A Blood Red Horse (27 page)

The hail of arrows from the ranks of the soldiers grew thick, and the thwack and thud of the crossbows was almost unceasing as Gavin shut his eyes and began to pray harder than he had ever prayed in his life.

The king was under threat again and again. It seemed a Saracen tactic to kill whatever mount he seized from another knight. Sometimes Richard was forced to fight on foot as he worked his way toward somebody, anybody, who had a horse. If it was a Saracen, he tried to kill the horse. If it was a Christian, he ordered the knight to hand the horse over. The order could not be disobeyed, even though this meant almost certain death. When Gavin opened his eyes again, he saw both Gerard de Furnival and Roger de Soucy on their feet. Gerard was cut down at once. Roger, by some miracle, managed to get back to the Christian lines unscathed.

The ground was growing sticky with blood, and the air was filled with death. Those watching could see the combatants on both sides diminishing in number. Eventually, after a long struggle in which he managed to wound but not kill the sultan, Ralph de Mauleon also fell to Saladin's sword, and William L'Etang's horse was struck by a crossbolt. Its leg shattered, its screams rose until Kamil galloped over and thrust his sword into the animal's throat. Through the red mist Gavin heard somebody shout, “William's down, the horse is finished.” He found himself beseeching God that it was the other William and his horse, not his brother and Hosanna. His guilty relief when
he discovered his prayers had been answered almost overpowered him.

Eventually all the knights' horses, barring Hosanna and Ralph de Mauleon's, which the king had seized as the knight's dead body was pitched off, were slain. The battle thinned. Richard, taking stock, found William by his side. Together, they plunged in among the Saracens. As he raised his sword once again, Richard felt his horse stumble. He glanced down. Its flank was slashed. Before it could fall, the king leaped off. Kamil approached at the gallop. Now was his chance. With a silent cry of jubilation, he raised his sword just as Richard put his own above his head. A Saracen trumpet sounded. Kamil hesitated, his arm still poised. He could see from the corner of his eye that the sultan's troops were turning back, away from the city. Although all the mounted Christians, barring the king and William, were either dead or vanished from the fight, Richard's foot soldiers, with their arrows and crossbolts, were clearly prevailing. Kamil took no notice. He prepared his stroke. No matter what the soldiers were doing, he could kill a king. As he drove his sword down, Saladin was suddenly by his side, shouting. In obedience to the sultan's command, Kamil missed.

William, turning at the sound of the trumpet, saw Richard's horse fall and knew at once what he must do. As Kamil's sword hit the ground he leaped off Hosanna and handed him over to his king. The time for the ultimate sacrifice had arrived, and William was not found wanting. Richard took Hosanna without a word, and William silently helped him to mount. He touched his horse's white star, then stepped back. Kamil was watching and, without thinking, immediately placed his horse right in front of
William. He told himself that he should not protect his enemy from the last of the arrows. But he never moved.

Now, apart from the cries of the wounded, silence fell. The whole world seemed focused on two men: the king and the sultan.

They faced each other without speaking. It was only as they steadied and, as if at a prearranged signal, began to charge toward each other that the deafening roar erupted once more.

Hosanna, galloping, sidestepping, turning and wheeling, was covered in sweat. Nevertheless, his hooves seemed barely to touch the ground. He appeared to sense Richard's every thought, to understand every tactic as again and again Richard lunged forward. Both men grunted as they raised their swords and attempted to find the opening that would finish the other off. Hosanna made no sound but, with a dexterity Richard had never encountered in any other horse, flowed round the sultan's stallion, leaving it flat-footed. Slowly, remorselessly, it became clear that the king was wearing the sultan down. Kamil, still mounted, tightened his grip on his sword. If Saladin was killed, then nobody would stop him finishing Richard off himself. He prayed that he could do it and spare the red horse.

Now the Christians began to shout that the king was the victor. Their cries filled Richard with new impetus, and suddenly, the chance was there. Just as he had been taught, Hosanna reared as Richard raised his sword to deliver the deathblow to Saladin, the mortal enemy of Christendom.

