Templar Steel

by K. M. Ashman

  Hunter stood amongst the undergrowth with the horses, preparing them for the final gallop towards the Christian lines. Within the hour they would divest themselves of everything they had to lighten the load and push their mounts to breaking point but with all the water gone and having eaten very little for days except what they could find amongst the desert scrub, the horses were tired and weak.

  ‘One last push, girl,’ said Hunter quietly, patting his horse on the neck, ‘and I promise you can have all the fodder you can eat.’

  The horse whinnied gently as if in response and though it was the last few drops he had, Hunter emptied his water bottle into the palm of his hand, sharing the meagre droplets between the two mounts. Gerald crawled back and joined the scout.

  ‘Are they ready?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘Ready,’ said Hunter, ‘but whether they are able, is another thing.’

  ‘They are subject to God’s will,’ said Gerald, ‘as are we.’

  The two men discarded their chainmail and helmets along with their surcoats and undershirts. As the sun dipped towards the horizon, they mounted their horses, dressed only in leggings and boots.

  ‘If one falls, the other carries on,’ said Gerald, ‘agreed?’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Hunter.

  ‘In that case, let’s get this done.’

  Both men rode their mounts slowly out onto the open slope, using the last of the undergrowth as a screen between them and the Saracen camp. They came to a halt and with the last of the light quickly fading, surveyed the ground before them. The slope fell away to a flat plain relatively empty of obstacles, but the distance to Baldwin’s camp was at least three leagues.

  ‘That looks like a wadi,’ said Gerald, pointing to a cleft in the ground halfway between them and the king’s camp. ‘If we skirt around to the right we can maintain our speed but anyone coming from the Saracen camp will have to ride around it. It will give us a few extra minutes.’ He wrapped his reins tightly around his hands. ‘Do not stop, master Hunter,’ he said without looking over at his comrade, ‘in any circumstances. The future of Jerusalem is in our hands.’

  ‘Then let us begin,’ said Hunter, ‘and may God go with us.’ Both men made the sign of the cross and as one, spurred their horses into an immediate gallop down the hill… into full view of the Saracen camp.

  ----

  Sir Raynald rode his horse slowly around the perimeter of the Christian army’s temporary position. He had almost ten thousand men and horses encamped upon the open plain but knew that they were now more exposed than they had been within the walls of Ashkelon. Consequently, no tents had been erected in case of an immediate call to arms and every man knew that if any sleep was to be had that night, it would be wrapped within their cloaks. Even the king insisted on sharing their discomfort and sat below the true cross at the centre of the camp alongside the Bishop of Bethlehem and William of Tyre.

  On either side of the Regent rode two fully armoured battle commanders and together they inspected the perimeter. It was going to be a long and nervous night, and as they were so close to the enemy positions, they could afford no weaknesses.

  The outer perimeter of guards stood ten paces apart and encircled the whole camp, over a hundred fully armoured mounted knights facing outward, bearing lances, broadswords and maces. Behind them stood half a dozen archers and a dozen foot-soldiers, each tasked with staying fully alert and ready to fight if needed.

  Fifty paces in front of the guards, a ring of bonfires created an illuminated swathe of ground where any aggressors would be seen should an attack come. The artificial light was a barrier to the rest of the countryside, beyond which none of the guards could see, so to combat the disadvantage, Raynald had deployed several listening patrols further out, their role to be as quiet as possible and give plenty of warning should they hear or see anything that may suggest an attack was imminent.

  ‘Pass the word,’ said Raynald to the knights as they rode, ‘any man found sleeping on duty tonight will be summarily executed. One weak link and this chain can be torn asunder by the Saracens. Our numbers may be even, but the element of surprise, especially in the dark is worth an army in itself.’

  ‘Yes, my lord,’ said one of the knights.

  ‘Relieve the sentries every two hours,’ said Raynald, ‘and make sure the rest get some sleep and food. Tomorrow this phoney war ends, and the real conflict begins.’

  ----

  Ten leagues to the north, hidden away amongst the rolling hills, another ten thousand Saracens lay waiting for the final command to advance towards Jerusalem. The movement of so many men from the Maktesh Ramon without being discovered had been almost an impossible task yet they had done so successfully and the final advance past Blancheguarde castle to Jerusalem was only hours away.

