Chapter XIII
The next hour was painful and exhausting. Charles and Hilmi showed me how to hold my stick as if it was a sword and taught me the standard positions for striking, guarding and parrying, demonstrating them with short, laughing fights. I marvelled at how gracefully Charles and Hilmi moved, one position flowing into the next as they struck and parried - it was almost like dancing.
Every time I tried to imitate them, however, I did something wrong: I used the wrong stance for the blow that was coming and received a heavy thump in the ribs in consequence, I got my weapon in the wrong position and had it struck from my hand, and once I actually managed to get the wretched stick between my legs and tripped myself up, to the amusement of everyone who noticed.
"You had just better hope that no one attacks you for the next couple of years," Charles chuckled. "You'll be dead before you remember which end of your sword to hold."
"Huh!" I snorted, eager to wipe away my shame, "I'll just keep my distance and use my sling."
"Ah, yes," Hilmi raised his eyebrows. "Have you got it with you?"
"Of course." I reached into the pocket of my coat and pulled it out, letting it hang loosely from my hand.
Charles took it from me and examined it curiously.
"How does it work?" he asked.
I tried to explain in words what I found so easy in practice, but Charles didn't seem to understand. Finally Hilmi interrupted me.
"Look, here's a stone. Can you hit that tent over there?"
He pointed to a small pavilion on the other side of the valley, a canvas roof with no sides, where some of the fighters were resting in the shade.
"Of course."
I took the stone from him, put it in the sling, swung it once around my head and let go. The stone flew through the air and thudded into the canvas. The men inside the pavilion looked up in surprise and one man stood up and looked behind him, no doubt expecting to see some small boy throwing stones. Charles and Hilmi laughed.
"Pretty good!" Charles said. "That's quite some distance."
"It was nothing," I told him. "It would be impossible to miss something so big."
"Not impossible for me," Charles laughed some more. "What else can you hit?"
There was a kite circling lazily overhead. I walked a little way over the bare ground until I found a good, round stone, then picked it up and came back to the boys.
"See that kite?"
I pointed and when they had both located it, I started to swing the sling, waiting until the kite turned and was coming towards us in level flight. I released the thong and watched the stone fly straight and true towards the bird. The next moment there was a cloud of feathers floating downwards while the body of the kite plummetted to the ground, landing, quite by chance, on the roof of the pavilion.
The men inside jumped and stared up at the bulge in the roof where the kite lay. The man who had stood up before rose again and poked at the bulge, and the bird tumbled down the canvas slope to land on the ground, almost at the feet of another man who was just stooping to enter the pavilion. He shouted and pointed and the men inside stared in bewilderment at the dead bird. Charles and Hilmi were equally astonished.
"Wow!" Charles shook his head. "I couldn't even do that with an arrow. Well done!"
"Put it away," Hilmi hissed. "Let's go over and pretend that we've just finished a fight. I want to see the bird."
We strolled over casually and Hilmi and Charles were able to satisfy their curiosity as the dead kite was passed from hand to hand while the men speculated over what had killed it, for the stone must have struck the bird's body, leaving no external mark. Finally the men returned to the shade and Charles tossed the dead bird to a nearby dog, which caught it expertly and ran off to enjoy its feast. We wandered off again, climbing back up the slope of the valley towards the city gate.
"That was pretty impressive!" Charles said at last. "Do you ever miss?"
"Sometimes," I replied. "If I don't make enough allowance for the wind or something like that."
Charles nodded. "Yes, it's the same with archery. Come on, let's go to the Tower."
The Tower of David was just inside the gate, a huge building of stone with thick, sloping walls. Charles pointed to the walls and asked me if I knew why they sloped. I shook my head.
"It's for battering rams," he explained. "Not only does the slope make the wall thicker at the base, which is where a battering ram is most likely to strike, but the angle means that the head of the ram is deflected upwards and so the force of the blow is lost."
