Disclaimer: if kingdom of heaven was mine would I be sitting here behind my computer? Alone?
Note: thank you all for the wonderful reviews!
Nobody got any ideas for a title? ;-(
And the last thing: to make this perfectly clear: I use all the characters, locations and whatever from the movie. Just not the story. Immortalwizardpirateelf-fan this is sort of AU, so nothing that happened in the movie, will happen in this fic.
Hope you enjoy the second chapter!
Hugs and kisses...
Kingdom of Heaven:
Chapter two: introducing trouble…"Balian, watch it!"
Balian of Ibelin looked up and jumped out of the way of a falling tree. His heart thundered in his chest as the enormous tree fell down on the ground with a crashing noise.
"Sir! My lord, me very sorry sir!"
A young Arabic man ran to his side and helped him up, apologizing over and over again. Balian was incapable of moving for a few second as the Muslim dusted him off and asked for forgiveness yet again.
"It's quite alright Karim." The lord of Ibelin said, walking shakily to his home.
"Sound the bell," he said to one of the guards as he walked past them, "the working's done for today."
When he stepped inside his chambers his hands immediately reached for the flask of wine, he poured himself a glass and downed it quickly. After a few seconds of contemplating, Balian poured another glass and sat down, still slightly shaking.
"My lord." He heard from his right.
"My lord, are you all right?" the faithful Henry asked him.
"Quite, Henry thank you. Just a little…shaken."
His Herald snorted and took the glass of wine out of his hands: "I do apologize sir, but you know you cannot take that stuff too well."
Balian smiled and let Henry take the glass away as he leaned back tiredly: "True Henry. What would I be without you?"
"Drunk."
Balian snorted and erupted into a fit of laughter. Henry looked up and smiled a little, he poured the wine back and prepared to fetch dinner for his master when the hooves of a galloping horse could be heard outside.
As he looked out of the window, he could see the guards struggling with the rider, trying to keep him in control.
"What is it Henry?"
As he was about to answer he could see the unknown Muslim brake loose and run into the building. Henry whirled around quickly and stared at the door. Mere seconds later the man stormed through the door and threw himself at the feet of Balian of Ibelin.
"Lord, my lord! Terrible!"
Henry stepped forward rapidly and harshly pulled the man away from his master. But he kept on struggling. Henry let loose with a yell as the man set his teeth in his arm and fell down.
"Balian of Ibelin?" the man asked his master, hysterically.
Balian stood up, his hand resting upon his sword and nodded: "I am."
"Terrible, master, terrible!"
Balian sat down in front of the man and shook him roughly: "Spill it man! What makes you panic this much?"
The Muslim looked up at him with huge, terrified eyes: "My…my name is Mohammed, my lord. I live here since two weeks," he stammered, "something terrible happened…" He silenced abruptly as the guards stumbled in and hauled him away from Balian. But their master stood up and thundered: "Would you let the man finish?"
Henry and the guards bowed their heads and took a step back respectfully.
The man looked around one more time: "My lord, Reynald de Chatillon attacked a trader's caravan on their way from Cairo not so far from here...A mere two miles. They were heading to Damascus to supply…to supply his troops."
"Whose troops?" Balian shouted nearly going crazy.
Mohammed looked around and then whispered in his ear: "The troops of…of Saladin."
Balian of Ibelin stopped breathing for a minute and fell backwards: "Saladin's troops?" he mumbled.
The Muslim nodded frantically: "There is something else too."
The young lord looked at him with dread in his eyes: "Don't tell me…"
But the Muslim stood up and shook his head. He was shaking all over, as if he had seen a ghost.
"Saladin believes it was Ibelin who did the charge…There is a Saracen cavalry on it's way here, right now."
For a few seconds the room was completely silent. A soft wind moved the silk curtains slowly, and tempted the candles to extinguish. Balian looked at Henry open mouthed, while his guards waited for orders, desperately trying to hide their fear.
"How…how many?" Balian rasped.
"One hundred elite riders."
The Christian made a strange noise and steadied himself on his chair. With a last look around, his body and mind seemed to spring into action.
"Get everyone of the fields! Everyone must be safely behind the walls!" he yelled, "I want every capable man to wear a sword, or any weapon."
Henry nodded and ushered the guards in front of him. He ran outside quickly, followed closely by his master.
They started shouting: "Get in! Everyone to safety!"
Balian ran to the right, straight to the gate. But instead of going outside, he jumped and pulled himself upon the watchtower. There hang the great alarm bell. But he had no idea how to use it, it hadn't been needed in some many years.
But panic and unseemingly clear thinking made him work faster, he unsheathed his sword rapidly and with one swift stroke rammed it against the bell.
