Читать книгу The Templar Knight - Jan Guillou - Страница 7

During Muharram, the holy month of mourning, which occurred when the summer was at its hottest in the year 575 after Hijra, called Anno Domini 1177 by the infidels, God sent His most remarkable deliverance to those of His faithful He loved best.

Yussuf and his brother Fahkr were riding for their lives and right behind, shielding them from the enemies’ arrows, came the Emir, Moussa. Their pursuers, who were six in number, were steadily gaining on them, and Yussuf cursed his arrogance, which had made him believe that something like this would never happen since he and his companions possessed the swiftest of horses. But the landscape here in the valley of death and drought due west of the Dead Sea was just as inhospitably arid as it was rocky. This made it dangerous to ride too fast, although their pursuers seemed completely unhampered by this. But if one of them happened to take a spill, it would be no less fateful than if any of the men being chased should fall.

Yussuf suddenly decided to cut across to the west and head up toward the mountains, where he hoped to find cover. Before long the three pursued horsemen were following a wadi, a dry riverbed, up a steep slope. But the wadi began to narrow and deepen so that they were soon riding in a long ravine, as if God had caught them in flight and was now steering them in a specific direction. Now there was only one road, and it led upward, growing steeper and steeper, making it harder and harder to keep up their speed. And their pursuers were coming steadily closer; they would soon be within shooting range. The men being chased had already fastened their round iron-clad shields to their backs.

Yussuf was not in the habit of praying for his life. But now, as he was forced to decrease his speed more and more among all the treacherous boulders at the bottom of the wadi, a verse came to him from God’s Word, which he breathlessly rattled off with parched lips:

He who has created life and death in order to test you and allow you to prove who among you, by his actions, is the best. He is the Almighty. The One who always forgives.

And God did indeed test His beloved Yussuf and showed him, first as a mirage against the light of the setting sun, and then with terrible clarity the most horrific sight that any of the faithful in such a hunted and difficult situation could see.

From the opposite direction in the wadi came a Templar knight with lowered lance, and behind him rode his sergeant. Both of these foes were riding at such speed that their cloaks billowed behind them like great dragon wings; they came like jinni out of the desert.

Yussuf abruptly reined in his horse and fumbled with his shield, which he now had to pull around to the front to face the infidel’s lance. He felt no fear, only a cold excitement at the nearness of death, and he steered his horse over to the steep wall of the wadi to present a narrower target and increase the angle of the enemy’s lance.

But then the Templar knight, who was only a few breaths away, raised his lance and waved his shield, as a signal to Yussuf and his brother to move aside and get out of their way. They complied at once, and the next moment the two Templar knights thundered past as they let their cloaks fall, which fluttered to the dust behind them.

Yussuf quickly issued an order to his companions. With difficulty, their horses’ hooves slipping, they clambered up the steep slope of the wadi until they reached a spot from which they had a good view. There Yussuf turned his horse around and stopped, for he wished to understand what God meant by all of this.

The two others wanted to take advantage of the opportunity and escape while the Templar knights and bandits settled matters as they saw fit. But Yussuf rejected all such arguments with a curt gesture of annoyance because he truly wanted to see what would happen next. He had never in all his life been this close to a Templar knight, those demons of evil, and he felt strongly, as if God’s voice were advising him, that he had to see what was going to happen; mere common sense would not stop him. Common sense dictated that they should continue their ride toward Al Arish for as long as the light permitted. But what he now saw he would never forget.

The six bandits had few choices once they discovered that instead of chasing three wealthy men they were now facing two Templar knights, lance to lance. The wadi was much too narrow for them to be able to stop, turn around, and affect a retreat before the Franks were upon them. After a brief hesitation they did the only thing they could do: They grouped themselves so they were riding two by two and spurred their horses so as not to be killed by standing still.

The white-clad Templar knight who rode in front of his sergeant first feigned an attack to the right of the first two bandits, and when they held up their shields to counter the dreaded blow of his lance - Yussuf wondered whether the bandits understood what now awaited them - the Templar knight spun his horse around with a swift movement that shouldn’t have been possible in such tight quarters. This gave him a whole new vantage point, and he thrust his lance right between the shield and body of the bandit on the left. At the same time, he released his lance so as not to be wrenched out of his saddle. Just at that moment the sergeant came in contact with the astonished bandit on the right, who was huddled behind his shield, waiting for the blow that never came, and who now looked up only to see the other foe’s lance coming towards his face from the wrong direction.

The white-clad man with the loathsome red cross now faced the next two enemies in a passageway so narrow that there was barely room for three horses abreast. He had drawn his sword, and at first it looked as if he intended to attack headon, which would have been unwise with a weapon on only one side. But suddenly he turned his handsome steed sideways, a roan at the height of its powers, and lashed out behind him, striking one of the bandits and toppling him out of the saddle.

The second bandit then saw a good opportunity since the enemy was approaching him sideways, almost backwards, with his sword in the wrong hand and out of reach. What he did not notice was that the Templar knight had dropped his shield and switched his sword to his left hand. When the bandit leaned forward in the saddle to strike with his sabre, he exposed his whole neck and head to the blow, which now came from the opposite direction.

‘If the head can retain a thought at the moment of death, if only for a brief breath, then that was a very surprised head that fell to the ground,’ said Fahkr in amazement. He too was now captivated by the drama and wanted to see more.

The last two bandits had exploited the moment of decreased speed that had befallen the white-clad Templar knight as he dispatched the other bandit. They had turned their horses around and were now fleeing down the wadi.

At that moment the black-clad sergeant reached the godless dog who had been knocked to the ground by the Templar knight’s horse. The sergeant dismounted, calmly grabbed the reins of the bandit’s horse with one hand and with the other used his sword to stab the dazed, reeling, and no doubt bruised bandit in the throat at the spot where his steel-plated leather coat of mail ended. But then the sergeant no longer made any attempt to follow his master, who had now put on speed to chase down the last two fleeing bandits. Instead, the sergeant hobbled the horse he had just caught with the reins and then cautiously began rounding up the other loose horses, seeming to talk to them reassuringly. He did not appear at all worried about his master, whom he had been following so closely to offer protection. Instead, he seemed to think it more important to gather up the enemies’ horses. It was truly a strange sight.

‘That man,’ said Emir Moussa, pointing toward the whiteclad Templar knight who was far down the wadi and about to disappear from the sight of the three faithful, ‘that man there, sire, is Al Ghouti.’

‘Al Ghouti?’ said Yussuf, puzzled. ‘You say his name as if I should know him. But I do not. Who is Al Ghouti?’

‘Al Ghouti is a man you should know, sire,’ replied Emir Moussa resolutely. ‘He is the man God sent to us for our sins, he is the one among the devils of the red cross who sometimes ride with the Turcopoles and sometimes with their heavy horsemen. Now, as you can see, he is riding an Arabian stallion as a Turcopole does, but carrying a lance and sword as if he were seated on one of the slow and heavy Frankish horses. He is also the emir of the Knights Templar in Gaza.’

