Chapter XXXII
We all mounted our horses and departed, we towards Kerak, they up the wadi towards the desert road. It was mid-afternoon by the time we emerged from the wadi onto the open country again. Charles turned to Harun.
"You know this route," he said. "Is there somewhere beyond Kerak where we can spend the night?"
"There are villages," Harun spoke doubtfully. "None of them are large and though they are better than spending a night in the open, I would not recommend them."
"So we may have to spend the night in Kerak," Charles said.
Harun shrugged. "Mashallah. I have stayed there before. There is a Frankish woman, Madame Melisande, who welcomes travellers."
"Not too warmly, I trust," Charles said and they both laughed.
"No, not too warmly," Harun replied. "She is old enough to be your mother and mine."
Some time later, with the sun distinctly lower in the sky, Harun pointed to where the road climbed over the spur of a hill.
"Just past there we should come in sight of Kerak," he said. "When we enter the town Fuad and I will turn to the right and go along the wall to the house of the Frankish woman. She will have room for you, of course, but perhaps you should go to the castle if you are seeking news."
"Yes, I think so too," Charles grimaced, "though to tell you the truth, I am no more keen on venturing into Reynauld's grasp than you are yourself."
It was as Harun had told us. Once round the corner we could see the castle perched high on its hill overlooking the town beneath. It was still some distance away and several times it disappeared, only to reappear again larger and more threatening than before. At last, late in the afternoon, we came to the final ascent up to the gate of the town. Harun slowed his horse and turned to Charles.
"You two go first, I will follow you. There are guards on the gate. Normally they are no problem but in these unsettled times who can tell? If they search us inshallah they will be satisfied with searching you and the third man may escape more lightly."
Charles and I rode side by side up to the gate, but as we reached it four or five guards appeared and blocked the way. Their captain held up his hand.
"Halt."
We stopped and Charles dismounted and led his horse towards the man.
"Bon soir," he said, speaking in the Frankish language. "We are from Jerusalem and going down to Aqaba. We wish to spend the night here."
"What is your business?" the guard asked. "You don't look like merchants to me."
"No," Charles pointed to his sword. "We are in service, like yourself."
"Whose?" the man demanded.
"Guy d'Orleans," Charles replied.
"Never heard of him," the guard said. "Come on in. We've orders to search everyone who wants to enter the town."
"Is this usual?" Charles asked.
The guard laughed. "No, but then, this isn't usual times." He looked up at Harun and me. "These two with you?"
"Yes," Charles said. "They are my companions."
The guard's eyes narrowed.
"Hmmm. I've seen that fellow before, I think."
He pointed at Harun and Charles turned and looked where he was pointing.
"It is possible," he said. "He is my guide. The other one is my servant."
Watched by the guards Harun and I dismounted and tied our horses to rings set in the stonework of the gate.
"Bring your bags," the guard ordered and led the way into the guardroom.
Once we were inside Charles turned to me and took my saddlebags, then reached out his hand for Harun's. Harun looked at him sharply and then gave him the bags. Charles took them all and put them down on the table in front of the captain.
"Which ones are yours?" the captain asked.
"These two," Charles said, pointing to Harun's bags.
The man undid the straps and opened the bags. He peered inside and shifted a few things around. "These your clothes?" he asked, drawing out a length of cloth that I recognised as a turban.
Charles chuckled. "No, that belongs to our guide. We were attacked by robbers down in the wadi back there, and they went through our bags pretty thoroughly, then stuffed everything back in a jumble." He leaned forward and looked in the bag. "Here, that's one of mine." He pulled out a linen shirt, showed it to the captain and then stuffed it back into the bag again. "We'll have to do some sorting out and repacking tonight," he told Harun.
"Robbers?" The captain was looking at him.
"Yes, a band of twenty or thirty men. I heard them say that they were waiting for a group of merchants coming from Kerak. Do you know anything about such a group?"
"By our Lady!" the captain straightened up. "They're staying in the castle. They should have gone today, but one of them is ill and they all delayed to give him a chance to recover." He pulled the bag shut and thrust it towards Charles. "Here, bring your bags along and come up to the castle. Sir Mortimer should hear your news."
Charles did up the straps and lifted Harun's bags. The captain beckoned to one of the soldiers.
"Michael, see to these other two. Give them the usual, specially that fellow. I'm sure I've seen him around." He turned to Charles. "Your companions won't be allowed in the castle, you know. They'll have to stay in the town. You can come back and stay with them or you can stay in the castle if you prefer. There's some decent inns in town."
They left the room and the man Michael came forward and undid the straps on my bags. He tipped the bag upside down and shook its contents out on the floor, then handed the bag to one of the other soldiers, who promptly left the room.
"Where is he going?" I demanded.
The man growled at me with such a strange accent that I had trouble understanding him.
"He's gone to search the bag, dog. We've had a few of you damned Mohammetans through here smuggling messages and if you're another one of them . . ." he put his hand to his throat and made choking noises.
I bridled at the man's words and drew myself up, but before I could reach for my sword I heard Harun's voice, speaking quietly to me in Arabic.
"A wise man is not troubled by the insults of the ignorant," he said. "Also, they are more than we and Charles, our master, is with them."
I subsided and watched in fury as Michael tipped Charles' belongings out onto the floor and handed the bag to another soldier. He sorted roughly through the heap and chuckled as he picked up a shirt.
"Those robbers must have really been through your things. This doesn't belong to either of you, I'll warrent."
He turned the shirt to show a cross embroidered on the front.
"That belongs to my master," I said, my voice almost choked with passion.
"Then make sure you give it back to him, dog," the guard growled.
He dropped the shirt and turned away and we stood there watched by the half a dozen guards until the two soldiers returned with our bags.
"Nothing," they reported. "We checked them inside and out and felt along all the seams. They're clean."
Michael jerked his head towards us. "Give them back," he ordered, then to us he added, "Pack your stuff, dogs, and get out - and make sure you give your master back his belongings."
He hooked his thumbs in his belt and stood back as Harun and I gathered up our belongings - and Charles' - and stowed them in the bag. When the bags were closed we stood up and Harun turned to the man.
"If our master returns, tell him that we have gone to the house of the lady Melisande by the square of the water trough."
"Melisande, eh?" the man sneered. "Mind you pay her in the morning, dogs. She deserves better than the likes of you."
