The Noble Mercenary

by Patrick John Donahoe

  The translator answered, “He said, I am but a knight in the service of my king, and have only done as I was bid.”

  “Therefore I rule that the older knight be given ten lashes and banished from my empire for having the letter, real or fraud, in their possession, and the younger knight be beheaded for threats against royalty.” He directed his next question to the leader of the German delegation, “Do you have any quarrel with my ruling?”

  “No sire, but we believe the charges are a tissue of lies and these men have done no wrong.”

  “Except possessing an inflammatory letter threatening royalty, and this man’s,” pointing to the younger knight, “threat made public by his own voice.”

  “Yes, sire.”

  “And you,” addressing Ian, “do you have any quarrel with my ruling?”

  “No sire, we are grateful for your audience and support.”

  “My decision is final. You Franks and Germans have to make peace with each other. Do not bring your conflicts into my jurisdiction again. I have no quarrel with either of you except when you bring me into your troubles. As for you, Baldwin’s faithful knight, tell your King to handle any future incidents in his own court. His allegiance to me should be shown in other ways than for me to have to judge incidents that take place in Jerusalem.

  I would be grateful to your King, were he to offer treasure, or some other form of fealty to my station. Your French knights pass through my kingdom daily without thanks or tribute, and rule a territory which should fall within my empire, but you hold as your own sovereign nation under your Pope in the West.”

  “I personally apologize for any disrespect you may have felt has been shown you. It was not intentional. I will personally pass your disappointment on to King Baldwin, your Majesty.” Ian bowed as a sign of respect.

  “Guards take the prisoners to their punishments. You are all dismissed. Leave me now, as my royal bowels have been discomforted by this sordid business.”

  Ian bowed to the Emperor and briskly led his troop out of the throne room, glad to have completed their assignment. Once outside the palace, Ian said, “As much as I would like to spend a few days enjoying the pleasures of Constantinople, we need to gather up our belongings and journey home.”

  His three companions all groaned in unison. Jacques, not one to hold back, asked, “Why not remain, and rest here, at least one day? We’ve traveled so far, and have so far to return. We deserve a rest. There is much to see and do here.”

  “I agree with your sentiments, but we are in grave danger until we are safe within the confines of Jerusalem’s city walls.”

  “Danger from what?” asked James.

  “The Germans are not going to let us return home alive. We must find a few more Frankish knights who are going to Jerusalem and join with them, and leave as soon as possible.”

  “Finding more Frankish knights might take more than a day or two,” offered Jacques.

  “We will leave tomorrow at first light. If we find one, or more allies, to travel with us, we’ll take them along.”

  None of them tried too hard to find traveling companions for the return trip. Many of the individuals they met could have been more dangerous than whatever they might encounter on the road. Of course, the places they looked in were not the most reputable places in Constantinople. Jacques used his talent for having a good time and dragged Dugan and James, who did not object, into several of the available drinking establishments. Ian nursed a couple of pints of ale, and kept a watchful eye over his boisterous friends.

  The next morning, Ian, Jacques, Dugan and James left the city at daybreak. The streets woke with arriving vendors and city dwellers starting their daily routines. Ian hoped they wouldn’t encounter any of the German delegation, who were probably out for their blood. Ian started to breathe a sigh of relief when they were about five miles out of the city.

  Jacques rode up beside Ian, and said, “I think we’re being followed.”

  Ian looked back and could make out several riders gaining on them. His worst fear was materializing. The four of them would be no match for a dozen vengeful German knights. “Let’s ride!” Ian shouted.

  Jacques, his head aching from too much ale the night before, shouted back, “Are we running from a fight?”

  Ian twisted in his saddle to address Jacques, and shouted, “We’re outnumbered. Ride!”

