Hugh of Emmaus: Chapter 04
On the Road Between Caesarea and Nazareth
Kingdom of Jerusalem
April, 11th 1170
Hugh rode his mare with only half awareness. Blood flowed from around the arrow wound in his shoulder and ran down his chainmail. He tore off a piece of his blue and yellow tunic and tied it around his upper arm, and clotted off the bleeding. He was getting light-headed, and dehydrated. It had been an hour and a half since he had been ambushed on the road. There had been three Saracens on foot. They had been hitting travelers on the road for days. Unfortunately Hugh was simply the next person around the corner, unfortunately for the Saracens; their next victim was a trained man-at-arms.
They had come out from hiding, and stood all around Hugh, and had as usual, demanded all of his money and valuables. He drew his sword and charged the nearest one from horse-back, before the other two could react. The Saracen bandit had drawn his own sword too defend, but Hugh was quicker. His own blade connected with the bandit's neck and had caused a huge gash down his neck and chest. Hugh swung his horse into a full turn, and blocked the closest Saracens blade with his. He used the momentum of his blade and pushed the Saracens blade aside. He swung his sword around and slammed the edge through the bandits Helmut and crushed the Saracens skull.
Hugh swung his horse around again, and turned to face the last bandit. The final Saracen stood about five feet away with a short spear. Hugh smiled and dismounted and leapt down off his mare. He stood face too face with the final bandit and brought his sword up in a high guard. The bandit charged forward and thrust the spear tip at Hugh's chest. Hugh dodged too the right and grabbed the wooden shaft of the spear. He yanked back hard and pulled the weapon from the Saracens grasp. Hugh dropped the spear to the ground behind him, and charged the now unarmed bandit. He swung his sword and slashed the bandit's torso, causing a cut in the Saracens shirt, and a gash across his shoulder blade and chest. The man fell on his back and Hugh swung his blade around too deliver the finishing blow. Before it landed the man began screaming one word in Greek, but with a heavy Arabic accent. "Mercy!"
"What!" Hugh asked as he stopped his blade in mid-swing.
"I'm sorry about attacking you! We were only trying too make some money!" the Saracen answered.
Hugh stepped forward and placed the tip of his blade against the bandit's neck. "You mean, you were stealing some money!"
The Saracen suddenly got a defensive look. "You 'Franks' aren't the only ones with kings who set unfair taxes1"
Hugh closed his eyes for a second, clearly arguing with himself. He opened them again. "You have a camp nearby? Horses?"
"Yes." the bandit replied and pointed behind him. "Over the hill"
Hugh walked back too his horse, and mounted back up. He rode too where the bandit was now trying too gain his footing as he stood up. "Show me."
A half hour later Hugh let the bandit ride off on his horse with enough food and water too make it back too Amman. Hugh now stood in the bandit campsite alone and was looking over the bandits captured booty. More than two hundred pieces of gold, and six hundred pieces of silver. 'These raiders really fleeced the local pilgrims.' Hugh thought. Hugh carried the loot out of the tent one box at a time and stacked it up in the center of the small campsite. He grabbed a small hand spade he found among the raiders camp tools, and dug a moderately sized hole and buried all eight boxes.
Hugh stood up and began too walk back too his horse when he heard something like a spring go off behind him. He started too turn when something instantly pierced his shoulder, and a hot searing pain shot through his neck and arm. He fell on his hands and knees and glared at his shoulder and found a crossbow bolt stuck in him. He glared back over his shoulder and saw someone in black standing on the hill he and the bandit had ridden over. Hugh studied the man's features, and found the man wore a black turban wrap over his face except for his eyes. He was clearly an Arab, but not one of the bandits. The black-garbed man grabbed another bolt and loaded the crossbow.
Hugh drew his sword and tried too stand. He turned and tried too make it too his horse. The crossbow went off again and sent another bolt towards Hugh. The bolt hit Hugh in the back of his leg just above the calf. Hugh grunted in pain and fell on his knees again. He dropped his sword, reached around to the back of his leg and yanked the arrow out with a scream of pain and agony. He heard a thud behind him, turned, and saw that the black-garbed assailant had jumped off from the steep part of the hill and had landed on his feet. He stood up, dropped his cross bow, drew a sword and began walking towards Hugh.
