strength of the blow sent his sword flying from his hand. He raised his shield and backed away until he came up against the wall of the arena. The crowd had fallen silent; Yusuf could hear the snap of pennants atop the arena.
Reynald grinned and raised his sword. ‘Time to win my freedom.’ His eyes widened in surprise as Yusuf pushed off from the wall and charged. He ducked Reynald’s hurried blow and drove his shoulder into the Frank’s gut, knocking him backwards. Then Yusuf brought his shield up, wincing in pain as he smashed it into Reynald’s face. As the Frank stumbled back, Yusuf sprinted past and scooped up his sword. He turned to face his enemy.
Reynald stood unsteadily, his face a mask of blood. His left arm hung useless at his side. Yusuf’s own arm ached with pain, and his ribs burned. Nevertheless, he stood straight and forced himself to smile. One of the first lessons he had learned from John was to never show pain.
‘Have you had enough?’ he asked. ‘Or shall I teach you a final lesson?’
‘You dirty son of a whore,’ Reynald growled. He limped forward, swinging his sword backhanded at Yusuf’s head. Yusuf dodged away, slashing at Reynald’s back as he passed. Reynald spun around and came after him, but again Yusuf slipped away, scoring a stinging blow on Reynald’s sword arm.
‘Hold still, you cunt!’ Reynald snarled. ‘Fight me.’ He swung at Yusuf, who ducked the blow and sidestepped another before backing away. ‘Fight me!’ Reynald roared and charged Yusuf. This time Yusuf stood his ground. At the last second he ducked and threw his body at Reynald’s knees. The Frank flipped over Yusuf and landed hard on his back. Yusuf jumped to his feet and kicked his adversary’s sword away. Then he placed a booted foot on Reynald’s chest and held his sword to the Frank’s face.
‘Do you yield?’ Yusuf yelled over the roar of the crowd. Reynald scowled and tried to rise. Yusuf stomped hard on his gut. ‘Do you yield?’
‘I yield,’ Reynald wheezed.
‘Louder!’ Yusuf commanded. ‘So they can all hear you.’
‘I yield!’
Yusuf stepped away and looked about him. The crowd was cheering madly, men stomping and pounding on the wall around the arena as they chanted his name: ‘ Yusuf! Yusuf! Yusuf!’ He spotted Nur ad-Din and bowed low to his lord. Nur ad-Din rose and vaulted over the wall into the arena. He strode over to Yusuf and embraced him.
‘Well done, Yusuf,’ he whispered in his ear. ‘I have not been blessed with a son of my own blood, but Allah has sent me you instead.’
Chapter 19
John crouched atop the gatehouse of Khaldun’s home and looked down into the dark courtyard. He had only been to visit Zimat a dozen times since his return to Aleppo over a year ago; they both knew how dangerous each visit was. But tonight the sky was moonless and the streets dark. It was a night for thieves – or lovers.
John dropped down into the courtyard and pressed himself against the wall. After a moment he crept to the side door and slipped inside. As he walked down the hallway past Ubadah’s room a board creaked beneath his foot. He froze. There was no sound of movement in the house, and he continued on to Zimat’s room. He pushed the door open. The room was dark and he could just make out Zimat asleep in bed. John entered and closed the door softly behind him. He removed his boots and breeches, then sat beside Zimat, gently pushing a strand of dark hair away from her face. She smiled in her sleep. John kissed her lightly on the lips, and her eyes opened.
‘You should not have come,’ she murmured, but her smile said otherwise.
‘I had to see you. It has been too long.’ He pulled off his caftan and started to get into the bed beside her. Zimat pushed him back.
‘Wait. Let me look at you a moment longer.’ John stood naked, self-conscious as he began to harden. ‘Your zib is happy to see me,’ Zimat teased. ‘Bring it here.’ She pulled the sheets back, and he slid into bed beside her. ‘I am glad you came,’ she said as she laid her head on his shoulder. With her finger, she gently traced patterns on his bare chest.
