A Blood Red Horse (28 page)

Equally, as a relieved Saladin greeted Kamil on his return from Hosanna's sickbed, he also became aware that even his most ferocious emirs were not pushing for another assault on the city. The sultan listened carefully as Baha ad-Din reminded him that many of his soldiers' farms lay in ruins because the men had put their duty to holy war above their work on the land.

But it was worse than that. Both armies had raided villages and destroyed crops without any thought for the people who lived there. Providing food for soldiers had become more important than worrying about hungry children. Furthermore, just to compound matters, both Christians and Saracens had taken pains to destroy what they could not use themselves in order to deny it to the enemy.
The result was that in some Muslim villages, Saladin was almost as unpopular as Richard. Baha ad-Din did not shrink from telling Saladin that, in his view, and in the view of many good Muslims, it was time to exchange swords for plowshares—for the moment at least.

Richard had even more reason to go home. Before setting out for Jaffa from Acre, he had had news that his prolonged absence had put his lands and even his position as king under threat. At home his brother John and King Philip of France were plotting. The English and Frankish barons who had not taken the cross were unsure whether it was worth keeping Richard's throne warm for him. If Richard did not come home, they did not want to find their loyalty misplaced and misinterpreted. It was becoming abundantly clear that Richard's subjects needed to see him for themselves.

However, there was just one more thing that the Christians had to do before going home. If they could not take Jerusalem as warriors, they would at least visit it as pilgrims. Swallowing his pride, Richard sent a messenger to Saladin to ask for safe passage for his men, which Saladin granted without hesitation. Richard himself refused to go, on the grounds that it would be humiliating for him to accept Saladin's charity. Accepting horses under the laws of chivalry was one thing. Accepting the “safe conduct” pass that Saladin offered was quite another. Richard would go to Jerusalem in his own good time, brandishing his sword rather than leaning on a pilgrim's staff.

Gavin and William thought differently. As they walked together to perform one of their hourly checks on Hosanna they agreed that to come all the way out and not see the holy places seemed wrong. They felt they owed it to their father, and although they did not say so aloud,
each also wanted to be able to describe to Ellie something other than death and destruction. Picking their way through Jaffa's narrow streets, they passed men nursing wounds that would never heal and others in mourning for fathers, sons, and brothers whose bones were whitening all over Palestine.

“We'll go to Jerusalem,” said Gavin, and William nodded his agreement.

He opened the door into Hosanna's stable and immediately his spirits lifted. Just a week after Hosanna had limped in at death's door, it was now a cheerful place. The horse's wound was healing well. As William ruefully remarked to Hal, Hosanna would always carry both the dent caused by William's sword and a scar from the Saracen arrow.

Hal smiled. But Hosanna's scars were not uppermost in his mind anymore. The only thing he thought of was home. The loss and then the return of Hosanna, together with the horse's almost miraculous survival, seemed to Hal to be as much luck as any horse could have in a lifetime. What was more, Hal thought to himself,
I have survived, too.
He had no wish to tempt fate any further and just wanted to see his mother again.

“Will you go to Jerusalem if we are given permission to visit as pilgrims?” William asked him, idly plaiting Hosanna's mane.

Hal considered. “Will you?” he asked.

“Yes,” said William. “After all, we have a lot to thank God for.”

Hal did not really agree. God, after all, had been as responsible for the bad things as the good. He considered saying as much to William but was suddenly shy. He was only a squire, after all, not a knight. What did he really
know about these things? He moved on to practical matters. “Who will look after Hosanna while I am away?”

William laughed. “I think the plan is that we should go in three different lots,” he said. “Between you, Gavin, and I, we should manage both to see Jerusalem and look after Hosanna.”

Hal nodded. “It will be something to tell my mother,” he said, then, struck by a new thought, his eyes filled with a new worry. “Assuming she is still alive,” he said. William patted his shoulder.

