David - Somewhere in the sea off Britain – 1095 CE

I have always had these strange dreams, of men and boys that I do not know. I have dreamt of a man wearing what can only be described as the hide of some animal, and other men wearing little more than a bed sheet sewn together. I don't know if these men and boys exist, or have existed, but down deep within me, I think they have.

Not that I can tell my father.

He would denounce me as a maker of magic, and say that it was the devil that was showing me these things. He might disown me, or even have me murdered to save my soul.

So when I dream of the young woman talking to the two men, I don't tell him when I wake up, I just stare out at the rolling waves, as the land, the only land I have ever known disappears.

Leaving my dead mother behind.

And my friends.

It is just me and father now.

And he had received the call.

To serve the people of the great city of Jerusalem.

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1099 CE - Jerusalem (Four years later)

I jerk awake to the sound of someone screaming nearby. Squeezing my eyes tight for a moment, I open them and crawl off my mattress toward the crack in the wood that is letting the light of daylight into the darkness.

'Merciful Allah,' I hear someone shout.

I look through the gap and see people running up and down the street.

'They're going to kill us all,' a boy about my age says. 'Allah save us from the barbarians outside the walls.'

'David,' I hear my father hiss. 'Come here.'

'Yes Father,' I shout.

'Ssssshhh,' he hisses again. 'Make no noise David.'

I shake my head and wonder what he is talking about, but nethertheless, I obey him, and climb down the ladder from my sleeping place.

My father is standing by the firepit.

'What is happening?' I ask him. 'Why is everyone so scared?'

He sighs. 'They've finally arrived,' he responds.

'Who?'

'The Crusaders.'

I shudder. I've heard about the Crusaders. Supposedly, they wipe blood on their faces and have pig entrails strewn around their shoulders, and streaked through their hair. And they impale the unwary on their long straight weapons without making sure whether you are an enemy or friend. They are supposed to be ruthless.

And now they're here.

'What's going to happen?' I ask.

My father shrugs his shoulders. 'I don't know David. But I fear the worse could happen.' He glances down at his feet. 'I fear that by them being out there, that they are going to bring destruction on us all. Today might be our last day on Earth.'

'We could hide,' I suggest. 'In the...'

He shakes his head. 'We can't hide. We have a job to do. We have to stay here.'

'But...'

Someone bangs on the door.

My father puts his finger to his lips.

'We know you're in there,' someone shouts.

'And we know what you are.'

'Dirty barbarians.'

I step toward the door.

I want to fling it open and tell them that we are not barbarians, we're Children of the Book.'

My father grabs my arm and pulls me back. 'Don't,' he mouths.

There's more banging on the door, but louder this time, as if someone is nailing something to it.

I listen for further bangs, for the sound of splintering wood, but the only thing I can hear is my father's laboured breathing.

'Why did they call us barbarians?' I eventually ask.

He sighs. 'Because that's what we are,' he says.

I blink.

He snorts. And then shakes his head. 'You've heard stories about the Crusaders, but never from me. I have been silent. But you see, those people outside the walls, many of them are our people. They come from Brittania like we did.'

'But they're bloodthirsty.'

'Some of them are, but not all. Or at least they weren't before Pope Urban the Second called for the Crusades. And promised those who joined, who liberated Jerusalem from the Muslims, that they would receive remission of sins, and be able to enter heaven when they die.'

'But you can't...'

'I know, forgiveness of sins is not found is killing others, but they were deceived. Tricked by a lie. But tricked they were. And they believed the lie and many joined the Crusades, to save their souls, or just to get hold of any treasures that our city holds. The thing is, they're Christians and think that God wants them to free Jerusalem. Free those like us.'

'But why do we need freeing? The Muslims, well apart from today, they've always treated us well. We've been respected as Children of the Book.'

'I agree, and we've been allowed to follow our religion with little influence or interference from those in charge. But that's finished now, and we must prepare for the...'

He shakes his head.

'For what Father?'

'It does not matter. Just know this, we must not leave this house. We need to stay in here and hope we'll be safe.'

I nod my head. But I can't help wonder who we need to be saved from.

'It's going to be today,' my Father says two days later.

For the last few days we've stayed inside our home, visited only by a Muslim my Father is friendly with.

He brought us news that they barbarians had tried to build towers to get into the city but the Muslims had just built the battlements higher.

'Tonight,' my Father adds. 'After night fall.'

'How do you know?'

