Templar Steel

by K. M. Ashman

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Judaean Mountains

  November 13th

  AD 1177

  Gerald struggled back to consciousness. Someone was dabbing a wet cloth on his forehead and he opened his eyes to see the scout looking down upon him through a bruised face.

  ‘You look bad,’ said the knight eventually.

  ‘You don’t look so good yourself,’ said the scout. ‘Keep still, there are still thorns embedded in your face from the fall.’

  Sir Gerald waited as the scout did the best he could.

  ‘We need a physician’s tools to get the rest,’ he said eventually. ‘Some are beneath the skin and short of using my blade, are beyond my reach.’

  ‘They will wait,’ said Gerald, pushing himself up into a sitting position and looking around. They were surrounded by heavy scrub and he could see more men being tended by their comrades amongst the bushes. ‘Where are we?’

  ‘About a league from the cliff,’ said the scout. ‘We are safe here for the time being.’

  ‘Did they follow?’

  ‘Not as far as we are aware, but we have sentries out, just in case.’

  ‘How did I get here?’

  ‘We carried you, along with several others.’

  ‘How many survived?’

  ‘There are seven of us still able to fight, eight including you.’

  ‘Any knights?’

  The scout shook his head.

  ‘None, my lord. Those that survived the fight died in the fall or are lost somewhere upon the plain. We have men looking for them but without sounding a rallying horn, there is no way to find them.’

  ‘Eight is more than I could have hoped,’ said Gerald, struggling to his feet. ‘What is your name?’

  ‘James Hunter, my lord. My family have served many noble families over the years tracking deer and boar in the forests of England.’

  ‘A noble trade. How are you here?’

  ‘The foolishness of youth,’ said Hunter. ‘I saw my peers marching off to join King Henry’s army and was caught up in the fervour. I joined them and my skills as a tracker soon saw me being employed as a scout.’

  ‘That does not explain why you are in the Holy Land and not England.’

  Hunter paused and stared at the knight, wondering if he should tell the truth.

  ‘You hesitate,’ said Gerald, ‘so I assume your tale is one of shame?’

  ‘I killed a man,’ said Hunter suddenly, ‘yet I do not regret my actions. He had forced himself on a young girl, no more than a child really, and I set about him with my fists. During the fight, he drew a knife and I used it against him, piercing his heart with his own blade.’

  ‘I see no crime in such an action.’

  ‘Nor did I at the time yet the sheriff thought differently.’

  ‘Did the girl back up your version of the events?’

  ‘Aye, she did, and indeed there was another witness, but it turned out the rapist was the sheriff’s nephew, so I could expect no justice.’

  ‘So, you ran?’

  ‘I fled to the nearest port and worked my passage on the first ship I could find. When I got to Acre, I sought work as a mercenary, the only order that would take on men at arms without asking too many questions. Again, my skills found me employment as a scout and here I am, lost in the desert with a knight who’s face looks like a pincushion, yet has the power to have me hung as a murderer.’

  ‘I don’t think that is going to be an issue,’ said Gerald.’ You have already proven your worth and if we get out of this situation alive, perhaps I can petition the king to grant you a pardon.’

  ‘Which king?’ asked Hunter, ‘for the pardon of Baldwin holds no sway in England.’

  ‘You wish to return?’

  ‘Aye, one day. I hope to go home and pick up what I so foolishly left.’

  ‘A mantra repeated by many men I believe,’ said the knight. ‘Anyway, enough talk. Let us see who is left and who is able. The quicker we get back to Baldwin’s column the better.’

  ----

  Several leagues away, King Baldwin and his entourage approached the imposing castle of Blancheguarde. The fortress sat high upon a hill with sheer walls that dropped to a rocky escarpment. The only approach was across a deep ditch excavated to provide the stone blocks that made up impressive defensive walls.

  As they neared, they could see men running along the battlements, taking up defensive positions at the castelades, not because they had mistaken the column for the enemy, but to pay him the respect he was due as king of Jerusalem.

  ‘It looks like they have seen your banner,’ said William riding at his side. ‘I suspect the castellan will make every effort to ease your pain.’

