The Honorable Knight

by Patrick John Donahoe

  “Now you, Ian, my young friend, never have I seen one so valiant in battle and so humble in demeanor. I’ve been observing you for some time. I’m asking you to be my personal bodyguard and to select, train, and organize the Palace guard, including hiring a stable master and helpers to take care of all our horses. I’ll assign someone else to oversee the stables when you recommend the right individual, so this is only a temporary additional duty for now. What say you to this?” Godfrey bored through Ian with his dark brown, almost black eyes.

  “I’m your man, sire. I’ll require more details, and I, like Jacques, would like to visit France and Eire at your pleasure.”

  “Again, well spoken. You’ll receive further instructions this evening along with Jacques after supper, here in the Palace. Both of you purchase new garments worthy of your stations as soon as you have personal time. Visit my treasurer, Armand. He is expecting you, and will advance funds for your personal needs, and for hiring and training your guards. Take funds as necessary as you go. Be thrifty and wise with the funds and beware of thieves.”

  Godfrey turned to Raymond, who had been listening quietly. “Raymond, I see why you have such high esteem for these young men. I only wish we had a few thousand more just like them.”

  Addressing Ian and Jacques again, he said, “We’ve gained a Christian Jerusalem with a cost of many lives. I wish no more unnecessary deaths. The barons may disagree with me, but I want you to protect the lives of all who live within the city and the vendors who arrive daily to hawk their wares, be they Christian, Jew, or Muslim. We’ll operate the city as a Christian city with protection for all, even from ourselves.

  Many Jews and Muslims have petitioned to live in the city. Those with skills we need, we’ll allow on an individual basis. Do not let any of them be harmed. There has been enough bloodshed in this Holy City. You two may take your leave, visit my treasurer, and return for supper. We have many details to discuss.”

  “Yes, sire . . . yes, sire,” Ian and Jacques replied as they left.

  Once outside the palace, Jacques said, “Head guard for the Holy Sepulchre; can you believe it?” and slapped Ian on the back. “You would think he would have assigned you to the Holy Sepulchre, not a non-believer like me.”

  “There may have been some wisdom in his choice. But me, Head of the Palace guard for the new leader of Jerusalem, can you believe it?” Ian almost shouted. He slapped Jacques on the back in return.

  “Not bad for a couple of youngsters like us. Within six months you must have trained and organized your guards so that we can visit my father in France. Agreed?”

  “Agreed. And you the same, so we can visit my uncle in Eire.”

  Eighteen

  Ian strolled to the marketplace, enjoying the warm day and sunshine after a long night’s guard duty at the Palace. One of his recently recruited guards had asked to be relieved from his watch for personal reasons and agreed to take two additional watches for the favor. Ian agreed to take his place this one time, but counseled the recruit to plan his personal life better in the future. Many knights petitioned to serve under Ian, but he intended to hand select only the best.

  Ian needed more herbs for his medicine supply. Most of his medicines had been used tending to sick or injured guards over the past few weeks. He treated many who still suffered from their illnesses despite visits to the H’ospital of St. John. He had met most of the herb and potion vendors and found only a couple of them provided fresh potent herbs.

  He glanced at his list: oregano for ear, nose, and throat infections; cayenne for colds and sore throats; dill for heartburn and diarrhea; cilantro for joint pain and depression; mint for nausea and vomiting; curry for pain; parsley for bladder infections; basil for constipation and indigestion; and ginger for an upset stomach and inflammation.

  He was so involved in reminding himself of his potential purchases that he did not notice the girl standing next to him making her own selections. He stepped sideways, head down, to inspect a basket of ginger root and bumped into the girl.

  Not knowing if he was too absorbed in his herbs to notice her, or if he purposely bumped into her, she said, “Sir, can you not watch where you’re going?”

  Startled from his obsessive scrutiny of the ginger, Ian looked up and said, “Forgive me, my lady. I did not mean to contact your person.” Ian stared at her, awed by her large brown eyes, long black eyelashes, and soft clear olive skin.

