Movement rippled down the hillsides ahead of the advancing flames. The men who had been hiding in the brush were running for their lives. The moving wall of fire enveloped some men, but others made it safely to the valley floor where they brandished swords and spears and charged the horse archers in a shrieking mob. The bowmen easily picked off the attackers. Within minutes the valley was littered with bodies.
The fast-moving fire rapidly burned off the vegetation. As the rainfall of gray ash diminished and the haze thinned, the valley revealed itself to be honey-combed with openings. Men streamed from the caves and swarmed down the glowing hillsides. Shouts of anger and blood lust echoed throughout the smoke-filled valley.
The Guardians coolly adjusted their tactics for rapid fire. Each horse archer clutched a handful of arrows in his hand and drew the bow string back to his cheek instead of the ear. Killing clouds of feathered shafts descended on the attackers.
For every bandit who fell, the caves disgorged three more to take his place. Some bandits were armed with bows. While their aim was poor, the deadly cloud of arrows began to tell against the lightly armored horse archers. Several Guardians were killed outright. The others walked their horses backwards, trying to hold formation while they kept up a steady rate of fire.
Thomas saw the horse archers fade back and rallied his men, who had been guarding the panicked pack animals. The Crusader way to deal with an attack was to attack.
Three knights galloped off to one side of the canyon. Thomas led another trio in tight formation toward the bandits on the opposite side.
In its day, nothing devised for warfare could rival a Crusader charge in sheer shock power. A mounted knight was the medieval equivalent of a modern battle tank. The Percheron weighed at least two thousand pounds even without armor. The Destriers the other knights rode were nearly as big.
The horses mowed down the first rank of attackers, drove deep into the living sea, spun around and headed back, leaving splintered bones and bloody pulp in their wake. They broke into the clear, then spun around and charged again. The bandits were better prepared for the second attack. A deft spear thrust unseated the man to Thomas’ left and the bandits butchered the body as the horse dragged it along.
Thomas and his men took advantage of the diversion and hacked their way into the open. The tide of battle was turning. The bandits had outflanked the archers and others were closing in on the pack animals. Philip was courageously using his short sword against three spear-carrying men on foot. Thomas rode to his aid. He cut two of the bandits practically in half and his horse trampled the third. It was too late.
A spear point had slipped through the edge of Philip’s breast plate under his raised armpit. The sword dropped from his fingers and he leaned weakly on his horse’s neck.
The Guardian captain fought his way over.
“Take the pack animals!” he shouted. “We’ll hold the bandits off as long as we can.”
Thomas grabbed the reins of Philip’s horse and ordered his men to round up the pack animals carrying the black chests.
Horse archers formed ragged defensive lines to protect their retreat.
In a clatter of hooves and wagon wheels, the knights galloped further into the narrowing valley to a bend flanked by high cliffs that soared up on either side like the walls of a great cathedral. The natural stone gates had acted as fire-breaks, keeping the blaze away from the smaller section of the ravine.
Thomas hoped the archers might hold their lines until he and his men could exit the other end. His plans were dashed against a sheer vertical wall of shale hundreds of feet high. They were in a box canyon. Below the wall was a pond surrounded by reeds. The guide had been telling the truth when he said there was water.
While the men and animals refreshed themselves at the water hole, Thomas rode up one side of the canyon, then dismounted and climbed the last few hundred feet to the top. He saw a hill that reminded him of a camel’s hump. His horsemen might be able to follow in his steps, but not the pack animals and carts.
On his descent he discovered an opening partially hidden by brush. He explored the cave entrance and saw that it was reinforced with timbers. A dozen paces past the entrance the cave widened dramatically. There would be plenty of room for men and animals.
He signaled his men to climb to him, and led them into the cave. Thomas lifted Philip from his horse and laid his friend out on the hard floor. He removed the doctor’s armor and using the basic first aid he had learned on countless battlefields, he fashioned a compress with Philip’s shirt to slow the bleeding. The lessons on how to treat wounds also made him a good judge of their severity.
Philip was dying.
Thomas removed his helmet to reveal thinning reddish gray hair. He was weary, but he kept his voice strong and reassuring.
“It’s only a scratch, Master Philip. We’ll be on our way after a short rest.”
Philip managed a slight smile. “I’ve come as far as I can. You must travel the rest of the way without me. Where is the journal I’ve been keeping?”
Thomas held up the blood-soaked leather bag that contained Philip’s daily writings.
An expression of relief came to the face of the dying man. “You must keep it safe, Thomas.”
“And what of the letter to the Pope?”
A faint smile came to Philip’s cracked lips. “I delivered one letter. It is up to you to deliver the reply.”
The smile hardened into a grimace. Philip tensed his body and his eyes rolled up in his head. A guttural sound escaped from his throat. Thomas felt a leaden heaviness in his chest. For the first time in many years he was feeling an unusual emotion. Sadness.
Someone called his name. The scout had returned to the cave with a breathless report. “I saw no sign of the Guardians, but the bandits are not attacking.”
“They know we have no place to go,” Thomas said. “They will tend to their dead and rob the Guardians. Then they will rest and attack at dawn.”
“We’ll stand and fight to the end,” the look-out said.
The other men echoed his determination with shouts of defiance.
“No. We will carry the fight to them,” Thomas said. “But first we have some work to do.”
Thomas fashioned a torch and walked further into the cave. He saw that it had been used as a tomb. Bones lay in an elevated wall niche at the end of the tomb. Clay wine vessels had been placed at the feet of the skeleton in the alcove.
While his men unloaded the chests and stacked them, Thomas swept aside the occupant of the niche. He placed Philip’s body in the opening, covered his friend with his armor and bloody robe. He slipped the helmet onto Philip’s head. He mumbled a soldier’s prayer and made the sign of the cross.
After a moment of thought, he removed the plug from of the wine vessels. The contents had evaporated and the top was encrusted with dry resin. He placed Philip’s journal in the vessel, then use his torch to melt the resin into an airtight seal when he pushed the plug back into the opening.
His men had finished unloading the chests. He unlatched the lids and allowed his men to examine the contents. They gasped when they saw the fabulous wealth in gold and jewels, but they went silent when Thomas lifted the scepter from its container.
He placed the scepter on Philip’s body and the gold cross on his forehead. He took two gold coins from a chest and placed them on his friend’s eyes to buy his way into heaven.
Next, he extracted the Prester John scroll from its leather bag. He dipped his finger in Philip’s wound and used his friend’s blood to draw a diagram on the back of the vellum. As soon as it had dried, he placed the letter back in the pouch and hung it around his neck.