glazed. Yusuf looked past him and saw Shirkuh, watching impassively as he leaned against a corner of the villa.
Yusuf put his hands on Turan’s shoulders and leaned close. ‘You will admit what you did to Sa’ida.’
‘It was an accident,’ Turan mumbled, his head down. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt her.’
‘Louder, Brother. I did not hear you.’
‘It was an accident!’ Turan cried. ‘I shoved her, and she fell. She hit her head on the table.’
Yusuf’s face wrinkled in disgust. ‘You are my brother, or else I would beat you to death like the animal you are.’ He let go of Turan, who slumped to the ground and lay unmoving in the dust. Yusuf headed towards Shirkuh. ‘You heard what he said, Uncle. He killed Sa’ida.’
Shirkuh nodded. ‘Your father suspected as much. That is why he asked me to come for Turan. The boy needs to be taught a lesson.’ He gripped Yusuf’s shoulder. ‘I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it myself. Turan is nearly twice your size, and you made him eat dirt.’
Yusuf nodded towards the cell where John was being kept. ‘The Frank, John, taught me.’
‘He taught you well. I will speak to your father and see that he is released.’ Shirkuh drew a dagger from his belt and handed it to his nephew. The pommel was carved in the shape of a fierce eagle’s head. ‘Nur ad-Din gave this to me. He said I was like the eagle descending upon the hare, the terror of the Franks. Now it is yours.’
Yusuf drew the dagger from its sheath and the dark-grey blade glinted in the sunlight. ‘Thank you, Uncle.’
‘You have the makings of a great warrior, Yusuf. Our lord Nur ad-Din has need of men like you. Soon enough, it will be your turn to join him in Aleppo, little eagle.’
Part II
Saladin
‘Leaders are not born; they are made.’ Saladin told me this. I do not know if what he says is true for all, but it was true for him. And the making of Saladin the Great was no easy thing. It almost killed him…
Chapter 9
John gripped his spear in both hands as he crept along a game trail, weaving through the tall cedars on the slopes above Baalbek. To either side, a dense undergrowth of ferns, shrubs and saplings disappeared into the early morning mist. Ahead, Yusuf crept forward, scanning the ground for signs of their quarry: a black panther that had killed three villagers in the past month. They had first caught sight of the huge beast two days before. Now they had found its trail again.
John paused as Yusuf bent down to examine the ground. In the two years since Turan left, Yusuf had added muscle to his thin frame, and in the last few months he had developed the beginnings of a black beard, which he filled out with kohl. John thought back to the reedy boy he had first met years ago. That boy was gone. Yusuf was becoming a man.
Yusuf looked up from the trail and waved John forward. He approached and crouched beside Yusuf, who poked at the earth and raised two fingers wet with blood. ‘This kill was recent,’ he whispered. ‘We’re close.’
Yusuf took his bow from his shoulder and nocked an arrow. They walked in silence as the sun rose above them, burning off the mist and dappling the undergrowth with light. John caught a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye and froze, his spear extended towards the woods on his right. Yusuf drew his bow taut. There was another flash of motion, and John spotted a deer bounding away from them, followed by its faun. The deer stopped, looked back for a second, then disappeared into the distant trees. Yusuf grinned sheepishly as he relaxed his bowstring. They moved forward again, but John stopped almost immediately.
‘Fresh droppings,’ he whispered, pointing to a pile of dung glistening in a patch of sunlight to the side of the trail.
Yusuf nodded, then gestured to the branches above. ‘Keep your eyes open.’ After its kill, the panther would have dragged its prey up into a tree in order to eat in peace. The cat’s black coat would make it difficult to spot in the shadows. John and Yusuf crept forward and John noticed more signs that the panther had passed this way: the broken branch of a fern on the side of the trail; a trace of blood on a leaf; a single paw print in the dust. Then the traces ceased. A dozen feet ahead, Yusuf stopped and looked back. ‘I see no more sign.’
‘Perhaps the panther left the trail,’ John suggested. He took a step into the dense foliage to his right.
‘Don’t move!’ Yusuf hissed and pointed to a branch over John’s head. John looked up and saw two unblinking, golden eyes peering back at him. The panther was stretched out on a limb directly overhead. The beast was huge, easily five feet long and thickly muscled beneath its glossy black fur. It yawned, revealing long canines, startlingly white against its black coat.
John looked back to Yusuf, who had drawn his bow and was sighting along the arrow. John whispered a prayer to the Virgin, then added another to Allah for good measure. Yusuf let fly, and the arrow buried itself in the panther’s right hindquarter. The animal screeched in pain. It’s golden eyes moved from the arrow in its side to John. The beast roared and leapt.
John raised his spear, but the panther slammed into him, knocking it from his grip and flattening him. The huge cat swiped at John, raking its claws across the forearm that he raised to defend himself. Yusuf came running, and the panther looked to him. It snarled, then limped away into the woods. John sat up, gripping his left forearm, where three parallel gashes oozed blood.
‘Are you all right?’ Yusuf asked.
‘I’ll live.’ John extended his right hand, and Yusuf pulled him to his feet.
‘Forgive me, Brother. I missed.’
John waved away the apology. ‘Come on,’ he said as he bent down to pick up his spear. ‘It’s getting away.’ Yusuf grinned and drew his dagger with the eagle hilt. He charged into the underbrush after the panther, and John followed at a jog. Leafy branches slapped against him as he ran through the forest. John leapt over a fallen tree, then ducked a low-hanging branch. Yusuf was just ahead, and John accelerated to catch up, but then skidded to a stop when he noticed a fresh smear of blood on the front of his tunic. He turned and examined the bush he had just passed. Sure enough, the leaves were splattered with blood. The trail led off to the right.
‘Yusuf!’ he shouted. ‘This way!’ John set off, scanning the ground ahead for signs of his quarry. He veered left as he noticed blood on a fern. There were no further signs, and John slowed, then stopped, scanning the brush around him. He felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. The beast was close; he could feel it.
There was a roar behind him, and John turned just as the panther slammed into him, bowling him over and landing on top of him. The panther dug its claws into John’s shoulder and roared, its long canines only inches from his face. He could feel the animal’s hot breath. And then Yusuf slammed into the panther from the side, knocking it off of John. Yusuf sprang to his feet, but he had lost his dagger in his attack. Defenceless, he faced the big cat. It swiped at him, and Yusuf backed away so that John lay between him and the panther. The beast roared and sprang for Yusuf.
With a cry of his own, John rolled and extended his spear, impaling the panther through the chest just before it hit Yusuf. The cat fell heavily, taking the spear with it. John scrambled away as it thrashed on the ground, screeching in agony. The panther’s cries quieted as its lifeblood flowed from it, and then it lay silent, dead. John pushed himself to his feet and looked across to Yusuf. They stood silent for a moment, the only sound the song of
