‘A determined man.’
John nodded. ‘When he was aged fourteen he was made Emir of Tell Bashir. He arrived to find the men there still loyal to the previous emir, who had ordered them to turn the fortress over to the Seljuks. The money Saladin had brought to buy their loyalty had been stolen by bandits. Those same bandits nearly killed Saladin, leaving him with no horse and no men. He arrived at Tell Bashir penniless after a two-day trek through the desert. Within two weeks he had driven off the bandits and earned the loyalty of the men of Tell Bashir.’ John met Raymond’s eyes. ‘Saladin is not the strongest of men, nor the bravest, nor even the wisest, but he has greater resolve than any man I have ever known.’
‘And what are his weaknesses?’
John’s forehead creased in thought. ‘Saladin is a religious man. He does not drink, and he has no interest in games of chance.’ John paused. He thought of Yusuf’s affair with Asimat and then of the night that Yusuf had spared him, despite John’s relationship with his sister. ‘But he is perhaps too loyal to his friends. And he has been made a fool by love.’
‘As have we all.’
They rode on in silence while the waves crashed against the rocky shore below and the seagulls shrieked and wheeled overhead. Ahead, the road led down to a broad coastal plain, where sandy beaches gave way to emerald-green fields. Even after all these years John found himself surprised by the beauty of the Holy Land. If only it were not riven by war, it could be a paradise; a kingdom of heaven on earth, as a preacher in England had once described it to him.
John spotted half a dozen riders approaching on the plain. They paused briefly when they reached the front of the army. Then they moved on at a gallop. They pulled up just short of John and Raymond. John blinked in surprise as the lead rider brushed the dust of the road from his face.
‘Bohemond!’ Raymond exclaimed. ‘What are you doing here?’
Bohemond, the prince of Antioch, was supposed to have waited to meet them there. He was breathing heavily after his ride, and it took him a moment to gather himself. ‘I bring evil news,’ he said at last between deep breaths. ‘The armies of Aleppo and Mosul have been crushed. Aleppo will surely fall soon. Saladin is master of Syria.’
‘Are you certain?’ Raymond asked. ‘They outnumbered Saladin’s army nearly two to one.’
‘I received the news from one of Saif ad-Din’s emirs, who was separated from the army and fled to my lands. The Bedouin and caravans from Aleppo support his account. No allies will be waiting for us in Artah. If we wish to face Saladin, we will do it alone.’
Raymond looked to William.
‘If we engage Saladin, we might prevent him from taking Aleppo, but if we lose …’
Raymond’s brow knit. William did not need to tell him what would happen. If they were defeated, the entire Kingdom would be laid bare before Saladin’s armies. The regent looked to John. ‘Can Saladin be trusted? If we make peace, will he keep it?’
John nodded. ‘He will honour any agreement he makes.’
‘Very well. You and William will go to him and sue for peace.’
‘Peace will be hard to come by,’ William warned. ‘Saladin has the upper hand. He will want to press his advantage.’
‘Perhaps, but he will also need time to consolidate his gains. He will accept peace with us so that he can turn his attentions to Aleppo.’
The constable Humphrey frowned. ‘And after that, he will move on us. He controls Egypt and Syria. We are in a vice. He will crush us, sooner or later.’
John shook his head. ‘Saladin does not hate us the way that Nur ad-Din did. I believe a lasting peace is possible.’
‘We will pray that is so,’ Raymond said. ‘In the meantime, I will take the army back to Jerusalem and prepare for the worst.’
JUNE 1176: ALEPPO
John stopped his mount in the shade of a pistachio tree atop a steep hill. In the distance stood the white walls of Aleppo. The city was surrounded by Yusuf’s army. Their tents stretched to within half a mile of where John now sat.
William reined in beside John and whistled in appreciation as he caught sight of the Saracen camp. ‘A mighty force. How many men do you think Saladin has?’
‘Fifteen thousand, at least. He must have received reinforcements from Cairo.’
‘Such a force might take Jerusalem. We must not fail, John.’
William led the way down the far side of the hill. John followed, and their escort of twelve knights trailed after him. They were still some distance from the enemy camp when fifty mamluks rode out to meet them. William called for their escort to halt. ‘Raise the white flag,’ he told John.
They waited while the Saracens galloped up and formed a ring around them. The mamluks rode with bows in hand. If they decided to attack, then it would be a short fight. One of them rode forward from the ranks. It was John’s son, Ubadah.
‘What is your business here?’ Ubadah demanded.
‘As-salaamu ‘alaykum,’ William replied. He continued in Arabic. ‘We come at King Baldwin’s bidding to speak with your lord, Saladin.’
Ubadah fingered the hilt of his sword. ‘You have trespassed on Muslim lands.’
‘We are peaceful emissaries. Our past treaties with your lord, and with Nur ad-Din before him, give us permission to cross his lands in order to conduct negotiations.’
‘Saladin is leading an army. He has no time for negotiations with Frankish dogs.’
‘Nevertheless,’ John said, ‘perhaps you would do us the honour of informing him of our presence, Ubadah ibn Khaldun.’
Ubadah’s eyes widened in surprise at having been recognized, then narrowed as he examined John more closely. ‘I am called Taqi ad-Din now, John. Who is your companion?’
‘William of Tyre. We are happy to wait here until Saladin decides if he will see us.’
‘That will not be necessary.’ Ubadah turned to one of his men. ‘Take the knights to camp and see that they are fed and their horses watered.’ He looked back to John and William. ‘You come with me.’
Ubadah led them into camp. John knew that Yusuf’s army had arrived outside the city nearly two months previously, having driven Saif ad-Din east across the Euphrates. But Yusuf’s men seemed to have made little progress. The walls of Aleppo showed no sign of damage from catapults or mangonels. Mamluks lounged about, talking or playing games of chance.
John followed Ubadah to the top of a ridge that overlooked the city. Yusuf’s enormous tent had been pitched there. Ubadah led them into a smaller tent in its shade. ‘Wait here.’
‘A most unpleasant young man,’ William muttered when Ubadah had gone. ‘You know him?’
John nodded.
‘Thank God for that. I thought for a moment he was going to order his men to kill us.’ William removed his cloak and shook the dust from it, then laid it on the ground and knelt. ‘Let us pray for the success of our negotiations.’
John knelt beside him, and they bowed their heads. When Ubadah returned, he frowned to see them praying. ‘The Malik will see you now,’ he said. He led them to Yusuf’s tent and motioned them inside.
Yusuf sat on a campstool. He was dressed in spectacular golden armour and flanked on his right by Qaraqush, Al-Mashtub and Al-Muqqadam. Ubadah joined them. John recognized Imad ad-Din amongst the scribes who stood to Yusuf’s left. Yusuf studied John for a moment, but showed no sign of recognition. John and William approached and bowed.
‘Ahlan wa-Sahlan,’ Yusuf told them. Then he added in French, ‘God grant you joy and health.’
‘And may he grant you the same,’ William replied in Arabic. ‘We are honoured to be allowed into your presence, great King. Thank you for seeing us.’
‘And what is it that you want?’ Yusuf asked.
‘Peace between our great kingdoms.’
‘Peace?’ Ubadah scoffed. ‘The eagle does not make peace with the hare.’
Yusuf gestured for him to be silent. ‘I am a man of peace, William, but I fear the regent Raymond is not. Did he not sign a treaty with my enemy Gumushtagin? Did he not gather an army to fight against me?’