I marvelled at the wisdom of the Franks and even more at their vigilance, for the Tower was well guarded by men in leather coats holding long spears, who stopped us and demanded to know who we were. Even though they recognised Charles and Hilmi, me they did not know and we were not allowed through the gateway until they had sent a messenger to their captain. He ordered one of the guards to accompany us all the time we were within the walls, but the man he sent simply walked around talking in his foreign tongue to Hilmi and Charles. We saw everything: the huge cistern that supplied water to the Tower, the armouries, the stores of food and weapons, the stables for the horses - and a score or more of those huge beasts, quietly eating their fodder in the shade of their stables.
From there we went to the Hospital of St John, a large palace rather than a fortress, but fortified and guarded all the same. Here the guards were ghazis or knights, rather than simple soldiers, and they wore chain mail and long, heavy swords rather than leather doublets and spears. By the will of Allah the lord of these ghazis, whom they call the Grand Master, was standing by the door when we came. Charles knew him and introduced me, but he knew little Arabic and quickly dismissed us with a smile, making us free of his domain. The building was full of armed men and in the courtyard were more of the huge horses on which these Franks ride to battle.
Right across on the other side of the city was the fortress of the Templars and I felt very nervous about entering there, though Hilmi seemed quite at home. Although there were guards on the gateway, there was little trouble about entering, and I quickly discovered the reason for this. As well as the knights and their men-at-arms, the place was thronged with Nasrani pilgrims who crowded into the temple to kiss its stones and worship in the building.
I was interested to see the inside of this place, which I had often seen from outside, for it is a holy place for us Muslims as well. This was the very temple built by Suleiman ibn Daoud, where also the Prophet Mohammed, on whom be peace, came to Jerusalem and mounted his wondrous horse al-Buraq for his night journey to Paradise. I expected to find it filled with Nasrani idols, but inside it was bare and empty apart from those decorations which it is fitting for religious buildings to bear and which are pleasing to God.
Charles, at Hilmi's prompting, took us over to the walls and the Golden Gate, which the Franks only open on the occasion of their great festivals. We walked along the walls to the place where the Prophet Isa, on whom be peace, was tempted by Iblis to leap down into the valley. We stepped up onto the guards' walkway to look over the wall but the ground was so far beneath us that I felt dizzy. I hurriedly turned away and stood with my back to the wall until Charles and Hilmi were ready to leave.
In this place there was a huge open area of paving stones and in the middle of this a small opening. Charles led us over to the opening and down a narrow staircase to the vast underground stables built, so he said, by Suleiman ibn Daoud. It was so huge that I felt convinced that it can only have been built by the djinns whom Suleiman commanded. In here there were forty or fifty large horses, peacefully eating their fodder while grooms cared for them and guarded them.
Finally we went to the hammam, for we were all weary with the heat and the fighting and there I discovered that these Franks are truly without shame, for while my companions and I covered ourselves with towels until we were ready to enter the water, the place was full of big men walking around naked and there were even some women, also naked.
However the men were not completely naked for, like animals, their bodies were covered with hair - thick mats of hair on their arms, their legs, their chests and even their backs, which was strange considering how many had shaven faces. Even the women had great masses of hair under their arms and between their legs.
At first I thought that they were women of no reputation, such as one hears about wherever there are travellers, and therefore looked upon them openly, but Hilmi rebuked me.
"Don't stare, Fuad," he hissed. "These are great ladies among the Franks and their husbands might be angry with you."
I hastily averted my eyes. "Their husbands order them to appear like this?" I asked, for a woman must always obey her husband, even in that which is shameful.
Hilmi shrugged. "I doubt it. Probably their husbands don't know they are here but," he added hastily, "they will not be angry with them for coming. Among the Franks it is permitted for a woman to behave like this."
"I take refuge in God!" I muttered.
After this we returned to the house of es-Sid Guy, where we ate a light meal with the others. When we had finished and were on our way to our siesta Guy himself came up to us.
"Well, Fuad, what did you see today?"
"Wallah, ya Sid," I exclaimed, forgetting to call him Guy, "You Nasranis have turned al-Quds into an armed camp. There are soldiers everywhere and ghazis and horses . . ."
"And what did you think of the Tower?"
I raised my hands and looked upwards in a gesture of amazement. "Those walls! They are as high as mountains and as strong as iron. Even the djinn could not destroy such a wall!"
Guy looked pleased. "Good, good. Rest now and enjoy yourself. I have a job for you to do tomorrow."
