Yusuf noted the caliph’s seal at the bottom. Seals, however, could be forged. ‘Is it authentic?’
‘We received four such messages. There can be no doubt; the Caliph himself has asked for our help.’
‘What of Shawar? He rules in Egypt.’
‘The Caliph appoints the Vizier. And it is Al-Adid who has called for our help.’ Gumushtagin met Yusuf’s eyes. ‘It is an opportunity that cannot be missed.’
Yusuf frowned. ‘I told you: I want nothing to do with Egypt.’
Gumushtagin stepped closer and lowered his voice. ‘But you could be king!’
That gave Yusuf pause. Egypt was the greatest prize in Arabia, perhaps in all the world. ‘Explain yourself,’ he told Gumushtagin.
‘The Caliph has invited us to Egypt. That means the Vizier is no longer in favour. When our men arrive, Shawar will be put to death.’
‘I would happily do the deed. The man is a snake.’
‘Shirkuh will no doubt replace Shawar as vizier,’ Gumushtagin continued. ‘If he should die-’
Yusuf was moving before he had time to think. He grabbed Gumushtagin by the throat and pushed him backwards until the eunuch slammed into the wall. ‘Shirkuh is my uncle!’ he growled.
‘Unhand me,’ Gumushtagin choked out.
‘Why?’ Yusuf leaned close. The eunuch’s face was turning bright red as he struggled for air. ‘I should kill you now. Asimat and my son will have nothing to fear.’
‘Don’t-’ Gumushtagin rasped, ‘throw-your life-away-’
Yusuf held the eunuch a moment longer and then released him. Gumushtagin bent over, gasping for breath. After a moment, he straightened. ‘I am not asking you to betray your uncle, or Nur ad-Din. All I ask is that you do nothing. Let events unfold.’
Yusuf shook his head. ‘I will not let you kill him. You may well hold my fate in your hands, Gumushtagin, but I warn you: I am not afraid to die.’
‘Do not be a fool, Yusuf. If you cross me, then I will see Asimat stoned and your son hanged.’
Yusuf’s hands balled into fists. He took a step towards the eunuch, who shrank back against the wall. ‘Not if I kill you first, you ball-less shit!’
Gumushtagin drew himself up straight. ‘I have taken precautions. If I die, Nur ad-Din will still learn the truth. I do not fear you,’ he added in a quavering voice.
‘Then you are a fool.’ Yusuf spat at Gumushtagin’s feet and then turned and strode from the room, slamming the door behind him.
Yusuf stopped at one of the narrow windows that looked out from the spiral staircase leading up to the council chamber. Was it the last time he would see the sky? He had been a fool to let his anger get the better of him in his meeting with Gumushtagin that morning. Before the day ended, he could be dead.
He forced himself to continue to the top of the tower. The guard at the door to the council chamber waved him through. Nur ad-Din stood in the centre of the room. The king had turned fifty earlier that year, but although his black hair was now streaked with silver, he seemed a new man ever since the birth of his son and his victory at Harim. He stood straight-backed and moved with a warrior’s ease. Shirkuh, Gumushtagin and Usamah were with him. Yusuf’s stomach twisted with worry at the sight of Gumushtagin in whispered conversation with the king.
Nur ad-Din frowned. ‘Are you well, Saladin? You look as if you have drunk donkey piss. Perhaps you have received some unpleasant news?’
Yusuf felt the blood drain from his face. The king knew. He was sure of it. Yusuf looked to the floor, unable to meet his eyes. ‘I am well, Malik.’
‘Good! I need you healthy for what is to come.’ Nur ad-Din paused to look at each of the men present. ‘The Franks are invading Egypt, and the Caliph has called on us for help. Shirkuh, you will drive the Franks back to Jerusalem.’
‘Inshallah, Malik,’ Shirkuh said.
‘I will not make another peace with that snake Shawar. Once the Franks are defeated, you will dispose of him and have yourself declared Vizier of Egypt.’