  Amongst them all was Salah ad-Din himself, Ayyubid Sultan of all Egypt and Syria and alongside him, his favorite General, Shirkuh ad-Dun. Both men pored over a deer-hide map of the area in the Sultan’s command tent.

  ‘So, are our armies ready to do Allah’s will?’ Asked Saladin.

  ‘They are,’ said Shirkuh. ‘Your plan has been executed perfectly and the Christian eyes are on happenings elsewhere.’ He pointed at the map. ‘Faruk-Shah has the city of Gaza under siege and yet may provide us with a surprising outcome while your general, Nizam al-Mulk readies his command to engage with Baldwin at dawn.’

  ‘And my nephew?’

  ‘Taqi ad-Din has laid waste to all the coastal towns from Ramla to Arsuf.’

  ‘What about the city at Lydda?’

  ‘Destroyed, my lord. You nephew has carried out his task well and is waiting for us to join him at Al-Safiya.’

  Saladin looked at the map. Al-Safiya was only five leagues south of Blancheguarde Castle and a perfect staging post for his men to assemble before making the final push north.

  ‘Is there water there?’ asked Saladin.

  ‘There is a river, my lord,’ said Shirkuh, ‘and there will be rain tonight so water will not be a problem.’

  ‘And the men have been briefed?’

  ‘They have. At dawn, Half of Nizam al-Mulk’s army will circle around to the north of Baldwin and create a wall of steel between us and them, while the other half race northward to join us and Taqi ad-Din at Al-Safiya.

  ‘A sizeable force,’ said Saladin.

  ‘Indeed, my lord, over twenty thousand men ready to march on Jerusalem while the Christians run in circles like mad dogs.’

  ‘And our baggage trains?’

  ‘They travel along the hidden paths. Five thousand camels laden with enough supplies to keep our men in the field for weeks. Another ten such trains are already on their way from Egypt and Taqi ad-Din has taken a mountain of supplies from the Christian towns along the coast. Our ships also stand ready to be loaded and will bring extra men as soon as we make a port available.’

  ‘That will have to wait,’ said Saladin. ‘Jerusalem must be the only thing in our minds until our banners fly over the city. After that, we can turn our thoughts to securing a port.’

  ‘Understood,’ said Shirkuh.

  ‘In that case,’ said Saladin, ‘it seems all that can be done, has been done. Tell our men they must be as silent as death for to be discovered now could see our mission fail. Our fate is now in Allah’s hands.’

  ‘Allahu Akbar,’ said the general, touching his hand to his chest and lips as he bowed before the sultan.

  ‘Allahu Akbar,’ replied the Sultan and waived the general away while he remained staring at the map. Everything he had so carefully planned had come to fruition and even the Christians had played their part by falling for his deceptions. Everything now relied on the gathering of his armies at Al-Safiya before the final push north to Jerusalem

  ----

  Chapter Thirty

  The Ashkelon Plains

  November 21st

  AD 1177

  ‘They’ve seen us,’ shouted Gerald, looking over his shoulder and seeing a line of rider
s emerge from the Saracen camp, ‘come on.’

  He dug his heels into his horse’s flanks, driving it to the extremes of its endurance. Hunter rode just as hard and a cloud of dust flew high in the air behind them, but despite the head start, it was obvious the pursuers’ horses were fresher and they gained ground with every second that passed.

  ‘We are not going to make it,’ shouted Hunter as the Saracens closed in, ‘it’s too far.’

  ‘Keep going,’ shouted Gerald, ‘we’re almost there.’

  ‘I’m going to try something,’ shouted Hunter, ‘keep going.’

  ‘Stay with me,’ roared Gerald as Hunter veered off route, but it was too late, the scout had ridden in a circle and now galloped straight back at the Saracens.

  ‘Hunter,’ he shouted again but the scout ignored him, galloping straight back towards their pursuers. Gerald thought furiously. Kinship demanded he rode back to help Hunter but with the future of Jerusalem at stake, it was more important that the king knew the truth. He kicked his heels again and bent low over his horse’s neck, urging her to one last effort, leaving the scout heading toward certain death.

