Authors: David Wind
Swiftly, Gwendolyn drew her sword. Then James shielded his twin brother while Arthur tied the Saracen's mount's reins to his saddle. Horses were an important spoil of war and not to be left behind.
Gwendolyn took stock of the situation. All around Sir Eldwin the battle progressed, reaching the stage of individual fighting rather than the mass melee of minutes ago. She glanced around quickly and saw Richard strike down a foe and charge anew into the ranks of the Saracens. Then she saw Saladin, charging across the battlefield toward the spot she now occupied.
Gwendolyn held up the silver sword and began whirling it over her head. She spurred the stallion forward, her eyes fixed upon Saladin. She needed to get by him in order to reach Miles, and, as Sir Eldwin, she was determined to do this. She reentered the battle, and with the silver sword flying in the air, she rode a straight line toward her destination. Knight after knight blocked her path, but she was in the grip of a battle fever the likes of which were unknown to her adversaries. Her arms were weightless, and her power strong. Nothing could stand before the might of her sword, and as she charged, Saracens fell to their deaths. No sword, javelin, or arrow penetrated her defense, while no man withstood her fatal strokes.
She fought on, the silver sword a deadly blur in the air, until the path between Gwendolyn and Miles was open, save for one lone Saracen. Exhilaration flashed through her mind. She had done it! She had done what had been impossible for any other; she had fought through the Saracen army. Then recognition struck her sharply. The man facing her was no ordinary knight, it was Saladin, himself! Slowly, Gwendolyn raised her sword and invoked the power of the silver blade to aid her, and when she felt it vibrate within her grasp, she realized, too, that she must not kill Saladin. She would meet and defeat him, but she could not destroy him. Then she understood what must be done. There was one path still open to her. She must capture Saladin and use him to ransom Miles, and force negotiations between the two kings.
Reining in the stallion, she stared at the Saracen leader.
He sat proudly, his quilted body armor blood-stained but whole. Then she dipped her sword to him.
Saladin gazed at this new Christian knight in wonder. The man had hewed a path through his finest men, and had not once been stopped. His prowess was amazing, but it brought no fear to Saladin's heart. Yet when the knight raised his longsword in challenge, Saladin was startled. Raising the visor of his helmet, Saladin bared his face to the Christian. It was then that he saw that the knight's face was not covered by a helmet bar, but rather a leather mask. And, the emir of the Moslems also noted the replica of the large eagle embroidered above the crest of his surcoat.
Slowly, Saladin lowered his visor and raised his scimitar into the air accepting the challenge of the knight.
Gwendolyn waited until Saladin had seen her before she charged. But when she was halfway to him, she saw a blurred shadow fly through the air and realized that someone had unleashed a javelin at Saladin. The Moor saw it, also, and drew back his reins sharply.
The horse reared high on its back legs, and the javelin sank into the horse's flesh at the exact spot where Saladin would have been seated had he not forced his horse into the air.
A second later, Saladin was on the ground, trapped beneath the dead white stallion.
Without hesitation, Gwendolyn stopped her horse and dismounted, signaling James and Arthur to her. She ran to the trapped Moslem king and drew him from beneath the horse.
Then, with her silver sword at Saladin's throat, she waved Arthur forward and pointed to the horse he'd captured. Arthur untied the horse and brought it to Eldwin, while James guarded both Saladin and Eldwin from further attack.
Lowering the blade, Gwendolyn held Saladin's deep eyes in a long stare before motioning Saladin to the mount. When he was astride it, Eldwin mounted her black stallion. It was then that she saw her route to Miles blocked. Hundreds of Saracens had formed a blockade behind Saladin. Javelins, arrows, and scimitars were held to the ready. Yet when she gazed at Saladin, he held his hand up, restraining his men.
With a bow to Saladin, Eldwin turned the horse and rode back into the ranks of the English army, tasting the bitterness of her foiled plan, yet knowing she still had her other avenue open to her.
Saladin watched the knight leave, and within him knew that he had faced the best that Christendom had to offer. He had no doubt that had they met in battle, he would have been hard pressed to win. Yet, when he had fallen, the knight had not taken advantage. The gesture of this unknown knight affected him deeply, and he felt honored with the gift of his life. Especially since to have captured Saladin would have given the knight untold honor, riches, and fame.
Yet Saladin knew this knight represented something new.
He represented a focal point which could not only unite the Christians, but charge them onward.
Why, so late in this war, has so strong a champion emerged? With that question burning in his mind, Saladin turned his horse and began to marshal his men.
<><><>
"Who is he?" Saladin asked Miles the question in a low voice, but Miles did not miss the passion within it.
"None know. Not even Richard knows who Sir Eldwin is."
