Templar Steel

by K. M. Ashman

  ‘Thank you,’ said the king. ‘Now, if we are to wait until the Regent returns, perhaps I have time to break my fast.’

  ‘I will arrange something immediately,’ said Sir Redwood and beckoned a servant from a nearby doorway. ‘Arrange a platter of hot meats and fresh bread for the king,’ he said, ‘and have it brought up immediately. In addition, bring some watered wine and a jug of honey.’

  ‘Of course, my lord,’ said the servant and ran out of the hall to the kitchens.

  If you will excuse me,’ said Redwood, ‘I have some business to attend but will be back within the hour.’

  ‘You carry on,’ said the king, ‘for I expect we will still be here when you return.’

  ‘My lord,’ said William when he was gone, ‘perhaps we can use this time to discuss the issue that I raised a few days ago?’

  ‘I assume you refer to the Arrier Ban?’

  ‘I do,’ said William. ‘Have you given it any more thought?’

  ‘I have,’ said the king walking over to sink into the upholstered chair placed there for his sole use.

  ‘And your decision?’

  ‘To call an entire nation to war is a serious move, William, and once issued, it is a difficult summons to retract.’

  ‘I realise this,’ said the prelate, ‘and believe me, it goes against everything I believe in, but Sir Raynald’s arguments have convinced me it is the right thing to do.’

  ‘You have said yourself that the Regent’s tendency is to seek conflict for little reason and though I trust his judgement, I worry that this may be a request solely made in order to flex his sword arm across the south.’

  ‘I’m sure not even Raynald would counsel war without good reason,’ said William, ‘for it risks raising the ire of every tribe across the Outremer, an alliance that we cannot contemplate.’

  ‘Yet is that not the risk we run should we issue an Arriere-ban?’

  ‘My lord,’ said William. ‘The army is still in the north, and we can muster no more than four thousand men at best. Despite their undoubted skills, the estimated strength of Saladin’s forces is in excess of ten thousand and I fear we are risking a defeat that could easily be avoided.’

  ‘The estimated strength of Saladin’s army is the result of rumours only. We have no exact knowledge and no sightings of him or his men. To call the whole of Jerusalem to war on such weak hearsay is a move that needs certainty.’

  ‘But why? Is it not better to have the men ready and not needed?’

  ‘And how do we feed such an army? It is hard enough to keep our own men in food and water so if tens of thousands more flood southward, our supply lines would collapse under the strain. I will not sentence my people to starvation on the strength of rumours.’

  William sighed and nodded in deference. He had tried his best, but he knew when the king had his mind set, there was little he could do to change it.

  ----

  Several leagues south, Raynald led a patrol of thirty knights along the road, seeking any sign of the Saracens reported by the scouts. So far there had been nothing and as the sun reached its highest, they stopped to water their mounts. Some of the squires carried heavy water skins amongst the horses, pouring it into leather buckets as the knights talked amongst themselves.

  ‘These false sightings wear me down,’ said one of the knights, ‘and I yearn to unsheathe my sword.’

  ‘A shared sentiment, Sir Warwick,’ said Raynald, ‘yet we cannot fight what we cannot see.’ He took a long draft of water from his own gourd before replacing the stopper and looking around. ‘This is a harsh land,’ he said yet we seek to secure it in God’s name so must take every obstacle before us in our stride.’

  Warwick’s eyes widened as he stared over the Regent’s shoulder and his hand sought the hilt of his sword.

  ‘We have company,’ he said.

  Raynald turned to see a rider galloping up the rocky path towards them.

  ‘It’s one of ours,’ he said, ‘stand down.’

  The scout reined in his horse, kicking up a cloud of dust.

  ‘My lord,’ he said, ‘there is an enemy encampment hidden in a valley just over the next hill.’

  ‘Saracens?’ asked Raynald.

  ‘Aye. I saw about fifty tents along with many camels and horses.’

  ‘Could it not be just a trading column?’ asked Warwick.