  Ian gave Tonnerre Noir a slight kick in his sides, and Tonnerre Noir anxious for a good run, bolted ahead of the group. Ian easily kept the lead, not wanting to get too far ahead of his friends, but pressuring them to ride hard. If all four of them had steeds like Tonnerre Noir, the Germans would never be able to catch them. After a mile’s hard ride, Ian spotted three riders ahead. Upon closer inspection, he recognized two of them as the Arabs they had aided on their way to Constantinople. Ian pulled up to Abram, and shouted, “The Germans are chasing us!”

  Abram replied, “Follow us to our camp.”

  Ian shouted back to Jacques, “Follow us!”

  Abram and his companions led them across the sand toward a large encampment. The Germans caught up with them less than half a mile from the encampment. The four Franks and three Muslims fought sword against sword with the thirteen Germans until the din of swords’ clashing, and shouts of the fighters, alerted the encampment of the battle. Several fighters rode out from the camp and joined in the fray.

  The leader of the German delegation had singled Ian out for attack. He swung a spiked ball attached to a chain at Ian, battering Ian’s shield, but Ian waited until his opponent had to retract the ball for another swing, and sliced his forearm off with one swift cut of his scimitar. The Arabs fought like tigers, killing and wounding the Germans in a frenzy. Down to only a few remaining astride their horses, the Germans started racing away to escape their ultimate defeat, but the tribesmen followed, one, or more, per German, and hacked at their backs knocking them to the ground gravely wounded, or dead.

  The tribesmen, not satisfied with merely defeating the Germans, jumped down from their horses and began separating the German’s heads from their bodies, blood gushing like geysers. The leader of the German contingency, knelt upon the ground in front of Ian, held up his sword in his remaining arm, and cried out, “Mercy, can you not see we are defeated?”

  “Your defeat is obvious, your remorse for your attack is not,” Ian stood over the man with his scimitar prepared to lop off the man’s head.

  “Abram, call Ishmael to me. I want him to examine the bodies, and tell me if any of these men were involved in the attack on him and his father.”

  Ishmael, ran up to Ian and said, “Sire, I do not recognize this man, but he rides my father’s stallion.”

  “Where did you get this horse?” Ian demanded of the German leader.

  “I bought it from one of my delegation. I do not know where he got it.”

  “Is the man here in your party?”

  The leader pointed to a dead man lying on the ground nearby, “I bought it from him. My horse was old and tired. I needed a fresh mount.”

  “Abram, I leave these men to your justice. They were involved in the robbery and attempted murder of your brother. Do with them as you will. I thank you for saving our lives with your intervention.” Ian stepped away from the German leader.

  Abram approached Ian, and hugged him, then Abram said, “Our debts are paid, but our friendship continues.”

  “Thank you, my friend.”

  A groan rose up from the German leader as he passed away.

  Ian glanced at the dead man, “He lost too much blood, or I might have been able to save him.”

  “His passing has relieved me of the obligation to behead him,” Abram replied. “Use your medicines on those who deserve your aid. My kin will take care of the dead. Let us retire to our camp and rest.”

  Ian noted the tribesmen stripping the Germans of their clothing, weapons and personal items. The young men led the Germans horses away to the camp. Ishmael got up on his father’s horse a
nd rode it back to camp with Abram, Ian, Jacques, Dugan and James.

  Abram rode next to Ian, and said, “My men will bury the bodies deep in the desert. If Crusaders think we had any involvement in the death of those men, they will hunt my whole tribe down and slaughter us all . . . and then again, they might anyway.”

  “I understand. I wish there could be peace among all our peoples.”

  “So do I,” Abram replied.

  Two

  Ian burst into Jacques’ quarters and shook Jacques awake. Jacques grabbed Ian by the tunic and attempted to throttle him, but Ian sat on Jacques’ chest and held him still until he quieted down.

  “What sort of foul intrusion do you perpetrate on a man asleep on his day off? You, grand oaf.”

  Ian laughed and leaped to his feet in an attempt to avoid Jacques’ fists raining punishing blows on his frontal region. “Brother, it’s a glorious day, and I have someone I would like for you to meet.”

  “Male or female?”

  “Male.”

