by Griff Hosker
Chapter 15
As I sat and waited for dawn, for I could not sleep, I ran over what we would do. Even if we succeeded and escaped to the Dead Sea, I knew that the odds were that I would not find Geoffrey of Lyon. Would that torment me? Would I return home and fret that I had failed to keep a promise made to a dying man? My father was right; a man cannot change his nature nor his blood. My blood went back, so I was told, to one of King Alfred’s housecarls, a Varangian Guard. Neither the housecarls nor the Varangians had ever broken a promise. The Warlord had been faithful even though it had cost him his wife. My father had been unwilling to endure the Bishop of Durham’s treachery and risked his soul. This was my test and how I dealt with it would show what kind of man I was.
I knew that the castle was just a few miles away. When the evening breeze shifted, the smell of their fires drifted towards me. I knew that I would hear their mullahs calling the faithful to prayer. Jean had estimated that there could still be more than a hundred men inside the castle despite the fact that An-Nasir Dawud had taken the bulk of his warriors to Cairo. I was pessimistic enough to expect more than two hundred men. The Emir of Kerak had managed to capture a poorly held Tower of David and he would not risk the same happening to his stronghold. I stood, to stretch and to face east. I would have to remain immobile for a couple of hours. I walked some distance away from the quarry side and made water. I heard others doing the same for the night was so silent it was eerie. The only sound we heard was the sound of the carrion feasting on the three corpses. I could have shifted them but they would return when we had gone. It was life.
I saw the thin line of dawn as I heard the distant trumpet awaking the castle. The men there would be rising and it would still take a couple of hours for them to reach us but we were now on the cusp of battle. I went back to my hiding place and took out my sword and scabbard. I would have to attach them now. It was unlikely I would make a noise in doing so but I dared not risk doing so when the guard was a few paces away. I attached it and slipped the sword in and out a couple of times. I watched the sun peer over the eastern horizon and I went into my hiding place. I pulled up my hood and covered my chausses with my cloak. The cloak would shade me a little and keep me hidden. I would look just like a rock although as I was below the eye line of any watching sentry I should be as near invisible as it was possible to get. I took my dagger from my belt. That would be in my left hand and if I was surprised then I could use it while drawing my sword.
The sun had been up for some time when I heard, from the road, the creak of wagons and the sound of men talking. The speakers would be the guards as Jean told us that whipping was the smallest punishment for talking! None of us was in a position to see the quarry. By the very nature of our plan, we were hidden and we would all have to wait for the horn and then count to one hundred. Of course, we would listen for the sound of discovery. That had been a real possibility and if that happened then I would shout, ‘Arsuf!’ as the signal to start our attack. If that eventuality occurred then we would, in all likelihood, lose. It was when the voices drew closer that my heart began to race. The guards were coming to their sentry posts and talking to each other. Until they turned to face the quarry, their guard posts circled, they would be looking in the direction my men had hidden. This would be the only time that they might accidentally see us. When the conversation stopped and all we heard was the crack of stone on chisel and the smack of whip on flesh we knew the work had begun.
The heat began to rise with the rising sun. It was bad enough for us but we were shaded and not moving. How much worse for the captives who were labouring under the blazing rays of the sun with minimal water and having been fed starvation rations; just enough food to eke out another day of work? Jean had told me that they had a constant source of slaves and dead prisoners did not worry them. I wondered what the time was. My secret place was between two rocks and while I could detect the movement of the sun, I could not ascribe a time to it. This was not my country. When I heard a shouted conversation between two sentries begin then I prepared myself. This had to be close to the time when the horn would sound and the sentries would be starting to relax. It became silent again and then I heard the horn sound. I counted to one hundred and then was out of my place so quickly that I had taken a step before I began to draw my sword. I turned to look at the guard. He was moving toward me. He must have been heading for his toilet. It meant I had a shorter distance to cover before we met and I swept my sword across his neck. I am not even sure that he actually saw me. It was a merciful killing for the spurting blood told me that he was dead before he hit the ground. I saw Rafe War Axe bury his axe in the back of his sentry. The arrows from our archers had killed their men and now they targeted the overseers. Cedric had an arrow already winging its way to the man with the horn even as he raised it to his lips to summon help from the castle. I trusted the others to kill their men and ran towards the quarry. I saw that there were about twenty-two or three captives. The overseers and guards who had not been slain were shouting. I hoped that the wagon drivers, who would already be heading back to the castle would not hear them and then I remembered the creaking, groaning wheels which had heralded their arrival. That sound would mask any shouts which reached them.
I think the huge overseer who ran at me must not have realised that his archer guards were all dead for he was bellowing for dead men to kill us. He had a long two-handed sword. Jean had told me that sometimes, the man known as Black Abdul, would show off his skill by beheading a prisoner who had annoyed him. He would be a strong swordsman. I did not slow as he swung the sword. Timing was everything and I used my sword to deflect the blade to one side as I carried on running and, when his foul-smelling face was close to mine, I rammed my dagger up under his ribs. I twisted and turned it and, as I pulled it out, a snake-like mass of intestines came with it. He dropped his sword and tried to push them back inside. He sat on the ground. His wound would take many hours to kill him.
