East of Ashes (18 page)

It
had
still managed to make him angry that his arm took so long to heal though. He had the food scarcity and blistering cold of the winter to thank for that. It had threatened to wipe out the entire camp even before the Caracen reinforcements arrived.

Talk about a miracle - Lamech had no idea how the Crusader army survived the winter, not to mention the battle with the Caracen army. Against impossible odds, the Crusaders had wrestled away victory from the Caracens. The way th
e
battle
had
turned had left Lamech astounded.

Come to think of it, the mere fact that he was still alive following the H
a
r
i
m raid in November was a miracle in itself.

Lamech shook his head ruefully. Bohemond
had
t
a
k
en
his time closing the trap on the Caracens that day. But when he
ha
d, he
had done
a masterful job of it.

Othniel told him afterwards that the Crusaders
had
c
o
me crashing down on the Caracens out of nowhere, just as Lamech
had
lost consciousness. They
ha
dn't st
oo
d a chance against the Crusaders, who were riled to fever pitch upon seeing what
had been
left of their comrades, and the Caracen soldiers
had been
finished off quickly.

Apparently Bohemond was as pleased as he could be with Lamech, Othniel and the others who
had
survived the rush of the camp, singing their praises and giving thanks to God for the miraculous victory.

Lamech wasn't so sure what hand God had played in it, but he couldn't forget the whispering voice he
’d
heard just before losing consciousness. At the time it had left him badly shaken.

As the memory of the experience faded, he tried telling himself that he had only imagined it, but deep down he knew better.

He looked up as something whirred through the air and landed about 30 metres or so from his feet. He was sitting near the river in front of the walls of Antioch, just out of
the
archer
s’
range.

Try again
, he thought angrily, and spat in the dust in front of him.

At least he hadn't been completely bored in the months following his injury in February. The Antioch garrison
had
seemed relentless in their pursuit to harass the Crusaders, who simply couldn't keep the holes in their siege line closed, allowing the city supplies to be continuously replenished.

The arrival of reinforcements and material brought by an English fleet and the ensuing construction of the La Mahomerie stronghold in front of the Bridge Gate
ha
d help
ed
matters some
,
but it
had
still left two gates unguarded through which the city could be supplied. The Iron Gate, high up in the mountain behind the city,
had
proved to be a particularly difficult hole to plug.

We simply don't have enough men
, Lamech thought.

"You should change position every now and then."

Lamech wheeled around to find a grinning Othniel standing behind him.

"Why?" Lamech asked baffled.

"Well, if you're going to offer them target practice, at least give them a moving target to shoot at. It's a bit unsporting otherwise," Othniel replied.

Lamech couldn't help but laugh.

"Take a seat and we'll make a team effort of it," he replied, his irritation of a moment ago gone.

Lamech watched his friend with a smile as he sat down with theatrical grunts and pauses.
Othniel
is
a man of contrasts
, he thought:
quick to make a joke and laugh uproariously, but equally ready with a word of advice and comfort
.

In the last couple of months, Lamech had grown to trust this man - and his opinion - more than he had trusted anyone in a very long time.

Turning his attention back to the city before them, Lamech studied the walls crawling up on each side of the mountain, coming together at the top to encircle the citadel. Antioch had formidable defences and right now their siege of it was a joke.

Othniel noticed his friend falling into a pensive mood again. He longed to encourage him
,
but he found it difficult to find much hope for a siege that
wa
s unlikely to succeed too.

"If they're going to make a display of it, it'll be soon," he observed instead.

"That's what I've been waiting for. When I heard about their capture, I came straight away," Lamech replied, then nodded his head emphatically when Othniel lifted an eyebrow: "I know, I know... I shouldn't give them an audience, but I couldn't help myself."

Othniel nodded in agreement, having been drawn here himself. When he
had
heard the Caracen garrison of Antioch had captured a Crusader and an Arab maiden in an orchard outside the city walls, he
had
immediately kn
o
w
n
what would happen next - and how Lamech would react.

It took a while for Lamech to finally open up enough to tell him about Leala. Othniel had tried to encourage him, but it had
been
too much, too soon. Lamech had clamped up and wouldn't say anything further.

Othniel thought it unwise to press the matter and
had
left it at that, sensing that what was bothering him
ha
dn't really ha
d
anything to do with Leala.

"There they are," Lamech said suddenly.

Othniel's head whipped up to look at the city walls. Sure enough, Caracen soldiers could be seen dragging a man and a woman to the top of one of the towers, in full view of the Crusaders.

Lamech and Othniel stood up, dusted themselves off and watched the soldiers strip the knight.

They didn't waste any time. The knight's head was forced down onto the edge of the wall, his arms held down tightly by a soldier on either side of him. One of the soldiers held the knight by the hair in an ironed fist. A third walked up to them and lifted his sword high in the air, held it for a whisper, and then brought it flashing down.

The knight's head was severed just above his shoulders. The Caracen soldier that
had
held his head down kept his grip and prevented it from dropping to the ground below. The executed knight's corpse sprayed forth blood, splattering the wall crimson.

The soldiers unceremoniously dumped the corpse over the wall but kept the head. Lamech knew what they intended to do with it, having witnessed the Crusader army doing the very same thing before.

Next the soldiers brought the young woman forward. Her clothes were torn in tatters. Lamech could only imagine what horrors they had done to her. Her face was streaked with tears, but as they brought her to the edge of the wall, Lamech noticed that she wasn't crying now, clearly struck numb by shock.

She was beheaded in the same way as the knight and her headless body was dumped at the foot of the city walls next to her would-be lover. The soldiers disappeared from the walls with the two heads.

"Here it comes," Othniel said through tight lips.

He had barely finished his sentence when two round objects were catapulted from inside the city over the walls to land at the edge of the Crusader army's camp. The act was followed by tumultuous cheers from within the city.

Lamech had witnessed the Crusaders catapult the heads of captured soldiers into the city many times before. It had become a regular feature on both sides in this war, each trying to prove to the other that they would not give in - encouraging the other side to surrender before it was too late. There would be no mercy for
the defeated.

Every time it
had
happened Lamech was left numb. Never in his wildest dreams could he imagine armies, professing to fight a holy cause, engage in such brutality. The look on Othniel's face told the same story, although he had clearly become more used to it, though not desensitised.

Seeing the face of that young woman had struck Lamech particularly hard. The image left him reeling and his legs suddenly refused to support him any longer. Othniel managed to grab his arm in time to stop him from crumbling to the ground.

 For the briefest of moments Lamech had seen the face of another, deathly pale with unseeing eyes, her beautiful hair matted against the side of her face.

-------

"You're quiet tonight," Othniel remarked that evening while they were sitting around the campfire, having just finished a meagre broth.

Lamech, startled by Othniel's voice, looked up from the flames. He tried smiling, but his mouth was stuck.

Othniel grunted, poured some wine into a mug and brought it around to Lamech's side. He sat down next to his friend and handed him the mug. Lamech thanked him quietly and resumed staring at the flames.

"I don't know how you do it," he finally said. Othniel remained silent, waiting patiently for him to continue.

"How can you continue believing in God when we see every day what we saw today; what is done in His name?"

Othniel didn't reply immediately, but considered his words carefully. He decided his friend would appreciate the truth being given straight.

"God's existence doesn't depend on what people profess to do in His name," he said. "Either He exists, or He doesn't. What people say they do in His name is a separate matter. Besides, just because they say they're doing something in His name doesn't mean He told them to."

Lamech thought about Othniel's words for a long time before he answered.