  ‘A warm bath will do wonders for my sores, William,’ said Baldwin,’ but will not be the salve for the worry in my heart.’

  ‘My lord,’ said William, ‘God has gifted us with free will to do what we can in this life but ultimately, only he can see what lies ahead. I believe you have done everything you can within your power to put a halt to Saladin’s ambition so allow your heart to ease. What will be, will be.’

  ‘I agree with the prelate, my lord,’ said Sir Raynald from his horse on the far side of the king. ‘We are almost four thousand strong and can probably rely on the same number from in and around Ashkelon that will heed our call if needed.’

  ‘I have every faith in our men,’ said Baldwin, ‘but let us not forget that our spies report that Saladin fields over ten thousand warriors.’

  ‘This is true.’ said Raynald, ‘but there are other factors to consider. First of all, the standard of each and every one of our men is far higher than any Saladin can field. In a pitched battle, our strengths come to the fore and they cannot withstand a close quarter charge. All we need to do is buy ourselves some time until our army arrives from the north and I see no reason not to sleep soundly at night.’

  ‘I hope you are right,’ said the king as they neared the slope leading up to Blancheguarde’s magnificent gates, ‘for if we engage them and are found wanting, then there is nobody between Saladin and Jerusalem.’

  All three men fell silent as they crossed the wooden bridge and as their column waited on the plains below, rode between the gate towers to enter the castle.

  ----

  Inside, a Templar knight strode across the courtyard to greet the king. His tabard was pure white emblazoned with a blood red cross and a heavy sword hung from his side.

  ‘Your grace,’ said the knight as he neared, ‘welcome to Blancheguarde.’

  ‘Sir Redwood,’ said the king looking down from his horse, ‘it has been a long time.’

  ‘Indeed it has,’ said Sir Redwood. ‘The last time we met, you were yet a boy and I served under your father in Jerusalem.’

  ‘Five years is a long time,’ replied the king, ‘and it was before you joined the Templar order. I only wish you had stayed to serve under me.’

  ‘Your father treated me as a brother,’ said Sir Redwood, ‘and when he died I grieved as if he was my own blood. But his death freed me to follow my true calling and I enlisted with the brotherhood to do God’s work.’

  ‘And are you happy?’

  ‘Happiness is not a goal we seek,’ said Redwood, ‘but my soul is at peace and if I am to die wearing the red cross, then I do so knowing it is truly God’s will.’

  The king nodded and turned to introduce his entourage.

  ‘This is William of Tyre and my regent, Sir Raynald of Chatillon. They are to be treated as well as I while we are here.’

  ‘Both are known to me,’ said Redwood with a nod, ‘and will be well quartered.’ He turned to indicate the man at his side. ‘This is my second in command. He will ensure your needs are met while you are here but if we fall short in your expectations then please seek me out.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said the king. ‘Now, if you don’t mind we are tired and hungry. I trust you can accommodate us?’

  ‘Of course,’ said
Redwood. ‘Leave your horses here and come to the main hall. We have refreshments waiting. While you dine, I have arranged fresh food and water to be taken out to your men. They can camp below the castle walls and tonight I will provide the necessary sentries to allow them a good night’s rest.’

  ‘Will you not be joining us?’

  ‘Alas it is a day of fasting for us, but God will provide any sustenance we need.’

  Baldwin nodded and gingerly removed his aching feet from his stirrups. Two courtiers ran forward with a set of wooden steps and placed them beside the king’s horse before helping him dismount and walking beside him and Sir Redwood to a nearby doorway.

  ‘He seems to have everything under control,’ said Raynald when they had disappeared into the hall.

  ‘So he should,’ said William. ‘He has had over two days’ notice.’

  Raynald turned to look at the prelate.

  ‘You sent word that the king was on his way?’

  ‘Aye,’ said William. ‘Is that a problem?’

  ‘You risked the messenger being caught and the king’s plans being known to those loyal to Saladin. We could have been caught in the open.’

  ‘Did you not say only a few hours ago that you feared nobody, such is our strength?’

