Chapter 7
"Will he live? Hakim demanded softly. The Saracens had made camp as soon as they were safely out of the Crusaders reach.
"Only Allah knows," Hassan answered distractedly. "He fevers already. So much damage, he is strong though perhaps he will live. He is a puzzle this boy. He is much more than he seems," Hassan frowned thoughtfully. "So many scars."
"Scars?" Hakim asked.
"Make yourself useful hold his leg here I need to set the bone," Hassan ordered. Hakim looked grey but manfully held the limb as the leg was manipulated. "Most likely a limp for the rest of his life," Hassan sighed sadly. "If only I knew more".
"You do your best my friend that is all God asks of any us," Hakim comforted. "Shackles?" Hakim traced a scar on a slender wrist.
"Yes there are signs of past abuse as well, whip scars he wore a collar at some point," Hassan said flatly.
"A criminal?" Hakim muttered. "Is this what I think it is?" Hakim traced a scar on the exposed shoulder.
"Yes it is a bite scar," Hassan said sadly.
"The man must have been huge," Hakim grunted.
"No the boy was small when it happened. He was perhaps five or six years," Hassan disagreed. Hakim looked up in shock. "Yes he bears rape scars as well".
"Why do you keep calling him a boy he is a man grown," Hakim muttered.
"He is perhaps as much as 16 but I doubt it highly," Hassan disagreed. "Did you notice his hair? It is almost weaving the intricacy of the braid. The hair clasp is gold Hakim. This is no common bowman at all," Hassan smiled gently his eyes danced. "I think the Crusaders will deeply regret the loss of this falcon.
"Hassan?"
"If he lives I think our young charge will peak the sultan's interest," Hakim smiled.
"Nothing interests 'Ladin these days," Hakim grunted.
"An unjustly condemned youth, heartbroken and quite rare," Hassan grinned.
"The sultan can be quite tenderhearted," Hakim brightened.
"And he has an eye for beauty," Hassan smiled mischievously.
"Beauty?" Hakim looked down at the swollen and discolored features.
"He is heart stopping under all those bruises," Hassan smirked.
"Take care of our prize," Hakim patted the bare shoulder and rose.
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"So how fares our bowman?" Hakim asked the next morning as they prepared to ride out.
"He lives," Hassan sighed. "He still has not woke. I fear he is in the dying sleep."
"Not woke at all? This is not good," Hakim growled.
"Not good at all, his skull is cracked in three places. He has had 6 seizures already. The fever could kill him. Both arms are broken as well as five ribs. There are more bruises then clear skin. The broken leg and a cracked pelvis, There is blood in his waste," Hassan listed harshly.
"Hurt inside then," Hakim muttered.
"He is even more rare then I believed. Come and look," Hassan ordered.
"Is he alive?" Hakim asked looking down on the far to still body.
"Of course he's alive. Look at this," Hassan lifted a long fingered hand.
"I do not ...6 fingers?" Hakim gasped.
"Then there is this," Hassan very gently moved some curls aside revealing the ear.
"Is he a Jinn?" Hakim gasped.
"No not this little one. It is an attractive little defect is it not?" Hassan smiled as he traced the pointed tip.
"Is there more of your surprises?" Hakim grunted nervously.
"A tattoo, help me move him to show you," Hassan ordered.
"A ownership mark?" Hakim questioned the tattoo.
"No it is too well done this took months perhaps years to do. Identification yes, a slaves mark no," Hassan disagreed.
"I have never seen such colors before," Hakim breathed in awe at the artwork.
"A dragon why does that seem so important," Hassan scowled. "Something about the dragons."
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The bowman yet lived when they reached the palace. Hassan carefully settled his patient into his quarters. Hakim went to report.
"Hassan sends his regrets my lord," Hakim bowed.
"Where is he?" Saladin scowled. "Was he harmed?"
"No my lord he has a patient he will not leave," Hakim soothed.
"Then this mountain goes to Mohammed," Saladin stood up and stalked to the door intent on Hassan.
"Your too thin," Hassan snapped as the sultan entered his apartments.
