“Focus, Wife!” Khalil exclaimed, as they parted to each side of Evremar’s charging horse. He momentarily lost track of Genie, but then heard the clang of swords to his left and realized that – running in the rearguard position — she’d probably just saved his life from an unseen attacker. He’d thank her later, but used her defense to stay on the offensive with Fatima. He shouldn’t have worried about her. They’d fought together in countless battles for over a decade, and those experiences made him feel reassured by her movements. She was staying focused, and falling back into fighting postures that boded ill for the Grand Master if she could reach him.
“Whomever he doesn’t track, takes him in the chest,” she shouted. “He dies now!”
He didn’t have time to reply and, as predicted, Evremar could choose only one of the duo to attack and he went after Khalil.
Evremar brought his sword downward in a devastating stroke as Khalil came within range, but the sheik shunted the deadly metal to one side with his saber and rolled out of the Grand Master’s reach.
Fatima launched herself upward in a side-flip, landing astride the stallion’s withers and facing Evremar so that their knees collided with each other. She plunged her blade into the center of his chest, driving it all the way to the hilt.
Oh no, she’s moved too close to him! Even dying, he could grab her… Khalil thought. Sure enough, still impaled, Evremar slammed a hand into Fatima’s throat and threw her backward in an arching movement over the stallion’s mane.
Khalil was behind them by this point, and couldn’t clearly see what happened next.
Suddenly Evremar’s head snapped backward, and Fatima dropped away from the horse, rolling onto the ground. The stallion swerved and began a trot back toward the city, Evremar finally seeming to realize he was a dead man as he remained unmoving lying on the back of the horse.
In wonder, Khalil looked first to Fatima as she slowly got to her feet, and then at Genie, who dropped the long tent pole she’d evidently swung into Evremar’s face as he passed her!
“That…was amazing,” Khalil complimented, noting that a squad of Archbishop Monachus’s men were escorting the fallen Grand Master’s horse through the east gate.
Genie grinned. “Make sure you tell Alex I learned his stick-ball lessons well!”
“I…I got him, didn’t I?” Fatima gasped. “You saw it, right?”
“In the chest!” Genie and Khalil said simultaneously.
“Thaqib’s still dead,” Fatima said abruptly, then painfully asked Genie if she’d return with her brother’s body at the ruined campsite.
“Get her out of here!” Khalil cried, seeing another Templar rushing forward from behind a burning pavilion.
Fatima, weaponless and still trying to catch her breath, had no choice but to let Genie lead her away. Khalil intercepted the attacking knight, and drove the man backwards, his outlook grim. For all his tribe’s success in surviving the Templar attack, there were still too many garrison troops flooding through Caesarea’s front gate. Where were Guy of Lusignan and the additional forces of his hidden army? Had something gone wrong with the former king’s plan?
As if in answer, an arrow sprouted in his opponent’s eye and the Templar lurched backwards as if yanked by an invisible hand.
The sheik heard the air about him sliced by other arrows, but the only targets the projectiles found were the remaining Templars who’d tried to encircle him. He turned and was grateful to see that his saviors were a few franj. Obviously neither knights from the garrison, nor men from the agricultural community, it took a moment for him to realize who they were — sailors!
Khalil frowned in concentration, and then smiled as Fatima threw herself into his arms. The fighting seemed to be over almost as soon as it had begun, and still there was no sign of King Guy and Queen Sibylla.
More of the Venetian sailors were coming through the Jaffa Gate, some holding swords instead of bows. He recognized Alex following them, and Clarinda herself emerged beside four men who carried a stretcher; a still form lay upon the bier, covered in what appeared to be one of Evremar’s prized Persian rugs.
Khalil approached the Venetian girl.
“My thanks to you, Signorina Clarinda,” he said when she turned to face him. Clarinda’s long, brown hair blew about her face in the sea breeze and her lean features looked tortured and fierce by the light of the wildly burning city.
