Prologue #3
Garret watched him ride off, wondering if de Nantes was going to do as he was told and return to camp. A large part of him hoped he was captured by Muslim patrols and taken to the Muslim commanders as a prize. It would be justice well served.
As de Nantes disappeared from view, Garret turned to the Muslim prisoner just as the man was rising to his knees again.
“Go back where you belong,” Garret told him. “Your god has spared you this night, for I have not the time or the inclination to do away with you.”
The Muslim was looking up at him without fear. In fact, there was admirable bravery in his expression considering he was beaten and bound, now facing off against another English knight who appeared bigger, meaner, and far more armed than the one who had captured him.
“You have saved my life,” he said. “Why?”
It was a reasonable question. Garret eyed the man; he was well-spoken from what he’d heard, intelligent, with skin the color of rich, brown earth and dark eyes that glittered in the moonlight. He wasn’t unhandsome, certainly not as swarthy or dirty as some of the savages he’d seen in these lands.
“Had your hands not been bound, I would not have interfered as I did,” he said.
“But there is no honor in killing a man who is at a disadvantage, not even if that man is your sworn enemy. Live to fight another day, Muslim. But remember this night and remember a Christian knight who showed you mercy. Mayhap someday, you will be required to show one of my brethren the same.”
The Muslim staggered to his feet, weary and wounded. “Allah favors the merciful,” he said quietly, “as I am sure your God does the same. I will remember your mercy, Salibi. May I know the name of the man who saved me?”
Garret was reluctant. “Does it matter?”
The Muslim nodded. “It does, as I intend to ask Allah to protect you in battle.”
Garret didn’t know if he was flattered or insulted by that. He didn’t need the protection of a heathen god but, on the other hand, he supposed it couldn’t hurt. He was coming to think that his own God had too much work to bother with the smaller details in life.
“I am de Moray,” he finally said.
“I shall pray for you, de Moray.”
“If you feel the need. And your captor – did he give you his name also?”
It was a calculated question; Garret wanted to know if this prisoner would return to his Muslim comrades to tell the story of King Richard’s vindictive cousin and his hatred for the Templars. But the Muslim looked off to the west, into the darkness where the Englishman who had beaten him had fled.
“He did not,” he said. “But I can tell you that he had his men capture me. They brought me out here to face him and he sent them away. He told them that he needed no witnesses for what he intended to do. He had weapons from the Knights of the Temple and he said that by killing me, he intended to show they were assassins. It is none of my business how the Christian armies behave, but it seemed to me as if he wanted to turn you against each other.”
Garret had heard all of that, too. He had to admit that he was relieved to know the Muslim did not know his captor’s name.
“Wherever you have men, you have politics,” he said, “and you have those who have ill-will towards everyone, including their own. No army is exempt from that.”
The Muslim held up his bound hands to Garret in a gesture that suggested he was asking to have his ties cut.
Perhaps he was too proud to ask or perhaps he was hoping he didn’t need to.
In any case, Garret understood the silent question and removed a sharp dagger from his belt, leaning forward to slash the rope between the man’s wrists.
They fell away as the Muslim rubbed his skin.
“Shukraan,” he murmured. Thank you. Still rubbing his wrists, he looked off to the west again. “Nay, de Moray, no army is exempt from that behavior. But I must ask – how did you find us? It is desolate out here. And full of danger. Why are you traveling alone?”
Garret looked at him. “You would not believe me if I told you.”
“I would never doubt the word of the man who has saved my life.”
Garret wasn’t sure how much he should tell him.
In fact, he didn’t even know why he was in conversation with the Muslim other than he felt some obligation to because he’d prevented the man from having his throat slit.
Still, there was some wisdom in telling him the truth – perhaps the man would tell others to beware of the king’s cousin who was looking to murder one of them in a most dishonorable way.
If Alfaar had tried once, he might try again and Garret couldn’t, in good conscience, not give fair warning about it.
“I am out here because the man who tried to kill you is a cousin to King Richard,” he said frankly.
“We call him Alfaar because he is a vile excuse for a man. However, being the king’s cousin affords him leniency that most men do not have.
I will not go into the details of why I was seeking him on this night but, suffice it to say, that my coming upon you was no accident.
My king sent me to find his cousin because he was afraid the man was going to do something stupid, which I have fortunately prevented.