"But you do!" Saladin's words were statement, not question, and needed no answer. "Before I fell, I saw his design. His… coat of arms. It was the same as yours, but it differed. It had a band around the shield, and above it was a golden eagle. Was it the eagle who killed my hawk?"
"I said you had been challenged."
"So it was the trainer of the eagle."
"A woman trained the eagle."
"But this knight has come because of you, not the war. This is true, is it not?"
Miles held Saladin's stare with his own. "First your hawk, then your warrior of courage was slain by Eldwin's arrow. Yes, Leader of the Faithful, Sir Eldwin is here because of me."
"Then why did he not strike me when he had the chance? The day would belong to the Christians and Richard, and it would be many years before my people could unite again."
"Release me and Eldwin will not fight you."
"I cannot. Answer my question."
"Sir Eldwin is a knight, a knight sworn to a code. If you had been upon your horse, Eldwin would have met you in battle. But you were trapped on the ground—helpless. His code does not permit him to take the life, or capture, someone who cannot defend himself."
"It is as I thought."
"Saladin…
"Yes, my friend?"
"It will be over soon. I want my freedom."
"I have not the power to grant it."
"You are making a mistake," Miles said in a low voice.
There was no tone of threat, or even of pity; he was just stating a fact, and Saladin seemed to realize that.
"So said Borka-al-Salu when I gave the infidel my word. But my word is sacred."
"More sacred than the reason you fight us?"
The flickering light given off by the oil lamps illuminated Saladin's face hauntingly as he gazed into the green eyes of the English knight. He truly considered Miles a friend; yet, he was unable to reply to Miles's question, for he himself did not know the answer.
<><><>
The dark sky once again glowed with a myriad of stars above the heads of Richard's army. His council was gathered about him, as other knights buried the dead who had fallen this day. Across from the English, the Moors were doing the same. Christian and Moslem, who had fought fiercely against each other, worked silently side by side to separate their dead and carry them to their encampments for burial.
Richard avoided watching this ritual as he spoke to the council. "Neither I nor Saladin has won the day. We could consider this battle a victory, but if we fight them on the morrow, we will lose even more men. We can ill afford that."
"Had Eldwin done his duty, it would be over now!" yelled William Belouise.
Eldwin turned to face the knight, her hand gripping the silver sword.
"Sir Eldwin has done nought but uphold his honor as a knight and his faith as a Christian," Richard said in a level voice. "What he did this day upon the field was to give our army and our purpose honor!"
"Honor be damned! I am tired of fighting for something that I will never see again."
The knight's words struck harshly into Gwendolyn's mind, and she was aware of the anger that filled him and many others, but she was not ashamed at what she'd done.
"I will have no further talk of this. When the bodies are buried, we return to Ascalon. I would have more time before facing Saladin again."
When the council broke up, Richard went to Eldwin's side and motioned him to follow. When they were alone, he spoke in a low voice that forced Gwendolyn to listen care- fully.
"I would have agreed with Belouise if I were not king. But when the fighting was over, and I found myself alive and unwounded, I thought about you, and about Saladin. What happened to him today could happen to me in my next battle. Would that I find someone such as you to face when it happens. What you did was right, no matter what your reason."
Gwendolyn's throat constricted and she blinked her eyes several times. Then she went upon her knee and took his hand within hers to kiss the ring on his finger.
"Rise, Sir Eldwin, for I will not have you kneel before me on the field of battle where all men must eventually become equal. Your honor reflects upon me this day, and I would have you walk with me in friendship rather than in fealty, for I need friends more so than vassals."
Chapter Twenty-three
GWENDOLYN
paced angrily in Richard's antechamber as she waited for the king to finish his business. Two weeks had passed since the battle with Saladin, and she felt herself no closer to gaining Miles's freedom than before.
She had flaunted herself daily before the inhabitants of Ascalon, yet not once had the bait been taken. Her confidence in her plans was beginning to weaken, and she needed some physical action to help her. Realizing this, she had thought of yet another step she could take against the Moslem army.
Richard's chamberlain stepped into the antechamber and nodded to Gwendolyn. "His Highness will see you now," the man said. Gwendolyn refused to feel embarrassment when the man's eyes roamed to her almost-revealed breasts; instead, she quickly swept past him.
Inside, she found Richard seated on a large Moorish cushion. She went to him and knelt.
"You must want something badly, Lady Gwendolyn."
"Sire?"
"When you demand something of me, you never humble yourself, yet when you ask of me, you are the embodiment of courtesy. Please, Madame, be seated."
"Have I offended you, Sire?" Gwendolyn asked, unsure of the answer this time.
"As a man, or as a king?"
"You are both, are you not?"
"To only a few. What crisis brings you here?" he asked.
The smile on his lips softened the harshness of his words, and Gwendolyn relaxed.
"I understand the negotiations are not going well."
