‘Why not? What cannot be avoided must be endured. Why waste time dancing around the inevitable. Do you not agree, Horseman?’ he asked.
Tudor had managed to stay sitting on the sacks and still held his food, which he forced himself to continue eating, even as unmentionable substances swirled around his feet.
‘I am happier spending my time planning a route home that does not include one day on the bedevilled ocean.’
‘Ha!’ said the blonde man. ‘You see, Albert? Here is a man of excellent sense.’ He wiped his hand on histabard and then offered it to Tudor. ‘I am Jean d’Avignon,a votre servis,and my bad tempered companion is Albert Marchment. Both travelling to assist our glorious King Philip in the recapture of Jerusalem and the removal of the heathen Saladin from his throne.’
Tudor dropped his bread into his bowl and took the offered hand, shaking it firmly.
‘Evan Tudor,’ he told him. ‘On a similar mission for my own King Richard, and for his holiness the pope.’
‘Well met. If we survive this vessel of hell, nothing the idolatrous Arab and his Godless hoards can do to us will be of consequence,n’est pas?’
Albert cursed again, kicking a bucket as he did so. ‘I would cut a swathe through any army you like to find a clean bed and good food.’
Tudor nodded. ‘The news is encouraging, even though the odds are against us. I have heard Saladin does not command the loyalty of his men in the way of our own kings.’
Jean shrugged this time. ‘He has not knights, not such as we are. Albert and I have been here before. We have seen for ourselves the… low types pitched against us. They may hide behind the city walls, but they cannot hide their lack of quality.’
His friend shot him a look. ‘Spoken like a true Parisien.’
‘You think we will attack Jerusalem itself this time?’ Tudor asked. For all his experience as a knight, this was his first crusade. News of the wars that had raged for so many years was often confused and unreliable. He knew he had much to learn from more seasoned campaigners.
Jean looked serious for the first time then. ‘I hope not. Siege war has no glory in it, and does not play to our strengths.’ He was thoughtful for a moment and then laughed again, leaning forward to slap Tudor on the back. ‘But do not despair, Horseman, I promise you, no more oceans. Only oceans of sand from now on, eh?’ He chuckled at his joke but was forced to grab at a nearby hammock as the ship dropped into the trough between two waves.
Tudor finished his food, thanked Tan, nodded at his two new acquaintances, and headed back up to the deck to calm his horse.
The ship arrived at the Crusader stronghold of Acre the other side of the storm, gentle waters bearing it into the ancient port. As Tudor led his horse down theramps to the harbour, he offered a silent prayer of thanks. It was good to feel firm land beneath his feet again. He knew the city had been taken only after a long and costly siege and was thankful, also, that it was now cleaned, restored, and resupplied. The stones of the city walls seemed to throb with the heat of the place, which surely lay beneath a different sun from that mild one that warmed his own country. The stink of the ship’s hold was replaced by the vibrant scents of the mediterranean port. He breathed in the salty breeze as it carried with it traces of a thousand small fires, cooked spices, rare oils, and exotic fruits and plants. Everything was strange. He had travelled extensively in Europe in his role as a knight, but here was another world entirely. He stood a moment, patting his horse’s neck, giving it time to find its land legs once more. Tan caught him up with their few pieces of baggage. Jean d’Avignon appeared pulling his own somewhat reluctant steed with him. He laughed at Tudor again.
‘The stables are to the west of the city walls, Horseman. I am certain you and your beloved animal will be most comfortable there.’
Tudor’s horse answered for him, flattening its ears and lunging forwards to sink its teeth into the French knight’s arm. Fortunately for all concerned, the biteonly took a piece of shirt sleeve. Jean swore in two languages.
‘Where I come from,’ he said, frowning at his ruined garment, ‘we eat such horses!’
Tudor clicked his tongue and his horse walked meekly beside him as he moved on. ‘Where I come from, such horses eat men who mock them,’ he said as he passed the other knight.