You will tell your brethren to beware of Jago de Nantes, for that is his name, and if one of your arrows were to find him, no one would weep over his loss. ”
The Muslim nodded in understanding. “There are men in my ranks who are of the same dark character,” he said.
“It is not limited to the Christians. I, too, am a cousin to a great man. My name is Al-Zayin ibin Aziz and my cousin is Salah ah-din, the commander of our armies. He shall know of your mercy, de Moray. You have my gratitude.”
Garret lifted his eyebrows. “Your cousin is Saladin?”
“He is. And I am called Zayin. Remember my name, for we are now brothers, you and I. You have saved me and I am in your debt, always.”
A flicker of a smile crossed Garret’s lips. “I already have a brother.”
“Now you have two.”
His grin spread. “Although I am honored, a debt is not necessary. I would have happily put an arrow into Alfaar had he been beating a man who needed it much less one who did not.”
Zayin smiled, flashing his big white teeth in the moonlight. “You shall not get rid of me so easily, Salibi,” he said. “In my country, we pay our debts. You saved my life and, someday, I shall save yours.”
Garret could see the determination in Zayin’s eyes.
“Then it shall have to be while I am in your land because I am going home as soon as I can,” he said.
“I will leave you to your searing heat and clinging sands, for I intend to return to the green fields of England where water is plentiful and the seasons bring cold winds. In fact, the next time I see snow, I am going to roll around in it and consider myself blessed.”
Zayin cocked his head. “Snow? What is that?”
Garret pointed to the sky. “Water that has turned to ice,” he said. “It falls from the clouds and covers the land in white.”
Zayin’s eyebrows lifted. “Ice,” he repeated. “I have heard of such things, from a caravan that has traveled far to the north where the Northmen live. You have such things in your country, too?”
Garret nodded. “It has all that and more,” he said. “Have you ever seen water and grass covering the land? I have, and I miss it. I wish to return to it. I have only been in your country for two months and already, I hate it.”
Zayin chuckled. “It hates you, too, Salibi,” he said. “Go home. But if I have not saved your life before you go, then I am going with you.”
Garret snorted. “We will never see each other again after this,” he said. “Go back to your people and I shall return to mine. Consider this a parting well made.”
There was a confident twinkle to Zayin’s eyes. “We shall see each other again. Allah shall make it so.”
Garret simply waved him off, turning his horse back the way he had come. “That would be a miracle,” he said. “Go with God, Al-Zayin ibin Aziz. And give thanks that either your god or my God was watching over you this night.”
As he headed off into the darkness, Zayin called after him. “I will find you, Salibi! I have faith!”
Garret simply waved him off, returning to find David wandering around in the darkness and telling the young knight what had happened.
David was frustrated that it had not been him putting an arrow into de Nantes’ arm, but he was thrilled by the story of Garret’s bravery nonetheless.
Returning with all due haste back to the Christian encampment, David and Garret wasted no time in telling Richard what they had come across and what Garret had been forced to do.
Garret simply stood by modestly as David sang his praises and Richard was close to murdering his foolish cousin who, by morning, still had not returned to camp.
Only when Alfaar wandered back into the enormous spread of dusty tents close to sunset the next day with a bloodied, wrapped right forearm did Richard send for him and demand to know what happened.
According to Alfaar, he’d gotten into a fight with a Muslim warrior who had nearly killed him.
But Richard knew better.
After that incident, Richard kept Jago close to him, rarely letting the man out of his sight.
He was not allowed to have a personal army; instead, his dirty, poorly-armed men were absorbed into other armies.
The situation remained as such until October 1192 A.D.
, when the Christian armies were departing The Levant to return home after a terrible year of battles, defeats, and victories.
At that time, Garret and many other English knights chose to take the land route home, the Pilgrim Trail, because of pirates and threats upon vessels heading out to sea.
But Richard, ill with scurvy at the time, chose to go by sea because he believed it was the fastest way but Jago managed to go by land simply to get away from his overbearing cousin.
For him, freedom was more important than reaching home swiftly.
In the mass exodus of the Christian armies, Garret and his circle of friends, including the de Lohr brothers, took their armies northward along the coast. It was their second night of travel when, encamped on the outskirts of Tyre, rumors of a Muslim soldier surrendering to them were flying amongst the men.
But when the man was brought to Garret, he knew instantly that this was no random surrender.
In fact, he wasn’t surprised to see the “prisoner” at all.
We shall see each other again.
Zayin had been right.
They had.