"And?"
"I know I am but a woman, Sire . . .”
"That is all too evident," he stated bluntly.
Gwendolyn had the grace to blush before she spoke again, but when she did, her words were steady and her tone was underlined with determination.
"If I might offer a suggestion," she ventured, not giving Richard a chance to reply as she hurriedly continued. "Saladin feels no pressure to end this war. His supplies are constant and plentiful, and none oppose him save when you meet him in battle. Would not small bands of knights attacking his supply caravans speed up the process of negotiations?"
"Would that this thing were possible, and yes, you are right in your thinking, but my army dwindles. Every day men desert, with each battle I lose more and more knights, and their replacements are months away. Saladin can draw on all the resources of his nation to fight me. I cannot spare men to do as you suggest."
"Your Majesty, I would charge Eldwin with the harassment of Saladin's caravans. He would not be lost!"
"No! I need him with me. I will not take the chance of losing him."
"Is it because I am a woman that you will not accept my counsel?" Gwendolyn asked, her voice ringing tensely in the chamber.
"Lady Delong," Richard said formally, "my first counselor was a woman. I learned more from her than from any knight who lived. I respect the advice of a strong woman, and you are one of the strongest I have ever known. But what you ask is impossible."
"Sire, I came here to free my husband, not to push forth a crusade that espouses God and peace, but in reality gives vent to murder and savagery. I brought my knights with me, unpledged to this crusade, yet I gave them to you to aid you. Nothing stops me from withdrawing their support except my loyalty to you. I have already told you that nothing and no one will prevent me from accomplishing what I have come here for!"
"You threaten me?"
Gwendolyn held Richard's gaze for a silent moment before she replied, and when she did, it was in a low voice. "No, Your Majesty, I state fact."
"You would send Eldwin out against my wishes?"
"If need be."
"Damn! Do you realize I have the power to send you back to England?"
"Sire, you have the power to order me back, but unless you accompany me, you will never be certain where I am."
Richard laughed suddenly and shook his head. "You are an amazing woman, Lady Delong. Why do you persist in wearing these revealing clothes?"
"It is but the dress of my homeland."
"Stop playing your game with me. I know of your heritage, and of your feelings for things Norman. Is this some part of your plan to win back Miles?"
Gwendolyn thought about his question for a moment before she answered. Richard was not as easy to fool as most, perhaps because he was king, or perhaps because a woman's charms were not important to him.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"You play a dangerous game. Why?"
"Will you accept the truth?"
"Only!"
"Sire, my love for my husband is strong, and until he is with me again, I cannot be a whole woman. I know of Saladin's lust for women and hope that word reaches him of me ...for I would give myself to him, to gain Miles's release."
"You are doing this in the name of love?"
"That, and in the name of life, for Miles is my life." For the first time since she arrived in the Holy Land, tears spilled from Gwendolyn's eyes. She did not try to wipe them away, nor did she feel embarrassment at their presence. Silence followed her words, and Richard sat as quietly as did she.
"I have said many times that I do not understand this feeling between a man and a woman. I have tried, but it passes me by. Yet, I can see the truth of your words plainly."
"Then you will allow me to charge Eldwin with the mission?"
"It would be either that, or to hold him in chains, would it not?"
Gwendolyn did not answer. She waited silently.
"I will agree, on one condition."
"Sire?"
"That you do not hold yourself out for Saladin's lust."
"My lord…."
"We cannot spare you, Lady Gwendolyn. England has far too few women of your ilk. Do not make me use force."
"I will dress with modesty, Your Majesty," Gwendolyn replied.
But, after she had left, Richard realized that Gwendolyn had not really answered him. Dressing with modesty had not been what he'd sought. Then he smiled to himself. One small concession was better than none.
<><><>
Miles soaked in the tiled bath, letting the hot water caress his body. His humiliation at being tied to the cross to taunt Richard had affected him deeply, and many times Miles had thought of ending his life. It was only the vision of Gwendolyn that stopped him.
Then, when Valkyrie had come to him, his soul had returned, and he knew that he must live. He began again to exercise daily, rebuilding his muscles, and preparing for the day that Gwendolyn would arrive.
Aliya, who had been in attendance since his first day of imprisonment, had become his friend. After the one time when she had offered herself to him, she had never done so again. And because of that, Miles accepted her friendship and love.
He spoke with her often, using her as his only means to verbalize his thoughts. He did not once think her a spy who would run to Saladin and report on him, for he saw the devotion to himself within her eyes. And as the weeks and months passed, Aliya taught him the language of the Saracens while he taught her the tongue of England. With the slow passage of time, Miles learned much of the Moslem world. He learned, too, that his relationship with Saladin was unusual. Rarely had an infidel prisoner ever been accorded the honors given to him. Never had a Christian knight been permitted the use of his sword, unless he had also embraced the Moslem religion.
