Chapter 15

With a kick, Randel thrust his horse forward down the hill. “Is he well?” he shouted, but was still too far off for them to hear.

Sir Ademar lifted his hand and gestured for the rest of them to proceed.

Randel arrived first, and despite the lad’s haggard appearance, Humphrey managed a weak smile.

“I did it, Sir Randel. I survived my first battle.” But he looked halfway to death’s door.

Randel shot a questioning glance to Ademar.

“He lost much blood, but we’ve staunched the flow. And the wound itself seems clean and not too deep. I believe he shall heal. He just needs time to regain his strength.”

Randel gripped tightly to the reins and closed his eyes for a moment as relief washed over him. Sending the boys into the fray had been the right decision, he knew that and had reminded himself again and again over the past excruciating hour, but he sent up a silent prayer of thanks that they had not paid with their lives.

Opening his eyes, he took a closer look at the others. Philippe was covered in dirt and blood, but the healthy glow upon his cheeks proved the blood was not his own. The commander of the Tripolian forces sat beside him, also a mess but otherwise hale and healthy. “And the rest of you?”

“We are all fine.” The Tripolian commander nodded. “Our losses were not heavy thanks to that warning and the excellent archery support.”

“You call this fine?” Leo displayed a slash across his cheek. “What shall the ladies think of me now?”

“I hate to admit it,” Randel said, “but I fear it shall only add to your roguish charm.”

Everyone shared the first chuckle after this their first battle. Randel smiled as he realized his worst fears had been allayed to the point that he might now jest. It was always an important moment when life began to return to normal. Only Sir Manfred loomed behind the crowd with a scowl upon his face, which seemed to be his singular expression.

The rest of the children approached now and made appropriate fusses over the injuries while congratulating them all. He noted that Rosalind kept her distance from Leo. Rosalind. Whatever would he do with that woman? But if today had proven anything, it was that he did indeed possess the heart of a soldier, and he wished to continue on his path to become a Templar and protect Christians in the Holy Land.

Lady Honoria nodded to the commander and to Leo. “You all did a fine job. Thank you so much for your part.” She turned to Lord Rumsford. “So how do matters stand?”

Rumsford came forward, less grubby than the rest, for he had been leading the troops. “We shall not have the final reports for some time, but Sir Manfred estimates we lost about twenty men, with a similar number seriously wounded. Of course many of the soldiers have bumps and scratches, but taking all into account, a resounding victory.”

“Excellent results,” said Father Andrew, not wearing his syrupy smile for once. “Not long ago my brother’s entire troop was lost back in our very own England.”

He glanced to Randel, for the priest knew of the tragedy of Gravensworth from the confessional.

Randel nodded, although he had never before realized that Father Andrew shared a similar pain. Unease washed over him.

“I am relieved that our losses were minimal.” Honoria sighed.

Taking all into account, of course, those truly were excellent results. Still, Randel’s heart clenched for those who would never return home to see their wives and children. How much better to be a warrior monk, without such earthly ties.

“Some of the villagers fled,” the Tripolian commander said, “but I do not think they shall cause us further trouble.”

“But they will spread the word that we are here,” Sir Manfred grumbled, glaring directly at Randel, as if that were somehow his fault.

“That was bound to happen eventually. We did not expect to maintain the element of surprise for long.” Honoria lifted her gaze and surveyed the scene before her. She seemed to be searching for something. “Tell me of the prisoners.”

Of course, her husband and cousin.

Rumsford grimaced and shook his head. “They are not here, my lady. We found about a hundred prisoners, but most are weak and sickly. It seems they have not been well fed, and disease festered in the prison. They will need time to recover before we can move onward.”

“As will our injured soldiers,” Ademar reached out to lay a reassuring hand on Humphrey’s shoulder.

“Only one hundred, you say? I had hoped for more, especially after finding so many guards.” Honoria held herself firm and straight, though Randel could see the pain in her eyes.

“The guards kept watch over the whole region. Many of the prisoners have perished over the past two years, and some have been moved to the prisons near Beirut,” Rumsford said. “But I am sure we will learn more as the days go on.”

“So what do you advise?” Honoria asked Sir Ademar.

