Asimat looked back to him, and her eyes glistened with tears. ‘Death is death. Each ifranji you kill has a mother, too.’
‘But they are men who can defend themselves. Your child-’
‘My child never had a chance to defend himself,’ she said bitterly. ‘Allah took him.’ She began to sob. ‘What did I do to anger him?’
‘It is not your fault,’ Yusuf soothed. ‘It is Allah’s will.’
‘Then I curse Allah!’
Yusuf’s eyes went wide. ‘Do not say such things.’
‘Why? Allah has taken my child from me after all these years of waiting. What more can He do to me? What could be more cruel than that?’
‘You are right,’ Yusuf said. ‘Allah was cruel to take your child. If you wish to hate Him, then that is your right. But you are not weak, Asimat. If Allah has wronged you, then spit in His face. Do not spend your days crying. Have another child.’
Asimat said nothing, but after a moment she wiped away her tears and straightened. ‘You are right. Thank you.’
Yusuf nodded. ‘Allah only tests you. He would not curse one as beautiful as you.’
Asimat flinched. ‘Be careful what you say, Yusuf. Nur ad-Din is a kind man, but he will defend his honour. He will have you killed at the slightest suspicion.’
‘I am sorry if I offended you, my lady.’ Yusuf glanced at the eunuch guard. ‘It was not my intention.’
She waved away his concern. ‘It is nothing. I am not my self since-’ Asimat broke off and took a deep breath. ‘I am not myself.’
‘I will go and let you rest.’ Yusuf stood and bowed. ‘I am sorry for your loss, Khatun.’ He headed for the tent flap.
‘Yusuf,’ Asimat called, and he turned. She was staring at him, her head tilted to the side. Her eyes met his, and there was something in her gaze that both excited and unnerved him. He forced himself to look away. ‘I am returning to Aleppo tomorrow,’ she said. ‘I hope to see you again when you return.’
MAY 1157: BANYAS
John stood at the edge of a broad ledge high up on the slopes of Mount Hermon. Yusuf was beside him, and past him, Nur ad-Din stood surrounded by emirs and advisors. A spring gushed from a cave behind them and flowed over the cliff face to John’s left, plunging down to the valley floor far below, where it formed a silver ribbon that flowed through the walled town of Banyas and past its castle. The castle was an imposing structure with towering walls of white limestone rising straight from the hillside on which it sat. There was only one possible path of attack: a road that ran up the spine of the hill. The road passed through a series of gated, walled courtyards, each of which would have to be conquered before reaching the thick-walled, central keep. And before attacking the fortress, they would have to take the town. Squinting, John could just make out the tiny figures of townspeople leaving through the town gate.
‘The Franks are taking shelter in the keep,’ he said, speaking loudly over the roar of the waterfall. ‘They know we are here.’
Yusuf nodded. ‘The castle will not be easy to take.’
‘Nevertheless, it will fall,’ Nur ad-Din said confidently. ‘The Frankish army has been drawn north by Shirkuh’s approach. There is no one to help Banyas.’ He turned to Yusuf. ‘Take your men and seize the town. Your men will have until noon to loot as they wish.’
‘Thank you, malik.’ Yusuf nodded to John. ‘Let’s go.’
They went to their horses and mounted. John followed Yusuf down the narrow track that led from the ledge in a series of cutbacks. The trail was wet with spray from the waterfall, and it was a perilous ride. John kept his eyes on the track before him, but his mind was elsewhere. He thought of the townspeople he had seen leaving Banyas. As a crusader, he had sworn to protect such people from the Saracens and to help his fellow Christian knights when they were in need. If he helped Yusuf take the town, then he would be violating his crusader’s oath. He would be putting yet more blood on his head.
John looked up as they reached the valley floor, where the army waited in the shadow of the mountain, hidden from the city by low hills. Yusuf’s troops were gathered beside the stream, watering their horses. Yusuf rode straight to Turan, who stood on the sands of the riverbank, sharpening the grey steel of his sword.
‘We have been ordered to take the town,’ Yusuf told him. ‘Ready the men, and provide a dozen of them with torches.’
‘Yes, Brother.’ Turan turned and roared to the men. ‘Saddle up and get in formation! There’s fighting to be done!’
‘Yusuf,’ John said to his friend in a low voice. ‘Do you think it wise to have brought Turan? Perhaps he should be left behind when you attack Banyas?’
‘No, he will ride with us. He is a changed man since the death of Nadhira. And besides, I like to keep an eye on him.’
‘There is something else.’ John took a deep breath. ‘I cannot fight against my fellow Christians. I swore an oath.’
Yusuf examined him for a moment, then nodded. ‘You may remain in camp, friend. I do not expect you to fight your own kind.’
John frowned. ‘But I am the commander of your khaskiya. I cannot let you ride into battle alone.’ He had already betrayed Yusuf with Zimat, he would not fail him here as well. The creases on John’s forehead melted away as he reached a decision. ‘I will not fight to take Banyas, but I will kill to protect you, if I must.’
Yusuf grasped John’s shoulder. ‘Thank you, friend.’
The men had mounted and formed ranks three deep along the riverbank. Yusuf commanded his own mamluks from Tell Bashir, as well as the men his father had sent from Damascus – over three hundred warriors in all. They wore chainmail and each carried a small, circular shield along with three weapons: a curving, compact bow; a light spear; and a sword.
Yusuf rose in his stirrups to address them. ‘We have been ordered to clear the town. We will attack from the east, where the river enters the city and the wall is weakest. Qaraqush, you will take the Tell Bashir men and set fire to the eastern gate to distract the Christians. Once Qaraqush has attacked, Turan will lead forty Damascus men to the right of the gate, where they will scale the wall. I will lead my personal guard to the left where the river passes under the wall. We will enter there. The rest will wait in reserve with Al-Mashtub, ready to charge when the gate opens. Understood?’ There was murmured assent from the ranks.
‘For Allah!’ Yusuf shouted, and the men roared back, ‘For Allah!’ John said nothing. He turned his horse and followed Yusuf along the river, with Yusuf’s guard following in a column three wide. Qaraqush and his men came next, their burning torches leaving a trail of black smoke. They followed the river through low hills, and as they rounded a last bend, the town of Banyas came into view, its pale stone houses huddled behind eight-foot-high limestone walls. ‘Keep together!’ Yusuf shouted back to the men. ‘Wait for my signal.’
They rode closer and closer, until John could see the faces of men peering over the walls. An arrow fell from the sky and shattered against the hard ground to John’s right. He heard a scream and turned to see a mamluk with an arrow in his gut drop his torch and slump from the saddle. John raised his shield, just before an arrow thumped into it.
‘Qaraqush, charge!’ Yusuf roared.
Qaraqush and his men galloped towards the city. One of the mamluks fell, then another, but the rest arrived to throw their torches at the base of the gate. They wheeled away, as the wood began to smoke. Two Franks appeared atop the gate with a cauldron of water and poured it over the side, dousing the flames. Qaraqush led his men galloping back, firing arrows that dropped the two men.
‘Turan, now!’ Yusuf yelled, and with a roar, Turan led his men away to the right. ‘My men, follow me!’ Yusuf cried and spurred to the left.
John followed close behind Yusuf. Arrows whizzed past as they streaked along the wall towards the
