‘What do you mean?’
‘You know what I mean.’
Yusuf lowered his eyes. The sword shook in his hands, the sharp blade drawing a thin trail of blood from John’s neck. ‘This is different,’ he said at last. He drew the sword back, preparing to strike.
‘I love her,’ John whispered.
Yusuf began to swing down, and John closed his eyes. But the blow never came. John opened his eyes to see the blade hovering inches from his neck. Yusuf’s face was contorted in a strange mixture of anger and pain, his forehead creased, jaw clenched and eyes wet with tears. He cast his sword aside and strode away.
John let him go. He finished gathering wood and then returned to their camp. Yusuf was sitting against his saddle with his back to John, staring at the dark waters of the stream. John dropped the kindling and set about building a fire. When the blaze was crackling, he pulled up his saddle and sat facing the flames. After a moment, Yusuf turned around. They sat across from one another, staring at the blaze in silence.
Finally, one of the logs burned through and collapsed, sending a spray of sparks into the night sky. John leaned forward to poke at the fire with a stick, then added another branch. He sat back and looked across the flames to Yusuf, who was still staring straight ahead, his features shadowy in the firelight. ‘You asked me once why I came to these lands,’ John said to him. Yusuf did not reply, and John continued. ‘I was raised in Northumbria in the town of Tatewic, far from here, in England. It is a green land, so different from here. But my land too has been conquered, and by the same Franks who conquered the holy city of Jerusalem.’
‘But you are a Frank.’
‘No, I am a Saxon. My father was a thane, an emir amongst my people. Before the Normans came, we were a family of great lords. When William the Bastard claimed England for himself, my family joined the other thanes to fight him. We lost almost everything. Still, we were some of the lucky ones. The Normans killed hundreds. Worse, they burned crops and slaughtered livestock, leaving thousands more to die of hunger. We lived, but my father never forgot.
‘He was a good man, my father. He taught us to fight and to farm the land. He raised my older brother to follow him as thane; even after the wars, we still had a smallholding and a few serfs. He sent me to the nearby abbey every day to learn the French and Latin of our invaders. I was to become a priest.’ John stopped, looking into the fire and battling old memories. It seemed he could see the face of his father in the flames.
‘What happened?’ Yusuf asked.
‘My older brother was not satisfied with the little that was left to us. He made a deal with the Norman king. He accused the remaining Saxon lords in our county of treason, including my father. They were all hanged, and their lands seized by the Normans. In return, my brother was given the land of our neighbours. I could not forgive him. I killed him, my own brother.’ John looked away.
‘You did your duty,’ Yusuf said quietly.
‘Yes.’ John swallowed. ‘But killing him did not feel like justice. I could not forgive myself for what I had done, and I feared the Normans would hang me for a criminal. So I fled. The Pope has promised redemption to all who take up the Cross. I went to France and joined the crusade. I thought my capture at Damascus was God’s punishment for my crime.’ He looked away from the fire, to Yusuf. ‘Now I know it was a gift. I will never forgive myself for what I did, but God has granted me a new life, a new brother.’ Yusuf met his gaze. ‘Can you forgive me, Brother?’
Yusuf’s forehead creased, but he said nothing. They sat beneath the endless stars while the fire burned to nothing. When the last flames had vanished and the embers had turned to ash, Yusuf rose and stretched. He looked down at John. ‘You know that you can never marry her.’
‘I know.’
Yusuf nodded. He stepped over the ashes and held out his hand. John took it and Yusuf pulled him up. ‘Come then, friend. Let us return to Aleppo.’
Chapter 20
JUNE 1163: ALEPPO
Yusuf trotted up the long causeway leading to the citadel of Aleppo, with John riding beside him. They had ridden in silence during the long trip back from the desert. They passed through the gate and into the citadel grounds, where they stopped and dismounted before the stables. Yusuf met John’s eyes as he handed him the reins to his horse. He took a deep breath. ‘I–I wanted to say-’
John raised a hand, stopping him. ‘There is no need. We said all that needed to be said in the desert. We are still friends; that is all that matters.’
Yusuf nodded. He reached out, and they clasped hands. ‘I will see you this evening when we train the men.’
‘This evening,’ John agreed and led the horses to the stables.
Yusuf headed for the palace, skirting the field at the centre of the citadel, where a dozen mamluks were playing polo. One of them knocked the kura through the goalposts and whooped in triumph. Watching him, Yusuf thought back to his childhood and the first time he had bested his brother Turan at polo. He shook his head. Then, beating Turan had seemed the most important thing in the world.
Yusuf entered the palace and went to his quarters. He was not surprised to find Faridah waiting for him. She took one look at his face and smiled. ‘Thank Allah, you did not do it.’
‘I could not.’
She crossed the room and kissed him. ‘You did the right thing.’
‘Yes,’ Yusuf murmured.
Faridah released him and stepped back. ‘Asimat has sent a message. You are to go to her quarters.’ Yusuf frowned. ‘You do not wish to see her?’ Faridah asked. ‘What has happened?’
‘I do not wish to discuss it.’ Yusuf went to the door. ‘I will return soon.’
When Yusuf reached the harem, one of the guards informed him that Asimat was in the gardens. Yusuf left the palace and crossed the citadel grounds to the rose garden, where the trimmed hedges were in full leaf and full bloom. The guards waiting outside nodded to Yusuf, and he entered, winding his way towards the centre of the maze of pathways. Looking back, Yusuf could see the guards’ heads rising above the hedges. Their eyes were fixed upon him.
Yusuf found Asimat at the centre of the maze, sitting beside a low, circular pool with water bubbling up in the centre. She smiled when she saw him. He bowed. ‘Khatun.’
‘I am glad you came,’ she replied, standing and moving to him. ‘I thought I had lost you in the earthquake, Yusuf. It made me realize something.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I–I love you.’
Yusuf stepped back. ‘Do not say that.’
‘Why not?’ Asimat’s brow furrowed. ‘Do you not love me?’
Yusuf looked away. ‘We must not see each other again.’
‘What do you mean?’ She grabbed his arm. ‘Look at me!’ Reluctantly, he met her eyes. ‘You love me. I know you do.’
‘It does not matter. I will not betray my lord.’
‘It is too late for that. You have already betrayed him.’
‘No.’ Yusuf took her hands in his and spoke urgently. ‘The earthquake was a sign, Asimat. What we are doing is wrong, but Allah has given us a second chance. We must return to the path of the righteous.’
Asimat pulled her hands from his. ‘A sign from Allah? Do not be foolish!’ Yusuf said nothing. He turned his back on Asimat, but she grabbed his arm, spinning him around to face her. ‘You would give up the kingdom, then?’
‘If I must.’
‘I see.’ Asimat stood straighter, and the warmth faded from her expression. ‘You have greatness within you, Yusuf, but you fear it. To be great, you must be willing to seize your opportunity, no matter what the cost. You must be willing to betray anyone at any time. Anyone.’
‘And you, Asimat? Would you betray anyone to see your son on the throne?’ She nodded. ‘Even me?’ Asimat met his eyes, then looked away without speaking. Yusuf shook his head. ‘It is no wonder Allah has cursed your womb. You are everything I despise.’
Asimat slapped him, hard enough to snap his head to the side. ‘You do not love me, coward,’ she spat. ‘You never have.’ She turned and strode away.