Ademar gestured toward the prison. “We have the perfect defensive fort right here.”

“I agree.” The Tripolian commander turned his horse in that direction. “I doubt the Saracens will try to regain this area. ’Tis at the very edge of their holdings. Even if they do, it would take weeks to move an army here. Most of their soldiers are occupied in Egypt, as are ours.”

Honoria sat silent for a moment. Randel could only imagine her inner turmoil. But surely she did not expect to find her husband or Richard DeMontfort at the very first prison. Then again, given the divine nature of their mission, perhaps she had dared to hope.

“Let us set up camp in the courtyard and around the walls. But not inside the prison itself. At least not until we can thoroughly clean it. And isolate the prisoners until we assess their illnesses,” Honoria said.

Then she turned to the women and children, who had hung back quietly listening to the official exchange. “Ladies, get your herbs and poultices ready, we have much work ahead of us. And children, watch and learn the healing arts. We all must be ready for whatever might arise.”

Seemingly bolstered by her own speech, she lifted her chin again. “I thank you all for your valiant service today. We saved many of our men by exposing the enemy before they arrived. Now on to the next step. Let us keep the prayers flowing and determine to lose none of the wounded in our care.”

She shifted her attention to the Tripolian commander and Leo. “And will you stay with us here?”

The commander lowered his head. “I am afraid only for a short time, my good lady. We have found the majority of the Maronite prisoners. Though your cause is just, I am afraid we do not share it.”

Leo shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. “We promised to return after this battle. We dare not anger the count.”

“I dare anger him!” Philippe nudged his horse closer to the leaders of the group. “He is naught but a bully and a blowhard. We should do what is right and not worry of the consequences.”

“Philippe, enough!” Leo shot a glare at his young relative. “You should not speak of the count in that manner, even if he is your own father. We shall talk of this in private.”

An uncomfortable silence filled the space around them.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Honoria started down the hillside, and her ladies followed.

“Children,” Randel said, “let us proceed to our new camp.”

His children. In his care. All of them safe and well. Randel was grateful for this opportunity to play the parent, for once established in his new life, he would never have the chance again.

After their long morning of travel and tense midday of battle, Rosalind spent an exhausting afternoon cleaning and preparing what had been the guards’ quarters for the women and children. She wiped her moist brow, no doubt brown from a mix of dirt and sweat, and leaned on her broom as she examined the area.

Dust seemed to be everywhere in this place. With little vegetation to hold the dirt down, it filled the very air. But the room smelled fresh and appeared tidy. She supposed that was the best they could hope for. Her duties as lady’s maid had rarely required such physical labor. She had been primarily responsible for keeping Gwendolyn’s personal chamber neat and laundering her fine gowns.

But many of the noble women along for this crusade had no idea where to even begin with such tasks, and so Rosalind had taken charge as everyone who was not tending the wounded, including the boys, had worked like scullery maids to make the place shine.

“That should do it, children. You can bring your packs inside. Remember that the girls are in the room to the rear and left, and the boys to the front and right.”

“Keeping us as far apart as possible?” Jervais winked.

“Always.”

“But Humphrey is not here.” Brigitte sighed.

“For that I am sorry.” Rosalind wrapped an arm about Brigitte’s shoulder, which yet felt bonier than usual. “But the physician said he should be fine as long as no unexpected infection sets in. He will be well cared for.”

One by one the children ventured outside, and Rosalind took a final survey of their new quarters. She had felt odd emptying the place of the belongings of the Saracens, especially the prayer rug. It seemed somehow irreverent, despite the fact that they were infidels. Rosalind had tucked it in a corner to save as a memento of this trip. She picked it up and surveyed the fine stitching and colorful pattern. Someone had put much love into making it.

But the leaders of their group wished for as many of the troops to stay inside the walls as possible, and as they did not wish to use the disease-ridden prisons—except for their own newly taken prisoners—some had been assigned to the garrisons while others would camp in the courtyard. Only a portion of the foot soldiers of the Cyprians and Tripolians, who would be leaving soon, camped beyond in the valley.

With the prayer rug under her arm, she headed out to fetch her own belongings. That surly Sir Manfred growled at her as she passed him by. No doubt he disapproved of the prayer rug, but she held little regard for the man’s opinions.