  “Forget it,” Jacques said and rolled over onto his left side with his back to Ian.

  “This could be very important. I think I’ve found us a way home.”

  Jacques turned part way toward Ian and said, “This had better be good.”

  “It is. A minor Frankish noble, Baronet St. Etienne, wants us to guard him and his entourage on their journey back to France. He will pay both our expenses and some to boot.”

  “Why didn’t you say so,” Jacques rose from his cot, dropped his nightshirt on the floor and peed into the hole in the corner of his cell, which drained down the armory walls to the stables below. Jacques selected a clean tunic, undergarments and pantaloons from his clean laundry basket and put them on. He then stood over his night stand wash basin, poured fresh water from a pitcher over his hands and washed them with the coarse soap he purchased from the monks at the hospital.

  Ian picked up Jacques’ well used nightshirt from the floor using the tip of his sword, and dropped it into Jacques’ dirty clothes basket, while Jacques brushed his teeth with his index finger covered with coarse soap, then washed his face.

  “I’m ready,” Jacques announced, as he put on his sandals. “In fact, I’m more than ready. I’m supposed to protect the Holy Sepulcher from a dreaded Muslim uprising, but instead I spend my time breaking up fights between the Roman Catholic priests and the Greek Orthodox priests in the holiest church on the earth. I need to leave here for a while and visit my family. It’s been too long.”

  Ian led the way from the armory quarters to the Palace where James, his day watch supervisor, was on duty. Ian had trained his cadre of guards so well that he only had to pull guard duty when there was an emergency, which didn’t occur very often anymore. This left him plenty of time to pull shifts at St. John’s Hospital with Desiree and to enjoy personal days with Serena when she was available. King Baldwin had hired an excellent stable master, recommended by Ian, so Ian only had to inspect the stables once per week as part of his Head Guard for the Palace duties.

  Jacques had difficulty training his men until Ian’s training assistance turned them into an efficient guard. Once the men were properly trained, Jacques enjoyed considerable time off, also.

  Ian addressed his right hand man guarding the entry way into the palace, “Good morning, James. I trust everything is under control.”

  “No trouble today, sire.”

  “We’re here to meet with the Baronet of St. Etienne.”

  “He waits within. . . very impatiently.”

  Ian and Jacques strode into the Palace to the anteroom that Godfrey had set up for city officials like Ian and Jacques, to have meetings with their underlings, tradesmen, merchants, and semi-important travelers. Important travelers, Papal representatives, and High Royalty, especially those bearing gifts, met with King Baldwin in his throne room.

  The Baronet of St. Etienne appeared to be enraged at having to wait for two non-royalty knights. He grudgingly nodded acknowledgement of Ian’s and Jacques’ arrival, and did not rise when Ian offered a handshake.

  “Sire, this is my brother Jacques. We heard that you require travel security for a return trip to France.”

  “I do. I’ve had my fill of this foul smelling, wretched city and this depressing country.” The Baronet pulled a scented handkerchief from his breast pocket and covered his nose. “The stench from the massacre when this city was taken nearly a year ago still remains in the stones. I wish to return to my estate in France, safely. There are brigands everywhere in this country. I was lucky to arrive here alive.”

  “We know, sire. We are the remnants of the First Crusade under Raymond of Toulouse and Adhemar Bishop of Le Puy. I am the Head Guard for the Palace and Jacques is the Head Guard of the Holy Sepulcher.”

  “How old were you on the first Crusade. You do not appear more than 20 years old.”

  “We left France when we were very young.” Jacques stroked his beard. He thought it made him look older.

  “And who do you propose to serve as my guards for my journey?”

  “Ourselves, of course. It’s been almost four years since we left home, and we desire to see our families again.”

  “Just the two of you?”

  “I assure you sire; we are the two most capable knights in all of Palestine. We have participated in more battles than we can count.”

  The Baronet studied Ian and Jacques, two tall, well-proportioned young men, with legs like tree trunks and sturdy well-muscled arms and necks. “You seem capable enough. The scimitar at your side is quite fearsome. Are you the one they call ‘the Caliph?’”

