Yusuf leaned forward, interested. ‘When will this marriage take place?’
‘Maria is a girl of only ten. They will wait until she is older; thirteen perhaps. Poor girl. I was no older when I was married.’
‘To Amalric?’ John asked.
‘No, to Reynald of Marash. He was a beast of a man, but I did not have to bear with him for long. He died shortly after our marriage. After that I was engaged to Hugh of Ibelin, but he was captured in battle before we could marry. The story has a happy ending, though. After Amalric divorced me, Hugh came to court me once more. We were married last year, eight years after our first engagement.’
John winced. He had not known she had married again. He rose. ‘We truly must go, Lady de Courtenay.’
‘Then I bid you farewell and Godspeed on your journey, both of you.’
‘Pardon, my lady? I have no plans to leave Jerusalem.’
A smile played at the corner of Agnes’s mouth. ‘Plans have been made for you, John. Amalric is sending you and William to Aleppo to negotiate the release of the prisoners that Nur ad-Din took at Harim.’
Agnes was very well informed indeed. John wondered who her contacts were at court. ‘Why would the King send me?’ he asked.
‘Amalric hopes your friendships amongst the Saracens will prove valuable in the negotiations.’ She rose. ‘I do not wish to keep either of you from the preparations for your journey. Thank you both for honouring me with your company.’
Yusuf bowed. ‘It is we who were honoured, my lady.’
She gave him her most winning smile. ‘God keep you, Saladin. My man will show you out.’
A servant stepped forward and led Yusuf towards the exit. John began to follow, but Agnes grabbed his arm. ‘I have no confessor in Jerusalem, Father. I would appreciate it if you would visit from time to time to relieve me of the burden of my sins.’
John hesitated. William had warned him to be wary of the Lady de Courtenay, yet he enjoyed her easy manner, the touch of her hand on his arm, the warmth in her smile.
‘Of course, my lady.’
Chapter 7
FEBRUARY 1165: NEAR THE PORT OF SAINT SYMEON
Yusuf stood at the rail of the ship and watched the coast drift past. John and William had offered to travel with him to Aleppo, and Yusuf had gladly accepted. Three days ago they had boarded a ship in Jaffa. Now, as they rounded a rocky spit of land, Yusuf could just make out the mouth of the Orontes River, a low point on the otherwise mountainous coast. The port of Saint Symeon, which served the crusader city of Antioch, lay just up the river.
‘May I join you?’
Yusuf turned to see William approaching. ‘Where is John?’
‘Still below. I fear the sea does not agree with him.’ The priest stood beside Yusuf and leaned his elbows on the rail so that the silver cross about his neck hung out over the water. ‘You enjoyed your visit to Jerusalem?’
Yusuf nodded.
‘I have spoken to Amalric about opening the city to Muslim settlement.’
Yusuf blinked in surprise. ‘And what did Amalric say?’
‘He is not opposed to the idea. The other cities of the Kingdom all have Arab residents. And half the homes in Jerusalem lie empty. Muslim settlers would mean more revenue.’
‘And more taxes means that he can pay more warriors.’
‘True, but that is not why I wish to open the Holy City to your people. I believe that Christians and Muslims can share Jerusalem as they did before the Crusades. I believe that we can learn to respect one another’s faiths.’
‘John says the same.’
‘You should listen to him.’
‘Tell that to your Templars. When I visited Al-Aqsa, one of them accosted me while I prayed.’
‘John told me,’ William said. ‘The Templar was newly arrived in the Holy Land. He may be a savage now, but the East will civilize him. Think of John. He started like that Templar and look at him now.’
‘Now he is a priest,’ Yusuf said with a trace of bitterness. ‘He serves King Amalric.’
‘Yes, but he respects your people, loves them even. He longs for peace.’
‘And what of your king? Is his alliance with the Emperor Manuel meant to bring peace?’
‘Amalric is no fool. He battles with Nur ad-Din because he fears him. This alliance will make the Kingdom secure. Amalric will not need to fight.’
‘But he will want to. I have met your king. He is a warrior, like Nur ad-Din.’
William shrugged. ‘That may be, but it is the responsibility of men like us to guide our kings, Saladin.’
‘No, it is my duty to serve my king.’
‘And what better way to serve him than by offering sage advice? The treaty that was signed in Egypt could be the beginning of a new age of peace. But peace is a fragile flower. We must cultivate it.’
Yusuf said nothing. Ahead, he could see a ship sailing into the mouth of the Orontes. Saint Symeon was located two miles upstream. Yusuf was curious to see it. He knew that the port would have to be taken first if an attacking army hoped to seize Antioch. That is what the Franks had done during the First Crusade. With Saint Symeon in hand, Antioch could be starved into submission. He sighed. His thoughts could not help but run to war. He had been raised from birth to fight the Franks. But he had also been taught that they were savages, and John had showed him that was not true. There were brutes like the Templar guard, but there were also civilized men amongst the Franks, like William. And perhaps, in time, young Baldwin. Under John’s tutelage the prince could become a man of peace, unlike Yusuf’s nephew Ubadah, with his blind hatred of the Franks. Perhaps the obstacle to peace was not the Franks but Yusuf’s own people. Perhaps it was he who needed to change.
Beside him, William stepped away from the rail. ‘Think on what I have said, Saladin.’
As the priest walked away, John passed him to join Yusuf. John’s face was pale, and there was a trace of vomit on the front of his tunic. ‘What were you discussing?’
‘Peace.’
John nodded but said nothing. The two friends watched as the Orontes drew closer. Finally, Yusuf spoke. ‘I do not wish to be your enemy, John. Perhaps you are right. Perhaps we can live in peace.’
John smiled. ‘Inshallah.’
FEBRUARY 1165: NEAR ALEPPO
John reined in beside Yusuf and William atop a rocky ridge. They had left Antioch five days ago, travelling with a caravan of Saracen merchants. Now, John could just make out the distant minaret of the citadel of Aleppo. The path leading to it crossed a desolate stretch of sun-baked ground, dotted by villages clustered around wells.
‘We will arrive soon,’ Yusuf said. ‘I will offer the head of the caravan a dinar, as thanks for our safe journey.’
Yusuf spurred down the far side of the ridge, and John and William followed at a slower pace. The priest nodded in the direction of the city. ‘You lived in Aleppo. What is it like?’
John shrugged. ‘You should ask Saladin. I spent most of my time in the citadel barracks.’
‘Surely you did not spend all your time at the citadel.’ John flinched at the memory of his night-time visits to Zimat. William seemed not to notice. ‘What are the streets like? The markets? Is it a rich town?’
‘The souks bring great wealth to the city. You can buy anything you wish in them. As for the rest: the streets are broad and clean, nothing like Jerusalem. The walls and buildings are of pale stone; that is why they call it the White City.’
‘What was it like to live for so long amongst the infidels?’
‘Surprising. I had been told that they were monsters, but I found them cultured, intelligent, kind even to their slaves, tolerant of the beliefs of others.’
‘I have always found the Saracens to be good company. I am looking forward to our visit.’
John was less eager to reach Aleppo. The closer he got to the city, the more his stomach roiled. What would Zimat think of his decision to join the priesthood? What would she say to him? He attempted to picture her face and found it dissolving into that of Agnes. He tried to drive the latter image from his thoughts, but his mind refused to obey. He could see Agnes sitting in the courtyard of her home, a slight smile on her lips, her golden hair falling down towards her breasts.