  “If you’re so entranced by herbs, then you’re forgiven,” the girl said. “I admire a man who knows herbs and their use. Is that a list of the herbs you’re after?” she asked and held out her hand for the list.

  Refocusing his attention, Ian replied, “Yes, I need to replenish the supplies I use to treat my fellow knights.” He handed the girl his list.

  She scanned the list and said, “If you’d like, I can help you find everything you need in high quality and bargain price. My name is Desiree. I’m a nurse at the hospital.”

  “Pleased to meet you. My name is Ian. I would appreciate your assistance. Thank you.” He reached out to kiss her hand, but she held it back.

  “No offense?” she asked.

  “No offense taken, my lady.”

  Desiree selected several of the herbs on Ian’s list from the stall they were at and haggled in Arabic with the vendor until she obtained the lowest price the man would accept, then she led Ian to another vendor three stalls away where she helped him select and purchase the rest. Desiree was impressed with the young knight, having not met a knight as humble, and gentle as this giant of a man. Also, she was highly impressed with his knowledge of healing. When they had obtained everything on his list, she asked him, “Where did you obtain your knowledge of herbs?”

  “My mother was a healer. She used to take me with her when she would call on patients and taught me everything she was doing. She also wrote a Book of Healing in Gaelic, which I have translated into Frankish and am attempting to translate into Hebrew and Arabic.”

  Desiree, astounded even more by this young man, asked, “Why do you not serve in the Hospital? We have great need of someone like you there.”

  “My duties as Head Guard of the Palace and stables supervisor keep me too busy to take on new assignments.”

  “Your immense talent shouldn’t go to waste. Can you not ask for some duty in the hospital? Even one day a week would be of tremendous value.”

  “In addition to my already full-time duties?”

  “No, in place of. You seem like someone who could convince your superior to allow an alternative assignment.”

  “I had thought of doing just that at one time, but became too involved in my day to day activities,” he replied. “You’re right. I have a squire in mind to take over as stables supervisor. I’m only two guards short of a full complement. Once I hire and train two more guards, I’ll have the free time to do as you suggest.” Ian smiled at Desiree.

  Disarmed by Ian’s appealing smile, she appreciated his attention, but she decided it was time to leave. “I must be going. My shift at the hospital is about to begin. I hope to see you there soon, goodbye,” Desiree said, turned, and walked away.

  Ian stared at her for a few moments and then headed toward his quarters with his purchases.

  Desiree looked back at Ian, watched him walk toward the mount where the Palace and stables were located, and thought, I cannot have these feelings for a Frankish knight. He’s a Christian and I’m a Muslim. There’s no future here or anywhere for two like us.

  Jacques pulled his sword from its leather scabbard and inspected the nicked dull cutting edge. He decided to shop around for a swordsmith to create a replacement. Bernard, one of his Sepulchre guards, recommended a swordsmith named Mordecai and gave him directions to Mordecai’s blacksmith shop in tradesmen’s alley.

  Jacques found his way to the shop via the irregular laid out alleys in the trades section of Jerusalem. As he strode into the shop like a conquering knight, he almost ran into a girl dressed like a blacksmith, wea
ring a leather vest having multiple pockets, with her face and arms grimy from furnace ash and sweat. Her hair was a tangle of unbrushed curls and smoky dirt. Jacques was taken aback at her workmanlike attire and appearance.

  She looked at him and asked, “Can I help you, Monsieur Knight?”

  “My name is Jacques LeFriant. I’m looking for the swordsmith, Mordecai. I’d like to commission a custom sword for my daily use.” Jacques, never at a loss for words when speaking to women, felt awkward speaking to this unladylike apparition. His speech felt stilted and too formal, but he was dealing with an unusual female.

  “Mordecai is my father. He runs this shop. You have to come back later to talk to him.” The girl looked him up and down and continued, “He’s at the leather worker’s shop having a scabbard made.”

  “Can I assist you while I wait? I’m quite handy.”

  “I’m quite handy myself and don’t require any assistance, so thank you, no.”