"I have no appetite," Saladin muttered acting much as he had when Hassan had fussed when he was just a boy. A pained cry distracted Hassan from continuing his lecture.
"Praise God," he breathed rushing into another room. "The fever has finally broken," Hassan looked up with a wide smile.
"He will heal now then," Hakim leaned against the door frame.
"Head injuries are tricky," Hassan shook his head. "This is only the first battle. The fever, head injuries , seizures he could never wake or be damaged if he does," Hassan warned.
"Like Tuka?" Saladin spoke sadly remembering a childhood friend.
"Yes mind damaged," Hassan sighed. Resettling the bowman he urged the others into the main room.
"The Lionheart gave you this man?" Saladin ate distractedly when Hassan set a plate before him. Hakim and Hassan exchanged pleased looks as they fed their lord.
"The old fool asked for him when he was offered riches," Hakim huffed. "A condemned man,"
"Condemned for what reason?" Saladin paused in mid-bite.
"Murder," Hakim replied softly.
"Falsely accused," Hassan retorted. "Your own spymaster says he was at Antioch at the time the Count's page was killed".
"I didn't say he killed the child. I said he was condemned for the crime," Hakim huffed defensively. "It is the bowman 'Ladin," Hakim said.
"Your bowman?" Saladin gaped in shock.
"Yours now," Hakim reminded.
"He was the younger Larabee's confident. I imagine he learned much," Hassan said calmly. Speculative looks were exchanged. "Only time will tell if his broken head still contains any information," Hassan reminded. "It was for this reason I claimed him for you my sultan".
"You offer him to me," Saladin studied his old teacher closely. Most gifts from Hassan had deeper meanings.
"Of course," Hassan smiled faintly.
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Almost 6 weeks later Saladin watched from his balcony as the clearly agitated bowman shuffled cautiously hands outstretched as he traversed a short distance in the garden below.
"How is he?" Saladin asked Hassan.
"He still has the fainting spells and the sick headaches. The seizures seem to have stopped. He doesn't admit it but he is in pain most of the time," Hassan reported.
"His eyes?" Saladin asked softly.
"There is no change he is still blind," Hassan said sadly. "His arms are healing very well. I fear he will always have the limp though. He learns very quickly. I can not decide if he has truly forgotten his past or he hides inside himself," the healer continued.
"He remembers nothing?" Saladin straightened.
"The fever, the injuries, right now he is simply a frightened child. A very charming child," Hassan admitted.
"Is this possible?" Saladin demanded.
"At this time he seems very much like Tuka," Hakim muttered uncomfortably.
"Will he remain so?" the sultan asked sadly remembering the falcon's challenging stare.
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Hakim burst into Saladin's private quarters closely followed by the spymaster Ari. "'Ladin the infidels failed to hold Antioch and have fallen back to Red Rock," Hakim blurted.
"This is totally unexpected," Saladin straightened at the balustrade. Quickly the two men joined him on the balcony.
"The dispatches said the left flank collapsed," Hakim reported scanning the just delivered dispatch.
"The left flank? Where were the bowmen?" Saladin demanded sharply. Hakim read the dispatch closely.
"There were very few archers and none of the Black Wolves," Hakim said in disbelief.
"Where was Sir Christopher?" Saladin wondered.
"He was on the front along with his knights," Hakim read further with a frown.
"So where are the cursed bowmen?" Saladin demanded worriedly.
"This dispatch is asking the same question," Hakim lowered the report.
"Ari what say your spies?" Saladin gestured to the unopened dispatch.
"Allah has blessed us," Ari breathed reading the first lines. "There seems to be a great uproar among the infidel camp. The Black Wolf"s bowmen claim that Sir Christopher has broken faith with them". Saladin hummed thoughtfully leaning on the banister and looking into the garden below. "They cast down his banner and rode out to take passage for home," Ari hissed in disbelief.
"They scorned Larabee's Wolf?" Hakim gasped.
"They more than scorned. They trampled it under foot as the rode out. They fired on the troops King Richard sent to stop them," Ari blurted.
"An uproar indeed," Hakim muttered.
"What is your part in this I wonder," Saladin breathed looking down as the slave slowly limped along the path below.