“That was well done, but I think that Evremar and Monachus are now holed up in the church,” Clarinda replied. “Too quickly over, perhaps, for the evil he did here, but the plan worked. My thanks to you.”
She knelt and wiped both sides of her sword on the tunic of a fallen Templar. Clarinda glanced at the southeastern battlement of the city, peering closely at the figures that could be seen fighting through its rectangular windows. “Ah, there’s one of Guy’s men.”
Khalil followed her gaze and nodded in confirmation. “I wondered where he got to.”
The deposed king arrived on horseback and accompanied by fifteen riders. Guy alighted on the ground before the small group of his fellow conspirators, and assessed the situation.
“Oh, excellent, we’re clear here, too. Apologies for the delay, but Evremar had men who were attempting a pincer movement from the East Gate.” He smiled in his self-assured way. “We captured them and secured that part of the city.”
“We slew ours,” Khalil said, “and Fatima impaled Evremar.” He jerked a thumb at Genevieve. “Genie finished him off by banging him on the head with a tent pole!”
“Mon Dieu,” Guy groaned in exasperation. “I understand getting rid of Evremar, but in the future do try to restrain the impulse to kill Templars, would you, Khalil? Those knights are special, an invaluable resource and can be re trained — it’s just the leaders who go astray sometimes.”
“You make them sound like dogs,” Alex said, hugging Genevieve close to him as she and Fatima joined the group.
Guy looked pointedly at the hoplitarch. “Who was it that recently said, ‘emperors come and go, but the bureaucracy and army stays the same?’”
“Got you there, Brother!” Genie exclaimed, pushing herself backward and giving him a light punch on the shoulder. The young Greek girl’s eyes were afire, and Clarinda was relieved that she’d survived the battle. In fact, if Khalil’s report was accurate, she’d helped Fatima take down the Grand Master himself! Clarinda would never have wished her friend to become involved in war, but she had to admit to herself that — by staying close to Fatima and Khalil — Genie finally seemed to have begun a path to some kind of maturity that she’d never have found back in her pampered life in Constantinople.
Alex smiled, and then became impassive again when he looked at Clarinda and noted the stretcher behind her.
Fatima was next to her now. “Your father?” she asked, indicating the carpet-wrapped form.
“Si, dead.” Clarinda’s voice cracked, and she took a moment to carefully put the rapier into its scabbard. “His body was still warm when we found him, so he was alive when we were all talking….” She fell silent and crossed her arms, watching as her men loaded the corpse into a launch. A single tear flowed down her cheek and Alex started to come forward to put a hand on her shoulder, but she shook her head.
“Your foresight and assistance has saved us and our people,” Fatima said, “but we’re all still in great danger.”
“Clare,” Genie said, coming to stand by the two women. As ever, her words were direct. “Fatima’s brother’s dead, too. When the Templars attacked, his…I’m sorry, Fatima…but, that’s when they found that he’d been put in their ruined tent.”
“They put him under the bed,” Fatima murmured. “When one of their horses crashed through, Thaqib’s body showed up through the shattered frame.” She paused. “Evremar’s been taken care of, but if I ever see the two knights who took Thaqib in the first place, well,” she looked for confirmation at Khalil, who nodded, “we’ve got blades waiting for them, too.”
“Word of this attack will spread throughout the County of Tripoli,” Khalil commented, turning to Guy. “We can’t go to Aleppo anymore.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, Fatima, Khalil,” Clarinda said, brusquely wiping her cheeks with the back of a hand. She sniffed and maintained her composure. “Where will you go?”
Khalil shrugged. “There’s a great military leader, Salah al-Din Yusuf, who long ago offered protection to my people for help in his war against the franj. I will go to him. He might buy our camels at a decent rate, so that things are not a total loss.”
“Do you know where Saladin is?” Clarinda asked, recognizing the name of the Islamic general.
“One of my scouts came back earlier this evening,” Khalil replied. “Saladin’s heading north to besiege a fortress, the Krak des Chevaliers.”