John stroked her hair. ‘I have news,’ he whispered. ‘Yusuf says the new Frankish king, Amalric, is gathering an army. I met him once, when I first came to the Holy Land. He was only a boy and now he is a king.’
‘ Shhh,’ she said, putting her finger to his lips. ‘I do not wish to discuss the Frankish king.’
‘What do you wish, my lady?’ Their eyes met, and her hand moved down his chest, past his stomach. ‘That is what I was hoping for,’ he murmured and rolled over so he was on top of her. He kissed her soft lips, her neck. She moaned softly. Then her body stiffened. Her eyes were wide with fright. John turned and saw Ubadah standing in the doorway. John had not seen him for months, and the boy was taller, his face thinner. He looked more like John than ever.
‘Mother, what are you doing?’ the boy demanded. ‘Who is that man?’
‘It is nothing, my son.’
Ubadah’s eyes narrowed. ‘It is him,’ he spat. ‘The ifranji! I will tell Father.’ The boy disappeared from the doorway.
‘No, wait,’ John called. He grabbed his caftan from the floor and pulled it on as he chased after the boy. He caught Ubadah in the hallway and grabbed his arm. The boy began to scream: ‘Father! Father!’
‘Quiet,’ John hissed, lifting the boy from the ground with one arm and clamping his free hand over Ubadah’s mouth. He turned to move back down the hall when behind him a door opened. Khaldun stepped out.
‘Ubadah?’ he called sleepily.
The boy bit the hand John held over his mouth. ‘’Sblood!’ John cursed and pulled his hand away.
‘Father!’ Ubadah cried. ‘Help!’
John ran back to Zimat’s room, kicking the door shut behind him. Zimat had pulled on a robe and was sitting on her bed, her face buried in her hands. John handed Ubadah to her, and she clutched the boy to her chest. ‘We are lost,’ she cried. ‘Khaldun will kill us both.’
John found his belt and drew his dagger. ‘I will not let him touch you,’ he promised. He moved to join her on the bed and stumbled as the floor lurched beneath him. ‘What is happening?’
The shaking grew worse, becoming a rolling as if he stood on the deck of a ship at sea. Dust drifted down from the ceiling, and the washbasin in the corner fell over with a loud crash. Ubadah began to cry. ‘It’s an earthquake!’ Zimat shouted. ‘We must get out.’
John took Ubadah from her, and they headed for the door. Suddenly it swung open, and Khaldun stepped into the room, sword in hand. When he saw John, his eyes went wide. ‘You!’
Then the ceiling above Khaldun collapsed, and he disappeared amidst the debris and dust. John put his arm around Zimat and pulled her back against the wall opposite the door. The shaking was so violent now that they could barely stand. They sank down against the wall, and John pulled Zimat and Ubadah close to him, holding them in his arms.
‘God save us,’ he whispered. ‘Naudhubillah.’ Then there was a loud crack above them. John threw himself over Zimat and the boy just before the rest of the ceiling collapsed.
‘Oh, yes,’ Yusuf breathed as he lay on his back in Asimat’s bed with her on top of him, her hands on his chest and her hips moving rhythmically. She moaned in pleasure, then arched back as she began to move faster. The bed shook beneath them as they climaxed together. Asimat stopped and looked down at him, a smile on her face, but the shaking did not stop. Yusuf heard shouting and men running in the hall.
‘An earthquake,’ he whispered.
‘You must go,’ Asimat said as she rolled off of him. ‘The guards will come for me.’ Yusuf climbed from the bed and began to pull on his breeches. ‘There is no time for that,’ Asimat hissed. She took his other clothes and cast them out of the window. ‘Go!’
Bare-chested and barefoot, Yusuf slipped out of the window just before the door to the room crashed open. ‘Khatun!’ a guard called. ‘Come with us. We must leave the palace.’