‘Al Ghouti, Al Ghouti,’ muttered Yussuf thoughtfully. ‘I would like to meet him. We will wait here!’

The two others looked at him in horror but realized at once that he had made up his mind, so it would do no good to offer any objections, no matter how wise.

While the three Saracen horsemen waited at the top of the wadi’s slope, they watched the Templar knight’s sergeant. Seemingly unperturbed and as though carrying out the most ordinary daily task, he had rounded up the horses of the four dead men. He then tied them together and started lugging and dragging the corpses of the bandits. With great effort, although he appeared to be a very powerful man, he hoisted them up and bound them hand and foot, each dead man slung over his own horse.

The Templar knight and the two remaining bandits, who had been the pursuers but were now the pursued, could no longer be seen.

‘Very clever,’ muttered Fahkr as if to himself. ‘That is clever. He ties the right man to the right horse to keep the animals calm in spite of the blood. He is obviously thinking of taking the horses along with them.’

‘Yes, they are truly fine horses,’ agreed Yussuf. ‘What I do not understand is how such criminals could have horses that are fit for a king. Their horses kept pace with our own.’

‘Worse than that. They were closing on us at the end,’ objected Emir Moussa, who never hesitated to speak his mind to his lord. ‘But haven’t we seen enough? Wouldn’t it be wise to ride off now into the darkness before Al Ghouti comes back?’

‘Are you certain that he will come back?’ asked Yussuf, amused.

‘Yes, sire, he will come back,’ replied Emir Moussa morosely. ‘I am just as certain of that as the sergeant is down there; he hasn’t even troubled to follow his master when there are only two enemies to fight. Didn’t you notice that Al Ghouti had thrust his sword into its sheath and had pulled out his bow and stretched it taut just as he came around the bend down there?’

‘He pulled out a bow? A Templar knight?’ asked Yussuf in surprise, raising his slender eyebrows.

‘Yes he did, sire,’ replied Emir Moussa. ‘He is a Turcopole, as I said; sometimes he travels light and shoots from the saddle like a Turk, except his bow is bigger. Far too many of the faithful have died from his arrows. I would still dare to suggest, sire, that -’

‘No!’ Yussuf cut him off. ‘We will wait here. I want to meet him. We have a truce with the Knights Templar right now, and I want to thank him. I owe him my gratitude, and I refuse even to consider being indebted to a Templar knight!’

The two others could see it would do no good to argue any further. But they were uneasy, and all conversation ceased.

They sat there in silence for a while, leaning forward with one hand resting on the pommel of their saddles as they watched the sergeant, who was now done with the bodies and horses. He had started gathering the weapons and the cloaks that both he and his master had flung off right before the attack. After a while he picked up the severed head in one hand, and for a moment it looked as if he were wondering how to pack it up. At last he pulled the headdress off one of the bandits, wrapped it around the head, and made a parcel which he tied onto the pommel of the saddle over which the body with the missing head was slung.

Finally the sergeant was finished with all his tasks. He made sure all of the packs were fastened securely and then mounted his horse and began slowly leading his caravan of linked horses past the three Saracens.

Yussuf then greeted the sergeant politely in Frankish, with a wave of his arm. The sergeant gave him an uncertain smile in return, but they could not hear what he said.

Dusk began to fall, the sun had dropped behind the high mountains to the west, and the salt water of the sea far below no longer gleamed blue. The horses seemed to sense their masters’ impatience; they tossed their heads and snorted now and then, as if they too wanted to get moving before it grew too late.

But then they saw the white-clad Templar knight returning along the wadi. In tow behind him came two horses with two dead men draped over the saddles. He was in no hurry and rode with his head lowered, making him look as if he were lost in prayer even though he was probably just keeping an eye on the rocky, uneven ground. He did not appear to have seen the three waiting horsemen, although from his vantage point they must have been visible, silhouetted against the light part of the evening sky.

But when he reached them, he looked up and reined in his horse without saying a word.

Yussuf felt at a loss, as if he had been struck dumb because what he now saw did not coincide with what he had witnessed only a short time ago. This spawn of the Devil, who was openly called Al Ghouti, radiated peace. He had hung his helmet by a chain over his shoulder. His short fair hair and his thick, unkempt beard of the same colour framed a demon’s face with eyes that were as blue as you might expect. But here was a man who had just killed three or four other men; in the excitement Yussuf had not been able to keep track of how many, even though he usually could recall everything he saw in battle. Yussuf had seen many men after a victory, just after they had killed and won, but he had never seen anyone who looked as if he had come from a day’s work, as if he had been harvesting grain in the fields or sugarcane in the marshes, with the clear conscience that only good work can provide. His blue eyes were not the eyes of a demon.

‘We were waiting for you…we wish to thank you…’ said Yussuf in a semblance of Frankish that he hoped the other man would understand.

The man who was called Al Ghouti in the language of the faithful gazed at Yussuf steadily as his face slowly lit up with a smile, as if he were searching his memory and had found what he sought. This made Emir Moussa and Fahkr, but not Yussuf, cautiously, almost unconsciously, drop their hands to their weapons beside their saddles. The Templar knight quite clearly saw their hands, which now seemed to be moving of their own accord toward their sabres. Then he raised his glance to the three on the slope, looked Yussuf straight in the eyes, and replied in God’s own language:

‘In the name of God the Merciful, we are not enemies at this time, and I seek no strife with you. Consider these words from your own scripture, the words which the Prophet himself, may peace be with him, spoke: “Take not another man’s life - God has declared it holy - except in a righteous cause.” You and I have no righteous cause, for there is now a truce between us.’

The Templar knight smiled even wider, as if he wanted to entice them to laugh; he was fully aware of the impression he must have made on the three foes when he addressed them in the language of the Holy Koran. But Yussuf, who now realized that he had to be quick-witted and swift to take command of the situation, answered the Templar knight after only a slight hesitation.

‘The ways of God the Almighty are truly unfathomable,’ and to that the Templar knight nodded, as if these words were particularly familiar to him. ‘And only He can know why He sent an enemy to save us. But I owe you my thanks, knight of the red cross, and I will give you some of the riches that these infidels wanted. In this place where I now sit, I will leave a hundred dinars in gold, and they belong by rights to you for saving our lives.’

Yussuf now thought that he had spoken like a king, and a very generous king, as kings should be. But to his surprise and that of his brother and Emir Moussa, the Templar knight replied at first with a laugh that was completely genuine and without scorn.