I saw Sir Philip and his men at arms slaying the last of the guards while Jean was gutting the last overseer. We had eliminated the guards. All that remained were the captives and the dying sentries. Peter and Rafe were close behind me. I shouted, first in French and then in English, “We are here to rescue you. We have horses. Follow us!”
These men had been abused on a daily basis and even though freedom was close by some could not but resist running to their guards and, after taking weapons, mutilating their bodies. I was wrong about the large overseer taking hours to die. Three men ran to him and, picking up his sword hacked his body into six pieces.
“Hurry!”
I looked around to make certain that all of our men had survived. There were five extra horses which my archers were already riding back to our camp. Cedric Warbow also had bundles of Turkish arrows. “You never know, my lord, these might come in handy.”
“Did any get hurt?”
“Two of Sir Philip’s men were a little slow. They have cuts but nothing serious, lord.”
I nodded, we were still hurrying after the captives, “Let us see if the rest of the plan goes as well.”
We were the last to reach the horses and Matthew and Mark had mounted the rescued captives first on the Turkish horses. I was thankful that we had captured so many from the Turks and now we had extra horses and they might prove invaluable. Cedric and the archers would lead off for they would, if all went well, set up their ambush. Next would come Jean, Mark and Matthew with the rescued men. Last would come Sir Philip, his squire and our men at arms.
Matthew held my stirrup for me to clamber on to Thorn’s back. He grinned, “That was a long night, lord!”
“You did well; now remember, get these men to the road! Leave the Turks to us.”
“Do not worry lord. I will not let you down and one day you shall knight me and make my father proud.”
We gave the men on the Turkish horses forty paces start. Then we followed at a steady pace. Our horses had been rested. They had been fed grain and they
were well watered but they had twenty miles of heat to endure. I estimated we had no more than an hour before the Turks sent word back to the castle. The vengeful captives had wasted time taking out their vengeance on the dead and dying and I had not been expecting it. I had Peter and Rafe at the rear as they were the most experienced men, apart from our archers, and my handful of archers would be needed on the ridge. There were people on the road and they would be able to tell the Turks the direction we had taken. Had we so wished we could have slain the few that we met. That did not seem right. We let them live knowing it was a risk.
Sir Philip rode next to me. “Your archers are remarkable. Four of my men did not have to use their swords so quick were your archers.”
“I know and my father and I have many more back in England.”
“Then why did you not bring them? With an army of archers, this land could be ours.”
“I came not for land and neither did you. Do you recall? You do this for a bride. Do not be drawn into the crusader trap. Too many knights came here thinking it was for the cross and then deciding it was for the land. I would rather live in England.”
Sir Philip said, “You are right and I can see the trap I almost fell into. One little victory and I see myself as Charlemagne!”
“Besides, we are not out of danger yet. When I see the road and the captives smiling at me then I will begin to hope.”
The fact that the road sloped down to the valley bottom and so our horses were having to work hard made the journey back quicker than the one we had taken the previous day. With my shield covering my left leg and my helmet hanging from my cantle, I was riding with just my head protector. It was cooler that way and I could use my ears. It was as we were approaching the Dead Sea and could see, ahead, the flatter part of the valley that Peter of York shouted, “I hear riders, lord.”
“How far behind?”
“More than a mile and this twisting road means that they won’t see us but once we reach the road, they will see us.”
I turned to Sir Philip, “And now we gallop. We have four miles to go to the place of ambush and then we dismount. I know they will see where we have left the road but the rocks and scrub will hide us when we prepare our ambush.”
We both touched spurs to the flanks of our horses. By galloping we would maintain the distance between us and our pursuers. The difference was that they had been galloping for longer which would be more tiring and exhausting for their horses. The road twisted and turned. Even if they saw us briefly, we would soon disappear from view.
It did not take long for the effects of the harder riding to manifest themselves. Our horses became lathered and I knew that if our horses were like this then the ones chasing us would be even worse. The large number of horses which had left the road and galloped across the rough ground to the ridge would make it obvious to our pursuers that we had left the road but it could not be helped. Leaving the road we turned west and, looking ahead, although I could see the rescued captives, I could not see the archers. I knew that they would already be building their eyries. I was now looking for the small pile of white stones which marked the place we would split into two groups and await the enemy. They proved harder to see than I had expected.
I shouted, “Any sign of them, Peter?”
“Not yet, lord.”
And then I saw the stones. As I trotted Thorn past them, I kicked them with my boot so that they scattered and would mix with the others. “We are here!” We had chosen two defiles which flanked the main path. The captives, with Mark and Matthew to the rear, would be clearly visible to the enemy but we would not. Two of Sir Philip’s men came with me along with Peter and Rafe. The side trail led, eventually, to water. We had seen waterfowl there on our way east and had realised why the trail had been made. We found the small dip and dismounted. There was a little piece of grazing and our four horses would be able to eat. More importantly, they would rest. I poured some water in my hand and let Thorn drink. It would not do to let her drink heavily. I repeated it four times.
