Chapter VII
They only followed us as far as the first bend in the wadi, however, for already the day was growing hot. We jogged on in silence for some distance and then the Frank began to talk to me.
"See, Fuad, how we keep always to the centre of the wadi, particularly when we come to bends. This gives us warning of ambushes like the one yesterday."
"But surely it would be better if we kept to the outside of the bend," I protested. "Then we would see further."
"That is true," the Frank replied. "However there is a good reason for not doing so: continually crossing and re-crossing the wadi would add greatly to the journey and make our animals tired. Now, why should we concern ourselves whether our horses are tired?"
I thought for a moment.
"If there should be a fight, it is better to fight with fresh horses than with ones that are already tired?"
"Good. Canst thou think of any other reason."
"Well," I spoke slowly, revealing something that I had sometimes thought about but fearful that the Frank would laugh at me, "horses also are Allah's creatures, and we should be kind to them?"
"Ha!" The Frank slapped this thigh and smiled at me. "Very well spoken, young Fuad. Dost thou know why I decided to ask for thee as my squire? There were two reasons: first because of what thou didst tell me about those men of the Bani Jibrin after examining their bread and water. That showed me that thy eyes were open and thy head not entirely empty. The second reason was when thy hand was held back from killing Ibrahim. To the merciful God is also merciful, but those who are made blind by hate and the lust for revenge are under a curse."
"But I had already killed one man," I protested, half embarrassed and half pleased by this praise.
"To kill in battle is one thing," the Frank looked solemn, "but to kill in cold blood when there is no need is another. After all, a living friend is always better than a dead enemy. I have need of those who can see the difference."
"You have need?" I queried.
The Frank stared at me for a moment, his head on one side.
"Before I explain, Fuad, tell me one thing. Remember thy oath to be faithful to me?"
"Yes, Sidi."
"Good. Now, tell me what Ibrahim said to thee before he left."
I gaped at him and he frowned slightly.
"Ibrahim had speech with thee for some time outside the tent, and with thy father also."
"I - er, we - er, he spoke of the great army the Sultan, may God deliver him, is preparing for war against the Franks." I did not dare to say that I had thought him well asleep while we talked.
The Frank nodded. "And?"
"And he asked us if we would give him a good word to take to the Sultan."
"And thy reply?"
"We said that we were truly of al-Islam, Sidi."
We rode in silence for a moment or two while I revolved in my mind whether I should tell this man of what else Ibrahim ibn Quafis had spoken. Intrigue is one thing, but this man was my guest and also my lord. At the least he deserved open and plain dealing.
"He also asked me to be a spy for the Sultan in al-Quds."
The Frank raised his head and stared straight at me.
"And what didst thou say?"
"I am of al-Islam, Sidi."
I hung my head miserably, prepared to be sent back to our tents in shame, but when the Frank spoke his voice showed neither anger nor contempt.
"Well, thou hast spoken honestly and behaved honourably, Fuad. I have no quarrel with those who act from principle. Now tell me this: I give thee permission to report to the Sultan whatever thou observest in al-Quds, except only what thou seest in my household. Art thou prepared to agree to this?"
"Oh yes, Sidi," I assured him. "I swear by the Holy Quran that nothing of your affairs shall be known by me to the Sultan."
"Good. Then we are friends and in my household there is no more 'thee' and 'thou', for we are all equal in service to the one Master."
"Who is that, Sidi?" I asked after a pause.
"Not Sid - Lord," the Frank's face was grave, "Guy, plain and simple Guy. My Master is also your Master - God."
"But - but -" I stammered, "Do you also worship Allah alone?"
"Yes."
"So you are a True Believer?"
Guy grinned. "Yes, but not in the way you understand those words. I am a Christian, but our God is the God of Abraham and Isaac, David and Solomon, as is your Allah."
"But you also worship the Prophet Isa, on whom be peace, and call him the son of God!"
"Let us leave such matters," Guy laughed. "There are those in al-Quds who will speak to you about them until your head turns. Rather, let us talk about what you will find in al-Quds."
He then began to tell me many things which surprised me. To us all Franks are the same, but he told me that in fact they come from many kingdoms, even more different one from the other than Misr is from Syria, for their languages are different. Some come from England, others from France and still others from Germany, Burgundy or Italy. The English hate the French, the French hate the Germans, the Germans hate the Italians, they all hate the Greeks and the Greeks hate them in return.
