Disclaimer: the same as in Chapter 1.
Author's note: in this chapter, Balian has nightmares and some details may be scary to sensitive readers.
Chapter 8
It was the second night after the arrival of Princess Yasmina, and all was quiet in Salah-al-Din's camp. The men were either asleep in their tents or singing softly around the campfires. The full moon has arisen, glowing in all its majesty in the deep blue night sky, and the stars were shining like diamond particles.
Under his tent, Imad, Salah-al-Din's long-time secretary and confidant, was looking down worryingly at a young Christian knight, lying unconscious in a pallet of blankets. Dreams were plaguing the injured man and the fever will have to break soon, otherwise the Baron of Ibelin's life would be lost. Imad closed his eyes as he silently prayed Allah to save the life of this chivalrous, interesting enemy.
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(Balian's dream)
Little Balian was wandering in a grassy field, a young boy with a mop of dark hair and bright, shiny dark eyes. His knees and hands were smudged with soil, his clothes needed mending, and yet he was the happiest little boy ever since he was King of the World!
He laughed in delight as green grass tickled his bare feet. His eyes opened wide in wonder as he saw an eagle soaring up in the blue, cloudless sky. He munched happily on a peach, savoring the sweet taste and giggling as the fruit juice dripped on his chin. The sun was shining and the flowers were blooming, giving the little King of the World a display of colors and perfumes. If the boy listened carefully, he could hear the wind whispering softly: "Balian… Balian… Balian…"
In a flutter of wings, the eagle came spiraling downwards, nearby Balian. Unafraid, the little boy offered his arm and the bird perched itself on it. It stared at Balian for a moment, and then the King of the Skies started nipping on the peach held by the little King of the World.
"What kind of man is a man who doesn't make the world better?" whispered Balian while watching the bird eating greedily bits of the fruit.
But all of a sudden, the world turned dark. Balian raised his head to see huge grey clouds gathering in the sky, hiding the sun. The calm wind changed into a tempest, the grass was moving like furious green waves, making the animals scatter in all directions. The eagle remained perched on Balian's arm but its claws tightened on the child's flesh. Balian winced inwardly but his face gave nothing.
The furious wind billowed Balian's clothes and hair, ruffling the eagle's feathers. The child thought he'd better find a shelter before the rain started but a rock passed nearby his face just before hitting the eagle in the head!
"Noooo!"
Balian screamed in horror as the eagle fell on the ground, mortally wounded. A mixture of blood and feathers spilled on the darkened grass while the bird's body was jerking in its last convulsions. The little boy started crying at the horrible sight of the eagle's brains peaking out of the skull, like a broken eggshell revealing the white.
Yells of delight thundered all over the meadow. Balian raised his head to see his half-brother running towards him, holding a sling and leading a bunch of young boys.
"Balian the Bastard! Balian the Bastard! Balian the Bastard!" chanted his half-brother, and of course his playmates chimed in happily, taunting and jeering the grieving little boy who was cradling the body of his dead pet in his arms.
His half-brother's face suddenly changed, making him older, uglier, and his clothes morphed into a priest's attire. Balian looked down and saw his body turning into a man's. The whole world changed too, as it was covered now in snow. The wind felt like it was charged with ice. Nature was exposing the bare bones of trees and bushes, dark branches contrasting against the pale gray sky.
Balian looked at his half-brother who was holding the corpse of Anne, his beloved wife. Anne looked sadly at Balian and the winter wind was billowing at the rope that was still hanging from her neck.
"She committed suicide, bastard!" yelled his brother. "She will go to Hell, just like you!"
"Leave her alone!"
Balian rushed to help his wife but in a swift movement, his half-brother ripped Anne's head from her body!
"She rejected me, bastard! She preferred sullying her body with you! I warned her against marrying you! Now, she's mine! Forever!" laughed madly the priest, looking at Anne's severed head like a hard-won prize.
