The fighting had slowed down. Richard was still carried out and beneath his protection of raw hides took shots at any enemy who came within his range. He was thus able to kill the Saracen who appeared on the wall of Acre wearing the arms of Alberic Clement. This gave him great satisfaction for he had heard of that brave attempt to scale the wall. But the fact that the King of France was indisposed and that he himself was ill had made the soldiers apprehensive. They feared they were to be left without leaders.
Richard began to think a great deal about the enemy and the man who led them, the great Sultan Saladin. The stories he had heard fascinated him. He had not before thought of a Mohammedan as human but it appeared that this man Saladin was humane, a man of sensitivity and culture. The fanatical manner in which his armies fought had long been a source of wonder and it seemed that these men were fighting for a cause even as the Christians were.
Saladin’s name was mentioned with an unmistakable awe.
As he lay on his litter cursing the evil fate which had smitten him down at this time, he wondered if it would be possible for them to meet.
Saladin himself was thinking a great deal about Richard. He had been aware of what was happening in the Christian camp. The spies who slipped into enemy terrain kept him well informed of what was going on. From the heights of Ayyadieh he had seen the arrival of Richard’s fleet; he had heard of his conquests in Sicily and Cyprus, and he felt a great desire to see this man, whose fame had spread throughout the Moslem Empire.
He talked of him to his brother Malek Adel, who was delighting in the news which had been brought in of Richard’s sickness.
‘We see in this the hand of fate,’ said Malek Adel. ‘As we feared our people in Acre could not endure the siege much longer, and lo, the great Richard has fallen sick. Allah has answered our prayers.’
‘Let us not be too sure that he will not rise from his sickbed. It may be that he has already done so.’
‘The people in Acre will be rejoicing,’ said Daher, Saladin’s son. ‘It is said that the great King is unable to walk, is carried out on his litter and lies there with his cross-bow. If we could find him thus we could capture him or kill him. Where would they be without their leader?’
Saladin shook his head. ‘I would not wish it. I do not care to take advantage of a great King thus.’
‘My lord,’ cried Daher, ‘he is our enemy.’
‘’Tis true, my son, but one must respect one’s enemy. I want to overcome him in fair battle, not to slip in and take him while he lies unprotected.’
‘Is this the way to win a war?’ asked Malek Adel.
‘It is the honourable way to conduct a war,’ retorted Saladin.
While they talked one of the soldiers begged for an audience. His news was that a magic stone thrown from one of the enemy’s war machines had landed in the centre of Acre and had killed twelve people.
‘One stone to kill twelve!’ cried Daher. ‘I do not believe it.’
‘It is so, my lord,’ replied the soldier. ‘I saw it with my own eyes. I narrowly escaped being one of its victims. It was large but there have been others as large. It landed in the town square and killed the twelve.’
‘It’s unbelievable that one stone could do this,’ said Saladin.
‘If it did, it was magic,’ replied Malek Adel.
Saladin said that he would see this stone and he ordered that it should be brought to him.
This was done. It was set down and they examined it. There was nothing extraordinary about it as far as the eyes could see, but when the number of deaths from this one stone had been confirmed there was no doubt in the minds of the Mohammedans that the stone had been given some special properties.
Malek Adel wanted to try it against the enemy, but Saladin did not want to lose the stone. It was to be preserved and studied. A stone which could kill twelve people at one throw must have magic properties.
Into Saldin’s camp came a messenger. He was a daring man to brave coming into Saracen lines, but Saladin was not one to allow such a man to be ill-treated. He had given orders that this was not to be so, for such messengers came on the orders of their leaders and unless they behaved with insolence and arrogance they were to be well received.
‘I come from King Richard,’ said the messenger.
Saladin asked all to retire except his brother Malek Adel.
‘Pray state your business,’ he said.
‘King Richard wishes you to know that he believes there could be much good in a meeting between you and himself.’
Saladin was excited at the prospect. He looked at Malek Adel about whose lips a cynical smile was curving. Saladin was too astute to allow a personal desire to influence him and much as he desired to see Richard and talk with him he must view this approach with the utmost care.
Malek Adel said: ‘So the King of England is sick. He despairs of taking Acre. Therefore he would like to talk peace.’
This could be so, thought Saladin, but it was true that the besieged town of Acre was in a pitiful state. When he had heard of the lost ship, which Richard had sunk, he had cried out in despair, ‘Allah has deserted us. We have lost Acre.’ And it was a fact that the loss of all that ship was bringing to the beleagured city could have a decisive effect on its survival. It was true that Acre was not yet taken but it could fall at any moment. Another assault could bring the citisens to their knees. There had been an arrangement that if they were in dire distress within the town they should indicate to the army on the heights that this was so by the beating of kettle drums. During the recent assault those kettle drums had been heard.
It was typical of Malek Adel to display this blind confidence in their armies. Saladin applauded it up to a point. Confidence was essential, but this must be tempered with sound good sense.
‘Your King lies sick,’ he said to the messenger.
‘It is an intermittent fever,’ was the reply. ‘He has had it before. He will rise from his bed in due course as strong as he ever was.’
‘’Tis not what I heard,’ growled Malek Adel.
The messenger said: ‘My King offers to meet you, my lord.’
Saladin said slowly: ‘There is much to be settled first. After eating and drinking familiarly we could not fight afterwards. That would be offensive to our beliefs. The time is not yet ripe for a meeting.’
‘My King wishes to show his good will by sending you gifts,’ said the messenger.
‘I could not accept gifts from him unless he took them from me in return.’
‘My King says: “It does not become kings to slight each other’s gifts even though they are at war. This is one of the lessons our fathers taught us.”’
‘It is is true,’ replied Saladin. ‘If the King will accept gifts from me I will take gifts from him.’
‘My lord, we have eagles and hawks which my King would send you. But these birds have suffered from the long sea journey and a lack of rightful food. If you would give us some fowls, and young pigeons with which to feed them, my King would then present them to you.’
‘Ah,’ said Malik Adel, ‘you see what this means, my brother. The King of England is sick, so he longs for doves and in due course he will send hawks to us.’
‘I will deal with this matter as my heart dictates,’ said Saladin. ‘None in the world could have aught but respect for King Richard. Let this messenger be clothed in fine robes and give him safe conduct back to his King with young pigeons and fowls and turtle doves.’
Malek Adel was astonished but even he dared not criticise too strongly the Sultan’s action.
The messenger went back to Richard with an account of what had happened.