The wounded Norman looked this way and that, and saw that his sword had fallen out of reach. As the mysterious Arab approached, Hugh saw a stone not two inches from his hand. He reached for it, grasped it firmly. Knowing he had only one shot, he prayed for a fraction of a second, turned, and hurled the large stone at the Arab. It flew from Hugh's hand and across the short distance and connected with the Arabs temple. The blacked-garbed Arab's head contorted backwards, and the man fell too the ground.
Hugh stood up, retrieved his sword, and walked over too where the man had fallen. The Arab was clearly dazed, and wasn't moving much. Hugh held his sword over the mans chest and shoved it down into the Arabs heart. The man awoke, screamed for a fraction of a second, spasmed a moment, then died. Hugh ripped his sword out, swung it above his head and brought it down with all the force he could muster at the corpse's neck, decapitating the dead man. Hugh stood up and kicked the dead mans head across the campsite, and sheathed his sword back in his scabbard. Limped over and picked up the dead Arabs sword, and crossbow. He secured them across his back and walked back too his horse, remounted with difficultly, and trotted fast for the road. 'Too far too ride for Acre or Haifa. I'll have too try for Nazareth.' Hugh thought with hesitation. He turned south-east and galloped away at great speed.
A good two hours had now passed since Hugh's fight and his exodus from the scene. He was barely staying awake, which he couldn't do anything about. He had pulled the arrows from his body and had tied off the wounds. Though by the time he had done this, he had already lost a lot of blood. And in the mid-June sun he was using his water supply up quickly. If he didn't get too a watering hole in about an hour he would pass out and then would in all probability die of dehydration.
Hugh's thoughts kept drifting back towards the masked attacker. He hadn't been a Saracen, or a bandit. He was an Arab and well trained in fighting. His sword was a fairly common type in the Holy Land, but his crossbow was of Flemish make. The very fact he was carrying a cross bow was odd. Arabs usually used compound bows, which was made of a layer of sinew, and horn. Also he had been wearing black in the middle of the dessert, during the daylight. Arab soldiers knew very well that they would dehydrate faster wearing black during the day. 'A real oddity.' Hugh thought, trying too keep his mind from slipping into a hazy state.
The Normans horse was doing much better. His mare was also very close too falling down dead. Hugh knew he had too keep his horse up and going or he was god as dead. Walking the road in his condition was a death sentence. He took his wine sack filled with what was left of his water and put it in his horse's mouth and held it upside down. If he was too survive, his horse would have too make it.
Another half-hour passed. The sun was setting quickly. Hugh came around a bend in the road that curved around a hill. When he was completely around the hill, he came into view of a medium sized wall not three hundred feet away. The road continued on until stopping into a pair large wooden brown gates, which were closed. He slapped the reins on the horse too get it too pick up the pace. The horses walk quickened, and it looked like he would make it without further incident. This illusion was revealed as such after the horse carried him another hundred-feet, then began too quiver and shake. Hugh hurried and dismounted has his horse fell over collapsed into a heap.
A mere two hundred feet from the large wooden doors, Hugh began limping too the gates. His attempt at walking reopened the wound on his leg. He managed too carry himself another hundred feet, before falling too his knees. He yelled as loud as he could, but wasn't getting anyone's attention, inside of Nazareth. He had one chance. He took the crossbow off his back and the two bolts that had struck him, from a pouch on hanging from his belt. He cocked back the wire on the crossbow, and loaded the bolt. He aimed it at the wooden gate and fired. The bolt struck the door with a loud thud. He heard commotion on the other side of the gates. Then voices. He re-cocked the crossbow and loaded his last bolt. He used his last bit of strength aimed and fired. The bolt hit right next too the first one. He heard shouts on the other side and saw the gates begin too open. He dropped the crossbow, and watched. The gates opened all the way and two knights walk out in white tunics, and black capes with a white Maltese crosses, and swords drawn..
Hugh sighed in relief. "Hospitallers...thanks the Lord..." he muttered too himself before passing into blackness.
