Disclaimer: the same as in Chapter 1. I am still not Sir Ridley Scot!
Author's note:
I am taking a little liberty with history here. For the story's purposes, I've imagined De Châtillon has escaped prison after the battle of Kerak and King Baldwin IV will live long enough to meet Saladin one more time, in Jerusalem. But that's why this is called a fiction, and I don't think King Baldwin IV would have complained! ;-)
(Salah-al-Din's POW )
The sun has disappeared behind the sand dunes. The sky is colored in orange, red, purple and deep blue colors. The men are slowly retiring to their tents or gathering around campfires… This has been the longest day of my life.
As I walk toward the tent of Imad, my secretary-confident-disciple, I am reminding the events of this day…
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It had started nicely: I've spent the morning with Imad, talking about the understanding made with King Baldwin IV after the confrontation nearby Kerak of Moab. Even if some of my men think it was foolish to renounce to the war, this treaty has brought me a lot of satisfaction: the arrest of Prince Arnat al-Kerak, that greedy bloodthirsty red pig! One of my spies, who work at Kerak's fortress as a servant, told me the Christian King has slashed De Châtillon's face with a cane before ordering his guards to take him away. A public humiliation before an upcoming execution, that was very satisfying!
Imad and I have agreed that going to war is currently premature: we need more men, total possession of the water wells and, also, I need to control the warlords who may be tempted to strike Jerusalem in spite of my direct orders. As King, it is my responsibility to see my authority being respected: otherwise, the other lords would easily send thousands of soldiers to their dooms, without succeeding in conquering Jerusalem! I have never thought the lives of soldiers as being expandable: they are all good, God-fearing men and cannot be disregarded to fulfill one's ambitions.
After our talks, Imad left my tent and I suspected he wanted to go hunting with Mizar, his pride and joy. My confidant's love for hawks is legendary and the subject of hundreds of jokes around the camp. For myself, I had an appointment with poems I've wanted to read for a long, long time. But after Imad's departure, I've heard some commotion outside my camp and I told one of my servants to go see what was happening.
The servant left to return some time after, talking excitedly about: "A princess… Imad… a Christian!". I couldn't make head or tail of what the man was babbling about so I put down my poetry with an exasperated sigh and I went outside my tent, followed by my bodyguards, vowing there would be Hell to pay if this was another false alarm.
The sight that greeted me almost knocked me down. It was my beloved sister Yasmina, holding her ripped and tattered veil to her face, under the escort of ten of my men! Right behind her was Imad, standing over the body of a man lying on a makeshift litter, wrapped in my secretary's cloak.
It took all my dignity not to fall apart in front of my troops at the sight of my dear Yasmina, the wisest and most courageous of all my sisters, standing in front of me in such a state! Yet, she was holding herself like a queen and despite the circumstances, I felt so prideful.
"Salah al-Din, dear brother! I have terrible and urgent news for you" she said with a sad voice.
I ushered her in my tent, ordering the servants to bring food, tea, fresh water and clothes. Yasmina looked exhausted but one look into her fiery eyes told me she wouldn't rest before telling me what had happened. I heard Imad ordering the guards to carry the injured man in his tent, before taking back his place at my side. As curious as I was about this stranger, I had more urgent matters to tend.
And then, Yasmina told me about her ordeal.
The attack of her caravan by Templar knights led by Prince Arnat-al-Kerak.
The ruthless slaughter of our people.
Yasmina's feelings of dread as she expected torture and death at the hands of Renaud de Châtillon.
And then… Her miraculous champion, saving her from those demon-spawned monsters.
The flight through the desert.
I was beyond enraged! I wanted nothing but grab my sword and destroy Jerusalem all by myself. That pig al-Kerak has somehow been freed and he has dared attacking my sister! That was a blatant insult, an outrage, and a declaration of war!
Soon enough, I have calmed down as a plan unfolded in my mind. The traitors who have raided Yasmina's caravan don't know that my sister has survived the attack. I have the element of surprise: Yasmina's testimony in front of King Baldwin IV will be irrefutable, and the leper child-king will grant me anything I want. I will ask for De Châtillon's head and I will see his execution with my own eyes! A message sent to Tiberias, governor of Jerusalem, will be enough to grant me an audience with King Baldwin IV. I will go there with Yasmina and fifty of my most trusted men to assure our security.
My sister retired in my sleeping quarters to bathe, change and get some rest. Then, Imad reminded me that we had a guest… the injured man. Imad took upon himself to settle the stranger – my sister's champion! – in his own tent, and asked my physicians to take care of him.
"Why didn't you settle the Christian in my tent?" I asked him, a bit crossed at this initiative.
