East of Ashes

by Gideon Nieuwoudt

  The architect of Antioch's fall then noticed them and cried out loudly: "There they are!"

  Everyone's gaze turned to the little group of soldiers, most of them smiling and nodding in approval. Bohemond strode towards them with powerful strides, his arms stretched out in welcome. He was making for Othniel and Lamech in particular. When he reached them, he rested a hand on their shoulders.

  "Today's victory was naturally the will of God and we give Him thanks for it," Bohemond said, loud enough for everyone to hear him, "but He used the two of you mightily."

  Lamech felt uneasy at the prince's words and noticed the same reaction in his friend.

  "Come, let me introduce you to the princes leading this Crusade," Bohemond said, apparently not noticing their discomfort or, more likely, choosing to ignore it. He stretched out an arm towards the princes and Lamech and Othniel obediently walked forward.

  The princes were now smiling in what seemed to be sincere gratitude. Godfrey of Bouillon took the lead and clasped their arms in a show of affection.

  "Praise be to God for keeping you safe today - and for strengthening you to keep the Caracen soldiers at bay so that the rest of our soldiers could scale the wall," he said smiling.

  Lamech didn't know the man at all, but he seemed to be quite sincere.

  "Indeed, my lord," he said simply. Othniel remained quiet, but nodded his head in agreement.

  "Well now," Bohemond interjected, "It is only fitting that we should bestow upon you a great honour. Tell me, how can we show our gratitude to the two of you?"

  Without missing a beat, Lamech answered: "Please allow me to return to Europe, my lord."

  The princes were clearly taken aback at his unusual request and exchanged glances with each other.

  Godfrey spoke first: "Normally soldiers in your position would ask for great riches. Do you mind explaining to us why you wish to desert the Crusade instead?"

  Lamech looked uneasily at his friend. "I received a letter mere moments ago from a dear friend in France, my lord. A matter was raised that requires my urgent attention."

  Godfrey looked at him thoughtfully and then turned his attention to Othniel: "And you?"

  "I wish to accompany my friend as far as St. Simeon to see him on his way. After that I will return. I need nothing more," he answered simply.

  "It's a curious thing," Godfrey replied. He then turned his attention to Bohemond: "I think I speak for the others when I say that I believe this a case for Lord Bohemond to decide. As the architect of our victory over Antioch, I believe it's only right if we give him the honour of deciding the fate of two of the key instruments of that victory."

  Godfrey's sly move was not lost on anyone - least of all Bohemond. It left very little room for him to deny their request. Bohemond capitulated immediately: "I believe to grant your request is too small a token of our gratitude, but if that is what you want, you have my blessing."

  "Thank you, my lord," Lamech said on behalf of them both, "We appreciate your generosity."

  Bowing quickly, they turned and began walking away.

  "One moment," Godfrey said and walked towards them. Lamech and Othniel stopped in their tracks and turned around to wait for him. Upon reaching them, Godfrey lowered his voice so that only they could hear him.

  "If you're going to leave, I suggest you do so before the day is out," he said. They looked at him questioningly.

  "You will no doubt have heard of the advancing Caracen forces, commanded by Kerbogha," Godfrey continued. "My spies tell me he commands in the region of 35 000 troops and from what I've heard he will use them to good effect."

  Sensing they still didn't get it, he added: "You don't want to be caught outside the city walls when they get here tomorrow."

  "Thank you, my lord, for your wise advice. We will make haste," Othniel answered.

  "Think nothing of it," Godfrey said. "I will send a messenger to St. Simeon immediately. As the Lord would have it, there's an English ship waiting to set sail. I will let them know to expect you."

  -------

  Two days later Lamech was sailing from St. Simeon with the English ship. Godfrey had ordered the captain of the ship to drop Lamech off in Marseilles before they continued onwards to England.

  The Caracen army had arrived the day after the Crusaders took the city, just as Godfrey had predicted. Fortunately Lamech and Othniel were able to slip out of the city and make for St. Simeon before they got there. If not for Godfrey's advice, they would probably still have been stuck in Antioch, where the Crusaders now had to change roles from besieging a city to defending it.

  Lamech had expected a series of questions from Othniel as soon as they had had a moment to spare, but his friend surprised him by hardly saying a word. He chuckled as he recalled their conversation while they had made their way towards St. Simeon.

  "Don't you want to know why I'm heading back?" Lamech blurted out, incredulous at his friend's apparent lack of interest. Othniel smiled that mischievous smile of his.

  "Of course I'm curious," he admitted, "but I assumed you would tell me when you're ready."

  When Lamech didn't reply, he added with a wink: "That doesn't mean I don't want to know."

  Lamech laughed.

  "OK. I received a letter from Leala," he said, then frowned: "I never did tell you about Leala and Joash, did I?"