  Jacques stood his ground and watched the girl refill the fire pit with a bundle of hardwood.

  “What are you going to create today?”

  “We’re starting an order for two swords for two German knights.”

  “I’ve not met many Germans on my journeys. What are they like?”

  “Rude, crude, and not good representatives for knights, in my opinion.” She began to work the bellows, heating the coals to a red glow. “My father will take any commission, even from pigs like that.”

  “You have strong opinions.”

  “I’m strong all around.”

  “Can I tell you what I have in mind, or does your father only let you do the dirty work?”

  Slightly red-faced beneath the grime, Serena stopped working the bellows, and said, “Tell me your requirements so I can write them down. My father will need a day or two to estimate the cost. Is that good enough for you?”

  “Of course, my lady.” Jacques gave her his lady killer smile and bowed slightly. “I need a sword similar to this one.” He pulled his sword from its scabbard and handed it to her to inspect.

  She accepted the sword hilt first and examined it with her most critical eye. “A plain Frankish Crusader style sword. Not much sophistication here.”

  Taking the quid pro quo for his sarcasm in stride, Jacques replied, “That sword has been in more battles than you can imagine.”

  “Yes I can. It’s chipped along both edges and duller than this conversation.”

  Jacques decided he wasn’t going to win a war of words with this tigress, proceeded to tell her his requirements for a new sword, “I’d like the blade to be 30 to 32 inches in length, sharp along both edges, topped with an ivory hilt and a fleur de lis pommel. How long will it take to make it? And how much will you charge?”

  “As I already told you, we’re starting work on two swords today. We can’t start yours for at least two weeks, and it will take at least a week to complete, if you want quality work. We have other orders in the queue already. Cost will have to be provided by my Father. He requires at least half payment in advance to start the process.”

  “Thank you, my lady. I leave you to your labors and bid you adieu.” Jacques bowed slightly and walked out of the shop without looking back.

  Serena watched Jacques walk away and thought, he is too handsome for his own good, and I can’t get emotionally involved with a Frankish Crusader. He’s a Christian and I’m a Jewess. There’s no future for us. Besides, he annoys me.

  “I don’t want to use my personal day to visit a hospital.” Jacques complained as they left the stables and walked through the cobblestone streets of Jerusalem.

  “You will today. I’m going to introduce you to Desiree.”

  “What makes you think I’ll like her?”

  “She’s beautiful and intelligent.”

  “I’ve met many beautiful smart women.”

  “Not like this one. She’s exceptional. Trust me.”

  Jacques walked up to the front of the hospital, a large stone edifice with two small windows opened to the street, protected from intrusion with criss-crossed black iron bars. Jacques opened the closed but unlocked door, turned to Ian and said, “You’re going to have to lead the way. I don’t know my way around inside.”

  Ian walked into the hospital and led Jacques past several rooms full of patients with everything from minor to fatal illnesses, ranging from non-contagious to contagious. Ian knew most of the longer term patients by name from working two ten-hour days in the hospital the previous week.

  He had shown Desiree all four versions of his Book of Healing, the Gaelic, the French, and the beginnings of the Hebrew and the Arabic versions. She had made several word, phrase and grammar corrections to his Arabic version in the little time they had to spare during their shifts together. She told Ian she was excited to assist in completing the Arabic version.

  Ian entered the nurses’ office and asked the elderly nun dressed in a white frock, white slippers and cap. “Agatha, where can I find Desiree?”

  “She’s changing Sebastian’s bandages.”

  “Thank you.” Ian led the way down the next corridor to the second room on the right and entered to find Desiree dressed all in white. Her long black shiny hair was pulled up tight in a bun and tucked into her white cap.

  She turned and smiled when she saw Ian, her even white teeth almost flashed in the reflected sunshine pouring through the small window. Her dark brown almost black eyes sparkled as she said, “I didn’t expect you today. Are you here to work?”

  “No, this is just a visit.”

  “Don’t just stand there. Help me bandage Sebastian’s leg.” Desiree looked over at Jacques and asked, “And who is your friend?”

