by H A CULLEY
‘I know it was you who tried to stab me to death in Messina, by the way. Luckily I always wore a chain mail vest when in the town. Ironically it was because I feared an attack from behind from the locals, not from a Norman knight.’
‘Was that anymore cowardly than shooting someone with a crossbow from a hidden position?’
‘Or with an arrow when they were least expecting it.’ There was an uncomfortable silence until Waldo spoke again.
‘Look, don’t you think that this has gone on long enough? Let’s at least go to our deaths reconciled to one another. We have both lost our fathers to this blood feud. Let that be an end to it.’
Miles thought long and hard about Waldo’s suggestion. Soon he would be judged before God and he didn’t want to have the intent to murder another man on his conscience. Eventually he nodded.
‘I agree. We should put the feud between our families behind us and go to our deaths, if not shriven, at least with no animosity between us.’
~#~
In the lull between attacks, the three squires set off to explore the crusader lines outside Acre. They had heard stories that not all was as one might expect of a camp of devout pilgrims and knights pledged to a holy cause and their interest was piqued. Of the three only Warin, at fifteen, had claimed to have lost his virginity. Two brothers regarded him with some awe as a result and were eager to do the same.
Nearly all the establishments set up for the entertainment of the besiegers were in pavilions. More permanent structures would not have survived counter bombardment from the city for long and tent walls could easily be repaired when hit by arrow or stone. Most of the pavilions and tents were stained and tattered with long use. Some were used as taverns, some as brothels and some as both. Others were more respectable establishments which sold everything from new tackle for horses to helmets and swords. There were pie shops, stalls that sold exotic sweetmeats and laundries where barely clothed buxom women thrashed wet cloths against rocks until they were clean. One area specialised in the sale of meat though the choice was limited – either horse, mule or donkey.
The three boys savoured the mouth-watering smell of freshly baked pies one moment and clutching their noses at the stink of offal, faeces and rotting meat the next. They put their heads inside one large tent from where screams kept emanating and recoiled at the sight of a blood stained man in a leather apron hacking off a crushed limb of a knight whilst four men held him down. The tent was full of the wounded and the dying and the sight of so many awaiting the attentions of the barber-surgeons made all three queasy for a moment. But they were young and quickly recovered before setting off in search of what they had come looking for.
They were just about to enter a promising-looking pavilion with a half-clothed woman of about thirty standing provocatively outside, beckoning them in and promising all manner of delights in barely understandable French, when Gervaise tapped Tristan on the shoulder.
‘I wouldn’t go in there if I were you, unless you are particularly keen on catching the pox.’
‘What’s the pox?’ David wanted to know but the other three just gave him a withering look.
‘Just hope you never find out,’ his brother told him.
‘Where do you suggest we go then?’ Warin turned back to Gervaise.
‘Follow me boys, I know the best bordello where all the lords go. I just hope you have deep pockets.’
Both Tristan and David had a pouch full of silver pennies that their father had given them, but Warin only had a few copper coins.
‘Never mind,’ Gervaise told him ‘one of the whores might let you watch for that much.’
Warin’s face fell and he started to mutter about going back to their camp.
‘Ignore him, Warin, I’ll lend you some money,’ Tristan told him, which made Warin feel even worse. Eventually he was persuaded to stay and the four squires set off for a large blue and red striped pavilion with a water-filled ditch dug all around it.
‘It’s to keep the rats out,’ explained Gervaise as he led them over a small slatted bridge guarded by two burly men-at-arms. They greeted Gervaise like an old friend so it was obvious that he was a regular client. Tristan wondered briefly how he could afford it if it was as expensive as Gervaise said.
‘I see you have found some really young new blood this time, Gervaise,’ one of the soldiers grinned at him. Then the penny dropped and Tristan stopped at the entrance to the pavilion.
‘You get paid for bringing new clients here don’t you?’ he accused the older squire.
‘What’s wrong with that?’ Gervaise shrugged. ‘I wasn’t lying when I said the girls were clean. The woman who owns it employs a Turkish surgeon who inspects the girls for signs of the pox regularly. It’s up to you though.’
‘Come on’ said Warin eagerly. ‘We’re here now.’ With that he pushed his way inside. After a moment’s hesitation, Tristan and David followed him. The floor of the pavilion was just like that of the great hall at home. The floor of beaten earth was covered in fresh rushes but, unlike at home, there were no discarded bones being gnawed at by dogs, nor any dog dirt. The ante-chamber held a number of padded couches on which a few girls dressed only in under-tunics sat. They ranged in age from as young as twelve to the mid-twenties and most seemed to be either Greek or Turkish.
As soon as the boys entered the girls got up and started to make fuss of them. A pretty girl of perhaps fourteen made a bee-line for David and started to pull him towards a curtained-off alcove. The boy gave his brother a look of panic and Tristan whispered in the ear of another girl he rather fancied. She giggled and took his hand before following David and his girl into the same alcove.
