Saladin himself sat on the hill looking down at the melee below him. Members of his personal guard had engaged a group of Larabee's Black Wolves. The Moslems had developed a grudging respect for the wild English bowman, most especially these who rode under Sir Christopher's black wolf banner.
This band of infidels had taken lessons from their enemies. As they became more familiar with this type of warfare they rapidly adopted the robes and veil of the natives unlike most of the Christian warriors. They all were clearly marked with the black wolf lest anyone mistake them for Saracens. Within weeks the men rode horses of the arab style. Now they effectively guarded the venerable flank of the heavily armored less agile knights from the Moslem warriors.
"They are Jinn," Hakim ibn Yusuf, his Captain of Body Guards panted as he rode up the hill from the skirmish below joining his sultan.
"Jinn," Saladin chuckled at his sweating friend.
"I think they are truly wolves," Hakim huffed avoiding his old friend's twinkling eyes.
"They're not jinn and not wolves, they're fine horsemen though," Saladin said thoughtfully.
"And better bowmen," Hakim admitted ruefully
"I noticed," Saladin grinned openly. "Call in the men I have seen enough".
"They're only playing 'Ladin," Hakim protested.
Each side was content to spar being careful to avoid injuring their counterparts.
"I noticed, but here comes the school masters," Saladin indicated a band of fast riding knights.
Hakim sounded his horn recalling his troops.
"Hakim, my friend," Saladin looked over waiting for the troops to rejoin them.
"Yes 'Ladin?" Hakim asked distractedly still excited over the little engagement.
"The arrow in your robe is ...distracting," Saladin grinned and waved at the offending arrow. Hakim snarled and pulled the arrow out.
"Too bold that Bowman," Hakim growled examining his robe.
"It was your Shadow," Saladin said before trotting off.
Hakim shook the arrow over his head glaring down at the Englishers. Laughter broke out when the black horse and his rider bowed low in response.
"I'll remember this," Hakim grinned and yelled down.
"Now, tha's a worry old man," Shadow yelled back.
"Old Man!" Hakim huffed as he drew even with Saladin.
"There is some gray in your beard," Saladin pointed out helpfully before racing ahead.
"Gray, GRAY!" Hakim bellowed loudly racing after his lord.
"Ah sorry old friend I didn't know. I'LL TALK LOUDER SO YOU CAN HEAR ME NOW!" Saladin yelled back before his laughter floated back.
I haven't seen him play like this since Acre was destroyed. Hakim smiled happily and raced after the laughing man.
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"These black wolves are everything the Commanders reported," Hakim said seriously as he sank into the bathing pool. Saladin nodded faintly as he soaked in the warm water.
"Yes, they are," the sultan finally spoke.
"Too bad their infidels. What we could do with these bowmen," Hakim groaned in relief as he settled.
"Those old bones bothering you tonight?" Saladin's lips twitched.
"Upstart Englisher," Hakim grunted.
"We need to keep them well occupied for any flank attack to work," Saladin said thoughtfully.
"Indeed, do you think it was deliberate Omar's girth being cut?" Hakim grinned mischievously.
"I'd wager on it," Saladin opened his eyes and laughed.
"Was it my imagination or was Shadow in command?" Hakim wondered.
"Today he was, it was not the full troop," Saladin reminded.
"He knew you were testing them," Hakim said thoughtfully.
"Yes, he waved farewell," Saladin chuckled.
"Huh," Hakim snorted.
"He will be most difficult to anticipate," Saladin sighed.
"Bad for us," Hakim agreed.
"He is a common bowman he will not have command in battle," Saladin reminded.
"Foolish to waste such a man," Hakim grunted in disgust.
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It was some two month's later that Saladin and his advisors discussed recent set backs.
"This cannot continue," Saladin growled.
He had seemed to aged years in the few weeks since the melee. Sorrow etched deep lines in his face. The loss of his sultana and unborn son in childbirth had broken the warrior's heart.
"They have changed their tactics these last two weeks," one of the commander's reported.
"How so?" Saladin demanded.
"They sent the Black Wolves into harass our rear. While the English long bows held guarded the flanks. They sent five flights of arrows into our companies."
"Duke Pierre?" Hakim frowned.
"No, his heir Christopher," the commander replied.
"The Drunkard?" a councilor questioned.
"Sir Christopher is proving to be much more than a violent drunken fool," Saladin tossed down a report on the last engagement.
"Ari what say your spies?" the sultan turned to his spy master.
"Sir Christopher is not the ill-tempered sot that left England. He seems to have recovered himself on the journey. He gained 6 companions on the journey," Ari reported.
"Companions?" Saladin asked.
"Once more he share's a cooking pot with Sir Bucklin," Ari listed.
"One of Duke Pierre's bastards," Hakim nodded.
"The Squire Jaedee, whom you ransomed back," Ari reminded.
"Yet another of the duke's bastards," Hakim noted.
"Then there are two of our old acquaintances," Ari chuckled faintly. "Sir Josiah and the healer Nathan are sharing a fire also. Then there is the peacock Sir Ezra heir to Standish."
"A wastrel that one," a councilor sniffed.
"Or perhaps a lion in disguise," Ari suggested calmly. "It is the sixth one I cannot understand," Ari looked bewildered. "He isn't even noble, Hakim's bowman."
"Falcon's shadow," Hakim corrected softly.
"He comes only to Sir Christopher's whistle this falcon," Ari reported. "I have discovered nothing of him. It is as if he truly is only a shadow. No one marks his passing. He doesn't drink, only with his companions does he gamble. An excellent hunter he divides his kill equally with the closest settlement. The villagers claim him as a protector. Very quiet he has a thick accent. How much of the Lingua Franka he understands is questionable. He may not understand the English or the French."
"This is all good and well but it has nothing to do with the new strategy and our losses," a councilor barked.
"It is not the Crusader's normal tactics," Hakim hissed.
"It is very effective though we loose so many to those thrice cursed bows," the commander fumed. "It was bad enough when the Lionheart led," he grumbled.
"Wait, Richard of England does not lead?" Saladin demanded.
"He has been stricken with a fever and lays a bed," Ari responded quickly.
"For how long?" Saladin demanded.
"Two we . . . , every since they changed tactics," Ari blurted in disbelief.
"Our answer is simple, we must get our honored enemy back on his feet," Saladin said thoughtfully.
"Better that he dies," a greybeard muttered.
"With the Lion in command they will return to their old tactics. The bowmen will be sent back to their places. England's king would say it lacks honor to use them thus," Saladin mused softly. "His knightly honor would require nothing less," the sultan smiled.
"In concern for his most honored enemy the Sultan Saladin could send his personal physician," Hassan the physician smiled gently from his place at the council.
"It could work," the commander brightened.
"If Richard dies, Hassan could be in danger," a councilor warned.
"A risk worth the taking," Hassan answered calmly.
"Such an important personage as Hassan ibn Mommar the personal physician to the sultan Saladin would require a bodyguard worthy of him," Hakim grinned openly.
"So they would watch the bright parrot and forget about the lowly dove," Saladin agreed. "Let it be done".