Chapter XXX
As evening drew on we came to the edge of a huge wadi whose further bank was lost in the gathering gloom. Harun drew rein and looked down into it.
"As neither of you has travelled this way before, will you be guided by me?"
"Surely," Charles spoke for us both.
"This is not a good place to spend the night, nor is the valley. More than once I have met robbers or their victims down there." He pointed with his chin into the depths before us. "If we turn to the left and ride as fast as we may, there is a small village. I judge that we will come within sight of it before the sun sets."
"And the inhabitants are friendly?" Charles asked.
Harun shrugged. "You need not fear, for they are of your faith. However they receive strangers courteously and I have often stayed there."
"Then let us go," Charles said, shaking his reins, and I added "Bismillah."
"Bismillah," Harun echoed and smiled at me.
There was a rough track along the edge of the wadi and our horses did not have too much difficulty picking their way among the boulders while the light lasted. Once the sun set, however, we had to dismount and lead the beasts lest they harm themselves on the rocks.
"There!" Harun said after we had been walking for the space of two prayers.
We looked where he was pointing and in the starlight all I could see was a darker patch ahead. As I watched, however, a yellow pinprick of light flickered and disappeared.
"That is the village," Harun said. "Let us make haste."
"It is still some distance," Charles sounded doubtful. "Perhaps we ought to camp where we are."
"By no means," Harun spoke sharply. "The danger is very real and prudent men do not seek to encounter danger in darkness."
He set off again and we trailed after him for the space of four or five prayers. Suddenly Harun shouted at the top of his voice.
"Aiiiieeeee! Ya Alexios!"
We stood still and after ten breaths a voice came floating back to us. I couldn't make out any words, but Harun seemed pleased.
"They will be ready for us," he said. "We shall have less trouble with the dogs."
Not long after that we began to climb fairly steeply and I could make out the shapes of houses black against the stars. Harun shouted again and this time he was answered by the sound of dogs barking. A moment later a light appeared at the top of the hill and a man called to us.
"How many are you?"
"We are three," Harun shouted back.
"Come to me," the man called back. "There are archers on the roof tops."
He spoke the truth, for I could make out dark silhouettes moving about against the night sky. We plodded up the hill until we came to the man with the lantern. He held it up as we approached and peered at us.
"Is that you, Harun?" he asked.
"It is I, Alexios," Harun answered. "These men are my companions on my journey. One is a Feranji and the other is his friend."
"Welcome, welcome in the name of God. What on earth are you doing so late?"
The man turned and led the way into the village. As we passed between the first houses other men pushed a barricade into place, blocking the street and dogs came padding out of the darkness to sniff at us. Other men, many with weapons in their hands, gathered around and stared at us and small boys, always eager for excitement scurried about and called to one another.
"Come to the sheikh first," the man told us.
"You go," Harun turned to us. "Alexios, I'll take the horses. You can speak for me."
In the centre of the village Harun and some of the village men took the reins from our hands and turned off to the right while our guide turned to the left and led us to a large house with stone pillars holding up the porch. He called and at once the door was thrown open and a spritely old man bustled out and came towards us.
"It is Harun," our guide told him. "Also these two."
The old man came and peered at us suspiciously, but as soon as he realised that Charles was a Frank he welcomed us in with proper politeness, protesting loudly that his house was not worthy to receive us and that we did him great honour by deigning to enter it. In fact it was a well-built house and no doubt the finest in the village; the furnishings were of good quality with carpets on the floor and thick cushions against the walls. The older men entered with us, leaving the boys crowding the doorway to gaze at us.
"Sit, sit," the sheikh urged while he himself remained standing. "This is your house. This is now your house."
Charles and I waited for the older men to sit and I noticed that each of them made the Christian sign on his forehead and chest as he leaned back against the cushions. That made me look around and take note of the cross on the wall and several pictures on boards, similar to the idols I had seen in the church at Bethlehem. I knew that there were Christian villages, but this was the first time I had stayed in one and I felt a little nervous as to my reception. Indeed, there seemed to be a certain amount of tension in the room and the glances exchanged between the old men and the sheikh were troubled.