‘In the name of God the Merciful, you speak to me out of both goodness and ignorance,’ said the Templar knight. ‘From you I can accept nothing. What I did here I had to do, whether you were present or not. And I own no worldly possessions and cannot accept any; that is one reason. Another reason is that the way around my vow is for you to donate the hundred dinars to the Knights Templar. But if you will permit me to say so, my unknown foe and friend, I think you would have difficulty explaining that gift to your Prophet!’

With these words, the Templar knight gathered up his reins, cast a glance back at the two horses and the two bodies he had in tow, and urged his Arabian horse on, as he raised his right hand with clenched fist toward the men in the salute of the Templar knights. He looked as if he found the situation quite amusing.

‘Wait!’ said Yussuf, so quickly that his words came faster than his thoughts. ‘Then I invite you and your sergeant instead to share our evening meal!’

The Templar knight reined in his horse and looked at Yussuf with a thoughtful expression.

‘I accept your invitation, my unknown foe and friend,’ the Templar knight replied, ‘but only on the condition that I have your word none of you intends to draw a weapon against me or my sergeant as long as we are in one another’s company.’

‘You have my word on the name of the true God and His Prophet,’ replied Yussuf quickly. ‘Do I have yours?’

‘Yes, you have my word on the name of the true God, His Son, and the Holy Virgin,’ replied the Templar knight just as quickly. ‘If you ride two fingers south of the spot where the sun went down behind the mountains, you will reach a stream. Follow it to the northwest and you will find several low trees near some water. Stay there for the night. We will be farther west, up on the slope near the same water that flows toward you. But we will not sully the water. It will soon be night and you have your hour for prayers, as do we. But afterwards, when we come in the darkness to you, we will make enough noise so you hear us, and not come quietly, like someone with evil intentions.’

The Templar knight spurred his horse, again saluted in farewell, got his little caravan moving, and rode off into the twilight without looking back.

The three faithful watched him for a long time without moving or saying a word. Their horses snorted impatiently, but Yussuf was lost in thought.

‘You are my brother, and nothing you do or say should surprise me anymore after all these years,’ said Fahkr. ‘But what you just did really surprised me. A Templar knight! And the one they call Al Ghouti at that!’

‘Fahkr, my beloved brother,’ replied Yussuf as he turned his horse with an easy movement to head in the direction described by his foe. ‘You must know your enemy; we have talked a great deal about that, haven’t we? And among your enemies, isn’t it best to learn from the one who is most monstrous of all? God has given us this golden opportunity; let us not refuse His gift.’

‘But can we trust the word of such a man?’ objected Fahkr after they had been riding for a time in silence.

‘Yes, we can, as a matter of fact,’ muttered Emir Moussa. ‘The enemy has many faces, known and unknown. But that man’s word we can trust, just as he can trust your brother’s.’

They followed their foe’s instructions and soon found the little stream with fresh cold water, where they stopped to let their horses drink. Then they continued along the stream and, exactly as the Templar knight had said, came to a level area. There the stream spread out to a small pond where low trees and bushes grew, with a sparse pasture area for the horses. They unsaddled the animals and took off the packs, hobbling the horses’ forelegs so that they would stay close to the water and not go in search of grazing land farther away, where none existed. Then the men washed themselves, as prescribed by law, before prayers.

At the first appearance of the bright crescent moon in the blue summer night sky, they said their prayers of mourning for the dead and of gratitude to God for sending them, in His unfathomable mercy, the worst of their foes to rescue them.

They talked a bit about this very subject after prayers. Yussuf then said that he thought God, in an almost humourous way, had shown His omnipotence: revealing that nothing was impossible for Him, not even sending Templar knights to rescue the very ones who in the end would conquer all Templar knights.

Yussuf tried to convince himself and everyone else of this. Year after year new warlords arrived from the Frankish lands; if they won, they soon returned home with their heavy loads.

But some Franks never went back home, and they were both the best and the worst of the lot. Best because they did not pillage for pleasure and because it was possible to reason with them, making trade contracts and peace agreements. But they were also the worst because some of them were fierce adversaries in war. The worst of them all were the two cursed devout orders of competing monks, the Templars and the Hospitallers of St John. Whoever wanted to cleanse the land of the enemy, whoever wanted to take back Al Aksa and the Temple of the Rock in God’s Holy City, would have to conquer both the Knights Templar and the Hospitallers. Nothing else was possible.

Yet they seemed impossible to conquer. They fought without fear, convinced that they would enter paradise if they died in battle. They never surrendered since their laws forbade the rescue of captured brothers from imprisonment. A captured Hospitaller knight or Templar knight was a worthless prisoner that they might just as soon release or kill. Thus they always died.

It was a rule of thumb that if fifteen of the faithful met five Templar knights out on a plain, it meant that either all or none of them would live. If the fifteen faithful attacked the five infidels, none of the faithful would escape with his life. To ensure victory of such an attack, they had to be four times as many and still be prepared to pay a very high price in casualties. With ordinary Franks this was not the case; ordinary Franks could be defeated even if there were fewer men on the side of the faithful.

While Fahkr and Emir Moussa gathered wood to make a fire, Yussuf lay on his back with his hands behind his head, staring up at the sky where more and more stars were appearing. He was pondering these men who were his worst enemies. He thought about what he had seen right before sundown. The man called Al Ghouti had a horse worthy of a king, a horse that seemed to think the same thoughts as his master, that obeyed instinctively.

It was not sorcery; Yussuf was a man who ultimately rejected such explanations. The simple truth was that the man and the horse had fought and trained together for many years, in the most serious fashion, not just as a pastime to be taken up when there was nothing else to do. Among the Egyptian Mamelukes there were similar men and horses, and the Mamelukes, of course, did nothing but train until they were successful enough to obtain commissions and land, their freedom and gold granted in gratitude for many good years of service in war. This was no miracle or magic; it was man alone and not God who created these kinds of men. The only question was: What was the most crucial characteristic for attaining that goal?

Yussuf’s answer to this question was always that it was pure faith, that the one who wholeheartedly and absolutely followed the words of the Prophet, may peace be with Him, regarding the Jihad, the holy war, would become an unconquerable warrior. But the problem was that among the Mamelukes in Egypt it was impossible to find the most faithful of Muslims; usually they were Turks and more or less superstitious, believing in spirits and holy stones and giving only lip service to the pure and true faith.

In this case it was worse that even the infidels could create men like Al Ghouti. Could it be that God was demonstrating that man uses his own free will to determine his purpose in life, in this life on earth, and that only when the holy fire separates the wheat from the chaff will it be apparent who are the faithful and who are the infidels?

It was a disheartening thought. For if it was God’s intention that the faithful, if they could unite in a Jihad against the infidels, should be rewarded with victory, why then had He created enemies who were impossible to defeat, man to man? Perhaps to show that the faithful truly had to unite against the enemy? The faithful had to stop fighting among themselves because those who joined forces would be ten to a hundred times more numerous than the Franks, who would then be doomed, even if they were all Templar knights.