  "You spoke about Leala briefly, but you never went into much detail, no."

  "Right. Well, I met Leala while I was living in Avignon." Lamech shook his head slowly, "Othniel, you should see that woman: beautiful, beyond description. And with a heart that lights up everything around her."

  Lamech laughed at the look on Othniel's face: "I know, I know, melodramatic, but it's true!"

  Othniel just chuckled and waved his hand for Lamech to continue.

  "Anyway, I already told you what I had done to my father," Lamech said, growing serious, "and for a long time the memories of my dead wife and what I had done clouded my sight. I couldn't see life properly anymore; everything that used to have meaning to me was suddenly lifeless and pointless - worth no more than a whisper of fog in the night."

  "And I was completely aware of what was going on with me; I could see why life was so stale to me. But deep inside I knew there had to be something out there to live for; something that would rip apart the walls that had formed around my heart. I had no idea what that would be, but in my deepest being something whispered its existence to me."

  "So when I met Leala I thought maybe she could be it. I thought that if I could have her in my life, she would outshine the darkness in me; that the haunting memories would keep quiet - if not completely gone, then at least no longer audible."

  "I now know that it never would have filled the hole inside of me. I now see that even if she was in my life, I would probably have killed her - not literally, but that which makes her shine would have died slowly because I would have drowned it with my need to hold onto her as a drowning man would to a piece of driftwood."

  "Very true," Othniel interjected, "Because we're not meant to try and fill the emptiness inside with anything but God. Everything else is unsustainable; it will run empty after a while. Only God can fill to the brim - and then overflow into others around us!"

  "Exactly! I see that now, but I didn't at the time. So I began pursuing her, my thirst for light propelling me along almost blindly. But there was a problem..."

  "Joash," Othniel said.

  "Yes. Leala and Joash had known each other for a while before I arrived on the scene. The first time I saw them together it was immediately clear that they had feelings for each other. Of course, everyone could see it except themselves. Somehow they were completely oblivious to it."

  "I didn't like it, but I didn't know exactly what to do about it yet. And then Leala decided to go and visit her cousin in Arles. Joash was going to accompany her - and I invited myself along."

  "I knew they would have preferred travelling alone, but they humoured me and allowed me to acco
mpany them. Looking back at it now I can see that they probably thought it a good opportunity to share the Lord with me. They didn't directly - I don't think I ever really gave them a gap. But there was a moment along the way where I shared with them more than I have ever shared before, which was a miracle in itself. But I closed up again afterwards and they probably thought it wise not to pursue it any further."

  "When we arrived at Arles, I crept pretty deep into my shell. I wasn't prepared for how much the people cared for each other - Leala's cousin and her husband, that is. They were so warm and welcoming - even to me - that it took me completely off guard. I struggled to find my bearings. Joash and Leala must have realised that because they left me alone to sift through it in peace."

  "That night I overheard Joash declare his feelings to Leala. The same rage that... that led me to kill my own father, overtook me," Lamech said, his voice shaking with emotion.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, clenching and unclenching his fists. Then he continued: "I wanted to kill Joash. But I had the presence of mind to know if I did, I would lose Leala anyway. So I had to come up with a plan that would somehow take Joash away from Leala forever, but without incriminating myself."

  "And then fate, as I thought at the time, gave me an opportunity: the inn was attacked by bandits. I still don't know why they did, but I suspect they were after Gaal - a high ranking official of the Catholic Church who was also staying at the inn that night."

  "Could be. But how did that help you?" Othniel asked.

  Lamech hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with what came next. Closing his eyes, he confessed softly: "The confusion allowed me to steal Joash's dagger. With it I could kill Gaal and then leave it at the scene so the blame would be cast on Joash. See, Joash and Gaal had gotten into an argument earlier that night. I knew that if Gaal turned up murdered with Joash's dagger, he would be out of the picture and I could have Leala."

  "Perhaps. But surely the attack on the inn got in the way?" Othniel asked.

  "See that's the thing: on the one hand they gave me an opportunity to steal the dagger, but on the other hand my plan depended on Gaal surviving the attack."

  Walking next to his friend, Othniel could see by the way his shoulders sagged forward that the recollection filled him with shame.

  "So I threw myself into the fray with wild fury," Lamech continued. "Joash and I - and two of Gaal's bodyguards - fought the bandits with everything we had."

  Lamech looked at Othniel, passion burning in his eyes: "Then at one stage in the fight one of them grabbed hold of Leala, intending to kill her. Joash roared like a wounded lion. It tore right through me, resonating with every fibre in me. All I could see was my dead wife's face."

  "He threw his sword across the length of the room and impaled the man."

  Othniel whistled, his eyes wide.

  "I know!" Lamech exclaimed, "I've never seen a sword thrown like that - it's unheard of! But he threw it with such force that it knocked the bandit right off his feet."