“The Krak?” Fatima looked in alarm at her husband. “When did this scout return, Khalil, and when were you planning on telling me?”
The sheik returned her stern gaze with his own. “Easy, Wife. When we join Saladin, we’ll let him know about Father and Marcus — they’ll be spared if he takes the castle.”
“What about Ríg?” she pressed. “If Saladin discovers —”
“Enough, Fatima!” Khalil cut her off. “We can discuss this later!”
“The Krak des Chevaliers?” Clarinda repeated, her words coming at the end of Khalil’s. Urd’s speech in Hagia Sophia returned to her.
Enlist the aid of the Codex Wielder to destroy the caskets at the Krak des Chevaliers. If you do so, Morpeth and Farbauti will be much hindered in their efforts on this world. Do not underestimate them, nor the machinations and traps that they’ve set in place to retrieve the Codex Lacrimae.
Clarinda almost chuckled darkly to herself. Yes, foolish girl, it’s quite a collection of contradictions you’re building: you’ll help Servius Aurelius Santini who, by the way, died at Mecina. Next, destroy two caskets that — oh, didn’t you know? – that could’ve saved Padre’s life if he’d had them when he arrived here! Lastly, for good measure, do all of this while heeding the words of a stranger whom you haven’t heard from in a month!
Clarinda felt the worlds in which she’d been walking separately start to come together and followed an impulse. The moment was here — a way to the Krak. “Khalil, Fatima,” she said, “the accounting ledger between us is clear, but I’d ask a favor of you, if it’s allowed.”
Fatima smiled. “Anything, Clarinda.”
“Take me and some of my men — with those two crates that they’re bringing from the amphitheater over there – and take us with you to Saladin. Any obligation you have will be fulfilled when I stand before him.”
“Why would you want to go?” Khalil was confused. Now that the woman had found her father, didn’t she simply want to return to the sea?
“Evremar is just one part of a rotten chain of people who did this to my father,” she looked at Guy. “I trust that you’ll be taking possession of the keep and besieging the Church?”
“You must be reading my mind,” Guy replied. “I’ll also be sending requests for reinforcements from Acre and Jerusalem.” He looked to Khalil, and gave him a sardonic smile. “Would you like me to send a detachment to serve as a guard?”
“Sure, that’s exactly what we need, Guy,” Khalil said sarcastically. “We’ll ingratiate ourselves with Saladin when he sees us with a bunch of Crusaders as escort…”
Clarinda stopped listening to the two men as she watched the boat carrying her father’s body propelled slowly back to the Maritina.
Tears came again as she remembered and cursed the words of Urd. I must warn you now, though — even if you reach Caesarea, hope not for your father. Live not for him, but for your Fate yet to be.
She wasn’t sure how to find hope when her heart was so filled with grief and anger. The only focus left to her seemed to be a journey into the desert, bearing two caskets that had caused her father’s murder.
Clarinda inhaled deeply and winced at the smell of fire, death, and destruction.
“We’ll leave within the hour,” Khalil told Alex. “I’ll send some men over to take the crates, and I’d advise taking whatever horses you need from the Templar stocks.”
Genevieve took both Clarinda and Fatima by the arms. “Let’s go – girl time. We’ll sit for a while by the sea — the clean part, away from all this.”
Clarinda bowed her head, glad for the new friendship with Fatima, and surprisingly sudden maturity in Genie. She glanced at Alex to see if he needed anything. The elder brother watched his sister with a stunned expression on his face.
“Go, Clare,” Alex said distractedly when he finally turned to her, a slight smile on his lips. “I’ll get word to Pasquale.”
“I want Padre buried at sea, Alex, even if I can’t be there. Have the crew do it when the ships are some leagues south of here…I’d like Padre’s remains cast into the water as close to Jerusalem as possible.”
Fatima raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “You believe the waters to be holy?”
“It can’t hurt, and I certainly don’t want him anywhere near this place,” Clarinda replied, remaining arm in arm with the Arabian woman, trying to draw some of Fatima’s strength into herself.