Along the way to the horses, a familiar voice called her name.

“Rosalind, Rosalind, please wait. I wish to speak to you.” Leo jogged toward her across the bustling courtyard. He took her hand and pulled her into the shadow of one of the buildings.

“What is it now, Leo?”

“It is nothing like that. You need not sound so leery.” He grinned at her, then winced and pressed a hand to the inflamed cut upon his cheek.

She could not help but feel compassion for the fellow. He had come along to aid them, after all. “You should have that taken care of.”

“In good time. It is only a scratch, and many are still in dire need of medical attention.”

She smiled. He was a good-hearted sort, even if an irrepressible rogue. “What did you wish to say?”

“I just wished to apologize that we must leave so soon. Philippe and I tried to convince the commander otherwise, but he was insistent that we do as the count instructed.”

“No apology necessary. I understand.”

“I just did not want you to think . . .” He raked his fingers through the thick waves of his hair.

“You did not wish me to think it had anything to do with me rebuffing your romantic advances,” she finished for him.

He took a deep breath. “Exactly. I might not like that you came here previously committed to another, but I want you to know that I would never seek to punish you over such a petty matter.”

“You know, there are other single European women along. And some of them have blue eyes.”

“Yes, I met a few lovely ladies just last evening, although might you explain why some call them she-wolves?”

Rosalind giggled, feeling at ease with him again. “Just use caution and sound judgement with that lot. Several are quite on the prowl for a husband.”

“Well, I have no complaints there.”

“In truth, most of them are nice enough. Just beware of Jocelyn.”

“I came to that conclusion on my own.” He reached over and tapped the rolled rug beneath Rosalind’s arm. “Do you know what this is?”

“Yes. We know little of Moslem culture, but even we have heard about their prayer rugs.”

“Moslems pray five times every day. One cannot help but admire such devotion. But I do not think the Druze recite the prayers or use the prayer rugs, so perhaps there were other Moslem forces here to support them.”

“I do not understand how the Druze differ from the other sects.”

“To be honest, no one knows much about them. The Sunnis and Shiites differ on issues of Mohammad’s successors and certain finer points of doctrine. But it seems the Druze mix in a number of other ancient religions with Islamic teachings. They are very secretive about their beliefs. Their fellow Moslems do not consider them to be Moslems at all.”

“I suppose that is not so different than our Christian sects.” She shook her head. “It always befuddles me that we began these crusades to support our brothers in the Byzantine church, and then turned on them and took their lands in the fourth crusade, claiming they were not true enough Christians.”

Leo half chuckled. “’Tis funny yet ’tis not. Rome is fickle—that no one can deny.” He nodded toward the rug. “Did you pause to wonder if the owner died today?”

Rosalind pressed her lips together and nodded. “Likely he did. Only a small percentage were imprisoned, and from what we could see on the ridge, few of the enemy fighters fled.”

“What do you plan to do with the rug?”

“We gave most of their possessions to the soldiers to do with as they wished, but I could not part with this.”

He nodded. “It is good that you honor your fallen enemy.”

“Thank you.”

“I enjoyed our time together, Rosalind.”

“I did as well. And I so appreciate all you taught me about this people and this land.”

“I shall miss you when I leave.”

“And I you,” she said, realizing it was true. His romantic pursuit aside, Leo had been a good friend.

He gave her a small bow. “My lady.”

She just shook her head at his persistence in using the incorrect address. “If you insist.”

Leo offered one last irrepressible grin and walked away.

Once he was gone, Rosalind could not help but wonder. If she had been open to a relationship with him, might he have fought harder for her cause?

But it did not matter. She was no longer a young woman who would sacrifice what was right for what was expedient. The last time she had chosen expediency at the prompting of her mother, it had nearly destroyed her. She was learning and growing and would never make such a mistake again. No, her resolve to remain single aside, she did not love Leo in that way, and she could not pretend she did merely to court favor with the powerful man.

In a few days, two-fifths of the soldiers would return to Tripoli, and their English troops would be left to press deeper into foreign territory alone. It pained her to think she might have prevented that, but if indeed God had called them on this crusade, their job was only to remain faithful.

Victory would depend upon Him.