  "I finished off the last attacker while Joash ran to Leala and took her in his arms. She was shaking and crying uncontrollably. In that moment I saw myself; what I would have done had I been present when my wife was attacked."

  "It's then that I understood as clear as day that if I took Joash away from Leala, it would be as if I had torn my own wife away from me. I can't begin to explain to you how that realisation shook me."

  "What did you do?" Othniel asked.

  "I ran away, without saying a word. I simply fled into the night to get away from what I had almost done. To make a long story short, when my head had cleared enough to think about what I should do next, I decided to join the Crusade - and so I ended up here."

  "Which brings us to the letter," Othniel ventured.

  "Yes. It's the first time since that night that I've heard from either one of them."

  "So what did Leala say?"

  "That Joash is in trouble."

  "What kind of trouble?" Othniel asked.

  "The kind where he has been arrested and the pope himself is going to sit in on the hearings," Lamech said pointedly.

  Othniel grimaced.

  "Exactly. He's being accused of murdering Gaal," Lamech said, then nodded emphatically when Othniel raised his eyebrows in shock: "Yes - the very thing I had planned to do, happened after all."

  "Before you even think about asking," Lamech said forcefully, "understand one thing very clearly: there's no way he did it. Men do uncharacteristically terrible things when pushed to the edge, but not Joash. Not after almost losing Leala. He just wouldn't have risked it, no matter how badly he disagreed with Gaal."

  "Not that it really matters, I guess, but what did they disagree about?" Othniel asked.

  "Gaal was sent by the pope to preach the Crusade in all the towns in southern France," Lamech answered. "Joash didn't take kindly to it. It seems that he has a deep-set hatred for the Crusade. He said God is not behind it. At the time I thought he was full of hot air, just as Gaal and all other religious types were. I sided with him on the matter purely because I hated the arrogance of church officials, not because I cared one way or the other what the Lord thought about the Crusade. But now I know Joash was right. He and Leala had the kind of relationship with God that I'm only discovering now and they clearly had a much better idea of what was on the Lord's heart than I did."

  "What does Leala want you to do?" Othniel asked.

  "She wants me to come and testify in Joash's defence. Apparently the pope is allowing her to call witnesses."

  "Not a good sign for Joash," Othniel observed.

  "No, not good at all," Lamech agreed. "Still, she hopes that I might have seen or heard something that night in Arles that could help prove Joash's innocence."

  "And did you?"

  "No," Lamech answered dejectedly.

  "So why are you returning?"

  "Because the Lord wants me to. I don't yet entirely know what He's planning to do, but I know He wants me to return. Maybe He wants me to give comfort to Leala; maybe to testify to Joash's character - I don't know. But I must go."

  "That's good enough reason for me," Othniel said, and then smiled: "The Lord will reveal what He wants you to do when the time is right; you can be sure of that."

  They had continued on to St Simeon in silence for the remainder of the journey. When they finally reached it, Lamech had bid his friend goodbye and urged him to return to Antioch before the Caracen army had a chance to block all the gates.

  As he had stood waiting for the ship to cast off, he watched his friend disappear in the distance. He wasn't sure he would ever see him again.

  CHAPTER 13

  --- Avignon, August 1098 ---

  At first Joash had tried to keep track of the days, the sunlight coming through the air shaft allowing him to at least know when it was day and when it was night outside. But after a while it all blended into one continuous stream of nothingness until he had lost almost all concept of how much time had passed.

  Day after day he would sit in his cell and wait for word of what would happen next. The first few weeks had been sheer mental torment as he went over and over what had happened, trying to find a glimmer of reason behind it all, but he kept on coming up empty. In the end he had to force himself to not think about it anymore for fear of it driving him insane.

  But then a calmness - like what he had experienced during those first few days in prison - began to take root deep inside of him. He wasn't entirely sure when it began to creep into his soul, but somewhere along the way he had begun to find it easier to silence his tumultuous thoughts.

  Leala had come to see him every day during the first few weeks, but her visits slowly tapered off until she only came once a week.

  The strain on her was visible: She was still beautiful, but he could see she was being weighed down by questions. He had tried to encourage her at first, but every time he saw her it was like a blazing hot sword piercing his heart. Scraping together words of encouragement
had become increasingly difficult.

  When she had started coming less, he actually felt relief for a while. He knew that her reasons for coming less were not because she couldn't bear it, but rather because she saw how much it hurt him. Staying away - as painful as it must have been for her - was the only way she had left of showing him how much she loved him.

  Now, when he did see her, their time together was bittersweet, but at least it was no longer only painful. Now he savoured her presence, drinking it up like a parched man. Seeing her leave was still excruciatingly painful, but he found it easier to bear.