galloped down the hill, his men thundering after him. He crouched in the saddle, his head close beside his horse’s neck as he raced along the wide ravine. He could hear the shouts of the Franks and the pounding of hooves. He looked over his shoulder to see the first Frankish knights cresting the hill behind him. ‘ Yalla!’ he cried and flicked the reins, urging his horse to go faster. ‘ Yalla! Yalla!’
Yusuf rounded a last curve and rode out of the hills and on to the plain where the Muslim army waited. The line of men stretched for a quarter of a mile. Mamluks on foot stood in front, long spears in hand. Behind them were thousands of mounted mamluks and Bedouin warriors, bows at the ready. Yusuf spotted Nur ad-Din’s banner at the centre of the line and headed for it. The line of foot-soldiers parted to let Yusuf through, and he pulled up before Nur ad-Din in a cloud of dust.
‘They’re coming! All of them!’
Nur ad-Din grinned. ‘Our time has come.’ He raised his voice to address the men around him. ‘Prepare to fight! Allah is with us!’
Across the plain, the Franks began to pour out of the ravine, spreading out as they thundered towards the Muslim lines under a cloud of dust. Yusuf thought back to his discussions with John, long ago in Baalbek. Nothing could stand up to a Frankish charge, John had said. Yusuf looked to Nur ad-Din, who was still grinning fiercely. ‘Perhaps we should retreat before the initial onslaught,’ Yusuf suggested. ‘To draw them in before surrounding them.’
‘Retreat?’ Nur ad-Din roared incredulously. ‘No, we will stand firm, Yusuf. Allah will give us strength.’ The closest Christians were nearing the line. Nur ad-Din drew his sword and waved it over his head. ‘Let fly, men!’
Yusuf nocked an arrow to his bow and picked out one of the charging knights. He released the arrow and followed its path until it was lost amongst thousands of others. The arrows momentarily dimmed the afternoon sun as they arced through the blue sky. Then they fell hissing amongst the Franks. Yusuf saw a knight at the front of the charge take an arrow in the chest, but his armour was too thick for the missile to penetrate all the way to his flesh. Here and there knights fell, their horses shot out beneath them, but the Frankish charge did not falter. The knights rode on, arrow shafts protruding from their armour. The nearest knights were only thirty yards away now, and their deafening war cry rolled over Yusuf. ‘ For Christ! For the Kingdom!’
‘For Allah!’ Nur ad-Din shouted back, and all along the line the men echoed his cry. ‘ Allah! Allah! Allah!’ Yusuf tucked his bow into his saddle and readied his sword and shield.
Then the first Franks hit them. Yusuf saw a knight speared off his horse by one of the foot-soldiers. The next knight suffered the same fate, and the next. Yusuf began to hope that the line would hold, but then a solid mass of knights hit the line at once. They smashed through the wall of foot-soldiers, trampling them underfoot. A heavily armoured knight, his face hidden behind the visor of his helmet, charged towards Yusuf with lance lowered. At the last second, Yusuf jerked the reins and his horse stepped to the side. The knight’s lance missed Yusuf by inches. Yusuf slashed out as the knight rode past, catching him in the throat and knocking him from the saddle. Yusuf turned to see another knight bearing down on him, and this time he could not avoid the long lance. He managed to block it with his shield, but the force of the blow sent him flying from his saddle to land hard on his back. Yusuf staggered to his feet, ready to defend himself, but there was no one to fight. The wave of Frankish knights had thundered past, driving the Muslim army before them and leaving carnage in their wake. Dead mamluks lay all about, many with the long shafts of lances protruding from their chests. Riderless horses wandered everywhere – some galloping madly in fear, others cropping at the grass. Yusuf edged towards a horse, but it shied away, eyes rolling, and galloped off. Yusuf heard a roar behind him and turned to see an endless stream of Frankish foot-soldiers pouring from the hills and surging across the plain towards him.
Yusuf ran in the opposite direction, after his retreating army. The dust thrown up by the fleeing mamluks and pursuing Christians was far off, but closer, only a hundred yards ahead, Yusuf spotted Nur ad-Din surrounded by twenty mamluks of his personal guard. Nur ad-Din had halted his retreat and was waving his sword over his head, trying to rally the remnants of his army. Dozens of Frankish knights swarmed around Nur ad-Din’s guard, eager to strike down the Muslim king. As he ran, Yusuf glanced back to the Frankish foot-soldiers rushing across the plain. If Nur ad-Din did not retreat soon, he would be lost.