Shirkuh grinned. ‘I like the sound of that.’
Nur ad-Din clapped the rugged warrior on the back and then turned to Yusuf. ‘And you, young eagle, what shall we do with you?’
Yusuf swallowed. But he straightened and met his king’s eyes. He had known this day would come. He would not cower. ‘I am your servant, Malik. You must use me as you see fit.’
Nur ad-Din’s golden eyes studied Yusuf, and then he smiled. ‘You shall serve as Shirkuh’s second in command, and when Cairo falls, you shall assume the government of the city.’
Yusuf blinked in surprise. He looked from Nur ad-Din to Gumushtagin. ‘It is a great honour the King bestows upon both of you,’ the eunuch said. His eyes met Yusuf’s. ‘A reward for your incomparable loyalty.’ The message was clear. Gumushtagin was giving him a second chance. Next time, he would not be so generous.
‘Very well, Malik,’ Yusuf murmured.
‘Do not look so glum, Nephew!’ Shirkuh said. He gripped Yusuf’s shoulder. ‘We will be rulers of Egypt! And we shall finally have our revenge on that two-faced bastard, Shawar.’
NOVEMBER 1168: BILBEIS
John stepped over dead bodies and through the splintered remains of the southern gate of Bilbeis. Acrid black smoke hung in the air. Beside the gate a Saracen warrior sat moaning in pain, his bowels spilled out on the ground before him. A knight slit his throat and then yanked the gold chain from around the dead man’s neck. John looked away. A line of chained women pulled along by two knights emerged from the smoky haze. One of them, a thin young woman with large brown eyes and a purplish bruise on her cheek, called out to John. ‘Please, Father, help me! I am a Christian!’
One of the knights slapped her. ‘Quiet, bitch!’
John’s hands clenched into fists, and he glared at the man. He was one of the Duke of Nevers’s men. They were newcomers to the Holy Land. Their arrival had encouraged Amalric to set out for Cairo early, before William returned from Constantinople with the emperor’s fleet. The knight returned John’s gaze. ‘What are you looking at, priest?’
John took a step towards him, but a hand on his shoulder restrained him. It was Amalric. There was blood on the king’s surcoat, and his face was pale. He smiled wanly. ‘We have won the day, John. Tonight, you will celebrate a victory Mass.’
‘Victory? This was a slaughter.’
‘It is unfortunate, but n-necessary,’ the king stuttered. ‘Cairo will n-not dare to resist once they hear the f-fate of Bilbeis. The people will open the gates to us. Egy-Egy-the Kingdom of the Nile will be ours. Jerusalem will be secure for all time.’
John said nothing. He watched the line of sobbing women as they shuffled through the gate; they would be used by the men of the army before being sold at the markets in Acre or Tyre. John felt sick.
Amalric pulled on his shoulder. ‘Come away, John. This is no place for a priest.’
John shrugged off the king’s hand and strode into the city. Dead bodies were strewn across the main street, and the cobblestones were slick with blood. The city, only a day’s march from Cairo, had fallen after a siege of three days. Once the defences were overrun, the people of Bilbeis had no hope of saving themselves from the slaughter that followed. It had started with the knights from Nevers. While the men of the city were being rounded up, a woman had spat at one of the troops and made the sign of the evil eye. The knight had cut the woman down, and the crowd of citizens panicked and ran. The men of Nevers gave chase, and once the blood started to flow, it was impossible to stop.
John heard a high-pitched cry coming from an alleyway to his right. The screaming grew louder as he turned into the narrow passage. ‘No!’ a woman was shouting in Arabic. ‘Allah help me! No!’ Then she fell silent. John quickened his pace, then stopped as he passed an open doorway. A dark-haired Egyptian woman was pinned to the floor beneath a pale-skinned Frank. The man had removed his armour and wore only a tunic, pushed up above his waist. Another Frank was just removing his mail. His surcoat was black with a white cross in the middle: the sign of the knights Hospitaller.