  ‘Words designed to soothe the king’s mind only,’ said Raynald, ‘as well you know. Come, let’s see what this fellow has provided in the way of food and wine.’ He dismounted and handed over the reins to one of the many waiting grooms before making his way over to the hall, closely followed by William.

  ----

  Below the castle walls, the rest of the column unloaded the carts and pack mules. Sergeants strode back and forth amongst the many men issuing their commands and soon a village of tents started to sprout up. In amongst them, prisoners built the fires needed to cook the huge amounts of food needed to keep an army fed and young boys made countless journeys from the supply wagons to the cooking areas. While the camp was being sorted out, the mounted knights rode around the perimeter, ensuring they were victim of no surprise attacks but eventually a mounted column emerged from the castle to take over the responsibility and those that had travelled from Jerusalem handed their horses over to their squires before divesting themselves of their armour and heading towards their allocated tents.

  Back in the castle, Baldwin sat upon an ornate chair as his servants carefully removed his riding clothes. Underneath the heavy outer fabrics, the lighter silk underclothes had protected most of his skin from the worst of the desert dust, but where the sores were worse, the bandages were sodden with blood and pus. Gingerly his physicians removed the wraps and washed his body before applying the usual Comfrey and Aloe poultices.

  ‘It feels particularly bad today,’ said the king wincing as one of the physicians pulled away some rotting skin at the edge of one of the wounds.

  ‘The heat of the sun and the stress of the road has done you no favours,’ said the physician, ‘you would have been better advised to stay in Jerusalem.’

  ‘We have had this conversation,’ said the king, ‘my place is here with my men. Just patch me up as best you can and pray this will soon be over.’

  ‘After I have cleaned the infections,’’ replied the physician, ‘I’ll prepare some hemlock to ease the pain. While you are eating, I’ll arrange hot water for a bath and check your quarters are adequate.’

  ‘A clean bed and an end to my pain, albeit temporary is all I desire,’ said the king.

  The physicians finished what they were doing, and dressed in a clean robe, Baldwin walked slowly across the hall to join the rest of his entourage standing near a table laden with food.

  ‘My king,’ said Sir Raynald as he approached, ‘I trust you are feeling more comfortable.’

  ‘As good as can be expected,’ said Baldwin, lowering himself into a chair, ‘please, do not stand on ceremony. Eat your fill and relax. We have a few days to recuperate before ploughing on to Ashkelon.’

  The men approached the table and started filling trenchers with a variety of food.

  ‘My lord,’ said one of the servants, ‘would you let me bring you a platter?’

  ‘No need,’ said a voice and both men turned to see William of Tyre carrying a bowl filled with boiled goat and onions in a gravy sauce.

  ‘Thank you,’ said the king, his eyes widening with surprise at the sight of his favourite meal, ‘this is a luxury even I did not expect.’

  ‘There is also some chilled wine when you are ready,’ said William, settling on a chair next to the king. ‘Sir Redwood stores jugs deep in a cavern beneath the castle where the dampness mimics the coolness of winter.’

  ‘I am impressed,’ said Baldwin lifting the spoon gingerly to his mouth. He sipped the warm gravy carefully to check the temperature before closing his eyes with pleasure at the delicious richness.

  ‘This stew is sublime,’ he said eventually ‘and bearing in mind the Templars are an order that preaches abstinence in most things, it is my great fortune that Sir Redwood happened to provide such a delight.’

  ‘A coincidence indeed,’ said William glancing over to Raynald. ‘I shall arrange fresh fruits to be finely chopped and bring them when you are ready.’

  The king nodded as he gently bit down on a piece of tender goat meat and William walked over to join Raynald at the table, leaving the king in the hands of his personal servants.

  ‘How fares he?’ Asked Raynald.

  ‘As well as can be expected,’ said William. ‘These journeys always take it out of him and I just wish he had stayed behind.’

  ‘I pressed such a thing upon him, but he would not listen.’

  ‘Sometimes he can be as stubborn as a mule.’ He turned to look at the weather worn features of the infamous knight. Raynald’s reputation for brutality was well known but though the prelate loathed what he stood for, he knew the Regent was loyal and not afraid to defend the king with his life.