It was for just this moment that a lone Saracen archer had been waiting. Taking deadly aim, he fired one steel-tipped
arrow. It struck true. Richard's blow was never delivered. Saladin wheeled away, calling to the emirs to come after him. They all obeyed except one, who, leaping from his saddle and dropping his sword, ran over to where a red horse lay in the sand.

By the time Kamil reached Hosanna, Richard and William were standing over his body. William, stunned and speechless, was unable to take in what had happened. He was supposed to die with his horse. Then he had given him to the king. Now both he and the king were standing unharmed while Hosanna was lying with an arrow close to his heart. He did not hear Gavin calling his name. Even when Gavin ran toward him, William could not move. Only when Kamil arrived did William make an inarticulate sound and begin pulling off his armor so that he could kneel more easily. Kamil dropped to his knees and took Hosanna's head in his arms. He did not bother to hide his anguish. William knelt down beside him, and as he did so, Kamil gently moved the horse's head into William's lap. Then he turned his attention to the arrow. The horse lay so quietly it was difficult to tell if he was breathing, but Kamil pulled the arrow out anyway. Hosanna quivered, then was still. William looked for Gavin.

“The ointment that Brother Andrew gave Ellie,” he said. “It's here, in my pouch. Get it out.” Gavin, fumbling, did so. William laid Hosanna's head gently down while he opened the little casket and pushed its contents into the
deep hole the arrow had made. “Would the arrow have been poisoned?” he asked Kamil. He had to know.

Kamil shook his head. “But it has gone in too deep,” he whispered. “I don't know what can be done.”

Suddenly there was a thudding of feet, and Hal burst through. When he saw Hosanna lying motionless and the huge hole with blood welling to fill it, he was wild. “There must be something we can do,” he cried.

William shook his head. But Hal would not give up. He struggled for something to say as he ripped off his shirt and tried to stanch the wound. But it seemed hopeless.

After a few moments Hal rocked back on his heels, tears streaming down his face.

“Aren't we supposed to believe in God's power?” he cried at the king. “We can't just do nothing. I prayed when I went unarmed into Jaffa, and God protected me. Maybe he could help Hosanna. At the very least we should pray. What else is there?”

All around them the groans of the wounded added to their despair. The glory of the battle had vanished, and only its dreadful aftermath remained.

The king said nothing. William did not look at Kamil's face as he said, “It does not matter to Christians which way they face when they pray, but I'm told it matters to you. Which way is Mecca? If we are all to pray together, well …”

Kamil hesitated, then pointed. His face was expressionless.

Richard uttered a small exclamation and walked away. There were some things he would not do. But William, Gavin, Hal, and Kamil, turning their backs on Hosanna, knelt together. Gavin, nervous and unsure, nevertheless began. God, Allah, Christ, Mohammed—it all seemed so
much more complicated now. The only certainty was that they all, both Muslim and Christian, wanted the same thing.

“Here, Lord,” he said, hoping he was not going to offend anybody. “Here lies a Great Horse. We ask that his death and the deaths of so many countless others are not in vain. We are in confusion. Show us your will. Amen.”

Then Kamil began. “Our hearts are protected from that unto which you, O Muhammad, callest us,” he said. “In our ears there is a deafness and between us and you there is a veil. In our anxiety and sadness, let Allah show us the right path, the one of righteousness and piety.”

They all murmured their assent, then prayed silently, each lost in his individual thoughts. As they did so, behind them Hosanna, gathering the breath that had been knocked out of him, opened his eyes and began to move. Slowly and with a great effort, he rose to his feet. When William and Kamil turned round, they found the horse standing, his nose on the ground, the blood from his wound making a small channel in his side. They all rushed to support him, linking hands and, between them, shouting for others to help, they almost carried the horse the long, bitter mile back through the city gates and into a stable. The sun beat down, seeming to mock their efforts. On the way Kamil whispered urgent instructions to Hal, and the boy scarcely nodded before rushing to find Kamil's stallion. He mounted and galloped through the dead and dying to Saladin's camp.

The sultan was pacing round his pavilion, beside himself with worry over Kamil. How could the boy have stopped himself rushing to the red horse? Saladin was not angry, but he was terrified that with the horse apparently dead, Kamil would not escape alive. When he heard Hal's
unfamiliar voice, he rushed out just in time to witness his soldiers pulling him off Kamil's horse.

