‘And Amalric is my king. I took an oath to serve him, just as you have sworn to serve Nur ad-Din. That is why you prepare to march on Kerak, is it not? Your lord has summoned you, and so you must go. You have no choice. Nor did I.’
‘And if your lord commanded you to fight against me, John?’
‘I am a priest. It is not my role to fight.’
‘Answer my question.’
John met his eyes. ‘Whatever you may think, I am still your friend, Yusuf.’
‘You do not act the part.’
‘Do I not?’ There was a touch of anger in John’s voice. ‘I have already broken my oath to protect you. During the siege of Alexandria the Franks were searching for tunnels into the city. I discovered them first and made certain they remained hidden. I saved your life. Is that the act of an enemy?’
‘I did not ask for your help at Alexandria, John.’
‘You did not need to.’
Yusuf opened his mouth to retort and then thought better of it. John was right. He took a deep breath and rubbed his temples. ‘I am sorry, friend. But you have placed me in a difficult position. My father wants you executed. The emirs feel the same.’
‘I was willing to die for you at Butaiha, Yusuf. I still am.’
‘No. Your death would please the emirs, but if I can ransom you, the money will please them still more. You will come with me as a hostage. We leave for Kerak in three days.’
JUNE 1173: KERAK
‘It will be no easy thing to take,’ John murmured.
They stood gazing at the castle of Kerak. The thick walls were uneven, lower on the left, where they protected a lower court, and higher on the right, where the keep was situated at the crown of a hill. Even reaching the walls would be difficult. Kerak sat astride a strip of land only forty yards across, and the ground to either side of the strip fell away sharply into deep wadis. The Franks had faced the slopes of the wadis with stone to remove all handholds. The only possible path of attack was along the narrow spur of land that sloped up to the castle. A trench some ten feet deep and thirty feet wide had been cut into the stone of the spur, separating the castle from the land where John and Yusuf stood. The bridge across the trench had been burned by the castle’s defenders.
John turned from the fortress to look behind him, where Yusuf’s men were forming ranks. ‘It is too soon to attack,’ he said. ‘We have only just arrived. You should allow the catapults to do their work.’
‘I do not expect to take the citadel in our first assault, John. I wish to show the defenders my intentions. Sometimes a little bloodshed is all that is needed to force an enemy to capitulate.’
‘I have met the lord of Kerak. Humphrey is a hard man. He will not surrender.’
‘No, I suspect not.’ Yusuf turned at the sound of hoofbeats. John followed his gaze to see Selim approaching.
‘The men are ready,’ Selim said.
Ubadah arrived just after him. The young man was dressed in mail and had wrapped a scarlet cloth around his helmet.
‘Why are you dressed for battle, Ubadah?’ Yusuf demanded.
‘I want to fight, Uncle. I am ready.’
‘You are only fifteen.’
‘You were not so old when you saw your first battle.’
Yusuf opened his mouth to reply, but John spoke first. ‘He is not ready.’
Ubadah reddened. ‘Silence, ifranji! Who are you to speak thus of me?’
A group of emirs stood a dozen yards off, and now they all looked towards John. Yusuf too gave John a dark glance. ‘You may fight,’ Yusuf said reluctantly, ‘but do not leave your uncle Selim’s side. Do exactly as he tells you.’
‘Yes, Uncle,’ Ubadah said, grinning.
Yusuf looked to Selim. ‘Keep him safe, Brother, and Allah protect you, as well. You may begin the attack.’ Selim and Ubadah spurred their horses back towards the troops, and the emirs followed.
‘You should not have sent him,’ John told Yusuf. ‘I have seen him fight. He is impulsive, rash. He will get himself killed.’
‘I would not send him into battle if I did not think him ready. He is my nephew.’
‘And he is my son!’ John hissed so that only Yusuf could hear.
‘He is never to know that,’ Yusuf snapped. He shook his head. ‘If you had wished to protect him, then you should have held your tongue, John. You gave me no choice but to send him. My men were watching. I could not be seen to favour the word of a Frank over that of my own nephew.’
Selim’s horn sounded and the ranks of mamluks advanced, marching on to the narrow strip of land that led to the castle. The sixty foot-soldiers at the head of the column carried a mobile wooden bridge that would be used to span the trench. They were surrounded by another hundred soldiers, each carrying a tall, body-length shield. It was their duty to protect the men carrying the bridge.
Selim and Ubadah came next, riding amidst fifty hand-picked mamluks. Behind them marched two hundred men carrying tall ladders for scaling the wall. Bringing up the rear were another hundred infantry with tall shields, surrounding a dozen men pushing a wheeled battering ram.
The men carrying the bridge reached the steepest part of the slope and began to labour up it. As they climbed, arrows from the castle began to rain down among them. The soldiers around them raised their shields above their heads and held them sideways to protect both themselves and the men carrying the bridge. Here and there a man stumbled and fell as he was hit, but most of the arrows bounced harmlessly off the shields. A catapult within the castle hurled a huge chunk of stone towards the men. It landed just short and shattered on impact, sending splinters of stone into the front ranks of soldiers. Several men fell, crying in agony. The rest marched on. More catapults fired, and chunks of stone began to fall all about the men. Selim blew his horn again, and the men carrying the bridge quickened their pace. Behind them, the mounted mamluks spurred their horses to a trot. At the end of the column the ram bounced and jolted as it rolled over the uneven ground.
The bridge had reached the edge of the trench. Long ropes had been attached to the front of it, and now men began to pull on them, raising the front end up towards the sky as the men in the back walked the rear of the bridge forward. They continued this procedure until the bridge was nearly vertical, its bottom end resting only a few yards from the trench. Then they released the ropes and the bridge fell forward to span the gap. Immediately the troops parted, and the mamluk cavalry galloped across. John lost sight of Ubadah as the mamluks dismounted some thirty yards from the wall. They ran the final distance. A few men fell as arrows rained down amongst them, but most reached the lower portion of the wall, where they began to hurl grappling hooks up over the battlements. Men began to climb, only to fall crashing down when their rope was cut. The next wave of mamluks hit the wall, and ladders went up all along its front.
‘There is Ubadah,’ Yusuf shouted, pointing.
John spotted his son’s scarlet helmet. Ubadah was second up one of the ladders, following a man with a shield. As they reached the top Ubadah speared a Frank off the wall, then another. The mamluk with the shield scrambled over the battlement, only to be cut down. Ubadah was moving after him when a defender placed a notched stick against the top rung of the ladder and began to push it away from the wall. The men below Ubadah scrambled down or jumped off. He dropped his spear and used his hands to guide him as he slid down the ladder, touching the ground just before it tumbled over backwards.
The ram had now reached the walls, and John could hear the boom as its steel-capped head slammed into the wooden gate. It hit the gate a second time, and then the defenders poured a thick, black substance down upon it. It coated the ram and splashed over the men pushing it. A moment later a burning torch was dropped from the wall, and the ram burst into flames. The men who had been pushing it were engulfed as well, and they scattered, screaming desperately. Selim’s horn sounded the retreat.