May 1218 A.D. – By the Tigris

Yenovk’s master Badr al-Din Lu’lu’ had prospered over the last two decades. Although himself originally a Mamluk slave, he had risen through the political ranks to become an influential member of Mosul society. Lu’lu’ had been a key advisor to the last independent governor, or Atabeg of Mosul, Aslan Shah. Eight years ago, Lu’lu’ had been pivotal in convincing the Atabeg to acknowledge the authority of the Sultan al-Adil over Mosul. This had ensured that Shah remained in power under the Sultan’s protection.

Aslan Shah had suffered from virulent tuberculosis for several years and had made firm plans for his succession. His eldest son Izz al-Din Mas’ud al-Qahir was to become the new Atabeg of Mosul. As he was still a young man, Shah had arranged that Lu’lu’ should become chief of the army and the new ruler’s key advisor and representative. Having his master become such an important figure had helped greatly with Yenovk’s own career. He had obtained no little influence himself within the Mosul army.

That afternoon, Yenovk was hot. He was sitting in the salon, overlooking the central courtyard of his single storey stone house. It was not long after midday, but the sun was already beating down mercilessly from the cloudless, blue sky. He had that morning paid his daily visit to the bathhouse, but would love to return, to wash the stink of the day’s heat away.

Yenovk was a little nervous awaiting the arrival of the Atabeg’s representative. As an experienced Mamluk campaigner, he had a good idea what to expect. In return for his training, his work as a government advisor and his accommodation, Yenovk was expected to provide regular military service to his master. It had been three years since his last campaign, as part of a force that quelled a rebellion in western Iran. Yenovk was sure he was about to find out about his next.

He was not particularly concerned. Ever since Salah al-Din’s great victory, when he regained Jerusalem over twenty-five years ago, there had been a marked downturn in the level of conflict between the Franks and the warriors of Islam. Not that there wasn’t plenty of skirmishes.

Yenovk himself had been involved in five separate campaigns. But after Jerusalem, the level of ferocity, and the atrocities that accompanied that sort of combat, was greatly reduced. Even after Salah al-Din’s death the quieter times continued under his brother al-Adil, ‘the Just’. In the last ten years, there had been very little campaigning in the Holy Land from the Franks.

Rumours had reached Mosul, of the Westerners last campaign in the east. Instead of an attack on al-Adil’s forces around Jerusalem, the Infidels had been diverted to a campaign on Constantinople. Their forces had not moved much beyond there. The battles with the Franks had always been amongst his most bloody, and Yenovk was glad that the level of aggression from the Infidels was low.

As he waited for his visitor he walked to his bedroom and opened the wooden trunk in the corner. He reached down and felt for his conical helmet and the iron linked armour. It looked like it was time to wear his old friends again. They had saved his life on many occasions.

The process of raking over the memories of previous campaigns was interrupted by a noise from the front of the house. A servant ushered the guest in from the street onto the courtyard, where Yenovk joined him.

“As-salaamu ‘Alaykum”

The traditional greeting was offered and returned. The two men exchanged kisses on the cheek and sat beneath a canopy, which had been set up to provide some shelter from the ferocity of the afternoon sun.

Tea was brought, which was offered to the visitor, and it was accepted with thanks. Before the subject of the meeting could be broached, Yenovk had hospitality prepared for his important guest. As they reclined on piles of pillows, a carpet was laid out on the floor between them.

The richly decorated material was laden with dishes of honeyed dates. Freshly gathered, they had been laid out for a day. Then the stones had been removed and the insides stuffed with peeled almonds. They’d been boiled over the fire in rose water, with added honey and saffron. Then when cold, the dates had been covered with sugar, ready for eating. As they started on the delicacy, the two men made small talk about previous battles.

The empty dishes were cleared from the carpet, as the main meals were ready to be brought from the kitchen. The servants had been asked to prepare dishes of lamb and chicken.

The lamb casserole, ibrahimiya, was brought in first. The meat had been boiled with onions in a steaming pot, which had contained a small cotton bag filled up with seasoning of ground coriander, ginger and pepper. Grape juice had been added to the final broth, and also a little sugar, to give a slight sweetening to the mixture.

The meal was laid down before the two men and the servants returned to the kitchen to fetch the chicken dish, shaljamiya. It consisted of regular strips of chicken breast, cooked with chickpeas, olive oil and onions. It was served with a dish piled with mashed turnip, to which had been added cheese, egg, milk and some shredded almonds.

The two friends ate together at a leisurely pace. Eventually the remains had been cleared away, and Yenovk’s guest leant back contentedly against his pile of pillows.

“Thank you for your hospitality. I think you can suspect the nature of my visit.”

Yenovk bent his head deferentially.

“The Infidel Franks are on the move again. We have word from our spies on Cyprus that a force is ready to attack. Egypt is the target.”

Yenovk was intrigued that the representative mentioned Egypt. It was a long way from the Tigris. Many days march. Besides, Egypt was ruled by the Sultan’s son al-Kamil, ‘the Perfect’. The Atabeg’s representative and Yenovk lived on the Tigris, part of Jazira that was ruled by another of the Sultan’s sons, al-Ashraf. The visitor continued.

“I see in your eyes that you are surprised by the mention of Egypt. However the esteemed Sultan has called on all his sons to provide forces to resist the invasion from the cursed Franks. It has been many years since such a large force has been threatened against us. The Sultan is gravely concerned.”

And so two weeks later, Yenovk found himself mounted and at the head of a small cavalry. Ready to join up with the rest of al-Ashraf’s troops, and to head to Egypt to help reinforce the city of Damietta.