Balian cried in anguish and charged at his half-brother while holding up in his hand a red-hot steel bar, which came out of nowhere. He reamed the bar through the priest's body, setting it into fire. His brother yelled in agony as he batted his hands in a futile attempt to smother the flames. Balian ripped his wife's crucifix from his brother's fat neck but the priest kept on cursing him:
"You killed me! You killed a priest! It's Hell for you, bastard brother!"
"I don't care!" Balian yelled back, but all of a sudden the armed men who had tried to ambush him in the forest surrounded him. Blood was covering their faces, armors, weapons and Balian realized these men were all dead, yet they were standing up and looking at him.
"We are taking you in for your crime!" said one of the soldiers.
"Nobody will try to help you!" said another.
"Yes, and don't bother fighting! We are already dead, nothing can stop us!" laughed a bearded soldier with an arrow stuck into his right eye.
Balian watched in horror as the corpses started moving towards him with the weapons held up high and then he found himself alone in the desert. The scorching heat was suffocating and the sun was beating on mercilessly on the lost man. The ghost soldiers were replaced by Mummad al-Fais, the Saracen knight who had attacked him shortly after his shipwreck. His throat was slashed open and blood was maculating the front of his beautiful robes, it was a dead man looking at Balian with furious eyes!
"I want a rematch!" yelled Mummad al-Fais. "I want a rematch!"
"I have no desire to fight!" shouted back Balian, but the Saracen cavalier paid him no heed and kept on asking for another duel. All of a sudden, Saladin's soldiers were charging right at him, like during the battle of Kerak, while thousands of villagers were running for their lives, carrying their meager possessions in carts or on camels' back.
Balian turned over to find help yet he was still alone in the desert with no horse, no sword and no men. The soldiers suddenly vanished and he was staring at King Baldwin IV and Princess Sybilla who had appeared like ghosts.
"Will you come to our aid as we are defenseless?" asked the king but before Balian could answer he found himself in a middle of a war zone, surrounded by dead bodies and burning tents. Camels and animals were running in all directions and, at a moment, Balian could see a dark horse being swallowed by the sand, moving and acting like an enormous, greedy mouth.
The sun became so huge it looked as it has filled the whole sky, burning the last remains of slaughtered humans. Balian knew he was dying: he walked like a crippled man toward a little patch of green grass, which was miraculously surviving under the suffocating heat. His legs felt like lead and he could barely keep his eyes open. Once he had reached the grassy field, he promptly collapsed.
"Balian… Balian…"
The wind's voice again… but where was he? Balian looked up to see he was lying in a barley field. The beautiful Saracen lady was there, watching him with mournful eyes over her ripened veil. She has still clutching her bouquet of barley ears in her right hand. He tried to smile, to tell her everything would be all right…
"Balian?" asked a strong, masculine voice.
The fallen man turned over as much as his weary body would allow him to do so to see… Godfrey of Ibelin, kneeling next to him!
That was impossible. Impossible! But how could Balian ever forget this battle-weary face lined with age and sorrow? It was really his father, looking down at him with his clear, sad blue eyes. He was still clothed in the long white shirt he was wearing during Balian's dubbing. Godfrey gathered his child in his arms, cradling the young man's upper body in his long, muscular arms, nestling Balian's head against his strong chest.
Rising a shaky hand, Balian managed to caress Godfrey's face with trembling fingers.
"Papa…"
"You do very well, my Balian. I am proud of you." Godfrey said before lightly kissing his son's forehead.
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(Some time later)
Imad's eyes snapped open: has he had fallen asleep? A quick glance at the sky told him the stars have indeed moved from the last time he had looked at them. The air was chillier and the men's voices have quieted down.
Ibelin!
Jumping on his feet, Imad rushed to the young Christian's bedside and to his surprise he could see the wounded man was sleeping peacefully, the ghost of a small smile on his lips. Imad pressed his hand to Ibelin's pale brow covered with perspiration and he didn't feel the heat he had come accustomed to expect. The fever has broken during the night.
"You never cease to amaze me, my friend" whispered the secretary. "I hope you will awaken soon, as I have lot of questions to ask you."
Like, for example, why Ibelin was clutching this barley ear in his hand as if it was a lifeline?