He shakes his head. 'Don't ask me to explain it to you. I just have a feeling that it will be tonight.'

'And then it will be all over,' I say.

My Father shakes his head. 'No, then it will start anew.'

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My father is right because just after the twelfth hour, not long after night has fallen, there is a knock on the door, and a voice shouts for us to let him in.

'Quickly,' my father says. 'It's Alem, let him in.'

I open the door, and then shut it as quickly, only letting our friend to slip in.

'Peace be unto you,' he says in the traditional greeting, and reaches out his right hand to shake my father's right hand.

'What's happening in the city?' my father asks him, after they have sat down on cushions.

I pour some tea and go and sit too, giving them both a cup each.

Alem shakes his head. 'There is trouble in the city,' he says. 'The streets by the west wall are awash with blood, and soon will be here too. The Crusaders broke through one of the weaker defensives, and are killing everyone, man, woman, children. My wife and children are waiting by the North Gate for me, but I could not flee without warning you. You must come with us.'

'I can't,' my father says. 'I have to stay here and try…' he sighs.

'What about the boy?' Alem asks. 'Surely you don't want to risk his life?'

My father shakes his head. 'No, take him with you. I know he'll be safe with you, and hopefully once the Crusaders have worked their way through the city, they'll stop.'

'When everyone is dead,' Alem says.

'No, I'm sure they won't kill everyone. At the moment it will be the foot soliders that are in the city, but once the generals arrive, the killing will stop and you can come back, bringing David with you.'

My father looks at me.

'I'm not leaving you,' I say, determined that if he stays then so will I.

'It's not safe.'

'Father, if it is not safe for me, then it is not safe for you. I will only go with Alem, if you come too.'

'I can't.'

'Why not?'

He glances at his feet.

He's always looking at his feet. I don't know why.

'I can't come, I have to stay here and… well, it's my duty to stay here and I'm not going to ignore my duty, even if it means my death. I must try to prevent…'

'Prevent what Father?' I put my hands on my head. 'What is there to protect? This house? With its one room.'

'It is not the time for you to know why,' he responds. 'You're too young.'

'I'm also too young to lose my father,' I respond. 'In any way. So if you stay, then I stay, and we'll just have to hope and pray to God that he'll protect us.'

Alem puts his hand on my father's shoulder. 'I have to go, if the boy is coming with me, then he needs to come now.'

'He is coming with you,' my father says. 'David, go with him.'

'I won't.'

'Then I hope you will survive,' Alem says. 'Both of you. But I have to go now. May Allah protect you and whatever it is that you are protecting old man,' he says. 'And may he protect your boy too.'

I watch as he opens the door a little and looks out, and then opening it wider, slips through the gap.

And then he is gone, and I shut the door.

'You are a foolish boy,' my father says.

'And you are a stubborn old man.'

He laughs. Nervously. 'Well let us hope that by the time the sun rises in the morning that we aren't a dead foolish boy and stubborn old man.'

'I hope so too,' I say. 'I really hope s…'

I hear a scream coming from the street.

The high pitched scream of a woman which is suddenly cut off.

'Blow out the candle,' my father says.

'I've hardly stepped toward the flickering light when the door breaks open and a man, a gleaming metal sword in his hand, stands looking at us.

And others crowd the doorway behind him.

He advances toward us.

'Please,' my father says, in a language I have not heard for a long time. 'Please, we are Christians like you. And from Britannia.'

'Are you indeed,' the man answers in the same language. 'Well I am Duke Godfrey, and if you give us your jewels and gold, then you might be allowed to live.'

'I haven't got any…'

'You expect me to believe that?' he steps toward my father, tilts his head to one side, and smirks. 'Maybe you haven't. And maybe you have. But I've been told there is something special in this dirty hovel, and I intend to find it.'

'No,' my father says. 'You mustn't.' He reaches out a hand.

'Don't touch the Duke,' one of the other men shouts and rushes at my father. Knocking him over. 'He must not be sullied by the hands of the lovers of dirty heathens.'

'Father,' I shout.

'Make your whelp be quiet,' Duke Godfrey says. 'Or I'll make sure he never speaks again.' He turns to the man who knocked my father over. 'Search this place. Every nook and cranny, and if either of them try to interfere, kill them.'

'Yes Duke Godfrey,' the man says, bowing to him.

'Good, now I'm going to go to the area that's been set up for the gentry to rest, come and tell me at once when you have found the item.'

'Yes Duke Godfrey,' he says.