  ‘If they were traders,’ interjected Raynald, ‘then why hide away amongst the hills instead of making their camp alongside the road?’ He turned to the rest of his men. ‘Mount up and secure your equipment. It seems our luck has just changed.’

  Without response, every man turned away to prepare their equipment and within a few minutes, sat upon their horses, each bearing lances adorned with pennants bearing their individual colours. Raynald turned to Warwick.

  ‘There will be no time for strategies or adjustment. I want this to be an effective strike, so we fall upon them with unbridled commitment.’

  ‘I understand,’ said Warwick, tightening his sword belt.

  Raynald turned to the scout.

  ‘Take us as close as you can without being seen.’

  ‘Aye, my lord,’ said the scout and turned to ride back the way he had come, closely followed by the column of fully armed knights.

  ----

  Twenty minutes later, Raynald lay on the ground peering down into a shallow valley. Below him was the encampment. His eyes moved rapidly as he took in the strength of the enemy and his heart raced as he saw many horses tethered within a makeshift paddock. Good horses were hard to come by as most either had to be bought from the men who travelled the trading routes or had to be brought from Europe, a long and dangerous journey that caused many to die on the way.

  ‘It looks like we have caught them unawares,’ said Raynald quietly, ‘and will use it to our advantage.’

  He crawled backwards before getting to his feet and running back to the patrol waiting nervously fifty paces below the ridge.

  ‘God is with us,’ he announced climbing into his saddle. ‘On the other side of this ridge, the enemy relaxes as if they own the whole of the Holy Land. We will form up and give them no chance to reach their horses or prepare a defensive position.’ He spun his horse around to face his men.

  ‘Be aware,’ he continued, ‘every man on the other side of this ridge is capable of killing you or one of your comrades. If they escape, there could come a time when our failure means a friend could die at the end of a Saracen lance. There are also women amongst them but let not this fact affect your resolve. Every woman lives to bear the children that will grow up to hate our faith and every child is indoctrinated into a way of life contrary to the teachings of our Lord. Though it may leave a sour taste in your mouth, now is not the time to doubt your commitment to God’s cause. We are on our way to stop a heathen army from advancing upon Jerusalem and cannot afford to carry prisoners so there will be no quarter.’

  ‘For anybody, my lord?’ asked a voice.

  ‘There will be no quarter,’ repeated Raynald slowly, making his point clear, ‘is that clear?’

  A murmur of assent rippled around his men.

  ‘Good,’ said Raynald. ‘Upon my command, we will fall upon them like a storm.’ He donned his helmet and lifted his visor before turning his horse and riding slowly up to the crest of the slope, finally halting to allow his men to spread out either side of him. When everyone was in place, he lifted his lance out of its holder and couched it under his arm before wrapping the horse’s reins around the pommel of the saddle and drawing his sword.

  ‘Men of Jerusalem’, he called, ‘in God’s name, advance.’

  ----

  The traders down in the valley never had a chance. Many were resting in their tents, taking shelter from the heat of the midday sun while women and children went about their business outside, blissfully unaware of the devastation about to befall them.

  A child called out to his mother and as she looked up, her face fell as she saw th
e column of knights charging down the slopes into the valley. For a few seconds, she stared in shock before her scream of terror echoed around the camp.

  Panic erupted everywhere. Women raced to pick up their crying children, desperate to get out of the way and men stumbled out of the tents, many half-dressed but bearing whatever blades they kept to hand. With no time to think, they had little option but to face their attackers, desperate to protect their terrified families.

  ----

  ‘Here they come,’ roared Raynald over the sound of his charging cavalry, ‘no prisoners.’

  The knights dug their spurs even deeper into their horses’ flanks and lowered their lances to take aim at whoever stood before them. Seconds later they crashed into the camp and though some of the defenders managed to dodge the initial impact, the second rank caught them off guard and they were cut down mercilessly by heavy swords wielded by battle hardened men.