  ----

  Behind him, Hunter headed straight for the Saracens, drawing his sword and raising it high into the air.

  ‘Come on,’ he roared, ‘here I am.’

  The effect was immediate, and the Saracens lowered their lances in response. The distance closed but seconds before they met, Hunter veered his horse to the right, galloping towards the wadi they had seen earlier.

  Taken by surprise, the Saracens, reined in and wheeled their horses to pursue him before their commander realised what was happening.

  ‘Hold,’ he roared, ‘he seeks time for his comrade to escape. Ten men go after him, the rest, continue the chase.’

  The group split into two, but the momentary hesitation had given Gerald some extra valuable seconds and at last, he thought he was actually going to make it.

  ‘Come on,’ he shouted at his horse, ‘almost there,’ but no sooner had the words left his mouth than his mount tripped and sent him crashing to the floor. For a few moments he lay there stunned, but as his senses returned, he struggled to his feet and turned to face his pursuers. His left arm lay limp at his side and blood ran down into his eyes from a wound on his scalp, but his sword arm was uninjured. He drew his blade, vowing that if he was about to die, then he would take as many as he could with him.

  As the noise of the horses thundered closer, he cursed silently, not in judgement of his imminent death but because he knew that the knowledge of Saladin’s true plan would die with him.

  He said a silent prayer and flexed his fingers around the hilt of his sword, taking a deep breath and adjusting his stance in the sand of the desert floor, but just as the Saracen horsemen appeared out of the darkness, his prayers seemed to be answered and the attackers swerved sharply away.

  Gerald was stunned but everything became clear as thirty Christian lancers thundered past him in pursuit of the fleeing Saracens. He fell to his knees, gasping in relief and just stayed there until another patrol followed the first, this time stopping alongside him.

  ‘Who are you?’ shouted the knight in charge, looking down from his warhorse.

  ‘Sir Gerald of Jerusalem,’ came the reply, ‘and you need to get me to the king, urgently.’

  ‘Are you wounded?’

  ‘My injuries will wait, my message will not.’

  ‘What message?’

  ‘The true nature of Saladin’s plan. Please, we are wasting time. I have to see King Baldwin.’

  ‘Can you ride?’

  ‘Aye,’

  The knight turned to one of his men.

  ‘Get this man back to camp,’ he snapped, ‘the rest of you come with me.’

  ‘Wait,’ said Gerald, ‘I have a comrade still out there. The last I saw he was headed for the wadi with Saracens in pursuit.’

  ‘If he is alive,’ said the knight, ‘we will find him. Now get your message back to the king.’ Without another word, he spurred his horse to lead the rest of his patrol after the first and disappeared into the darkness.

  The remaining lancer offered his arm down to Gerald and moments later, both men were astride his horse, riding as hard as they could back to King Baldwin’s camp.

  ----

  Hunter reached the wadi and raced headlong down the steep rocky slopes into the darkness below. Somehow his horse survived the descent, but the nature of the ground and the overwhelming darkness meant he knew he had to find somewhere to hide. He quickly dismounted and slapped the horse’s haunches, sending it trotting further into the darkness before crawling beneath a nearby thicket of tangled scrub.

  He gathered his breath and placed his sword in front of him along with his knife, swearing to himself that he would not rot in a Saracen jail.

  The sound of men clambering down the slope sent fear into his heart and his hand reached for the hilt of his sword but as he braced, a voice rung out in the darkness.

  ‘I don’t know where you are, comrade,’ it said in perfect English, ‘but you are safe now. We are lancers in King Baldwin’s army and have come to take you back.’

  Hunter gasped in relief and crawled out from his hiding place. Moments later, he followed the three men back up to the rest of the patrol waiting on the wadi edge. Behind them came a fourth, leading Hunter’s exhausted horse.

  ‘You are a lucky man,’ said a knight as he appeared. ‘Another few moments and we would have been too late.’

  ‘Remind me to buy you and you men enough ale to drown a horse,’ said Hunter.