Yussuf again recalled the image of Al Ghouti: his stallion; his black, well-oiled, and undamaged harness; his equipment, none of which was merely for the pleasure of the eye but for the joy of the hand. Something could be learned from this. Many men had died on the battlefield because they couldn’t resist wearing their stiff, new, glittery-gold brocade over their armour, which hindered their movements at the crucial moment, and thus they died more from vanity than anything else. Everything they had seen should be remembered and learned from, otherwise how were they going to conquer the devilish enemy that now occupied God’s Holy City?

The fire had already begun to crackle. Fahkr and Emir Moussa had spread out the muslin coverlet and were starting to set out provisions and drinking vessels of water. Emir Moussa squatted down and ground up his mocha beans to prepare his black Bedouin drink. With the descending darkness a cool breeze came racing down the mountainside from Al Kahlil, the city of Abraham. But the cool air after a hot day would soon give way to cold.

The westerly direction of the wind brought Yussuf the scent of the two Franks at the same time as he heard them out in the darkness. It was the smell of slaves and battlefields; no doubt they would come unwashed to the evening meal, like the barbarians they were.

When the Templar knight stepped into the light of the fire, the faithful saw that he was carrying his white shield with the red cross before him, as no guest ever should. Emir Moussa took several hesitant steps toward his saddle where he had stacked up their weapons with the harnesses. But Yussuf quickly caught his nervous eye and quietly shook his head.

The Templar knight bowed before each of his hosts in turn, and his sergeant followed his master’s lead. Then he surprised the three faithful by lifting up his white shield with the loathsome cross and setting it as high up as he could in one of the low trees. When he then stepped forward to unfasten his sword and sit down, as Yussuf invited him to do with a gesture of his hand, the Templar knight explained that as far as he knew, there were no malicious men in the area, but you could never be certain. For that reason the shield of a Templar knight would probably have a chilling effect on their fighting spirit. He generously offered to let his shield hang there overnight and come back to get it at dawn when it would be time for all of them to move on.

When the Templar knight and his sergeant sat down near the muslin coverlet and began setting out their own bundles - dates, mutton, bread, and something unclean were visible - Yussuf could no longer hold back the laughter he had tried so hard to suppress. All the others looked up at him in surprise, since none of them had noticed anything amusing. The two Templar knights frowned, suspecting that they might be the objects of Yussuf’s merriment.

He had to explain, saying that if there was one thing in the world he had never expected to have as night-time protection, it was in truth a shield with the worst emblem of the enemy. Although on the other hand this confirmed what he had always believed, that God in His omnipotence truly was not averse to joking with His children. And at this he thought they could all laugh.

Just then the Templar knight discovered a piece of smoked meat among the items his sergeant was setting out, and he said something harsh in Frankish and pointed with his long, sharp dagger. Red-faced, the sergeant removed the meat while the Templar knight apologized, shrugging his shoulders and saying that what was impure meat for one person in this world was good meat for another.

The three faithful now understood that a piece of pork had been lying in the middle of the food, and thus the entire meal was unclean. But Yussuf quickly whispered a reminder about God’s word in those cases when a man finds himself in need, when laws are not laws in the same way as when a man is in his own house, and they all had to be content with that.

Yussuf blessed the food in the name of God the Merciful and Gracious, and the Templar knight blessed the food in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and the Mother of God, and none of the five men showed any disdain for the beliefs of the others.

They began offering each other food, and finally, at Yussuf’s invitation, the Templar knight accepted a piece of lamb baked in bread, slicing it in two with his grey, unadorned, extremely sharp dagger. He then handed half of it on the tip of his knife to his sergeant, who stuffed it into his mouth, hiding his distaste.

They ate in silence for a while. The faithful had placed the lamb baked in bread along with chopped green pistachios baked in spun sugar and honey on their side of the muslin coverlet. On their own side, the infidels had dried mutton, dates, and dry white bread.

‘There is something I would like to ask you, Templar knight,’ said Yussuf after a while. He spoke in a low, intent voice, the way his closest friends knew he always talked when he had been thinking for a long time and wanted to understand something important.

‘You are our host, we have accepted your invitation, and we will gladly answer your questions, but remember that our faith is the true faith, not yours,’ replied the Templar knight with an expression as if he were daring to joke about his own faith.

‘Doubtless you know what I think about that matter, Templar knight, but here is my question. You rescued us, we who are your foes. I have already acknowledged that this is true, and I have thanked you. But now I want to know why you did it.’

‘We did not rescue our foes,’ said the Templar knight thoughtfully. ‘We have been after those six bandits for a long time. We’ve been following them at a distance for a week, waiting for the right moment. Our mission was to kill them, not to rescue you. But at the same time God happened to hold a protective hand over you, and neither you nor I can explain why.’

‘But you are the real Al Ghouti himself?’ Yussuf persisted.

‘Yes, that is so,’ said the Templar knight. ‘I am the one the nonbelievers in their own language now call Al Ghouti, but my name is Arn de Gothia, and my mission was to free the world of those six unworthy men, and I completed my mission. That is the whole of it.’

‘But why should someone like you do such a thing? Aren’t you also the emir of the Knights Templar in your fortress in Gaza? A man of rank? Why should such a man take on such a lowly mission, and a dangerous one at that, setting out for these inhospitable regions just to kill bandits?’

‘Because that was how our order came into being long before I was even born,’ replied the Templar knight. ‘From the beginning, when our troops had liberated God’s Sepulchre, our people had no protection when they went on a pilgrimage down to the River Jordan and the site where Yahia, as you call him, once baptized the Lord Jesus Christ. And back then pilgrims carried all their possessions with them, instead of leaving them in safekeeping with us, as they do now. They were easy prey for bandits. Our order was created to protect them. Even today it is considered a mission of honour to offer protection to pilgrims and kill bandits. So it is not as you think, that this is a lowly mission we give to just anyone; on the contrary, it is the heart and soul of our order, a mission of honour, as I said. And God granted our prayers.’

‘You are right,’ Yussuf concluded with a sigh. ‘We should always protect pilgrims. How much easier life would be here in Palestine if we all did so. By the way, in which Frankish country is this Gothia located?’

‘Not exactly in any Frankish country,’ replied the Templar knight with an amused glint in his eye, as if all his solemnity had suddenly vanished. ‘Gothia lies far north of the land of the Franks, at the ends of the earth. But what country do you come from? You don’t speak Arabic as if you came from Mecca.’

‘I was born in Baalbek, but all three of us are Kurds,’ replied Yussuf in surprise. ‘This is my brother Fahkr, and this is my…friend Moussa. Where did you learn to speak the language of the faithful? Men like you do not usually end up in long captivity, do they?’