Peter said, “I hear them, lord.”
“Then let us climb.” This time I took off my spurs and left them with my horse before I began the scramble up the rocks to the trail where we would ambush the pursuers.
The fact that we could not see the Turks meant they could not see us but I could hear them. Their horses’ hooves were clattering on the rocks and their leader was exhorting them, I assume, to catch us. The steep ridge had slowed the rescued captives. I could not see the Turks but Mark and Matthew were less than half a mile away as their horses laboured up the slope. The captives were in no condition for such a hard ride and they were slowing. It would give the Turks heart. I had left my shield and helmet with my horse and my cloak hid my coif. We reached the six rock slabs which rose like sentries along the side of the trail. Further west, on the other side of the trail, were four similar slabs. Sir Philip and his men would wait there. When they stepped out my men and I would be the first to attack the horsemen from our side, their left, while their attention would be on their right and the threat that was Sir Philip. As soon as we had seen these rock monoliths, we had seen the potential. We could wait, in their shelter and we would be hidden from the Turks. I was desperate to know how many men pursed us but it was too great a risk to try to view them. Cedric and his archers were in their lofty crags and they would see all. It would be Cedric Warbow who would launch the attack and we would add to the confusion.
I could hear the hooves drawing closer and even the laboured breath of the tired horses. I drew my sword and held it two handed. There were just five of us on our side of the trail and I knew this would be a hard fight. I had given us, however, a chance for this was not suicidal. All that we had to do was to hold them, however briefly and then descend to our horses. They could not pursue us on horseback but they could send arrows after us. We just had to shock and surprise them so that they halted long enough for Jean and the captives to reach the road. Once there he could, if it was needed, build a defensive camp. We had had one hard day’s ride and we could not move again until men and horses were rested.
The first riders had already passed me when I saw the arrows arcing down. When the two scouts at the front fell, I heard an order shouted in Arabic. I knew enough to understand it. The order was to charge at the archers. One of the scout’s bodies lay just two paces from me and I saw the bow slung around his back. It confirmed that they had sent horse archers after us. Another order was given and I guessed it was to nock arrows. Cedric and his seven men kept up a steady rain of missiles. Not all hit but they drew the line of Turks up the trail. I smiled when I saw one Turkish arrow, sent by our men, strike a horse archer who had just passed us. I liked the irony of that death.
Sir Philip and his men would step out first, he had more men than I did and he would draw their eyes to the right of the trail but my men and I would swing our swords first. The exhausted Turkish horses were struggling on the rocky slope as their riders forced them up. One slipped and tumbled down the slope taking a screaming Turk to his death. It was hard to see the effect of Cedric’s arrows further down the trail but I had seen at least six Turks taken from the battle. Once we began our attack then Cedric would concentrate upon the men coming along the trail. We had to hit the head of the snake so hard that it slithered back down the trail.
Sir Philip and his men roared as they stepped out to attack the Turkish horsemen who were next to them. I shouted, “Stockton!” as I stepped out. I was already swinging my sword to the right. I used an upward blow and I connected with the head of the horse which was next to me. The rider had a bow and nocked arrow in his left hand and was using his right to guide the horse. As he fell, he could not slow his descent and his head, even though enclosed in a helmet, smashed like an egg on a rock while the corpse of his horse tumbled down the slope. I turned to my left and ran after the next horseman who was pulling back his bow to send an arrow at one of Sir Philip’s men. I am a tall man and the Turkish horse was little
bigger than a pony. My sword hacked across the Turk’s back and sliced halfway through him.
I felt something hit my back and even as I turned, I knew there was an arrow lodged there. I felt no blood and hoped that my repaired armour had held. The four men I led were hacking their way through the Turks. We had surprised them and were so close that they were struggling to bring their bows to bear. It did not help that their exhausted horses were terrified. Cedric’s arrows still plucked men from their horses but I saw that some of those, further away, had their small shields out and were catching the arrows on them. One of Sir Philip’s men, fighting next to Peter, was hit in the face by an arrow. He fell backwards, the barbed head sticking from the back. Even as he fell, I ran to stand next to Rafe whose war axe had hacked through the leg and into the side of a Turk and his horse. Another horseman had slung his bow and was riding at me with his sword already swinging to take my head. It was a narrow and congested trail. Rafe and I blocked it. Even as I swung my sword towards the scimitar which came at my head, I knew that we had done enough. By my estimate, we had held up the enemy for almost fifteen minutes. Jean would be descending to the road. Our swords clashed and rang together with sparks flying. Rafe’s war axe chopped into the middle of a horseman and I used a backslash to hack into the side of the man I was fighting. His horse could not get beyond Rafe and I and it had reared. As my sword sliced into flesh the Turk fell backwards dragging his terrified horse with him; falling back down the trail it made the following horses veer to the side. Peter of York’s sword had taken the head of a horse and the dying horse and the terrified horse tumbled down the trail. The falling horses were like an equine avalanche and swept other horsemen from the trail, one careered down the slope. We had done all that I had hoped and I yelled, “Fall back!”
