blocked and Faruq smiled at Salman, ‘I like you old man, but I will remove your head if I have to.’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Salman as he looked fr
om the approaching men to Faruq, ‘you were recommended as a man of honour, a man I could trust!’
‘You think you can lead a caravan this big without men wanting to take what you have?’ Faruq sneered, ‘You have enough here for all my men to live well for the rest of their lives.’
‘No!’ Salman drew his sword.
‘Look behind you old man.’
Salman looked and his shoulders sank low. Faruq’s guards all faced the caravan, spears pointing at the merchants who, confused at the sudden halt, panicked when they saw they had been tricked. From the rocky slopes more men appeared and Salman guessed there had to be more than a hundred armed men waiting for Faruq’s order to attack. He cursed his stupidity for believing he could buy honest men. Honest men could not be bought and he had ignored one of his own rules, if it feels wrong it is wrong. Salman had never fully trusted Faruq, now he knew why and he cursed himself again.
‘Tell your friends to drop their weapons and they will live.’
Salman looked up at Faruq incredulously, ‘You expect me to believe that? You will slaughter us; you cannot leave any witnesses and we will fight you first.’
‘And your son will die,’ promised Faruq, ‘he will die slowly and painfully. All we want are the treasures you carry and you will be set free to return to Damascus.’
Salman thought of his wife, his son and his grandsons, he wanted to see them again and he looked back down the line of the Caravan and saw merchants, armed with swords they barely knew how to use. He knew if they fought they would lose and they would be massacred to a man, or left staked out in the sun to die a slow and painful death. He sighed and looked at the ground, he had no choice, he had been betrayed by the men he had trusted and to fight was to die for certain. He looked at Faruq, ‘Do I have your word you will not kill us?’
Faruq smiled grimly, ‘You do.’
Salman nodded and walked out into the Ravine where he could be seen, calling out he raised his sword and let it fall to the ground, ‘Drop your weapons, they have given their word not to kill us…..drop your weapons!’
Men looked at him and each other, and one by one as the message was passed down the length of the caravan they dropped their weapons and walked away from their animals. They were quickly herded together near the base of the slope and each man was bound and forced to kneel.
Deus Militis - Soldiers of God Page 15