Warin was left trying to decide which girl he fancied the most when a party of knights entered the pavilion making a lot of noise. Warin recognised the Duke of Burgundy and the Count of Champagne before the new arrivals were surrounded by the girls and Warin found himself standing on his own.
His ears burning with chagrin, the squire started to edge his way towards the entrance along the canvas wall of the pavilion when suddenly his hand was grabbed. He turned to see the prettiest girl he had ever seen smiling at him.
‘You mustn’t be shy. Is it your first time?’ The girl asked in halting French.
‘Yes, but you mustn’t let the other two know.’
‘Ooh. I don’t often get to initiate a virgin. For you I’ll make a special price.’
Later that night the three friends sat polishing their knight’s armour. They couldn’t stop grinning and it was obvious that they felt pretty pleased with themselves.
‘At least I had my girl all to myself and didn’t have to learn what to do by watching what my brother was doing,’ Warin teased David.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well you went off with two girls to the same alcove didn’t you?’
Both David and Tristan burst out laughing. ‘It led to two separate chambers, you idiot.’ The older brother told him.
‘Oh, I see,’ said Warin feeling a little foolish.
Later David asked his brother if he thought that Warin had believed him.
‘Oh yes, I’m sure he did. Let’s just hope he never finds out that we had to share the same bed or we’ll never hear the end of it.’
~#~
After two more days of bombardment this time it was the English who were lining up to make another attempt to capture the breaches in the walls but, just as they were about to advance, the alarm sounded to warn that the Saracens were attacking.
Reinforced by the five thousand Kurds, Saladin had led thirty one thousand men down onto the plain between his camp and the crusader lines. As they moved towards Acre, the crusaders came spilling out of their camps. In addition to Richard’s twenty thousand, the French, Germans, Flemish, the crusader states, Templars and Hospitallers totalled a further twenty thousand, but it took a long time for such a large army to move into position.
Instead of waiting for the Christians for form up Saladi
n sent his left wing forward against the French, Flemish and Germans who formed the right wing. The Saracen wing consisted of light cavalry and horse archers but they ran into a storm of quarrels fired by the Flemish crossbowmen and retreated in disorder. Meanwhile the English formed the centre and the Normans from the Holy Land swung into position on the left. The bulk of the crusader army consisted of infantry and bowmen with the knights and serjeants on the flanks of each wing and in reserve. The Saracens also placed their infantry in the centre with their horsemen on the flanks. Those on the left having already been given a bloody nose, Saladin sent in his right wing against Guy de Lusignan, the Templars and Hospitallers. The knights met them head on just as the English cavalry arrived on the scene and charged from into the Saracen horsemen from the flank. They drove the lightly armoured horsemen into Saladin’s centre, causing confusion and panic amongst his infantry.
Saladin quickly came to the conclusion that this was a battle he couldn’t win, so he used his reserves to hold the crusaders at bay whilst his infantry retreated back to their stronghold at Jebel el Kharruba. Philip Augustus and Richard, having beaten off the attack with few casualties, compared to the hundreds lost by the enemy during the brief clash, were happy to let him go and returned to their camp. However, one of the men killed on the Christian side was the Count of Flanders and, as he had died without an heir, this created a power vacuum on France’s border at a time when Philip Augustus found himself thousands of miles away. The French king’s priority was now to return home as soon as possible to deal with the succession crisis caused by the count’s death.
Whilst Philip was still debating how best to announce his retirement from the crusade, the English assault on the two breaches either side of the remains of the Accursed Tower was successful and the attackers remained in possession of the outer wall by the end of the day. That night the Pisan fleet sailed into the harbour and attacked the Tower of Flies with small on-board catapults that threw blazing bales of straw at the top of the tower. Whilst only partially successful the Pisans did manage to set the top of the tower alight before they withdrew.
Later that night the emir of Acre sent a fisherman who was a strong swimmer with a message for Saladin saying that the city could hold out no longer. Unless he could relieve the city it would have to surrender.
~#~
Dawn came and went but Waldo and Miles still remained in their tent. Having prepared themselves for execution, their initial reaction was profound relief, but then they began to wonder what was happening. Being kept in ignorance was almost worse than the anticipation of death. Of course, no-one came to tell them of their reprieve but, as each hour passed, they began to allow themselves to hope. When they were given a little bread and water at noon, the hope turned to optimism that they might be spared after all.
‘What do you think is going on?’ Miles eventually asked Waldo.
‘I have no more idea than you have. Perhaps something has happened and they have forgotten about us for now,’ Waldo replied, shifting his position to try and make the ache in his limbs more bearable. Their wrists were shackled to their feet by a short chain so that their backs were bent but, because their feet were also chained to a collar round their necks, which ran down their backs, they could only breathe properly if they leant backwards. Of course, this made eating and drinking difficult. They had to pick the bread up with their teeth and lap the water like a dog.