She finished giving Alex directions for Pasquale. “After the burial, have the ships get back north to Acre. Let the men have shore leave, but to guard the ships at full alert.”
“You’re expecting trouble?” Alex asked. “At sea?”
“Trouble from all sides,” the young Norn said, “and I foresee that this is just the beginning.”
“Let’s get above the blood and smoke,” Genie prodded. Fatima gave the last of instructions to the tribesmen who’d be tending to Thaqib’s remains.
“She’s right,” Fatima said, nodding toward the youngest of the women. “I’m unsure what all this means, but we need to stay clear-headed somehow, and sometimes that’s best done apart from men and their wars.”
Khalil started to say something, thought better of it, and resumed talking to Guy as the three girls began the short walk toward the amphitheater.
Padre, non ho detto Arriverderci. Clarinda thought. I didn’t tell you goodbye. Then, she indicted herself again. E oltre che, let’s not forget that I let the one man, Kenezki, who I think knows the most about all of this get away. Worse, I think that he might have turned himself into a fish. Ah, Momma, Padre — I’m losing my mind and now you’re gone.
Staying close to Fatima, she hoped that she was giving her new friend as much strength as she felt coming from the Arabian woman. Ahead of them, Genie had broken away and pointed questioningly at the stone benches on the highest tier of the curved, bowl-shaped structure.
Clarinda nodded. It would be a good place to sit for a while, to see the sea one last time with her friends before heading inland to more war and strife.
Chapter 14
A Mother’s Counsel
“... et reduxit super eos Dominus aquas maris filii autem Israel ambulaverunt per siccum in medio ejus.” Jacob finished the sentence, even though he saw that Marcus’s eyes were closed and his breathing deep and steady.
He looked up from the massive copy of St. Jerome’s Vulgate on his lap and stared at the sleeping boy.
Marcus still clutched the leather pouch of dice in his right hand, as unwilling now to give it to Jacob as he’d been when the time had come to clean up. The Gluckhaus board and jettons were neatly stowed on the table next to the bed, easily within reach of the patient for when he awakened. Jacob smiled at the memories of the many games he and his new friend had played together. Skill-wise, the boys were evenly matched, but (except for himself) Jacob had never met anyone as competitive at the game as Marcus.
“Did you just read something about Pharaoh?” Rebecca asked quietly from the doorway.
“Ima !” Jacob turned on the edge of the bed with a surprised whisper. “How long have you been there?”
“Long enough to get the gist that you were readin
g about Moses.”
Jacob nodded, then glanced again at the page and translated the last line for her. “‘For Pharaoh went in on horseback with his chariots and horsemen into the sea, and the Lord brought back upon them the waters of the sea; but, the children of Israel walked on dry ground through the midst of it.’” He closed the book and looked at her. “I love that part, where the sea magically parts and the Israelites get through while Pharaoh and his horsemen get swamped by the water. I wonder if we’ll ever see such sorcerous and supernatural things again?”
“I don’t know about that, but you’re Latin sounds very, very good, Jacob. Your father would be proud,” Rebecca said, entering the room and kissing her son on the forehead before sitting down on the chair near the corner.
Even in the changing light of the aging day Jacob could see how tired she looked and the paleness of her complexion. Something hollow opened in his stomach as he watched her.
“Have you been coughing much?” he asked her.
“No, no — I’m just very tired. I didn’t know you were this close down the hall. I got up to exercise a bit, and heard you reading. I’m just five doors down.”
“I’m sorry, Ima,” Jacob said, genuinely contrite. “I didn’t mean to be here so long, but Marcus has a Gluckhaus board and we got carried away.”
“No, my Sweet,” she replied, waving a hand dismissively, “I was sleeping. I’d rather you have some fun than stare at me and fret.” She looked at Marcus. “He has a nice face,” she said, “a kind face.”
The Codex Lacrimae Page 19
