TWENTY

At the Amir’s suggestion, Hartelius ordered his Templars to set up the princess’s pavilion in a far corner of the cave, so that she and her handmaiden would not be subject to the gaze of his Saracen warriors.

‘They are not accustomed to seeing uncovered women outside the home, Commander. It is wiser to be discreet.’

Hartelius sat across from the Amir on a series of carpets laid upon the floor of the cave. Outside, the Khamsin was still raging, but inside all was peace. The horses – both those of the Templars and those of the Saracens – were tethered down by the underground lake, and the two forces, thirteen on the one hand and somewhere close to a hundred on the other, had split up and were hunched over their individual campfires, the tendrils of smoke joining together twenty feet over the soldiers’ heads, before being swept towards the cave entrance by invisible currents of air.

‘And your wound?’ said Hartelius. ‘It was in your upper back, if I recall?’

‘Your administration of moss was most effective. I had no infection. Haly Abbas would have been proud of you.’

‘Haly Abbas?’

‘Ali ibn al-’Abbas al-Malusi. He wrote the Kitab al-Maliki. The Complete Book of the Medical Art.’

‘Ah. I am flattered.’

‘You should be.’

The two men looked at each other for a long time, drinking in each other’s faces. Hartelius was the first to break the silence.

‘You said “I thought to find you here” after you first spoke my name. What did you mean by that?’

‘Can you not guess?’

‘I would rather you told me.’

A servant provided water for both men to wash their hands in, and towels with which to dry themselves. Dates were brought, and sweetmeats rolled in honey. Mint tea was served, with the teapot held high above the beakers so that the tea would cool slightly between the spout and the receptacle.

Each man took his tea with the right hand, looking the other in the eye. When the third cup was finished, the Amir clapped his hands together, and one of his Saracens appeared leading Hartelius’s stallion.

‘You don’t mind, I hope? I needed very much to look at him. His father is dead, you see. Killed beneath me three weeks after I left you in that hidden valley where you tended to my wound. I wept long and hard over his body. His was the greatest loss I have ever encountered. Worse even than the loss of my own father, who was a wayward man. To this day I often awaken at night imagining I am riding Antar into battle.’

‘He was a mighty horse.’

‘He was my soul. He was my heart.’

‘And yet you offered to give him to me?’

‘You gave me my life. He was my life. The gift was appropriate.’ The Amir looked at Hartelius’s stallion, his eyes travelling over every inch of the horse. After a while he stood up. He turned to Hartelius. ‘May I touch him?’

‘Of course.’

The Amir ran his hands across the flanks, then down along the belly and over the hindquarters of the stallion. Then he moved up to the neck and head. He turned his back to the horse, and allowed the stallion to rest his head on the shoulders of his robe. Then he rubbed the horse’s chest with both his hands while the horse idly plucked at his besht with its teeth. ‘He is exactly like his father. Exactly. I prayed so many times to Allah that Antar would be prepotent. For I must tell you this, Hartelius. Your stallion is his only son. His only descendant. I held Antar back from knowing mares while we were at war, thinking that this would weaken him. In this way he was forced to find your mare for himself, while I was injured. I have always regretted my presumption.’

‘Have you a mare you would like covered?’ said Hartelius. ‘More than one, perhaps? If so, Gadwa will be happy to oblige.’

‘You call him Gadwa? An Arabic name?’

‘Yes. Because he was a gift. From God. And from you.’

‘Aah.’ The Amir closed his eyes and bowed his head. ‘In truth I have three mares I would like Gadwa to cover. They are my best girls. Beautiful beyond imagining. But they are back in the Chouf. I would be honoured, therefore, if you and the princess, and any of your knights who may wish to do so, would accept to be my guests in the Chouf for as long as you choose to grace the land of my birth with your presence.’

Hartelius glanced towards the princess’s pavilion. ‘But to get to the Chouf we would have to return in the direction of Beirut, would we not? Which is towards Acre?’

‘This is true. But you would have the protection of my men along the way. And once in Baakleen I would be in a position to guarantee your safety for as long as you decide to reside with me and share my hospitality. No one would dare molest you there.’

‘So you know from whom we are fleeing?’

The Amir laughed. ‘The entire Outremer coast from Gaza to Antioch knows from whom you are fleeing. The tyrant, von Drachenhertz, has offered a reward for your head and for the return of his intended bride of ten thousand Fatimid dinars. Gold that he no doubt plundered from our people during the Siege of Acre. This man is a monster. Second only to Raynald of Châtillon in the annals of infamy. But ten thousand gold dinars is enough to turn any man’s head. Three days’ ride from here, in a pass near the Crac de l’Ospital, the Assassins already await you. They know there is no other way for you to travel. That you must traverse this pass in order to reach the Hospitallers’ redoubt.’

‘So even the direction we are going is known about?’

‘It seems so.’

‘And you? Is our meeting happenstance?’

‘Nothing is happenstance, my friend. All is the will of God. And I wished very much to see your horse.’

Hartelius sighed. He would get no more from the Amir. And further questions would embarrass both of them.

‘I cannot speak for the princess, Amir. But I suspect that I already know her answer, which I will confirm presently. My Templars and I accept your kind offer of hospitality. You have no objection to our bearing arms?’

‘None whatsoever. You are my guests. We are not at war. Perhaps the enforced proximity between our followers during this Khamsin, and later, when we ride for the Chouf, will serve as a lesson for them both?’

Hartelius threw his head back and laughed. The Amir laughed with him. From all sides of the cave their men watched in awestruck silence.