The brothers planned well. Gavin went in the first, Hal the second, and William in the third and last company. Having seen Gavin and Hal come safely back, William set off under the leadership of the bishop of Salisbury, a holy man in whom everybody found much to respect. It was the second week of September and the skies were cloudless. As he put on the rough pilgrim's tunic Old Nurse had packed so long ago, William reflected on all that had happened since the Hartslove contingent had met the king at Vezelay in July 1190. He joined his fellow pilgrims near the front of the procession, obediently intoning Hail Marys as the bishop instructed. But his thoughts were far away. Things that had seemed so certain in the great hall at Hartslove seemed uncertain now. His father had not been invincible; his own horse, whom William had imagined would be loyal only to himself, had flourished in the hands of the enemy; his king had made mistakes and misjudgments. William shuddered as he remembered some of the sights he had seen. Was any city, even the holy city itself, worth all that suffering, all those shattered bones, all that torn flesh, all the screams of agony? A city, after all, was just bricks and mortar. If God was so good, could this
kind of thing really be his will? Then he shook himself. Here he was, on a journey to Jerusalem. He must think only of that for the moment.

Unhindered by the enemy, the journey to Jerusalem took three days. Most of the pilgrims were on foot, and they marveled at the difference between this journey and the terrible and fruitless winter journey they had endured. Although the sun's heat sapped their energy, without their armor they could travel in relative comfort. As they passed through the hills from which, two months before, they had begun their retreat to Acre the soldiers and knights gave a small cheer.

William trudged along the dusty route trying to concentrate on Christ and his suffering rather than the mutterings of the men walking next to him. Many remained unconvinced that Saladin's assurances of safety could be trusted. Eventually William turned round and gently chided them for their suspicions. He himself had no doubts. A man who sent medicines for Hosanna would keep his word.

And for the most part he did. For while many of the Saracen soldiers spat and jeered at the pilgrims, they did not touch them. Nor were their threats and curses the reason why all the pilgrims felt a curious shiver as they climbed up from the valley and passed through the longed-for gates. At that moment the Christians almost forgot about the Saracens. The gates of Jerusalem! This was the city of the psalms, the golden city, the city of Solomon and the city of Christ's Passion. In this place the meaning of Christianity had been forged.

William was almost overcome. For Jerusalem his father had given up his life, Gavin had lost an arm, and he had nearly lost his horse. In her defense, both Christians and Saracens had suffered more than any living thing should
ever be asked to suffer. William looked about him. Jerusalem was a mess. The sunbaked, grimy streets were strewn with the detritus of a million lives and deaths, both human and animal. Inside erstwhile Christian churches, the Saracens had allowed animals to wander. Courtyards were now smoking middens. Bold rats scrambled busily in and out of crumbling yellow-brick walls, squealing and fighting over stinking remains. At every street corner of this supposedly heavenly city were piled the crude instruments of death: smooth, heavy stones, jars of “Greek fire,” small mountains of crossbow bolts, and many more vile products of man's imagination, all prepared for the Christian siege that never happened.

But as William followed the trail of Christ's Passion, kissed the ground of Mount Calvary, and placed a small ring made of Hosanna's hair beside the table on which, so it was said, Christ had eaten his last supper, he was moved beyond words. At this moment of uneasy peace and in this supremely special place, everything did make sense in an odd kind of way. William felt sure that whether the crusaders were right or wrong, God looked on them with some kind of favor. “It could not all have been for nothing,” he said to himself, and could see by the reaction of his fellow pilgrims that they were all thinking the same thing. No matter what those at home would say now or in the future, the knights and soldiers in Richard the Lionheart's army had done their best for Christ and deserved their reward.

Some pilgrims finished their devotions quickly, then regrouped again and set off, this time for Acre, where Richard had already gone to order the fleet to prepare for departure. But William found himself dawdling. He had heard it rumored that courtesy of Saladin, the bishop might be given a private opportunity to see the True Cross.
It would be the opportunity of a lifetime. He sat down on a stone and waited.