  “This is my friend and brother, Jacques LeFriant, my lady,” Ian replied. “We take turns saving each other’s lives.”

  Desiree continued wrapping Sebastian’s right leg until she reached the end of the bandage and handed Ian the end. Ian split the end of the bandage in two and tied the ends around Sebastian’s leg to hold the bandage in place.

  “Now, Sebastian, the next time you go out on patrol remember to take one or both of these two ruffians to protect you from the robbers and brigands.” She turned to Jacques and said, “Jacques, any friend of Ian’s, who takes turns with him saving each other’s lives, is a friend of mine.” Desiree bowed slightly to Jacques, then smiled an enigmatic, what lies beneath that smile, smile.

  Jacques, charmed and for once at a loss for words, reached out for Desiree’s hand, lifted it to his lips like a typical Frenchman, kissed her hand, and said in his most charming voice, “My life is now complete having met the angel of mercy.”

  “Ian, I think I like your friend.”

  “I’m glad you approve,” Ian said.

  Jacques said, “I’m honored to have met you my lady, but I must check on my guards at the Sepulchre. I hope to see you again.”

  “I’m sure you will,” Desiree replied.

  Jacques left the hospital with Ian. He considered his brief encounter with Desiree. He felt for the first time in his life that he was in love, but was reluctant to mention it to Ian because maybe Ian was already in love with her, and Ian saw her first.

  “Turn-about is fair play, my brother. I’m going to introduce you to a beautiful girl. She’s just your type,” Jacques said, a huge grin splitting his handsome two-day beard. His blue eyes twinkled the way they did when he was playing a prank on Ian.

  Ian noted Jacques’ jokester demeanor and asked, “And what is my type?”

  “You know built like a trebuchet, with muscles like a water buffalo. And bathes once a year whether she needs to or not. You know the type.”

  Ian shoved Jacques, nearly knocking him down. Jacques shoved back until they were tumbling and falling and trying to outwrestle each other on the cobblestones. Ian held Jacques in a leg scissors grip and tried to choke the life out of him, while Jacques wrapped both hands around Ian’s neck and tried to choke him out. Finally, with both of them out of breath,
they loosened their grips on each other and warily got to their feet.

  “I call truce,” said Jacques.

  “Is she beautiful, or not? Or is this some devilish prank on your part?” Ian demanded.

  “She is beautiful. If you can resist killing me before you meet her, you will thank me for the introduction. Besides, it’s about time you retired your father’s sword and had a new one crafted. You’ve sharpened it so many times it’s already more rapier than sword.”

  Ignoring Jacques’ feeble attempt at humor, Ian said, “It is getting a bit thin. I could use a new sword, maybe a scimitar.”

  They walked down the tradesmen’s alley with Jacques in the lead until they reached the blacksmith shop. Jacques walked into the shop where a girl dressed in loose grimy clothes was pumping a bellows increasing the fire and heat of a pit full of hardwood chunks. Without acknowledging their arrival, she worked a billet of steel in the hardwood fire until it began to glow red hot. Sweat dripped off the end of her nose onto the steel as she hit the billet time and again with a large hammer flattening it out to the shape of a blade.

  Ian thought, there might be a beautiful girl beneath the sweat and grime and blacksmith’s garb, but only a highly exaggerated imagination could see it.

  The girl stopped pounding on the billet long enough to look up and see Jacques and Ian staring at her. She frowned at them, quenched the billet in a stone jar of cold water, and set the billet down on the edge of the fire pit. “Hello, Jacques, what can I do for you?” in a cool tone of voice.

  Jacques replied, “I have another customer for you. His sword is a hand me down from his father,” Jacques glanced at Ian, then continued, “And he could use a new, professionally crafted one made by you and your father, the greatest swordsmiths in Jerusalem.”

  “Your flattery will get you everywhere. And what is your friend’s name?”

  “Ian, my lady. Ian is my name. I’m proud to make your acquaintance.” Ian bowed slightly to the unladylike angel in front of him.