  ‘Your comments outside have me worried,’ he said. ‘I thought we had nothing to fear from Saladin, such was our strength.’

  ‘Shelve your fears, priest,’ said Raynald, ‘and worry only about garnering as much of God’s grace as you can. ‘

  ‘I pray constantly,’ said William, ‘but worry it will not be enough.’

  ‘I would expect no less,’ said Raynald picking up a slice of mutton on the end of his knife, ‘but there may be something more practical that you could do that will aid our campaign, should the need arise.’

  ‘And that is?’

  ‘Convince the king to issue an Arriere-ban.’

  William paused and stared at the knight.

  ‘Is the situation really that serious that such a thing is necessary?’

  ‘In war, you can never have too many forces,’ said Raynald, ‘and a general call to arms would mean our military strength could increase tenfold.’

  ‘It would also mean castles would be stripped of their garrisons, farms being left untended and families torn apart as fathers and sons leave to answer the king’s call.’

  ‘All better than allowing Baldwin and the true cross to fall at the feet of the Ayyubid,’ said Raynald.

  ‘Even if I can persuade him, what is to say they will muster in time for any battle? Surely by the time word gets out there will be little time for anyone to get to Ashkelon.’

  ‘Ten thousand men will be a gift from God,’ said Raynald, ‘but if even one man joins us as a result of the Arriere-ban, then that is one more sword to fight the Saracens. Hopefully they won’t be needed but I am nothing if not experienced in war and believe this is a necessary step.’

  William sighed heavily. What had started out as a mere rumour only days earlier had escalated to a point where all-out war was almost inevitable, and he knew only too well that no matter who emerged victorious, hundreds if not thousands of men would die, on both sides.

  ‘Are you sure about this?’ he asked eventually.

  ‘As sure as the sun rises in the east,’ said Raynald. ‘So
, can I count on your support?’

  ‘Aye,’ said William, ‘you can, but may God preserve us.’

  ‘Leave God to do what God does best,’ said Raynald, slapping William on his shoulders, ‘but in the meantime, there is food to eat and that wine is not going to drink itself. Come, let’s see if we can do it justice.’

  ----

  Several leagues away, Hunter led Sir Gerald and what was left of his patrol westward from the scene of the ambush. The going was slow, as many of the men had suffered wounds in the battle or carried injuries after their retreat from the escarpment, but gradually they realised that they were not being followed and spirits rose.

  ‘Do you know where we are?’ asked Sir Gerald, walking alongside the scout.

  ‘Not exactly,’ replied Hunter, ‘though I recognise those mountains to the north-west. If I am correct then we will be back in friendly territory in a few days and with a bit of luck, may be able to secure some horses to get back to the king.’

  ‘My lord,’ called a voice, ‘the men beg a respite.’

  Gerald nodded and pointed to a copse of leafy trees.

  ‘We will rest there a while,’ he said. ‘See to our injuries and share what water we have but drink sparingly, we know not when we will find another source.’

  The stragglers made their way over to the shade and collapsed on the ground as Gerald lowered himself to sit alongside the scout.

  ‘So, he said, ‘What did you make of it back there?’

  ‘The ambush?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘I thought it was very cleverly planned out and designed to get as many as possible to surrender.’

  ‘I agree,’ said the knight, ‘but why do that when they had us so outnumbered? They could easily have killed every one of us with minimal casualties.’

  ‘Sometimes, my lord,’ said Hunter, ‘our perceptions of Saladin are blurred by stories of brutality that gather intensity the more they are repeated. I have heard tales of chivalry being retold as savagery depending on the teller and on how much ale has passed across the table.’

  ‘Where is the honour in doing such a thing?’

  ‘For a foot soldier whose lot it is to die in a foreign land, the opportunity to regale a listener with tales of bravery against a savage foe garners more free ale than stories of peace and parley. Alas, it is often the way that the more brutal the story, the more likely it is to be remembered by the listener and it is these tales that colour our perceptions.’