In this position they had to urinate and defecate lying down, though they did shuffle into a corner to do the later so they weren’t lying in it. As hope returned, their original hatred of each other, put aside when death seemed certain, threatened to return. However, detestation of the dreadful conditions that they suffered together gave them something that they could unite against and they did their best to keep each other’s spirits up. Now, far from the hatred that Miles had felt for Waldo when they were captured, he now regarded him almost like a comrade. For his part Waldo was not quite so ready to forgive and forget; after all he had been brought up nursing a deep hatred for Miles’ family, but he had admitted to himself that he liked the Northumberland knight. By the time that darkness returned, and with it a lessening of the stifling heat in the tent, he had decided that he trusted Miles when he said that he no longer sought his death.
Waldo and Miles had lost count of the days that they were kept in the tent in these conditions, but the morning came when the manacles were removed and they were carried outside by guards, who made it obvious that they were revolted by the stench of the two Norman knights. They had spent so long in one position that they couldn’t straighten their backs at first; nor stand on their own. Their guards sluiced them down with several buckets of water, then threw away their fetid braies and gave them each a long white cotton robe to wear. By now they were almost able to straighten their backs, although it caused them considerable pain, and to totter at a slow shambling walk. By the time that they reached Saladin’s pavilion the pain of moving had eased somewhat and they were able to walk upright, albeit only slowly.
When they were brought into Saladin’s presence they were amazed to see Richard de Cuille sitting there with the Duke of Burgundy and Humphrey of Toron.
~#~
A week previously, on the twelfth of July, Mashtub, the emir of Acre, and other representatives of the city council , not having heard back from Saladin, had taken matters in their own hands and sent a messenger to ask the two kings, Richard and Philip, for a meeting to negotiate the surrender of Acre. The situation in the city had become so dire and the military situation seemed so hopeless that they felt they had no option but to give up, despite not having received Saladin’s agreement.
Later that day, after two years of siege, Acre surrendered and the banners of the two kings and of Jerusalem flew from the towers along the walls. The only person who was not ecstatic over the news was Duke Leopold of Austria. He was affronted that he had not been involved in the negotiations and even more outraged when Richard had ordered his men to take down Leopold’s banners, which his Germans and Austrians had erected alongside those of the three leopards of England, the fleur de lys of France and the five crosses of Jerusalem.
‘By what right have you taken down my banners and why was I not involved in the surrender?’ he demanded to know when he stormed into Philip pavilion where detailed arrangements for the transfer of the town to crusader rule were being discussed.
‘It is customary to address a king with more courtesy, my lord duke’ Richard began. ‘And you were not involved precisely because you are not a king.’ With that Richard turned back to Philip to continue discussing the evacuation of the Moslem population.
‘I am the representative of the Holy Roman Emperor,’ spluttered Leopold ‘and an emperor outranks any king.’
‘Are you still here?’ Richard was getting annoyed now. ‘Henry is not a crusader, so he is not in a position to nominate a representative. Now leave us before I have you removed.’
Leopold left the pavilion an even more angry man that when he had entered it. Within two days he and his men had left Acre to return home.
~#~
Whilst Richard and Philip were discussing the implementation of the terms of surrender, Saladin sat in his pavilion fuming about the same terms.
‘Is Mashtub mad to have agreed to these conditions?’ he asked his senior commanders. ‘He will regret having approved them in my name and without my permission.’ It was rare that Saladin ever displayed anger but he could not contain his feelings tonight.
‘May we know what these terms are, Saladin?’ Bashir enquired politely.
‘What, oh yes, of course. He had agreed to surrender Acre and, in exchange for allowing the Moslem inhabitants free passage out of the city, he had promised the infidels that I will return the True Cross, which we captured at Hattin, pay a ransom of two hundred thousand gold bezants and return the five hundred Christian nobles, knights and soldiers who we have captured. And all these conditions are to be met within one month; in
the meantime Richard of England will hold the garrison of two thousand seven hundred men and twenty of the council of Acre, including the emir, hostage.’
‘I see. What will you do?’
‘Do? Why play for time, of course. The True Cross is in Damascus and I don’t have anything like two hundred thousand bezants, let alone five hundred hostages. Most of them are dead,’ Saladin observed gloomily.
A week later a delegation from the three kings – of England, France and Jerusalem – arrived expecting to receive at least part of the tribute to which Emir Mashtub had agreed. King Richard had been impressed with his namesake’s resource and determination and had selected de Cuille to represent him. Those nobles more senior to him, who might have expected to be chosen, were more than happy to let someone else ride into the enemy camp. Richard himself was pleased by the confidence shown in him by the king and not at all worried about any danger. After the tragic events earlier in his life, he still didn’t particularly care whether he survived the crusade or not, though it had given him more of a purpose in life.
He was very relieved to see that Miles was still alive, if not exactly in the best of health. He was also pleased to see Waldo; he might blame him for killing Robert of Locksley, but he didn’t wish him dead. He was puzzled to note that the animosity that had existed between the two knights seemed to have been replaced by something close to comradeship between them. If they had made their peace, then he felt that he too might be prepared to forgive Waldo. He would have to talk to Miles and see what had changed his attitude towards the other knight.