Imad looked embarrassed, and then he answered: "Some of our men may resent the presence of a Christian under your tent, my Lord, even if he did save Princess Yasmina."
I wanted to argue but at the same moment, one of my servants told me our young and ambitious Mullah wanted to see me. The news has spread like wildfire all over the camp, and of course the Mullah wanted nothing but to declare open war on Jerusalem at once!
I listened to his ranting and raving for about an hour. When he was finished, I told him in no uncertain terms that declaring war on Jerusalem was my decision alone. That we were not ready for a conflict right now and Yasmina's testimony will buy us a reprieve. Since I don't need this troublemaker in my camp for the time being, I sent him to supervise the burial of De Châtillon's latest victims. Our young Mullah was pretty angry but he couldn't do anything but accept my orders, and he left with the company of a few soldiers.
I told Imad: "I understand what you've said earlier about some of ours resenting the presence of a Christian under my tent!"
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I enter Imad's tent and sure enough, I can see Yasmina's savior has been tended to. He's sleeping on a pallet of blankets and his bare torso has been wrapped in bandages, blood has maculated the white linens on his right side. From the sweat covering his face and his shallow breathing, I can tell a fever is raging within his body. Imad is sitting at the young Christian's side. He didn't hear me enter, as he is busy wiping sweat from the fallen man's brow with a piece of cloth.
"How is he doing?" I ask.
Out of confusion, Imad jumps on his feet and bows quickly. "Your physicians said the Christian has been wounded badly, my Lord. They have done everything in their powers to help him. Now, his recovery relies on his strength and Allah's mercy."
"Do you know who he is? Yasmina told me she didn't get his name, so she calls him Mika'il."
Imad looks even more embarrassed: "He's Balian of Ibelin, the son of Godfrey."
This time, I cannot hide my surprise!
"Godfrey? Godfrey almost killed me in the Lebanon, years ago. Are you sure?"
Imad nods, and then he confesses meeting Balian of Ibelin in the desert, a few miles from the seacoast. The young Christian defeated both Imad and one of his cavaliers, Mummad al-Fais, after being defied for the ownership of a beautiful black horse. My secretary was shortly at Ibelin's mercy but then, Ibelin asked Imad to lead him to Jerusalem. There, he granted Imad his freedom… and the beautiful horse! Much later, Imad spared Ibelin's life at the battle of Kerak, since he had fought for a noble cause: preventing the nearby villagers to become war victims.
I have always known Mummad al-Fais as a hothead and I was not surprised when I heard about his death in duel: it was bound to happen. But the news about Godfrey's child astonishes me!
"I never knew he had a son!"
I want to get a closer look and I settled down at Ibelin's side, gazing at his face. Blood and dust have been washed and yes, I can make out Godfrey's features in this man in spite of the darker hair and younger years. How could I forget Godfrey of Ibelin, the tall Christian knight who has nearly ended my life during a battle nearby the city of Beirut? But unlike Prince Arnat al-Kerak and his cohorts, Godfrey didn't attack me in foul play: he was defending his men against my troops and succeeded in making me retreat. Later, he freed all his prisoners without asking for any kind of ransom.
An image flashes in my mind: Godfrey of Ibelin on his horse, charging my soldiers with his mighty sword held up high in the sunlight…
I am shaken from my reverie as I realize Imad keeps on with his explanation: "From what I've heard, my Lord, Balian's existence has been a surprise for everyone when he arrived in Jerusalem a few months ago. I've also learnt he's not a friend of Guy de Lusignan, King Baldwin's inept and dangerous brother-in-law."
Ah! Who in his right state of mind could be friend with de Lusignan? He's a slug!
"The leper child holds Ibelin in high esteem, as well as Lord Tiberias. And for my personal experience, my Lord, I can assure you he is a good man."
"A good man? I could hardly be convinced otherwise! This Christian saved my sister's life! Why are you so worried?"
"I am worried because some of your advisors may not accept the presence of an enemy's son near you." Imad states matter-of-factly.
At the same moment, the injured young man moans as his eyes are moving beneath his closed eyelids. His head rolls from side to side, soundless words passing through his lips. Obviously, he's having fever dreams and they are not pleasant. And then, he calls out for someone:
"Father…. Father?"
I know enough of the Christians' language to recognize this word at once: young Ibelin is dreaming of Godfrey.
I get on my feet, and look at my secretary straight in the eye: "Anyone who dares hurting our guest will pay for it with his life. Understood?"
Leaving a very stunned Imad behind me, I walk out of the tent and I am greeted by the cool night's air. My heart sings at the sight of the wonderful display of stars in the firmament. All of them shine so brightly! Praised be Allah for making this world so beautiful!