I must have looked puzzled, for Robin went on. ‘I beg your pardon, I was forgetting that you wouldn’t know. The Count of Flanders died during the siege here, and now that he’s dead, Philip has designs on his land, which is directly to the north of his own territory. He’d no doubt like to have a crack at some of Richard’s holdings in Normandy, too.’
Robin paused for breath. ‘I haven’t told you the worst,’ he said. ‘As well as quarrelling with Philip and the French, King Richard has alienated the German contingent, too. Have you heard about the fuss over the flags? No? Well, it’s just another piece of arrogant stupidity. When we took Acre, Richard and Philip naturally hung their banners over the city, but the Germans, who fought under Leopold, Duke of Austria, felt that they deserved to have their banner up there too, and they had every right to, in my opinion — they had been fighting and dying here long before Richard arrived. So they hung up Leopold’s banner next to Richard’s. And Richard was furious — have you ever seen him lose his temper? It’s quite a sight. He went storming up to the battlements and personally kicked the Duke’s banner off the wall and into the ditch below. He said that, as Philip and he were kings, and was Leopold a mere duke, he had no right to fly his flag beside them as if they were equals. Now Leopold is furious with Richard and he, too, is threatening to go home. In a month there will be no Christian army left, at this rate.’
I was shocked: it seemed that the Great Pilgrimage, for which we had all travelled so far and suffered so much, was falling apart because of petty rivalries, jealousies and stupid quarrels. We had only just arrived in the Holy Land, and taken only one castle — I had yet to face a single Saracen warrior — and we might soon all be packing up and going back to England.
‘What other news? Have there been any more attempts on your life?’ I asked him, mainly to change the subject. He looked at me keenly. ‘As a matter of fact, yes, I believe so,’ he said. ‘It’s something I wanted to talk to you about. I was walking the perimeter of the city with Owain and some of the men — it was about noon, and sweltering hot, the day after we had taken the place — when an avalanche of rocks began above me: I was wiping the sweat from my eyes and looking up at the sun, or I wouldn’t have seen it: first a shower of rocks then a great boulder the size of a full-grown cow came crashing down. I just managed to jump aside in time. Gave me a shock, I can tell you. A lot of the masonry is loose from the battering we gave the place before we took it, and workmen are doing their best to patch it up, but I thought I saw somebody up there a few moments before the rocks began to fall. It could have been an accident, I suppose. But I don’t think so. I really don’t think so.’
‘I was hoping we had left all that behind in Messina,’ I said. And he nodded agreement.
‘But I think I know who it might be,’ I went on.
He looked at me, surprised. But remained silent for a few moments. ‘Well then,’ he said, slightly crossly, ‘who is it?’
‘I’m not certain; and I don’t want to give you a name in case I am wrong,’ I said. ‘It could cause no end of trouble and bad feeling.’ Actually, I was worried that Robin might quietly murder the person I had in mind, just as a precaution, and I was not yet fully convinced of his guilt. I did not want any more innocent blood on my conscience.
‘Let me make a few enquiries,’ I said, ‘and when I’m sure of my man, I’ll tell you his name.’
‘Very well,’ said Robin, trying hard to be light-hearted. ‘Play it close if you wish, but if I get murdered because you didn’t tell me, my spirit will haunt you till your dying day!’ Then he smiled at me and I felt a rush of affection for him. He had a lot resting on his head at that time: a murderer with the face of friend, huge debts unpaid at home and here, a wife who was making him look ridiculous in the eyes of his peers, and a royal master who, on the basis of slanderous lies, had banished him from his inner circle. I wanted to say something comforting to him but I could not find the words. He looked down at his interlinked hands for a moment. ‘You know, my friend,’ he said. ‘I sometimes wish I wasn’t an Earl, or the commander of an army, or a holy pilgrim on a sacred mission; I sometimes wish I was just a common outlaw again. If a man maligned me, I killed him; if I wanted something, I took it. Things were somehow simpler… and better.’ And with those words, he left.
Two days later I was able to get out of bed and take some sun for an hour in the stone-flagged courtyard of the Hospitallers quarter. I had several more visitors to my bed before then, apart from Nur who spent hours of each day with me: my loyal servant William, who actually burst into tears of happiness when he saw me upright and getting stronger; Reuben who made me piss into a jar before smelling and tasting the urine to determine what I could have told him myself: that I was better — and Will Scarlet.
My boyhood companion looked fit and strong — and happy, and the cause of his happiness was standing beside him in a shapeless green dress, with her white hair as fluffy as a lamb’s. It was Elise, the strange Norman woman who claimed to be able to see the future. They were now married.
There was more than fifteen years in age difference between them, and she was half a foot taller, but despite that, I could see that they were well suited to each other and clearly in love. She fussed over him like a mother hen, it is true, but she seemed to have brought out from his soul some latent strength. His eyes were clear and he held my gaze steadily as he told me their good news.
‘Elise predicted that we would be married one day,’ he said. ‘She told me on the day that I was whipped in France. And she was right, of course. But I didn’t know that I loved her until Messina. At first I told myself it was wrong; that the Devil was tempting me with lustful thoughts about her’ — I resisted the urge to smile; there was nothing lust-making about the skinny middle-aged woman before me that I could see — ‘but then Father Simon told me that if I took her hand in holy matrimony, our union would be blessed by God. And so we were wed by him a week ago.’
I congratulated him heartily; and indeed I was pleased for both of them. My love for Nur made me want all mankind to have the same happiness. ‘Of course, we want to have babies as soon as possible,’ he said. I looked at her white hair, and the wrinkles around her eyes, and murmured, ‘Of course,’ but he surprised me by continuing ‘so that God can bless our union in this Holy Land, and show us a sign of His divine approval of our match.’
It was clear that Will had not become any less religious since he set foot in the land that had given nurture to Our Lord Jesus Christ.
I kissed Elise, too, and just as she and Will were leaving she said: ‘I know that you don’t believe in my prophecies, Alan, but I was right about you, wasn’t I? You were not destined to die here in this place; as I told you, you will die in bed, at home, an old man.’ And then she did a strange thing; she bent down and picked up the old-fashioned wolf’s head shield that Little John had left at the bottom of the bed. ‘But carry this with you at all times; it will save your life,’ she said solemnly, then she took Will’s hand and they both left. I was struck by the fact that she should echo Little John’s advice about the shield, and I vowed that I would learn to use it, and carry it with me whenever I next went into battle.
As the days passed, I grew stronger. Robin had disappeared and when I asked after my master with Owain and Sir James de Brus, neither seemed to know where he had gone. Reuben seemed to have vanished, too. When I questioned Little John, he rather curtly told me to stop worrying, and to stop asking questions; my master’s business was his own. But the big man was as good as his word about the shield lessons and came each morning to give me instruction. In truth, it was not difficult, although my tender stomach muscles gave me some trouble to begin with — I now had a short, ugly purple scar to the right of my belly button, where the barber-surgeons had cut out Malbete’s quarrel. Wounded belly or no, Little John soon had me skipping about the sunlit courtyard of the Hospitallers’ quarter, John striking at me with a yard-long wooden baton, and myself using only the shield to block his powerful blows: high, low, and the tricky ones that aim to come around the edge. At first I was quickly exhausted by the exercise, and even though we practiced in the early morning, the heat soon became unbearable. But as I grew stronger, I was able to enjoy the practice sessions with my huge friend, and endure the discomfort for longer. When John saw that I had mastered the basic moves, he progressed to teaching me more sophisticated manoeuvres with the shield: strikes on an opponent with the flat and edge, and how to use the shield to distract your enemy so that he reacted slowly to your sword blow.