'Please,' my father says. 'You don't know what you are doing. You mustn't…'

But the Duke just sweeps away. His cloak flowing around his armour.

'Tear this place apart,' the other man says.

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My mattress, ripped apart, its filling scattered, lies in a heap at the bottom of the ladder. My sleeping area has had the boards pulled up and thrown to one side. They poured water on the fire pit and dug all the stones out of it. Broke all our cooking and eating implements, tossed our food on the floor, they even dropped my father's Bible on the floor and then kicked him when they realised what it was.

And then they ripped up my father's mattress.

Which has been there for as long as we have lived in this house. Was there when we moved in. They pulled it apart and underneath it, they found a trap door.

'Don't open that,' my father says. 'No one must go down there.'

The man smirks and advances toward us. 'And why not?'

'What is down there is dangerous. You must not open it.'

He crouches down in front of us. 'And what if I want to?'

'You mustn't.'

'All right, I won't then.'

My father blinks, and then the corner of his mouth twitches. 'You won't?'

'No,' the man shakes his head. 'I won't open it.'

'Oh thank the Lord,' my father laughs. 'What is down there…'

'And what is down there?'

'You really don't want to know.'

'Oh but I do. And more importantly, the Duke wants to know.' He stands up. 'Jacob,' he says. 'Go and fetch Duke Godfrey. Tell him we might have found it.'

A man, one only a few years older than me, nods his head, and runs out of our home.

'And when the Duke gets here, the men will open the trap door and the Duke will be able to see what we have found.'

'No,' my father lurches up onto his feet. 'You said you weren't going to open it. You can't open it. If you open it.'

'What old man? Something horrible will happen? Evil will fall I suppose?' He laughs. 'The Duke laughs in the face of evil, in fact,' he crouches down once again, and whispers into my father's ear.

I can only just make out his words.

'There is no worse evil than the Duke himself.'

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'No,' my father shouts, straining against the men holding him. 'I will not allow you to go down there.'

The Duke arches an eyebrow. 'You will not let me? Who do you think you are little man? Do you really think you can stop me doing what I want? I am Godfrey, Duke of Lorraine, the Lord of Bouillon. I led the men into this Holy city. I paid for many of these knights to join the Crusades. And it has been prophesied that I will be the ruler of this city. Who are you? I'll tell you what you are, you're a sympathiser, you're a traitor to all Christians, and you are going to hell.'

'I think you'll go there first if you go through that trap door.'

My father reels back as the Duke smacks him with the back of his ringed hand and spits blood on our once clean floor. 'I am the keeper,' my father says. 'For five years, I have been the keeper, and before me there was another keeper, and another and another, and after me, my son would have been the keeper. We are the only ones who can go down there. We are the only ones who are safe if we go down there. The evil cannot touch us, but it can you.'

'Enough,' the Duke says. 'I have heard enough. Shut up, or I will have your tongue cut out.' He nods at the other men. 'Open it.'

'No,' my father says. 'Please believe me, do not go down there. Look, I'll go down there. I think I know what you want. You want the sword don't you?'

The Duke's eyes gleam. 'It's down there? The sword of Alexander the Great?'

My father nods his head. 'It is, and I will go and get it for you, but you mustn't go down there.'

'If the sword is down there, then there must be other things too. What else is down there? Tell me.'

'Nothing. Just the sword.'

'Just the sword?' He rubs his beard. 'Just the sword you say.' He smiles. 'Well, you know what I say.'

'No.'

'I say that I think you are lying. I think there must be more down there than a sword. And as wonderful a treasure that is, if you are willing to bring that to me, then you must be trying to protect something else. So what is it?'

My father doesn't say a word.

'Well?'

'Just the sword.'

'Just the sword. Well, I don't think I want to take your word for that. So we'll have a look for ourselves.'

'Fine, yes there is something else down there. But it is only a body.'

'A body?'

'Yes.'

'Whose body?'

'No ones.'

'Are you sure? After all, they've never found where Alexander was buried, if his sword is here, and you say that there is a body down there, then it must be his.' He pushes my father away. 'Open it.'

'You can't.' My father scrabbles on the floor and picks up a fragment of broken pottery. 'I won't let you.' He lurches at the Duke.

'Father,' I scream.

And he turns to look at me, and blood dribbles from the sword protruding from his chest. 'David,' he says, as he falls onto the floor. 'I'm sorry. You need to stop him.'

'Stop who father?'

'Broud.'