The headman went out of the room and a moment later I heard his voice raised as he ordered his women or his servants to make ready for us.
"The milk is coming just now," he said, coming back into the room and sitting down against the wall opposite us. He looked directly at Charles. "Has your journey been successful?"
"God be praised," Charles replied, rightly understanding that the sheikh wanted to know all about us but was too polite to ask directly. "We came from Jerusalem two days ago and are on our way to Kerak. With God's help we will reach there tomorrow."
The sheikh nodded and the old men murmured blessings and wishes for a safe journey.
"If you seek Reynauld de Chatillon, you know that he is not there?" the sheikh asked.
"We know," Charles said. He looked round the men in the room; like me, he must have seen them make the Christian sign. He lowered his voice to try and exclude the boys at the door who were making so much noise squabbling among themselves that they would not have heard in any case. "The king in Jerusalem is disturbed by this and wishes to know where Reynauld is and what he is doing."
"This is your companion?" the sheikh asked, indicating me by a tilt of his head.
"Fuad is in the same service as I am," Charles said.
"And the other one?"
"He is a fellow traveller we met in Jericho. Our paths lie together some of the way."
"He comes here frequently," the sheikh said, watching the door carefully. "Many travellers pass through here and what can we do? We are a small village, what have we to do with wars? Naturally we wish success to our fellow Christians . . ."
"You are too kind," Charles laughed suddenly. "Most Greeks would prefer to be ruled by the Sultan than by the Franks."
"No, no!" the headman exclaimed, raising his hands in protest.
Charles winked at him and said something in a language I did not understand but which I later learned was Greek. There was a moment of silence and then the sheikh replied in the same language. The old men were sitting up, staring intently at Charles as he answered the sheikh and then at the headman while he spoke to Charles. Suddenly the tension seemed to go out of the air and everyone was smiling and laughing. The headman turned to me and spoke again in Arabic.
"Your pardon, brother. I did not understand matters correctly." He looked back at Charles. "If you are a friend to the Greeks, then there is something you should know about your new companion. He comes here often and we think that he is a messenger for the Sultan."
Charles shrugged. "And we are messengers for the king. Perhaps some day we must fight each other, but just now and on this road there is peace."
"Amen," the sheikh said loudly. He looked a little embarrassed. "You understand: we dare not bring down the anger of the Sultan upon us, neither can we offend the Franks. What can we do?"
"What all good men do," Charles replied. "Sit quietly and try to avoid angering the great ones who fight around you. Still, I thank you for telling me about Harun."
There was much conversation while we waited for food and drink and after a while Harun came in carrying his saddle bags, which he placed on the floor as a cushion to lean against.
"The horses are safe," he told us. "These people mount a guard all through the night, so there is no need to worry."
"Is that necessary?" Charles asked, turning to the sheikh.
The man shrugged. "Alas, yes. Already this year we have beaten off three night attacks and last week one of our shepherds was nearly killed by a group of men who stole half his flock."
"I thought Reynauld would keep better order than that," Charles remarked. "I am surprised that he allows such disorder in his lands."
"Even Reynauld cannot be everywhere at once," the sheikh replied, then added bitterly, "but sometimes he does not even try. At present he is off on some fool's errand on the Red Sea - as if he does not have enough to do here in dealing with robbers and the men of the Sultan."
"Of the Sultan?" Harun interrupted. "Surely they do not trouble you?"
"The desert road is just over there," the sheikh pointed with his chin. "We can see the pilgrims on their way to Mecca and the Sultan's men passing to and from Egypt. Usually there is no problem, but recently there have been many more soldiers marching up towards Damascus and they are, I think, not trained troops, just fellahin or the scourings from the bazaar. We dare not send our flocks and herds in that direction now, for they will steal anything they can."
"And kill if we try to stop them," one of the other men added. "And two of our women have been raped."
"They know that we are Christians," another man said. "This makes them bold against us."
"Surely the Sultan does not know or approve of this?" Harun sounded troubled.
"Whether he knows or not, whether he approves or not, this is what happens," the sheikh sounded defiant.
