The Templar Knight Page 4

  “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 armor, 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 Sepulcher 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 fulfill; 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 honor 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?”

  “Toward 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, and 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.

  Chapter 2

  Jerusalem was located in the middle of a world from which even Rome seemed a distant place. Farther away was the kingdom of the Franks, and almost at the ends of the earth, in the cold, dark North, lay the land of Western Götaland which was known to very few. It was said among learned men that beyond was nothing but dark forest stretching to the edge of the earth, inhabited by monsters with two heads.

  Nevertheless the true faith had reached up here to the cold and the dark, mostly thanks to Saint Bernard, who in his mercy and love of humankind had found that even the barbarians up in the dark North had a right to salvation of the soul. It was he who sent the first monks to the wild, unknown lands of the Goths. Soon the light and truth had spread from more than ten cloisters among the Northmen, who were now no longer lost.

  A convent located in the southern part of Western Götaland had the loveliest of all cloister names. It was called Gudhem, God’s Home, and it was dedicated to the Virgin Mary. The convent stood atop a hill, and from there could be seen the distant blue mountain Billingen, and if a person strained his eyes a bit, he might see the two towers of the cathedral in Skara. North of Gudhem glittered Hornborga Lake, where the cranes appeared in the spring before the pike began to play. Surrounding the cloister were farms and fields and small groves of oaks. It was a very peaceful and beautiful landscape and did not at all lead the mind to thoughts of darkness and barbarity. For the older woman who had made a substantial donation and traveled here to conclude her life in peace, the name of Gudhem sounded like a caress, and the region was the loveliest that an aging eye could see.

  But for Cecilia Algotsdotter, who had been locked up at Gudhem at the age of seventeen because of her sins, the convent for a long time seemed a home without God, a place that was considered more of a hell on earth.

  Cecilia was familiar with cloister life, and that was not what frightened her. She also knew Gudhem, because at various intervals in her life she had spent more than two years inside among the novices, young women who were sent to the convent by wealthy families to be disciplined and taught good manners before they were married off. She already knew how to rea
d; she knew the Book of Psalms by heart and the words tumbled from her lips like running water, because she had sung every psalm more than a hundred times. So in this there was nothing new and nothing frightening.

  But this time she had been consigned to convent life, and the sentence was harsh—twenty years. She had been sentenced together with her betrothed Arn Magnusson of the Folkung clan, because they had committed a grave sin when they united in carnal love before being married before God. It was Cecilia’s sister Katarina who had reported them, and the proof of their sin was such that no argument would avail. The day that the convent gate closed behind Cecilia, she was already in her third month. Her betrothed Arn had also been sentenced to twenty years, but he was to serve his time as a monk in God’s holy army in the far reaches of the Holy Land.

  Over the portal of Gudhem convent there were two sandstone sculptures depicting Adam and Eve driven out of Paradise after the Fall, hiding their shame with fig leaves. The image was meant to be a warning, and it spoke directly to Cecilia as if it had been cut and chiseled and polished out of stone expressly for her sake.

  She had been separated from her beloved Arn only a stone’s throw from this portal. He had fallen to his knees and sworn with the passion that only a seventeen-year-old youth can swear, and even upon his sword that was blessed by God. He vowed to endure all fire and war and promised to come back and fetch her when their penance was paid.

  That was a long time ago now. And from Arn in the Holy Land she had heard not a word.

  But what frightened Cecilia from the very start, when Abbess Rikissa dragged her in through the gate with a hard and undignified grip round her wrist, as if leading a thrall to her punishment, was that Gudhem had now become an utterly different place. It was not the same as when she had previously spent time here with the novices.

  That is, on the surface Gudhem was still the place she knew, and only a few new outbuildings had been added. But inside much was changed, and she truly had good reason to feel fear.