‘No, that is true,’ replied the Templar knight. ‘Men like me don’t end up in prison at all, and I’m sure that you know why. But I have lived in Palestine for ten years; I am not here to steal goods and then go home after half a year. Most of the men who work for the Knights Templar speak Arabic. My sergeant’s name, by the way, is Armand de Gascogne; he’s quite new here and doesn’t understand much of what we’re saying. That’s why he is so silent, not like your men, who don’t dare speak until you give them permission.’

‘Your eyes are sharp,’ murmured Yussuf, red-faced. ‘I am the eldest, you can already see grey hairs in my beard; I am the one who administers the family’s money. We are merchants on our way to an important meeting in Cairo, and…I don’t know what my brother and my friend would want to ask one of the enemy’s knights. We are all peaceful men.’

The Templar knight gave Yussuf a searching glance but said nothing for a while. He took his time eating some of the honey-drenched almonds. He paused and held up a piece of the delicacy to the firelight to examine it, concluding that these baked goods must have come from Aleppo. Then he pulled out his wine-skin and took a drink without asking permission or offering an apology, and handed the skin to his sergeant. Afterwards he leaned back comfortably and drew his big, thick white cloak around him with its terrifying red cross, looking at Yussuf as if he were assessing his opponent in a game of backgammon, not as a foe but as someone who must be evaluated.

‘My unknown friend and foe, what use do any of us have for falsehoods when we eat together in peace and both have given our word not to harm each other?’ he said at last. He spoke very easily, with no rancour in his voice. ‘You are a warrior, as I am. If God wills, we shall meet next time on the battlefield. Your clothes betray you; your horses betray you, just as your harnesses do, and your swords, which are leaning against the saddles over there. They are swords made in Damascus; none of them costs less than five hundred dinars in gold. Your peace and mine will soon be over; the truce is about to be ended, and if you don’t know this now, you will know it soon. Let us therefore enjoy this strange hour. It’s not often that a man gets to know his enemy. But let us not lie to each other.’

Yussuf was struck by an almost irresistible urge to tell the Templar knight honestly who he was. But it was true that the truce would soon be ended, although it had not yet been felt on any battlefield. And their mutual oath not to harm each other, the reason they could sit and eat together at all, was valid only for this evening.

‘You’re right, Templar knight,’ he said at last. ‘Insh’Allah, if God wills, we will someday meet on the battlefield. But I also think, as you do, that a man should get to know his enemies, and you seem to know many more of the faithful than we know of the infidels. I now give my men permission to speak to you.’

Yussuf leaned back, also drawing his cloak closer around him, and signalled to his brother and emir that they were allowed to speak. But they both hesitated, accustomed as they were to sitting an entire evening and just listening. Since none of them made any attempt to speak, the Templar knight leaned toward his sergeant and carried on a brief whispered conversation in Frankish.

‘My sergeant wonders about one thing,’ he then explained. ‘Your weapons, your horses, and your clothes alone are worth more than those unfortunate bandits could ever have dreamed of. How did it happen that you chose this perilous road west of the Dead Sea without sufficient escort?’

‘Because it is the quickest route, because an escort arouses a great deal of attention…’ replied Yussuf slowly. He did not want to embarrass himself by again saying something that wasn’t true, so he had to weigh his words. Any escort of his would certainly have attracted attention because it would have consisted of at least three thousand horsemen if it was to be considered safe.

‘And because we trusted our horses. We didn’t think a few worthless bandits or Franks would be able to catch us,’ he added swiftly.

‘Wise but not wise enough,’ the Templar knight nodded. ‘But those six bandits have been plundering these regions for almost half a year. They knew the area like the backs of their hands, they could ride faster on these stretches than any of us could. That was what made them rich. Until God punished them.’

‘I would like to know one thing,’ said Fahkr, who now spoke for the first time and had to clear his throat because he was stumbling over his own words. ‘It is said that you Templar knights who reside in Al Aksa had a minbar there, a place of prayer for the faithful. And people have also told me that you Templar knights once struck a Frank who tried to prevent one of the faithful from praying. Is this really true?’

All three of the faithful now gave their full attention to the enemy. But the Templar knight smiled and first translated the question into Frankish for the sergeant, who at once nodded and burst out laughing.

‘Yes, there is more truth to that than you know,’ said the Templar knight after thinking for a moment, or pretending to think in order to spur his listeners’ interest. ‘We do have a minbar in Templum Salomonis, as we call Al Aksa, “the most remote of prayer sites.” But that is not so unusual. In our fortress in Gaza we have a majlis every Thursday, the only day possible, and the witnesses then swear on God’s Holy Scriptures, on the Torah, or on the Koran, and in some cases on something else entirely that they regard as holy. If the three of you were Egyptian merchants as you claimed, you would also know that our order conducts a great deal of business with the Egyptians, and none of them share our beliefs. Al Aksa, if you wish to use that name, is where we Templar knights have our headquarters, and where many people come as our guests. The problem is that every September new vessels arrive from Pisa or Genoa or the southern lands of the Franks with new men filled with the spirit and the zeal, perhaps not to enter paradise at once, but to kill unbelievers or at least lay hands on them. These newcomers create great difficulties for the rest of us, and each year, shortly after September, we always have disturbances in our own quarters because the newcomers turn against people of your faith, and then of course we have to deal with them harshly.’

‘You would kill your own kind for the sake of our people?’ gasped Fahkr.

‘Of course not!’ replied the Templar knight with sudden vehemence. ‘For us it is a grave sin, just as it is in your faith, to kill any man who is a true believer. That can never come into question.’

He went on after a brief pause, his good humour restored, ‘But nothing prevents us from giving rogues like that a good thrashing if they refuse to be persuaded. I myself have had the pleasure on several occasions…’

Quickly he leaned toward his sergeant and translated. When the sergeant began nodding and laughing in agreement, a great sense of relief seemed to come over everyone, and they all joined in with hearty laughter - perhaps a bit too hearty.

A gust of air, like the last sigh of the evening wind from the mountains near Al Khalil, suddenly carried the stench of the Templar knights toward the three faithful, and they shrank back, unable to hide their feelings.

The Templar knight noticed their embarrassment and rose to his feet immediately, suggesting that they change sides and wind direction around the muslin coverlet, where Emir Moussa was now setting out small cups of mocha. The three hosts complied with his suggestion at once, without saying anything offensive.

‘We have our rules,’ explained the Templar knight apologetically as he settled into his new place. ‘You have rules about washing yourselves at all times of the day, and we have rules that forbid doing so. It is no worse than the fact that you have rules permitting hunting while we have ones forbidding it, except for lions; or that we drink wine and you do not.’

‘Wine is a different matter,’ objected Yussuf. ‘The prohibition against wine is a strict one, and it is God’s word to the Prophet, may peace be with Him. But we are not like our enemies; just consider God’s words in the seventh Sura: “Who has forbidden the beautiful things that God has granted His servants and all the good He has given them for their sustenance?”’