  “Yes sire, and my brother Jacques is known as the ‘the Decimator,’ but we would rather just be called by our Christian names. How many will be in your party?”

  “Myself, my wife, my manservant, my laundress and cook, and my stable boy.”

  “I see, and what would be our terms of service?”

  “You will see us safely to Marseille, and I will cover all expenses plus a small stipend upon our safe arrival in gold.”

  “How much of a stipend are we talking about?” asked Jacques.

  “500 Francs, for the both of you.”

  “For such a journey with travelers who are not capable of participating in the fray if we are attacked, we ask for double that stipend, half now and half when we arrive, plus all travel expenses.”

  The Baronet flummoxed by the bravado of the two knights shrugged, and said, “You drive a hard bargain, but the sooner my person can be returned to my home the better I will like it. I will provide you with 500 Francs on our departure. I have done some research on the two of you and been assured you are true to your word, also, Luc LeFriant is not well and you have gained a temporary release from your duties to return home for a visit.”

  “We’ve been looking for a patron to fund our travels.”

  “Then maybe I can offer you less and you’ll take it.”

  “We will not. The road back is fraught with danger, and there are many travelers wishing for escort. Each time we gain purchase in one area of Outremer, we lose purchase in another. When you have our initial half payment, and a contract prepared for the other half, we’ll be ready to go.”

  “You are obstinate young men. . . Well done. Baldwin has allowed me to remain in the Palace until we depart. I will show you the horses and provisions I have for the journey, and you can advise me on any further preparations, or provisions, you deem are required.”

  “Let’s go to the stables and inspect your horses. Then we’ll prepare a list of required provisions for the journey. Your manservant and cook can obtain the items in the marketplace.”

  Ian led the way out through the Palace portico and stopped at James’ post, “Jacques and I will be traveling to France. We’ll be gone for a few months. You’ll be in charge of the Palace guard, and Jason will be in charge of the Sepulcher guard until we return. I’ve discussed the arrangements with King Baldwin, and he has approved your temporary promotion with
the commensurate pay.”

  “Thank you, Ian, I will make you proud.”

  “I know you will. We’ll leave in a day or two. I’ll explain all your duties to you before we leave. You may hire a temporary guard to fill your current duties while I’m gone. If the temporary proves his worth, I’ll consider hiring him permanently on my return and will owe you a favor.”

  “Thank you, again, sire.”

  Ian and Jacques led the Baronet to the stables.

  Ian strode into the hospital passing the monks who served as doctors and nurses, to the few patients who remained. During the passing months, the bed ridden patients had been reduced to a handful, since no major conflicts had occurred. Jerusalem and the surrounding countryside had become somewhat peaceful under Baldwin’s rule. Ian found Desiree in the small room where she stole away to relax on the rare occasion when she found time to relax. Desiree and an Italian woman were the only two female nurses in the monk run hospital. “Hello, Desiree.”

  Desiree sat in a chair at the dining table with a pot of honey and a half loaf of bread spread out in front of her. She appeared to be napping while sitting up. The sunlight on her face accentuated the beauty of her olive complexion and jet black hair. She looked up at Ian with dreamy eyes and said, “Hello, Ian. I’m so glad to see you.” She stood as Ian approached, rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek.

  Ian resisted giving her a hug, bracing himself to tell her about his and Jacques’ imminent departure. He laid a large bag full of books on the small table. “Jacques and I are going on a journey.”

  “Going where . . . when . . . how?” She studied his face as if the answers would magically appear.

  “Jacques and I are going to France to visit his family then on to Ireland to visit my Uncle,” Ian replied, almost running the words together.

  “How long will you be gone?” Desiree asked with deep concern in her voice.

  “Depending on how our travels, and visits go, we’ll be gone for three to five months.” Ian looked into her deep brown eyes, and added, “I have a favor to ask of you.”