  More Arabs poured from the tents and ran to help their comrades, but the impetus was with the knights and the initial tight ranks broke to ride freely amongst the panicking defenders. People ran everywhere, desperate to escape the carnage and Raynald ordered half his men to dismount, seeking the even greater advantage their superior experience and heavy armour would bring to the fight.

  In pairs they strode through the camp, their visors raised as they smashed their heavy, two-handed swords into unprotected flesh. Blood and bone flew through the air and though some of the defenders managed to reach their attackers, the knights’ chainmail protected them from all but the most well-aimed of thrusts. Men fought everywhere but it was one sided and it took only minutes for the attackers to finish off the brave, but totally unprepared Bedouin traders.

  Soon there was nobody left to fight and as some of the mounted knights pursued those who had tried to flee, Raynald turned back to the men on foot. Many stood where they were, breathing heavily from the effort of their bloody task, their bodies soaked with sweat and limbs aching from the exertion.

  The Regent was about to finally sheath his sword when a young boy carrying a blade far too big for him charged from behind a tent and swung at the knight’s legs.

  ‘My Lord,’ shouted one of the knights, ‘look out.’

  Instinctively, the Raynald turned and swung his own sword in a wide arc, slicing into the boy’s neck, sending his young head tumbling into the sand.

  The knight stared at the boy’s body. He couldn’t have been more than ten years old and wouldn’t have made any dent in his armour even if had he been allowed to hack until dark, but it was an assault nevertheless, and one that had to be dealt with. He turned to look at his men.

  ‘I told you they were dangerous,’ he shouted, ‘and there lies the proof.’ He paused as he saw the hesitation in their eyes. ‘Well’, he roared after a few moments, ‘our job is yet half done.’

  Encouraged by their leader, the men, still affected with the blood rage of war, turned their attention on the women and children still scattered through the camp, hacking them apart without mercy. Screams of terror were soon replaced with howls of pain and despair as Raynald’s men ran amok, and under the heat of the midday sun, the Jerusalem knights slaughtered every single member of the Arab caravan.

  ----

  A few hours later the patrol once again formed up on the ridge above the valley and looked down at what remained of the camp. Everything had been piled into one enormous bonfire and clouds of black smoke billowed into the afternoon sky. Even from their position on the ridge they could smell the stench of burning flesh but though there was some unease about the way they had wiped out the entire caravan. Raynald had assured them that it was God’s work and no matter how young their victims, the fact that they wouldn’t grow up to attack Christian pilgrims meant that the knights would be forgiven their sins when they eventually reached the gates of heaven.

  The regent himself was silent as they watched the flames burn higher. He knew many of his men would privately question the need to kill women and children, but he suffered no such qualms. The fifteen years he had spent in prison at the hands of these people was a heavy burden and even if he lived for a hundred years, he could never kill enough to settle the score. Slowly he sheathed his sword and turned his horse away to head back towards Castle Blancheguarde. His men followed behind, each leading one of the valuable captured horses but though usually after any victory there was celebration, this time there was silence. Somehow, they knew that now first blood had been drawn, it was nothing to what lay before them.

  ----

  The following day, King Baldwin’s column paused on the road south as he, William of Tyre and Sir Raynald rode slowly through the remains of the enemy camp. All around lay the bodies of the dead men, already beginning to rot in the desert sun.

  The king lifted the back of his gloved hand to his nose, trying to block what he could of the stench.

  ‘I count thirty-seven bodies,’ said William eventually. ‘A goodly result considering your men suffered only minor wounds.’

  ‘We caught them unawares,’ said Raynald, ‘and our prowess saw us through. It was a brutal fight.’

  ‘I thought your report said you burned the bodies,’ said William.

  ‘Only the women and children. If we had added all the men, the pyre would have burnt out before consuming the corpses.’

  ‘I would suggest that it would have been easier to not kill them in the first place,’ said William.

  ‘In battle there is little time for such niceties,’ said Raynald. ‘Every hand able to wield a blade is a potential enemy and in the heat of the moment, we have no time to make considered judgements.’