And never did a week pass, when Saladin had not asked him to accept the religion of the Moors and join him. He promised great rewards and fabulous riches, but Miles steadfastly refused.
Recently, however, Saladin's requests were growing more demanding, and Miles sensed a change in him. When he spoke to Aliya, she explained Saladin's position in Moslem terms. His conscience was bothering him because he had made a bargain with a dishonorable man and was forced to hold Miles.
Saladin's release from his obligation could be achieved only by Miles accepting the Moslem religion. And Aliya had warned him that if Miles did not soon agree to Saladin's terms, the emir's conscience would force him to send Miles away, so that he would not be reminded daily of his mistake.
With those thoughts running through his mind, Miles stepped out of the tub just as Aliya entered the chamber. She ran to him, lifting a sheet of muslin and wrapping him within it. "Forgive my lateness."
"What did you learn?" he asked.
"Another caravan was attacked. The supplies were taken.
It was Eldwin again."
"Thank you," Miles said. In the past month, Aliya had fallen into the habit of bringing Miles gossip from the harem baths, and since the last battle, and the arrival of the new Christian champion, Miles had asked her to get him as much information as she could.
"Patinah says that Saladin grows angrier every day. This was the fourth caravan lost. All of our warriors stand in fear of Eldwin, and rumors have risen that he is invincible. They say he is not human, but the very devil the Christians always speak of."
"I warned him."
"I did as you asked. I told Patinah to whisper into her master's ear that if he freed you, he would be free of Eldwin."
Miles smiled and then lay upon the cushions to let Aliya begin the ritual massage. Patinah was presently Saladin's chief concubine and had much access to the emir. Patinah was also Aliya's half sister.
"The women feel a change about to happen," Aliya offered.
"Many changes will happen, little sister," Miles agreed. "And you will soon be gone."
"Not if Saladin has his way."
"I sense I will lose you and I am saddened."
Turning suddenly, Miles stared at the slave girl. He saw her eyes brimming with tears, and her young shoulders shake with contained sadness. He drew her to him and held her close. Then, in a low voice, he soothed her.
"You are a child of your land, and I am not of it. Aliya, I love you as a friend and will miss you when I have gone, for you have made my life here bearable."
A few moments later, Aliya withdrew from his arms and forced him to lie down again. She continued the massage in silence, and only when she was done did she speak again.
"There was also talk of a beautiful infidel woman in Ascalon. Her hair is said to be the color of the desert sands, and her skin as white as goat's milk. She has eyes that are taken from the sky, and is taller than most men."
Miles stared at her, waiting for more.
"Patinah says Saladin has been told of her, and has voiced a desire to see her." Aliya paused at Miles's wide smile. "When I first heard her described, I thought I knew who it was. Now I am sure. But why does she let herself be seen by so many?"
"For the very reason you speak."
"I do not understand."
"I'm not sure I do either, but I believe in her, and in whatever she is doing."
"Your love is strong, my master."
"As is hers."
<><><>
The heat rose from the desert sands in waves. The late spring sun burned down unmercifully, bleaching the earth whiter with every passing hour.
A lone rider crested a dune and then urged his horse down the far side. At the base of the dune were thirty mounted men. Each wore the long flowing robes of desert Moors, but the language they spoke was of England.
Arthur stopped his horse next to Eldwin's. "They come, but this time the caravan is guarded by fifty men."
"Should we not let it pass?" asked Justin. He was not afraid of fighting the Saracens, but knew the futility of being outnumbered.
The hooded leader shook her head and gestured to Justin.
James, acting as he always did, spoke. "Lady Gwendolyn has charged Eldwin not to fight this day. We are to deliver a message to the leader of the caravan."
"But when they see us, they will attack."
"No." And saying that, James pointed to his brother, who was unfurling a banner.
The thirty knights gasped as one when they saw the painting on the cloth. It was Saladin's own markings. Then Justin laughed. He understood perfectly.
"When we are close to them, we draw our weapons and hold them at bay until the message is delivered?"
Eldwin nodded. Five minutes later the band of knights rode toward the oncoming caravan. Saladin's banner fluttered above them, and the masked knight rode in the center.
They met the caravan and the fifty Saracen knights who protected it. The Saracens, seeing the banner of their king, did not draw their weapons and before they realized what was happening, Eldwin and the knights of Radstock were within their midst. Their desert robes were flung off to reveal Christian armor, their weapons out and threatening.
But no knight struck a blow. Then the ranks parted, and Eldwin, with silver sword drawn, rode to the leader of the Saracens.
Silently, she stared at the man. Slowly, she extended a gauntleted hand and the scroll resting within it. James spoke then in French, and all knew the Saracen leader understood.