The sound had hardly ended or screams could be heard everywhere. Men ran everywhere to search for some sort of weapon to protect their families, women yelled and pulled their children inside quickly. And in every corner of Ibelin it could be heard: "Saladin is coming!"
Balian stood in front of the gate, with all his available knights gathered next to him. Over half of his warriors had been taken away on a mission to Tikrit. But he doubted that they would make the difference between winning or losing to Saladin. His breath caught in his throat and swallowed when he saw one hundred torches appear over the hills. The noise of thundering hooves increased rapidly, stressing him and everyone gathered around him.
"Men!" he said loudly "Reynald de Chatillon did something terrible, and for that we have to pay. I shall make sure, that after we've dealt with these riders, he'll wish he had never been born!"
His warriors around him shouted loudly and prepared themselves for the battle that was to come.
"Spears at ready!"
A barricade for the great Arabic horses, Balian flexed his muscles and counted. Only a little closer, five metres, four, three, two, one.
"Now!" he screamed. As one, the men of Ibelin thrust their spears forward wounding perhaps 20 horses fatally. What followed was chaos, complete disorder.
"Fight!" Balian bellowed.
He pulled out his sword and thrust it into the nearest rider's flesh. With a yell Ibelin fought for it's life, with knives, pitchforks and swords they defended themselves and their families.
But it was a useless fight. They were largely outnumbered, and the quick horses gave the Saracen riders a huge advantage. Blood was spilled everywhere, for every horseman Balian killed two new ones came in his place. His tired body fought on violently, but it was a lost cause.
They were surrounded. The men still standing had formed a square, and round them the riders were circling like eagles. Like a vulture, one of them came closer and let his mighty horse buck wildly. Balian's chest was heaving deeply as he looked around, seeing only destruction.
"Wait!" he yelled, his voice quavering.
"Wait, stop fighting! This battle ends now! We...I surrender!"
The complete silence that followed those two words send shivers up and down his spin, but it had to be done. The killing had to stop.
One of the riders threw down his scimitar and came closer. Balian followed his example and threw down his beloved sword too.
For mere moments the two men just looked at each other. Then the Saracen slowly undid his mask and spoke: "My name is Fouad Ibn Al Kharid, captain in service of Saladin and commander of this cavalry unit."
His face was lit up by the torch he was holding, the light reflecting in his black eyes. The man spoke English perfectly and Balian reluctantly nodded: "I am Balian of Ibelin."
Suddenly there was a lot of commotion between the cavalrymen. One rider sped forward and looked at Balian wildly. He yelled in frustration, almost hysterically and started babbling in fast Arabic against the headman. Their conversation seemed to last for hours, their voices heated and raising. Balian breathed heavily as he watched the men. And finally, after minutes, the commander turned around and faced him: "We should be sorry, we made a terrible mistake."
"What?" Balian asked unbelievingly, waking up from his trance.
"This man is a witness to the massacre of the caravan. He saw the leader whom he believed to be Balian of Ibelin. But he didn't look like you at all, he was fat and grey."
"Reynald de Chatillon." The lord of Ibelin growled.
The leader of the Saracens looked around uncomfortably at the wounds and deaths they had caused. He shifted restlessly in his saddle and eyed Balian: "I am terribly sorry for this unfortunate mistake. I hope you shall choose to forgive us."
And with that he yelled and his cavalry unit retreated from Ibelin as quickly as they had come.
The hours that followed were madness for Balian. They passed in a daze as he heard the screams of men whose limbs were being amputated, the rasping breath of the dying.
Fires were put out, blood was washed away and the imam prepared for the burial of those who did not live to see another day.
Balian picked up his sword and cleaned it slowly. Suddenly he heard his name being called from afar. He turned his head slowly with nearly closed eyes as he tried to locate the source of the sound: "Master Balian! Are you all right?"
Ah yes, of course the loyal Henry would come looking for him immediately. He rested his head against the wall behind him and waited patiently until his councillor had reached him. Balian let himself be picked up and carried to his chambers willingly.
"It was a mistake." He whispered, "all Reynald's fault."
"My lord, 39 of ours are dead."
"A mistake."
"Do you not hear the scream of the widows, do you not see the tears of the orphans?"
Balian looked up from his bed to Henry as a servant covered him up and washed him. He sighed and massaged his temples tiredly: "If I do not forgive this, I will…I do not wish to start a war Henry."
Henry's look softened and he nodded: "As always, you are right my lord," he said honestly "I was thinking with my heart, not with my reason."
Balian smiled, closing his eyes: "Tomorrow I shall be healed Henry, I know. I wish to leave for Jerusalem then."
"I shall prepare everything my lord."
I have no idea whether or not Balian has a servant named Henry…Do you? Anyway, once again. Give me a good title, and I'll give you a cookie.