‘Well yes,’ said the Templar knight. ‘Your scriptures say many things. But if, for the sake of vanity, you want me to expose my modesty and make myself fair-smelling like worldly men, I might just as well ask you to stop calling me your enemy. For just listen to the words of your own scriptures, from the sixty-first Sura, words of your own Prophet, may peace be with Him: “Faithful! Be God’s disciples. Just as Jesus, the son of Mary, said to the white-clad: ‘Who will be my disciple for the sake of God?’ And they answered: ‘We will be God’s disciples!’ Among the children of Israel, some came to believe in Jesus while others rejected him. But we supported those who believed in him against their enemies, and the faithful departed with victory.” I particularly like the part about the white-clad…’

At these words Emir Moussa sprang to his feet as if he were about to reach for his sword, but halfway there he restrained himself and stopped. His face was red with anger when he stretched out his arm and pointed an accusatory finger at the Templar knight.

‘Infidel!’ he cried. ‘You speak the language of the Koran; that is one thing. But twisting God’s words with blasphemy and ridicule is another matter that you would not be allowed to survive if it weren’t for His Majes…because my friend Yussuf has given you his word!’

‘Sit down and behave yourself, Moussa!’ shouted Yussuf harshly, regaining his composure as Moussa obeyed his command. ‘What you heard were indeed the words of God, and they were from the sixty-first Sura, and they are words you ought to consider. And don’t think, by the way, that the phrase “the white-robed” refers to what our guest spoke of in jest.’

‘No, of course it does not,’ the Templar knight hurried to smooth things over. ‘It refers to those who wore white robes long before my order existed; my clothing has nothing to do with it.’

‘How do you happen to be so familiar with the Koran?’ asked Yussuf in his customary and quite calm tone of voice, as if no disruption had occurred, and his high rank had not been almost revealed.

‘It is a wise thing to study your enemy; if you like, I can help you to understand the Bible,’ replied the Templar knight, as if trying to joke his way out of the topic, seeming to regret his clumsy invasion of the faithfuls’ territory.

Yussuf was about to utter a stern reply to his lighthearted talk of entering into blasphemous studies, when he was interrupted by a long drawn-out, horrifying scream. The scream turned into something that sounded like scornful laughter, rolling down toward them and echoing off the mountainsides above. All five men froze and listened; Emir Moussa immediately began rattling off the words the faithful use to conjure up the jinni of the desert. Then the scream came again, but now it sounded as if it came from several spirits of the abyss, as if they were talking to each other, as if they had discovered the little fire below and the only people in the area.

The Templar knight leaned forward and whispered a few words in Frankish to his sergeant, who nodded at once, stood up, and buckled on his sword. He drew his black cloak tighter, bowed to his unbeliever hosts, and then, without saying a word, turned on his heel and disappeared into the darkness.

‘You must excuse this rudeness,’ said the Templar knight. ‘But the fact is that we have the scent of blood and fresh meat up in our camp, and horses that must be tended to.’

He didn’t seem to think he needed to offer any further explanation, and with a bow he stretched out his mocha cup for Emir Moussa to refill it. The emir’s hand shook slightly as he poured.

‘You send your sergeant into the darkness and he obeys without blinking?’ said Fahkr in a voice that sounded slightly hoarse.

‘Yes,’ said the Templar knight. ‘A man must obey even if he feels fear. But I don’t think that Armand does. The darkness is more of a friend for the man who wears a black cloak than the one who wears white, and Armand’s sword is sharp and his hand steady. Wild dogs, those spotted beasts with their horrid barking, are also known for their cowardice, are they not?’

‘But are you certain it was only wild dogs we heard?’ asked Fahkr doubtfully.

‘No,’ replied the Templar knight. ‘There is much we do not know between heaven and hell; no one can ever be certain. But the Lord is our shepherd, and we shall not want, even though we wander through the valley of the shadow of death. That is doubtless what Armand is praying as he walks along in the dark right now. That is what I would pray, at any rate. If God has measured out our time and wishes to call us home, there is nothing we can do, of course. But until then we cleave the skulls of wild dogs as we do those of our enemies, and in that respect I know that you who believe in the Prophet, may peace be with Him, and deny the Son of God, think exactly as we do. Am I not right, Yussuf?’

‘You are right, Templar knight,’ Yussuf confirmed. ‘But then where is the borderline between reason and belief, between fear of and trust in God? If a man must obey, as your sergeant must obey, does that make his fear any less?’

‘When I was young…well, I am not yet a particularly old man,’ said the Templar knight, seeming to think deeply, ‘I was still preoccupied with that sort of question. It is good for your mind; your thoughts grow nimble from exercising your mind. But nowadays I am afraid I grow sluggish. You obey. You conquer evil. Afterwards you thank God - that is all.’

‘And if you do not conquer your enemy?’ asked Yussuf in a gentle voice, which those who knew him did not recognize as his normal voice.

‘Then you die, at least in the case of Armand and myself,’ replied the Templar knight. ‘And on Judgment Day you and I will be measured and weighed, and where you will then end up, I cannot say, even though I know what you yourself believe. But if I die here in Palestine, my place will be in paradise.’

‘You truly believe that?’ asked Yussuf in his strange, gentle voice.

‘Yes, I believe that,’ replied the Templar knight.

‘Then tell me one thing: Is that promise actually in your Bible?’

‘No, not exactly; it does not say that exactly.’

‘But you are still quite certain?’

‘Yes, the Holy Father in Rome has promised…’

‘But he is only a man! What man can promise you a place in paradise, Templar knight?’

‘But Muhammed too was merely a man! And you believe in his promise, forgive me, may peace be to his name.’

‘Muhammed, may peace be with him, was God’s messenger, and God said: “But the messenger and those who follow him in faith and strive for the sake of God, offering up their property and lives, shall be rewarded with goodness in this life and in the next, and everything they touch will prosper.” Those words are very clear, are they not? And it goes on…’

‘Yes! In the next verse of the ninth Sura,’ the Templar knight interjected brusquely. ‘“God has prepared for them gardens of pleasure, watered by streams, where they shall remain for all eternity. This is the great and glorious victory!” So, we understand each other, I presume? None of this is foreign to you, Yussuf. And by the way, the difference between us is that I have no possessions, I have put myself in God’s hands, and when He decides, I will die for His sake. Your own beliefs do not contradict what I say.’

‘Your knowledge of God’s word is truly great, Templar knight,’ said Yussuf, but at the same time he was pleased that he had caught his enemy in a trap, and his companions could see this.

‘Yes, as I said, you should know your enemy,’ said the Templar knight, for the first time a little uncertain, as if he too realized that Yussuf had backed him into a corner.