The Franks, of whatever sort, came to al-Quds because a great prophet of their religion called Urban told them that it was God's will that the Muslims should be driven from al-Quds. Some people rushed ahead in haste to battle and thousands of simple men and women were massacred by the Turks, but the great lords came with more prudence and succeeded in capturing Antioch, Tyre and Jerusalem many years before I was born. Here, however, their hatred for one another led to countless quarrels as the men of each country - and, indeed, each individual man - sought high office for himself and great influence for his countrymen.
"The result is, Fuad, that at this time of great danger for us, we are hopelessly divided. We have a king who cannot rule and nobles who will not be ruled."
"Why cannot the king rule?" I asked.
"For two reasons." Guy looked grave. "First, that he is only a youth and the nobles despise him. Second, he is a leper."
I gasped. Even in our tents we had heard rumours concerning the Frankish king whom they called Baldwin, but to hear a Frank openly speak of this thing was shocking.
"How can we fight our enemies when our king is half dead?" Guy demanded fiercely, but his voice was sad and discouraged.
"It will be as God wills, Guy," I tried to comfort him.
"And what if God wills to punish us, Fuad?"
To that I had no answer, but I listened carefully as Guy told me about the different factions and particularly about those men who were the greatest enemies of the Muslims, the warriors of the Hospital of St John and those of the Temple.
"They should be devoting their lives to helping and guarding pilgrims, Fuad, but instead they spend their time quarrelling with one another. They are brave, I grant you, and they will certainly fight the Sultan if he comes, but by then we may have been weakened beyond repair by their disunity."
"But Guy, which is your party?" I asked as we reached the head of the wadi and came in sight of Jebel Zeitun, which is before al-Quds. "I should know who are your friends and who are your enemies, so that I may fight for you."
Guy snorted. "I have no party. Or, rather, I have a party but it is the party of those who are too weak, too insignificant, to be noticed by the great men of the kingdom. My party is the simple soldiers, the small merchants, the humble craftsmen. If the king and the leaders of the Temple go out to fight the Sultan, whether they win or lose, the ordinary people will be hurt."
He looked across at me as we jogged along on our horses. "Can you understand, Fuad? We want peace so that we can work and trade, marry and make merry, carry on our ordinary lives, without danger or threat from anyone. We want our children, Muslim and Christian, to play together, to grow up without being forced to go and fight for one side or the other."
"But how can there be peace?" I asked. "There is too great a difference between Nasranis and True Believers."
Guy shook his head. "Not really. After all, we are 'people of the Book' just as you are. We worship the same God as you, we fear the flames of Jehunam and seek the joys of Paradise, just as you."
"Then why is there jihad proclaimed against the Nasranis?" I demanded.
"That is to do with politics," Guy replied. "Listen, let me tell you of what happened when Khalif Omar conquered al-Quds from the Romans. You know that in Jerusalem there is a very holy Christian church which stands on the place where, we believe, the Prophet Isa was killed and buried. On his first day in Jerusalem Omar was looking around this church when the muezzin called the Faithful to prayer. Everyone expected that Omar would pray right where he was - after all, he was the conqueror - and the Christian leader, the patriarch, even offered to let him pray in the church."
"Did he?" I asked.
Guy shook his head. "No. He said that if he should pray in the church there was a danger that Muslims might, in later times, declare that the church was a Muslim holy place and take it from the Christians. Instead he went outside the church and spread his prayer mat there and today the Omariyeh Mosque, outside the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, marks the spot where the Khalif prayed. That is the spirit in which we, Christians and Muslims, should approach one another."
"And yet there is jihad," I observed.
"Yes, and we Christians have our own jihad, which we call 'crusade'. Please remember, however, that jihad and crusade have nothing to do with true religion. They are politics in the name of religion. God does not force anyone to change their beliefs and even idolators are more to be pitied and helped than to be persecuted and killed."
I was silent, astonished at these words. I had never thought that it was possible for Nasranis and Muslims to live together, yet here was the example of the Khalif Omar, may God reward him, showing respect for the holy place of the Nasranis.
There was something, not only in the words that Guy spoke but also in the manner in which he spoke them, that stirred me. There, on the road to al-Quds, I suddenly caught a vision of the children of the Franks and the children of Islam playing and laughing together, a world where there was no fear, no war, no hatred, but love and peace and happiness.
"Sidi," I exclaimed, "Guy, before I swore to you with my lips. Now I will do so with my whole heart. If you will accept me, I will be your son. I will work for you and fight for you . . ." I broke off, confused, for fighting and peace hardly went together. "I will die for you," I finished a little lamely.
Guy grinned at me. "Don't worry, Fuad. All my squires have made similar mistakes - and some have been even slower to grasp the idea of what I want to do. One even called me traitor to my face and is now my enemy, simply because he could not see that peace must be better for both the Sultan and also for us than all this fighting and raiding."