As he watched the Christians and Muslims mixing together, their eyes suspicious, he allowed his thoughts to turn to Hartslove. Barring accidents on the journey home, it looked as though he could fulfil his promise to Ellie and ride Hosanna over the drawbridge. But then what? His brother's injury, although well healed, meant that he was finished as a knight. Gavin might be Count of Hartslove out here, but in England he would never be regarded in the same way again. The loss of an arm was too serious a handicap for a knight to overcome. William frowned as he reflected that once this would have caused him to rejoice. Not now. How close he and Gavin had become! But even this had its difficulties, for there was Ellie's future to consider. Would Gavin feel honor-bound to release her from their engagement? And if he did, could William, in all conscience, take advantage?

These thoughts disturbed William so much that when he saw the bishop and about a dozen other pilgrims being chivied down a side street, he was glad to get up and follow them. The bishop was clearly going somewhere special. Maybe this was the moment William had been waiting for. The small group was being urged to walk swiftly toward a large complex of buildings. William hurried to catch up with them, and was just in time to enter a small, richly painted hall before a heavy curtain was drawn behind him. The hall was furnished with two large chairs, one much more ornately decorated than the other. The pilgrims looked about them, and the bishop motioned to them to be silent. After a few moments the sultan entered through a door at the other end. He was wearing a silk tunic embroidered with suns and stars and was surrounded
by men, among whom was Kamil. He looked so regal that even the Christians bowed.

Saladin gestured to the bishop to sit in the plainer chair and sat down himself on the more ornate throne. Iced sherbet and sweetmeats were brought. Most of the Christians shook their heads. William moved to stand behind the bishop, acknowledged Kamil with a small nod, and took what was offered.

After the servants had left, the sultan summoned the interpreter and began. “We are enemies, your king and I,” he said. “There can never be friendship between us. But I salute his gallantry. He is a brave man. Much blood has been shed on both sides, and many bad things have been done since the Christians came to our land. But for the moment it is over.” Saladin sighed. “King Richard has sent word that he will not visit Jerusalem. I am sorry, for I would welcome him here in the true spirit of hospitality. However, I understand the pride that drives this decision. In his place I would do the same. Humility comes hard to a king—although the man you acclaim as the son of God, Jesus Christ, found no difficulty in being humble. Is that not so, bishop?”

The bishop was uncomfortable. “Sir,” he said, “King Richard has no equal among all the knights in the world. And, if you don't mind my saying so, if the virtues of both yourself and the king were taken together, there would be no two men on earth who could compete with you.”

Saladin was amused. “You speak well,” he said. “I would like to give you a gift in return for your compliment. What should it be?”

The bishop considered. “I think it would be fitting …,” he said in a hesitant manner, since he was nervous of being too presumptuous, “rather, I think it might be fitting…,”
—there was a small pause as he gathered all his courage— “to have two priests say Mass at Our Lord's tomb every day.”

Saladin bowed. “Quite a request,” he remarked. “If I and my emirs agree, where will you find two priests who want to come and live in this city with us, whom you call dogs and barbarians?”

The bishop frowned. “Well,” he said, “I'm sure we will …”

William interrupted. “Sir, my Lord Bishop,” he said, quite inspired, “I know a holy man. He is a monk who is also an ordained priest. For much of his life, he has longed to come here in the service of the Lord. His name is Brother Ranulf, and his monastery is at Hartslove, where I live. He would come. I know he would, and I know he would take whatever hardship it involved and offer it up for the good of the holy places.”

Saladin allowed William to finish before turning to Kamil. “Is this the red horse's boy?” he asked.

Kamil nodded.

Saladin turned back to William. “How is the horse?”

William turned to Kamil. “The red horse is much better,” he said. “We will take the slings the sultan so kindly sent for the voyage home, but I don't think we will need them. He can now stand unaided, and the wound is clean and cool.”

“I'm glad,” said Kamil. “Maybe when your Brother—what was his name? Ranulf? When your Brother Ranulf comes out here, maybe he could bring word about the red horse.” Kamil did not smile. How could he? He had thought the horse would be his forever.