‘Yusuf!’ It was Qaraqush, riding up and leading a horse. Al-Mashtub and ten of Yusuf’s men were with him.
Yusuf swung himself up into the saddle. ‘To Nur ad-Din!’ he shouted and spurred across the field. They hit the Frankish knights from behind. Yusuf cut down two men before they could turn to defend themselves. The other Franks scattered as the rest of Yusuf’s men arrived. Yusuf rode up beside Nur ad-Din. The malik’s face was pale and his shoulder was stained with blood.
‘You are injured,’ Yusuf said.
‘It is nothing.’ Nur ad-Din raised his voice: ‘To me, to me! Stay and fight!’
‘It is no use, my lord. Your army has fled. You must retreat.’
‘I will not let these dogs defeat me,’ Nur ad-Din growled.
Yusuf met his lord’s eyes. ‘They have already defeated you, malik. Do not let them kill you as well.’
Nur ad-Din’s shoulders slumped. ‘Very well,’ he whispered, but he did not move. All energy seemed to have suddenly left him.
Yusuf looked back to the onrushing mass of Frankish foot-soldiers, only fifty yards off now. One of the soldiers hurled his spear, and it landed only a few yards short of Yusuf’s horse. Other Franks stopped and nocked arrows to their bows. Yusuf turned back to Nur ad-Din. ‘We must ride, malik!’ He grabbed Nur ad-Din’s reins and then spurred away, pulling the malik’s horse after him. The guard fell in around them. They had not gone far when arrows began to fall all about them. One struck Yusuf’s horse in the flank, and the beast stumbled, throwing him. Yusuf jumped clear and rolled to his feet. Nur ad-Din had reined to a stop, seemingly oblivious to the arrows striking the ground around him.
‘Ride!’ Yusuf shouted to him, but the king did not move. ‘Qaraqush, al-Mashtub! Get him out of here! We will hold them off long enough for you to escape.’
‘Allah preserve you, Yusuf!’ Qaraqush called as he grabbed Nur ad-Din’s reins and led him away at a gallop.
Yusuf turned to face the Franks. ‘Come on, men!’ he shouted as he charged towards the enemy. ‘For Islam! For Nur ad-Din!’
‘Christ’s blood! He’s gone mad,’ John whispered. The retreating Muslim army rushed past him as he sat astride his horse on a low hill, watching as Yusuf and a dozen men charged into a mass of thousands of Franks. The two sides collided, and for a moment Yusuf’s charge held. From this distance, his men in their dark chainmail looked like a steel blade as they drove deep into the Frankish ranks, the foot-soldiers in their lighter armour dividing left and right. Then the charge faltered as one mamluk fell, then another and another. A moment later the cluster of Muslim warriors disintegrated, engulfed by the Franks.
John gritted his teeth as a blinding rage swept though him, obliterating all thought. He drew his sword and spurred down the hill, riding at a gallop past the long line of retreating Saracens. The mounted Frankish knights had given up the chase and had turned to looting the dead. John flew past them without a glance, heading for the mass of Frankish foot-soldiers. Their charge had stopped. As John drew closer, he saw through the dust shrouding the Franks that Yusuf was still alive and standing in a clearing with four other mamluks. The Christians had their backs to John; they were toying with Yusuf and his men, poking at them with long lances. Two soldiers turned at the sound of an approach, but it was too late. John’s horse knocked one man aside and crushed the other under its hooves. He slashed to the left and right as he drove through the crowd.
‘Yusuf!’ he screamed as he pushed through the last few Franks and rode into the ring. Without stopping, he reached out and grabbed Yusuf’s arm, swinging him into the saddle behind him before crashing into the Franks on the other side of the clearing. His horse pushed through the crowd, John hacking at the men on his right and Yusuf protecting their left. But the Franks pressed closer and closer. John felt a sword glance off the chainmail on his side. Another slashed across his thigh, opening a painful wound. A flail slammed into his helmet, and he saw bright lights flash before his eyes. With a roar, he lashed out wildly. Then he was through, galloping out on to the plain.
‘Are you crazy?’ Yusuf shouted in his ear.
‘You are my friend, I will not let you die alone.’ John glanced over his shoulder to see that a dozen foot- soldiers had given chase on foot. They fell back, five yards, then ten, and gave up running. ‘We’ve made it!’ John