  ‘Did this hand wield a blade?’ asked the king, kicking at the ash at the edge of the still smouldering fire.

  Raynald and William looked down and saw the tiny burned remains of a baby’s hand. The prelate looked up at the knight with undisguised contempt.

  ‘Well?’ he said. ‘What risk did this infant present to a fully armoured knight of Jerusalem?’

  ‘Do not deem to judge me, priest,’ snarled Raynald, ‘it is I who face the swords and arrows on a daily basis while you hide behind the silks and incense of the church. Don the armour and join me in the fray for one day only and I will gladly accept your judgement but until then, keep your condescending opinions to yourself.’

  ‘Yet he has a point,’ said the king quietly.

  ‘My lord,’ said Raynald. ‘You made me Regent to press war against your enemies in your name. This is what we have done. My men should be lauded as great warriors, yet I see the look of disdain in your eyes and hear the sharp criticism from a man who represents the very faith which I have sworn to fight and die to defend. If you want a man of peace, then strip me of my title for this is what I do, this is what I am. I hold no regrets and will gladly face God’s judgement when the day comes.’

  ‘There is no need for that,’ said the king, ‘and I accept that in war, such things happen. Tell your men I am grateful for their actions and will celebrate their victory alongside them as soon as is possible. Now leave us with our thoughts.’

  The knight nodded and walked back through the camp towards the waiting column.

  ‘You do know this was nothing more than a trading caravan,’ said William eventually, ‘and offered no risk to our men?’

  ‘I know,’ said the king quietly, ‘yet my hands are tied in this matter. To berate the man tasked with leading my armies will only sow discontent and that cannot be countenanced.’

  ‘So, he is to be allowed to get away with it?’

  ‘It is a time of war, my friend,’ said the king, ‘and I’m sure there will be many such sights before we enjoy the peace of our beds again.’

  ‘You do know that there will likely be retribution?’

  ‘I do, and that is what concerns me most. Yet the answer has already been suggested to me and my thoughts are now clear on the matter.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked William.

  ‘The first blood has al
ready stained the sand, William, and the news will spread with the desert winds. Those not already against us will likely join the forces of Saladin to get revenge so we have to make sure we are prepared as best as we can be.’

  ‘And how do we do that?’ asked William.

  ‘By carrying out your suggestion.’ He looked up at the priest. ‘This is a damage that cannot be undone,’ he said, ‘and there will be a heavy price to be paid.’ He paused as the weight of his next words sunk in. ‘I have changed my mind, William, and despite my misgivings, I will issue the Arriere-ban.’

  ----

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Gaza

  November 16th

  AD 1177

  The column of Templars and Turcopoles rode wearily through the crowded streets of Gaza. Their surcoats were dirty from sweat and the dust of the road and the horses plodded heavily through tiredness. The journey had been harder than expected, especially as they had to bypass the city of Ashkelon on the way and the Seneschal knew his men needed to rest.

  ‘There it is, Brother Tristan,’ he said with a sigh, looking up at the walls of the small castle on a hill at the heart of the city, ‘our new home for the foreseeable future.’

  ‘Not the biggest I have seen,’ replied the Marshal at his side, ‘which makes me worry about how we are to defend it. The walls alone don’t seem able to withstand any major siege.’

  ‘Our role is not so much the defence of the castle,’ replied the Seneschal, ‘but to use it as a base from which to operate. It is owned by our order and as such is dedicated to our needs.’

  ‘I thought we were to defend Gaza?’

  The Seneschal looked around at the sprawling town. Although there was a wall surrounding Gaza itself, it was poorly built, and he knew it wouldn’t last a day should it be attacked.

  ‘Alas,’ he said, ‘I feel that even with our best efforts, this place is indefensible. Seven years ago, Saladin attacked Gaza and while Miles of Clancy cowered behind the castle walls, the Ayyubid slaughtered everyone within the town.’

  ‘Why did they not seek refuge in the castle,’ asked the Marshal.