The following hours were taken up with domesticated tasks. He saw that his horse was safe in its corral with room to walk about and plenty of shade and water. He paid a local boy to keep watch over it as it rolled happily in the sand and stood to shake off its journey before nibbling at its feed. He and Tan then made their way through the garrisoned forces to his allotted quarters. These consisted of a vast encampment of tents which almost doubled the size of the city itself. Tan whistled with glee as he claimed a bed for his master and a small space in a tent for himself, happily unpacking their things. He asked questions of the other servants and was able to locate a pool where Tudor could bathe and then return to put on the clean clothes he would prepare for him. By evening, horse, servant and knight were all recovered from their voyage, fed, watered and clean.
It was while Tudor was sitting in the shade of the entrance to his tent that he saw Albert Marchment striding through the encampment. He was peering into tents along the way, evidently looking for someone. Tudor got to his feet and stepped forward.
‘Have you lost Jean already?’ he asked.
Albert shook his head. ‘It is you I seek. The commander requires three knights toreconnoitre .Before I could prevent it, Jean had volunteered us.’
‘He is eager, you cannot say otherwise.’
‘Mon Dieu, he is more hungry for glory than for food.We have no more than scraped the stink of that ship from our bodies and now he has us marching into the stinking desert.’ He gave a despairing gesture, his whole body shrugging this time. ‘Alors,we are a man short. Come, Englishman,’ he said, turning and striding away without allowing Tudor the chance to protest or refuse. ‘And leave your armour. We will travel light.’
Their mission was simple but important. They were to take half a dozen soldiers and enough supplies for several days. Two local scouts would accompany them. They were to head south away from the coast, and then turn east. Intelligence had reached the King at Acre that Saladin was camped in that area. They were not the first small group to be sent in search of the retreating sultan. Most had returned with no confirmed sightings.Some had not returned at all. They could expect to encounter Ayyubid soldiers who were known to patrol the region in order to prevent any such reconnoitring Europeans from discovering Saladin’s position. When Albert had questioned the wisdom of sending three men who knew little of the geography, he had been silenced by his commanding officer in no uncertain terms. Those men recently disembarked were seen as fresh to battle, no matter their travel weariness. What were a few weeks of sea sickness compared to months of relentless fighting? Their scouts were trustworthy and familiar with the territory. If the knights wished to serve God and King, here was their chance to do so.
The following morning they left the garrison before the sun was properly above the horizon. Jean had advised Tudor to ride without a helmet, unless he wanted to cook his brains. The French knights had cloth headgear they had adapted from the coifs they ordinarily wore beneath their helmets. Tudor was touched when his new friend gave him one of these and tried to thank him, but the burly man batted away his gratitude, saying it was in his interests not to have a raving imbecile watching his back. They would travel until an hour before midday, then rest in what shade they could construct. After eating and when the hottest part of the day was over, they would then continue until dark.Tudor, Jean and Albert rode their own horses, the scouts having fleet footed Arabians, and the supporting guards being on camels. Tan and another servant rode a small, sluggish camel which held up the progress of the party, but at least did not terrify its unskilled passengers.
Tudor marvelled at the landscape they crossed. Less than an hour’s travel inland, away from the cooling sea breezes and irrigated plantations, they found themselves in what looked to him to be nothing more than desert. The emptiness and vastness of it both dazzled and bewildered him. He wondered how men could live in such a place. The heat sapped his strength with each passing hour, and he felt his horse stumble with fatigue as it struggled to adjust to the unfamiliar terrain. The men who had been stationed there for some time had acclimatised and dealt better with the heat. Poor Tan was about ready to faint by the time they made camp on the first night. It was not until the second day that they had to watch warily for posted soldiers lying in wait for them. More than once they were certain they had spotted a figure in the distance, but the sun played tricks on their eyes and their minds, so that they soon began to question that certainty.
On the second night they reached a well that was at the centre of a small group of trees.
‘An oasis!’ Albert declared upon seeing it, urging his horse forwards towards it.