‘But if you speak in this way, you are not my enemy,’ said Yussuf. ‘You quote from the Holy Koran, which is God’s Word. What you say does apply to me, but not to you for the time being. For the faithful, all of this is as clear as water, but what is it for you? In truth, I know as much about Jesus as you know about the Prophet, may peace be with him. But what did Jesus say about the Holy War? Did Jesus speak a single word about you entering paradise if you killed me?’

‘Let us not quarrel about this,’ said the Templar knight with a confident wave of his hand, as if everything had suddenly become petty, although they could all see his uncertainty. ‘Our beliefs are not the same, even though they have many similarities. But we have to live in the same land, fighting each other in the worse case, making treaties and conducting business in the best case. Now let us speak of other matters. It is my wish, as your guest.’

They were all aware how Yussuf had driven his opponent into a corner where he had no more defences. Jesus had clearly never said anything about it being pleasing to God to kill Saracens. But when pressed harder, the Templar knight had still managed to wriggle out of the difficult situation by referring to the faithfuls’ own unwritten laws of hospitality. And so his wish had to be granted; he was the guest, after all.

‘In truth, you do know a great deal about your enemy, Templar knight,’ said Yussuf. Both his voice and expression showed that he was very pleased at having won the discussion.

‘As we agreed, it is necessary to know your enemy,’ replied the Templar knight in a low voice, his eyes downcast.

They sat in silence for a while, gazing into their mocha cups, since it seemed difficult to start up the conversation in a natural way after Yussuf’s victory. But then the silence was again shattered by the sound of beasts. This time they all knew it was animals and not some devilish creature, and it sounded as if they were attacking someone or something, and then as if they were fleeing, with howls of pain and death.

‘Armand’s sword is sharp, as I said,’ murmured the Templar knight.

‘Why in the name of peace did you take your corpses with you?’ asked Fahkr, who was thinking the same thing as his brothers of the faith.

‘Of course it would have been better to take them alive. Then they would not have smelled so foul on the way home, and they could have travelled with ease. But tomorrow it will be a hot day; we must start our journey early to get them to Jerusalem before they begin to stink too much,’ replied the Templar knight.

‘But if you had taken them prisoner, if you had taken them alive to Al Quds, what would have happened to them then?’ persisted Fahkr.

‘We would have turned them over to our emir in Jerusalem, who is one of the highest ranking in our order. He would have turned them over to the worldly powers, and they would have been disrobed, except for that which covers their modesty, and hung up on the wall by the rock,’ replied the Templar knight, as if it were quite obvious.

‘But you have already killed them. Why not disrobe them here and leave them to the fate they deserve? Why do you defend their bodies against the wild animals?’ asked Fahkr, as if he did not want to give up or did not understand.

‘We will still hang them there,’ replied the Templar knight. ‘Everyone must see that whoever robs pilgrims will end up hanging there. That is a holy promise from our order, and it must always be kept, as long as God helps us.’

‘But what will you do with their weapons and clothes?’ wondered Emir Moussa, speaking as if he wanted to bring the conversation down to a more practical level. ‘Surely they must have had quite a few valuables on them.’

‘Yes, but they are all stolen goods,’ replied the Templar knight, some of his old self-assurance back. ‘Except for their weapons and armour, for which we have no use. But their thieves’ cache is in a grotto up where Armand and I have our camp. We will take heavily laden horses home with us tomorrow; keep in mind that those beasts have been plundering here for more than half a year.’

‘But you are not allowed to own anything,’ objected Yussuf mildly, raising his right eyebrow, as if he thought that he had once again won the argument.

‘No, I am not allowed to own anything!’ exclaimed the Templar knight in surprise. ‘If you think we would take the thieves’ treasures for our own, you are greatly mistaken. We will place all the stolen goods outside the Church of the Holy Sepulchre next Sunday, and if those who have been robbed can find their possessions, they can have them back.’

‘But surely most of those who were robbed are now dead,’ said Yussuf quietly.

‘They may have heirs who are alive, but whatever is not claimed will be donated to our order,’ replied the Templar knight.

‘That is a most interesting explanation for what I have heard, that you consider yourselves too good to plunder a battlefield,’ said Yussuf with a smile, seeming to think he had won another exchange of words.

‘No, we do not take plunder from battlefields,’ replied the Templar knight coldly. ‘But that should not present a problem, since there are so many others who do. If we have taken part in a victory, we turn at once toward God. If you would like to hear what your own Koran has to say about plundering a battlefield…’

‘Thank you, no!’ Yussuf interrupted him, holding up a hand in warning. ‘We would prefer not to return to a topic of conversation since it would seem that you, an infidel, know more than we do about the Word of the Prophet, may peace be with him. Let me instead ask you a very candid question.’

‘Yes. Ask me a candid question, and it shall be given the answer it deserves,’ replied the Templar knight, holding up his hands, palm out, to show, in the manner of the faithful, that he agreed to change the topic of conversation.

‘You said that the truce between us would soon be over. Is it Brins Arnat you are referring to?’

‘You know a great deal, Yussuf. Brins Arnat, whom we call Reynald de Châtillon, has begun plundering again. And by the way he is no “prince” but an evil man who is unfortunately allied with the Knights Templar. This I know, and I regret it. I would rather not be his ally, but I obey orders. But no, he is not the major problem.’

‘Then it must be something about that new prince, who came from the land of the Franks with a great army. What is it he is called: Filus something or other?’

‘No,’ said the Templar knight with a smile. ‘He is indeed Filus, meaning the son of someone. His name is Philip of Flanders, he is a duke, and yes, he came with a great army. But now I must warn you before we continue this conversation.’

‘Why is that?’ asked Yussuf, feigning nonchalance. ‘I have your word. Have you ever broken a vow you have sworn?’

‘I once made a vow that I have not yet been able to fulfil; it will take ten years before I can do so, if it is God’s will. But I have never broken a promise and, may God help me, I never will.’

‘Well then. Why should our truce be broken because of the arrival of someone named Filus from some Flamsen? Surely such things happen all the time.’

The Templar knight gave Yussuf a long, searching look, but Yussuf did not avert his eyes. This went on for some time; both refused to give in.

‘You wish to keep secret your identity,’ said the Templar knight at last, without taking his eyes off Yussuf. ‘But few men could know so much about what goes on in the world of war; certainly not someone who claims to be a merchant on his way to Cairo. If you insist on speaking more about this, I can no longer pretend that I do not know who you are; a man who has spies, a man who knows. There are not many such men.’

‘You have my word also; remember that, Templar knight.’

‘Of all the unbelievers, your word is no doubt the one most of us would trust most.’

‘You honour me with your words. So, why will our truce be broken?’

‘Ask your men to leave us if you will continue this conversation, Yussuf.’