  ‘I’ll hold you to that,’ said the knight.

  ‘What about Sir Gerald?’

  ‘Safe and on his way to the king.’

  ‘Thank God,’ said Hunter.

  ‘Aye,’ said the knight, ‘thank him indeed, for tonight he was surely at your side.’

  ----

  Back in the Christian camp, Gerald stood before King Baldwin and Sir Raynald, illuminated by a circle of Braziers. Above them all loomed the imposing silhouette of the true cross, the gold shimmering in the light from the flickering flames.

  ‘Sir Gerald,’ gasped the king, ‘I thought you was dead. What miracle delivers you back here?’

  ‘My lord,’ said Gerald, ‘I live by the grace of God and can only say that it was his will that paved my path here. Many did not survive.’

  ‘How many are with you?’ asked Raynald.

  ‘Only a handful survived, they are on their way to Blancheguarde.’

  ‘Why Blancheguarde?’

  ‘It was the nearest place of safety.’

  ‘Yet you rode here, risking the Saracen army?’

  ‘There was no other choice, my lord, we only had two horses, and someone had to get the information to you.’

  ‘What information?’

  ‘Saladin’s true intentions. This army to your front is a feint only, as is the attack on Gaza.’

  ‘We know this,’ said Raynald, ‘Ashkelon is his intended prize.’

  ‘No, my lord,’ said Gerald, ‘that is what he wants you to think. There is an even greater army already on its way north towards Blancheguarde. While you are fighting here in defence of Ashkelon, Saladin will be riding hard towards Jerusalem. We have to head north immediately.’

  ‘Another Saracen army?’ said Raynald. ‘That’s impossible. We already know of almost fifteen thousand Ayyubid warriors in the field. To take Jerusalem Saladin would need at least ten thousand more and even then, I suggest it would be an impossible task.’

  ‘Would it?’ asked the king quietly. ‘With my main army in the north, and the rest of us down here chasing shadows, Jerusalem’s walls are virtually undefended. If he can bypass Blancheguarde then his path is clear.’

  ‘All he needs to do, my lord,’ said Gerald, ‘is place the castle under siege while the rest of his men continue north. Make no mistake, his eyes are on the greater prize.’

  ‘And who told you this?’ asked Rayna
ld.

  ‘A Templar sergeant. The information was overheard from warriors sat around a campfire in Saladin’s camp beyond the mountains.’

  ‘A Templar Sergeant was in an Ayyubid camp?’

  ‘Not the sergeant, his squire. A Bedouin boy who could understand the language.’ He paused as he saw a look of incredulity appear on the Regent’s face. ‘You have to believe me,’ he continued, ‘the boy is a Christian and as true as you or I.’

  ‘You are telling us,’ said Raynald eventually, his voice laden with disbelief, ‘that a Bedouin boy, who probably has family in the Ayyubid’s ranks, overheard a few warriors discussing Saladin’s master plan around a fire, and on that basis alone, we should now march away from the battlefield to head north, leaving Ashkelon undefended?’

  ‘I know it sounds unlikely,’ said Gerald, ‘but one of my men also talked to a shepherd who saw a great army heading north west in the mountains. The Templar sergeant is a good man and, on his word alone I would recommend such action, but over the past few days, I have seen massively increased Saracen activity with my own eyes. On the way here, we could hardly walk an hour without having to hide away from passing patrols or heavily laden caravans of camels and horses.’

  ‘It is an astonishing tale,’ said the king, ‘and if true, changes everything.’

  ‘Aye,’ said Raynald, ‘but if not and we change our course, Ashkelon and Gaza will be at the mercy of Saladin.’

  ‘My lord Raynald,’ said Gerald, ‘a few days ago we were sent out on a patrol tasked with seeking intelligence about the Ayyubid. We were ambushed with many of my men slaughtered. Some escaped over a cliff, including myself and most carry wounds, or injuries from the fall. We have suffered the furnace of the desert sands and the iciness of the mountains with no food and little water, yet we have been steadfast in our service. If I did not truly believe that Jerusalem is at risk, I would not have ridden here and risked being killed by the Saracen army on the plains.’