The two Knights of the Saint John, saw the man collapse in the road, and ran over too him, resheathing their swords. One of them knelt down and felt Hugh's pulse and then leaned down and listened for a heartbeat. "He's still alive! Help me get him inside!" One knight grabbed his arms, while the other grabbed his feet. Together they carried him inside and had the gates shut promptly behind them.
The three men stood around the bed where the young man was resting. All three of them were knights, but the oldest one, who stood in the middle, was the only doctor. He put a rudimentary wooden funnel too his ear and then knelt down beside the mans' chest. He listened too the young mans strong heart beat. He stood back up and nodded. "He'll be fine. Blood loss, dehydration, and exhaustion took their toll on him. But he is very strong, and he'll recover."
One of the younger men next too him asked. "Any idea who he might be?"
"None." answered the other young man.
"Where are his belongings?" asked the older doctor.
The young man on his left pointed too a table on the other side of the quarters. The older man walked over and looked at the pile of clothes, chainmail armor, and weapons. He looked at the yellow and blue tabbard and surcoat with a coat-of-arms that consisted of a white war galley, which had two bloodied swords on its sail. He then looked at the armor. And then saw his sword. Around its handle, it had beautiful silk veil tied several times around the wooden grip. It was black, with a yellow crescent moon embroidered on it. "This is odd." stated the old man.
"What? The coat-of-arms?" asked the man on his right.
"No. The coat-of-arms tells me he is probably a Norman." the old man replied.
"As am I." the other young man said.
The old man turned his head and smiled, "Don't worry. We can forgive you for that."
The man on his right laughed, and the other one grumbled, but even he cracked a smile after a few seconds.
The old doctor returned his attention back too the sword. "What I think is odd is this veil."
"What about it, is odd?" the Norman knight asked.
"It's obviously a woman's. He carries it as some kind of token." the doctor answered.
"Maybe it's his wife's." guessed the other young knight.
The old man was in thought. "No. He didn't have a ring. Plus, I feel I have seen this veil before. I just can't be sure." he paused for a moment. "Lets leave this man too rest for know. We can't do anything more for him." The other two nodded and all three left the room and shut the door behind themselves.
The servant girl, Isabel, entered the room several hours later and began her duties of changing the sheets and gathering laundry. She looked over and saw the young man lying in bed, covered to the waist by a sheet. She walked over and looked down at him. His short black hair, and well trimmed beard accented his face well. "You're too cute. I hope you get better." she said while giggling. She turned and walked over too the table too get his clothes too send down too be washed when she saw his sword lying next too his armor and surcoat.
She picked up the sword and glared at the veil tied too the handle. Looking at the handle she noticed the yellow crescent sewed on too the veils black surface. She nearly dropped the sword when it dawned on her where she knew this veil. She laid the sword down gently, and walked out the door quietly and shut it gently.
She walked across the city, quickly, with a thousand questions on her mind. She stepped. Through the gates of Eznik, a rich Armenian merchant who lived in the city and knocked at the large wooden door. A few seconds passed when the door slowly opened. One of the merchant's private guards opened the door and smiled when he saw Isabel. "How can I help 'Bella?"
"I need too speak with the lady if she will see me." Isabel answered
The guard let her in and informed her too stay in the main antechamber while he went too the lady's chamber and informed her. Isabel didn't wait long, when she heard a familiar voice. "Isabel. What brings you here this late?" she turned and saw the beautiful image of Lucine walking down the staircase.
"I have found something of yours milady." Isabel replied.
Lucine looked concerned. "Something of mine?"
"Do you remember what happened too the veil your father gave you for your tenth birthday?" Isabel asked.
Lucines expression changed from a look of concern too one of confusement. Then she smiled for the briefest of moments, as if remembering something extremely happy. Quickly her look went back too a controlled, emotionally blank look. " I lost it on the road almost for years ago. Why?"
"I have found it in the possession of a young knight." Isabel said reading Lucines face. What she read was someone who was hooked on her every word she said.
"When? Where?" asked Lucine a look of deep interest in her eyes.
Isabel was careful how she said this next piece of information. "He is a patient at the hospital of the Knights of St. John. He was wounded from battle, but is recovering."
Lucine braced her hand against the wall as if she needed support. "Will you please take me too him?"
Isabel nodded. "Come with me milady."