Yussuf pondered this for a moment as he pensively tugged on his beard. If the Templar knight truly understood who he was talking to, would it then be easier for him to kill and at the same time break his word? No, that was unlikely. Considering how this man had behaved when he killed earlier in the evening, he had no need to make it easier to betray his vow; he would have drawn his sword long ago.

Yet it was difficult to understand his demand, which seemed unreasonable. At the same time, no one would particularly benefit if it were met. In the end Yussuf’s curiosity won out over his caution.

‘Leave us,’ he commanded curtly. ‘Go to sleep close by; you can clean up here in the morning. Remember that we are in the field, under camp rules.’

Fahkr and Emir Moussa hesitated. They started to get to their feet as they looked at Yussuf, but his stern glance made them obey. They bowed to the Templar knight and withdrew. Yussuf waited in silence until his brother and his closest bodyguard had moved far enough away and could be heard arranging their bedding.

‘I don’t think my brother and Moussa will have an easy time falling asleep.’

‘No,’ said the Templar knight. ‘But neither will they be able to hear what we say.’

‘Why is it so important for them not to hear what we say?’

‘It is not important,’ said the Templar knight, smiling. ‘What is important is that you know they won’t hear what you say. Then our conversation will be more candid.’

‘For a man who lives in a monastery, you know a great deal about human nature.’

‘In the monastery we learn much about human nature; more than you imagine. Now to what is more important. I will speak only of things that I am positive you already know, since anything else would be treason. But let us examine the situation. As you know, a new Frankish prince is coming. He will remain here for some time; he has everyone’s blessing back home for his holy mandate in God’s service, and so on. He has brought a great army along with him. So what will he do?’

‘Acquire riches as fast as possible since he has had great expenses.’

‘Precisely, Yussuf, precisely. But will he go against Saladin himself, and Damascus?’

‘No. Then he would risk losing everything.’

‘Precisely, Yussuf. We understand each other completely, and we can speak freely, now that your subordinates are out of earshot. So where will the new plunderer and his army go?’

‘Towards a city that is sufficiently strong and sufficiently wealthy, but I do not know which one.’

‘Precisely. Nor do I know which one. Homs? Hama? Perhaps. Aleppo? No, too far away and too strong a city. Let us say Homs or Hama, as the most obvious. What will our worldly Christian king in Jerusalem and the royal army do then?’

‘They do not have much choice. They will join in with the plundering even though they would rather use the new forces to attack Saladin.’

‘Precisely, Yussuf. You know everything, you understand everything. So now we both know what the situation is. What do we do about it?’

‘To begin with, you and I will both keep our word.’

‘Of course, that goes without saying. But what else do we do?’

‘We use this time of peace between us to understand each other better. I may never have the chance to talk to a Templar knight again. You may never have the chance to talk to…an enemy such as myself.’

‘No, you and I will probably meet only on this one occasion in our lives.’

‘The singular whim of God…But then let me ask you, Templar knight, what is needed more than God if we, the faithful, are to vanquish you?’

‘Two things. What Saladin is now doing: uniting all Saracens against us. That is already taking place. But the other thing is treason among those of us on the side of Jesus Christ, betrayal or grave sins, for which God will punish us.’

‘But if not betrayal or these grave sins?’

‘Then neither of us will ever win, Yussuf. The difference between us is that you Saracens can lose one battle after another. You mourn your dead and you soon have a new army on the march. We Christians can lose only a great battle, and we are not that foolish. If we have the advantage, we attack. If we are at a disadvantage, we seek refuge in our fortresses. It can go on in this fashion forever.’

‘So our war will last forever?’

‘Perhaps, perhaps not. Some of us…Do you know who Count Raymond de Tripoli is?’

‘Yes, I know…know of him. And?’

‘If Christians like him should win power in the kingdom of Jerusalem, and you have on your side a leader like Saladin, then there can be peace, a just peace, in any case something better than eternal war. Many of us Templar knights think as Count Raymond does. But to return to our previous topic concerning what is going to happen right now. The Hospitallers followed the royal army and the “prince” up to Syria. We Templar knights did not.’

‘I already know that.’

‘Yes, doubtless you know this; because your name is Yussuf ibn Ayyub Salah al-Din, the one we call Saladin in our language.’

‘May God be merciful to us, now that you know this.’

‘God is merciful to us by granting us this strange conversation during the last hours of peace between us.’

‘And we will both keep our word.’

‘You surprise me with your uneasiness about that point. You are the only one of our enemies who is known for always keeping his word. I am a Templar knight. We always keep our word. Enough said about that matter.’

‘Yes, enough about that matter. But now, my dear enemy, at this late hour before a dawn when we both have urgent errands, you with your foul-smelling corpses and I with something else that I will not discuss but which you certainly can imagine, what do we do now?’

‘We take advantage of this only opportunity that God may give us in life to speak sensibly with the worst of all enemies. There is one thing that you and I can agree on…forgive me if I address you so plainly now that I know you are the Sultan of both Cairo and Damascus.’

‘No one but God hears us, as you so wisely arranged. I wish for you to use the informal means of address on this one night.’

‘We agreed on one thing, I think. We are risking eternal war because neither side can win.’

‘True. But I will win, I have sworn to win.’

‘As have I. Eternal war then?’

‘That does not sound promising for the future.’

‘Then we will continue, even though I am merely a simple emir among the Knights Templar, and you are the only one of our foes in a long time that we have had reason to fear. Where should we begin now?’

They began with the question of the pilgrims’ safety. That was the most obvious. That was the reason they had met in the first place, if they sought a human explanation for it and did not look solely to God’s will in all things. But even though they both firmly believed, at least when they spoke aloud, that God’s will guided everything, neither of them was a stranger to the idea that man, with his free will, could also bring about great calamities as well as great happiness. This was a cornerstone in both of their faiths.

They talked for a long time that night. At dawn, when Fahkr found his older brother - the glorious prince, the light of religion, the commander of the faithful in the Holy War, the water in the desert, the Sultan of Egypt and Syria, the hope of the faithful, the man whom the infidels for all time would call by the simple name Saladin - he was sitting with his chin resting on his knees, huddled under his cloak which was wrapped around him, and staring into the dying embers.

The white shield with the evil red cross was gone, as was the Templar knight. Saladin wearily looked up at his brother, almost as if he had awakened from a dream.

‘If all our foes were like Al Ghouti, we would never win,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘On the other hand, if all our foes were like him, victory would no longer be necessary.’

Fahkr did not understand what his brother and prince meant but supposed it was mostly meaningless weary mutterings, as had happened so many times before when Yussuf stayed up too long and brooded.

‘We must head out; we have a hard ride to Al Arish,’ said Saladin, getting stiffly to his feet. ‘War awaits, we will soon be victorious.’

It was true that war awaited; that was as written. But it was also written that Saladin and Arn Magnusson de Gothia would soon meet again on the battlefield, and that only one of them would come away victorious.