Baha ad-Din heard Hal's cries of indignation. He shouted at the soldiers and then, with his own hands, dragged Hal into Saladin's presence, shouting for an interpreter.

When the interpreter arrived, the sultan was standing over the boy, a fierce expression on his face.

“Ask him why he is here,” Saladin ordered. “Ask him, where is my emir, Kamil ad-Din, whose horse he has?”

Hal could say only one word. “Hosanna,” he said, urgently. “We need medicine for Hosanna. The Saracen man has sent me. Please, please help us.”

Saladin stared. “The Saracen man,” he said. “Is he safe?”

Hal was beside himself. “Safe? Of course he's safe. He's with my master, William, and Gavin and oh, please. Can't this wait? The emir says to send dressings and oil and anything you have. I know you can save Hosanna. He said so.”

“Kamil said so? What proof do I have?”

Hal was whispering now, all the energy draining out of him. Saladin would never believe him. But he answered the sultan anyway. “I have no proof. But he did say so. He said it was for honor, love, and Allah, or something like that. But he also said I must be as quick as the wind or the red horse would die. Maybe it is too late already.”

Saladin looked at Baha ad-Din, and the old man nodded slowly. “I think the boy is telling the truth,” he said. “That horse … well, the truth seems to follow him.”

Nevertheless, Saladin did not make his voice any gentler as he turned once again to Hal. “Honor, love, and Allah. That's what he said?”

“Yes, oh yes,” said Hal. “I swear by Hosanna.” He knew that it was a sin to swear on anything but God. But to the frantic boy, even if what he had done merited hell, it was worth it.

Saladin was silent for an eternal half minute. Then clapping his hands, he summoned two servants and issued his orders.

In ten minutes Hal found himself back on Kamil's stallion, leading a sumpter horse with packs bulging full of medicines and spices. Behind him a wagon was making slow progress. Every minute the boy urged the packhorse to go more quickly. As he reached the gates of Jaffa, Hal felt as though he had been away for weeks, though it was in fact just over an hour.

William was waiting by the stable door and shouted to Kamil as soon as he heard Hal's voice. Kamil came at once.

“The sultan is good,” he said as he unpacked the wine, turpentine, cumin, and honey, together with strong-smelling balms made of different oils and ground herbs.

“The sultan is good,” echoed Hal, rolling up his sleeves and doing whatever Kamil told him to do. Hosanna was already lying on a bed of thick reeds, and Kamil immediately began to plug his wound with some evil-smelling unguent, covering it with a silk bandage.

“We must use a poultice to get out any infection,” he said. William nodded. “And we must keep the flies off.” For the next couple of hours, the two of them worked as one, cleaning the wound, preparing the poultice, and trying to keep the horse cool.

In the wagon Saladin had sent slings and wood to make a litter. “You can take the red horse home without him having to stand all the way,” explained Kamil. Home. William could not take in the concept. For the moment it
seemed to him that his home was here, in this small stable in this foreign city, working with a man whom he had come here to kill but who was now joined with him in saving the life of a horse they both loved.

“You must thank the sultan,” William said quietly when the immediate activity was over and Hosanna was comfortable. As he sat looking at the horse William took out a small knife, leaned down, and cut off a hank of Hosanna's mane. He gave this to Kamil.

Kamil took it and, as he did so, said softly, “In the name of honor, love, and Allah.”

William nodded. “In the name of honor, love, and Allah,” he repeated. At such a moment William thought, surely God would not care by what name he was called. Without saying anything further, Kamil put the hank of hair in his belt, touched the horse's neck, and got up. Outside, his stallion was waiting. Taking its reins, Kamil vaulted on and slipped unnoticed through the city streets and out of the gate. Then he urged the horse into a gallop and was soon lost to view.

After the great battle at Jaffa, the mood changed in Richard's camp. It was as if the sight of ships standing in the harbor all ready to carry them home served to remind the soldiers just how long they had been away. Two years of unimaginable hardship had taken their toll. This mood was reflected among the knights and soldiers left at Acre. There was no more talk of storming Jerusalem. Richard was glad.