Jan Guillou - The Templar Knight

‘Now we’ll start again,’ said the older man with a weary little sigh that didn’t sound quite genuine. ‘What happened and what did you accomplish in the battle, my good young sergeant?’

‘Jerusalem’s Master,’ Armand began, feeling his head turn to air and all his thoughts flee like birds, ‘we had been tracking the robbers for a week, we had studied their tactics, and we realized that it would be hard to catch them in the act. We had to find a position where we could meet them face to face.’

‘Yes? And then…did a good situation present itself?’

‘Yes, Jerusalem’s Master, at last it did,’ Armand went on with renewed courage, having convinced himself that he only had to present a normal account of battle. ‘We discovered them as they were pursuing three Saracens unknown to us up into a wadi which formed a trap like a sack. It was just what we were hoping for when we saw them begin pursuit from a distance, because they had used that tactic before. We took up position and attacked when the time was ripe; my lord Arn first, of course, and I on his flank behind him as the rules prescribe. The rest was easy. My lord Arn signalled to me with his lance how he would first launch a feint against the robber on the left in front, and that opened a good gap for me to aim and strike with my lance.’

‘Did you feel fear at that moment?’ asked Jerusalem’s Master in a suspiciously gentle voice.

‘Jerusalem’s Master!’ replied Armand loudly yet hesitantly. ‘I must admit that I did feel fear.’

He looked up to see how the others around the table reacted to this. But neither Jerusalem’s Master nor Arn, or the other two high knight-brothers, betrayed by their expressions what they thought about a sergeant who showed fear in battle.

‘I felt fear, but also resolve. This was the opportunity we had waited for so long, and now we could not fail! That was what I felt,’ he added so rapidly that his words stumbled over each other.

Now Arn carefully pounded his Syrian wine glass on the table and then Jerusalem’s Master did the same, followed by the two knight-brothers, and then they all burst out in laughter that was hearty but not malicious.

‘So you see, my good young sergeant,’ said Jerusalem’s Master, shaking his head and chuckling to himself, ‘what one must endure as a brother in our Order. You confess to fear, eh? But let me tell you this. Any one of us who does not feel some fear at the crucial moment is a fool. And we have no need for fools among our brothers. So, when can he be initiated as a brother in our Order?’

‘Soon,’ said Arn. ‘Very soon indeed. I shall go through the first conversations prescribed by the Rule as soon as we return to Gaza.’

‘Excellent! Then I will make a visitation in person for the initiation, and I will be the one to give you the second welcome kiss after Arn.’

The Master raised his wine glass to Armand, and the other Templar knights followed suit. With heart pounding Armand tried to keep his hand from shaking as he raised his glass and bowed in turn to his four superiors before he drank. He felt suffused by a great joy.

‘But right now the situation is critical, and it may be difficult to find the three days required for the initiation ceremony, at least in the near future,’ said Arn, just as the talk should have taken a less sombre turn. There was no comment, but they all shifted their attention to Arn to hear what he had to say.

‘Among the three Saracens whom we rescued from a tight situation was no less than Yussuf ibn Ayyub Salah al-Din,’ Arn began abruptly. ‘In the evening we broke bread and conversed, and from that talk I understood that we shall soon have war upon us.’

‘You broke bread and sat with Saladin?’ Jerusalem’s Master said harshly. ‘You ate with the greatest enemy of all Christendom and you let him escape alive?’

‘Yes, it is true,’ replied Arn. ‘And about this there is much to say, but the easiest is that he was allowed to get away alive. First of all, we have a truce, and second, I gave him my word.’

‘You gave Saladin your word?’ asked the Master in astonishment, his eyes narrowing.

‘Yes, I gave him my word before I realized who he was. But now we have more important things to discuss,’ Arn went on in the tone he used on the battlefield.

Jerusalem’s Master sat in silence for a moment, rubbing his fist on his chin. Then he pointed suddenly at Armand, who was now sitting with his gaze fixed on his lord Arn with wide, frightened eyes, as if only now did he understand what had happened, and with whom he too had broken bread.

‘My good sergeant, now you must leave us,’ commanded Jerusalem’s Master. ‘Brother Richard Longsword here will show you around our quarters and our part of the city. Then he will escort you to the sergeants’ night quarters. May God be with you. May I soon have the pleasure of giving you a welcome kiss.’

One of the Templar knights then stood up and indicated to Armand the direction they would be going. Armand stood up, bowed hesitantly to the now grim-visaged knights at the table, and left.

When the iron-clad wooden door closed after Armand and his high escort, a heavy silence settled over the room.

‘Now I’ll begin,’ said Jerusalem’s Master after a moment. ‘You know Brother Guy, who has just been made weapons master here in Jerusalem. You two hold the same rank, and the three of us have serious problems that concern us all. Shall we start with the matter of breaking bread with our enemy?’

‘By all means,’ said Arn lightly. ‘What would you have done? We have a truce, which is hanging by a thin thread, as we all know, and Saladin knew it as well. The robbers were the ones who had to be punished, not peaceful travellers of one faith or another. I gave him the word of a Templar knight. And he gave me his word. A moment later I understood to whom I had granted safe passage. So, what would you have done?’

‘If I had given my word I could have done no differently than you,’ agreed Jerusalem’s Master. ‘You worked here under Odo de Saint Armand, didn’t you?’

‘Yes, that’s true, and it was when Philip de Milly was the Grand Master.’

‘Hmm. You and Odo became good friends, I heard?’

‘True. And we still are.’

‘But now he is Grand Master, and that’s good. That solves the problem of supping with the greatest enemy of Christendom. Some brothers may be upset by it, as you know.’

‘I do. And what do you think about this matter?’

‘I’m on your side. You kept your word as a Templar knight. And if I understood correctly you gained some information?’

‘Yes. War will be upon us in two weeks at the earliest, and no later than two months from now. That is what I believe I learned.’

‘Tell us. What more do we know? And what can we believe?’

‘Saladin knew a great deal: that Philip of Flanders and a vast host of the worldly armies and the Hospitallers are on their way up into Syria, presumably heading for Hama or Homs, not for Damascus and Saladin himself. But having learned of this, Saladin is travelling with great haste and without an escort south toward El Arish, I believe, though he told me he was on his way to Cairo. He is not making this journey because he wants to flee the Christian army in the north. So his intention is to attack us from the south now that he knows that more than half our forces are located far to the north. That is my conclusion.’

Jerusalem’s Master exchanged a glance with his brother and weapons master Guy, who gave him a curt nod of agreement to his unspoken question.

War was on its way. Saladin trusted that his forces in the north were sufficiently prepared to be able to hold the enemy in place. If at the same time he could drive an Egyptian army up through Outremer, then he could penetrate deep without meeting stiff resistance, perhaps all the way to Jerusalem. It was a terrifying thought, but they could not close their eyes to the possibility.