Chapter XLVII
At first I thought that we succeeded because Phillipe was obviously a Frank and therefore had an unfair advantage over the local guides but the following week we went again and this time he insisted that I greet the pilgrims. It was as he said: by speaking quietly and acting in a friendly manner we achieved far more than the other guides who shouted and snatched.
Again we spent several hours with the innkeeper and this time I listened carefully to what he had to say and when we returned both Phillipe and I reported to Sid Guy and received his praise.
The following week we were sent to Ascalon, where there was a merchant to whom Sid Guy had sent a letter. This man gave us a letter in exchange, which Sid Guy declared to be worth its weight in gold when he had read it, for the merchant traded with Egypt and no doubt his news concerned that country.
Indeed, no matter where we went, there were always messages to carry or people to see. It might be a letter to a merchant in Lod or a small bag of money to a widow in Caesarea who kept a lodging house or a word to a priest in Tiberias. All had tales to tell us or writings to give us and always we reported back to Sid Guy on our return, who listened to us and questioned us and then, as often as not, went off to see the king.
"Which is more important," I asked Charles on one occasion, "the pilgrims we bring or this writing?"
Charles grinned at me. "The pilgrims bring money," he said, "and without money neither you nor I would eat. That writing, however, may bring us victory."
"What did you bring from Madeba?" I asked, for he had just returned from there.
"What did you bring from the house of Abd al-Wahid?" he replied.
"Nothing of importance," I said. "He was too busy to talk much; a caravan of camels had just come and he had to measure out the grain for them to carry."
"And where were those camels bound?" Charles asked.
I shrugged. "Allah alone knows. The man is a grain merchant; no doubt he sells grain to many places."
"Then it is as well for you that I met those same camels on the road and discovered that they were bound for Damascus," Charles said. "Next time ask. How many camels were there?"
"I don't know," I confessed.
"Forty-three," Charles grinned. "Next time count also."
Charles was not the only one making regular trips; Hamed went frequently to Gaza to talk to merchants from Egypt, Babrak travelled to Tiberias or Banias to speak with those who traded with Damascus, and Hilmi and I were sent here and there to talk with shepherds, merchants, caravan leaders or farmers.
"Tell your lord that sixty camel loads of dates have been delivered to the house of Alexandros the merchant," was one message that I remember very well because when I delivered it I was tired and could not remember whether it was sixty or sixteen loads. Sid Guy became angry with me and dismissed me from his presence to go and hear the message again. Despite the wind and the rain I had to ride all the way back to Neapolis that night and return early the following morning.
You must understand that at first all foreigners were Franks to me, but as I learned to distinguish among them I noticed something strange: none of these people to whom we were sent were Franks. They were Greeks or Syrians or Egyptians or even Arabs of the Household of Faith (the man in Neapolis was a Syrian Christian, a cobbler of no account yet he was one to whom Guy regularly sent money). They all knew Sid Guy and spoke of him with respect, yet frequently the Franks we met either did not know him or regarded him as of no account.
They might have changed their opinion if they knew, as we did, just how often Sid Guy went by night to the king. Usually he took a single squire with him and when it was my turn I marvelled at how quietly he slipped through the back streets and was admitted at a side door of the palace near the Temple.
"This road is shorter," I said to him once, pointing up the main street which we were crossing in haste.
Sid Guy grimaced. "Yes, but it is also more used and we might be seen."
"There is no shame in visiting the king," I urged.
"Shhhh!" Sid Guy put his finger to his lips. "The fewer people know about my visits the better."
Yet when we came to the palace the servants always greeted us respectfully and Sid Guy was taken immediately to see the king, so it was clear that in the palace he was not regarded as of no account.
We went weekly to Joppa to meet the pilgrim ships and gather news but there was nothing of great importance until about a month after Easter when we collected a group of pilgrims as usual and took them to the House of Simon. Charles and I were standing by the door waiting for them to finish their prayers and as two of the men came out we overheard them say something about "the Bishop of Tyre".
Charles put out his hand and drew the speaker to him by the sleeve. "What about the Bishop of Tyre?" he asked.
The man looked at us. "Have you not heard?" he asked. "Just before Easter he was struck down by a sudden illness and died within four hours."
"Four hours!" Charles exclaimed.
The man stepped closer to us and, speaking very slowly and quietly, added, "They say that he had great pain in his belly before he died. They also say that as soon as he was dead his whole body turned black."
"Poison!" Charles gasped.
The man nodded. "That's what they say," he hissed.
Charles dismissed him and turned to me. "Fuad, Guy must hear of this at once. Can you look after the pilgrims on your own? I must ride at once and take this word to our lord."
"I can ride as well as you," I said, meaning that I could carry the message and leave a Frank and a Nasrani with the pilgrims instead of a Musselman.
Charles blushed. "Whatever Guy gives me, I will share half with you," he said.
"Now by God you wrong me!" I protested. "I had no thought of reward, only of the pilgrims who might prefer one of their own country as a guide. Go at once, and as for the reward, I resign it."
By the time I reached al-Quds with my pilgrims the whole city was in an uproar, for no one doubted but that the murder had been committed by the orders of Heraclius, whose claim to the patriarchate was slender enough in truth and might indeed have been annulled by the lord pope.
As spring turned into summer it was whispered among us that the Sultan, may God protect him, was ready to move at last and everyone speculated on where he would strike first. When news came that the army had marched away from Damascus towards the north the Franks all smiled with relief.
"Perhaps there is trouble with Mosul again," Charles said as we discussed the news at dinner.
"Inshallah," Phillipe replied. "Perhaps we will get another year before he attacks us."
"Inshallah," everyone chorused.
Nearly a month later I went to the house of Ali ibn Tabas to talk and pray and found him laughing with joy.
"My servant has just brought me news from the bazaar," he told me. "Ayyub ibn Yusef, the Sultan Salah ad-Din, may God prosper him, has captured Aleppo and expelled the Franks."
"Al-hamdu-lillah!" I exclaimed.
Ali held up his finger. "Ah my friend, but you do not understand the full meaning of this. While the Franks held Aleppo the way was open for the Rumi to come from Constantinople and help them, but now the circle is closed. The Franks are cut off and now the Sultan can attack them freely."
Guy said much the same thing when I reported the news to him.
"By God, I hope that you are wrong," he groaned, rising and reaching for his cloak. "If the Sultan attacks us now we have no hope: the king cannot even move his arms and legs, let alone lead us into battle. He's almost blind, in fact."
"So who will lead the army?" I asked.
Guy shook his head. "No one knows," he said. "By rights it should be a fighting man ..."
Trudy, who was sitting in the window seat sewing, interrupted.
"I can tell you who it will be," she said.
Guy lifted his head and smiled at her. "Go on," he said. "Who?"
"Guy de Lusignan," Trudy replied.
"Amalric's brother?" Guy asked in surprise.
Trudy nodded. "Sibylla is urging the king to appoint him regent," she explained, "and Lady Agnes is helping her."
Guy clenched his fists. "That idiot!" he exclaimed. He turned to me. "He's the worst sort of Frenchman; he has no thought in his head but how to cook some new sauce or whether blue silk suits his eyes better than green silk. His only interest in a sword is whether the jewels in the pommel match his clothing. Bah!"
"Surely, Sid, the king will not appoint such a man," I tried to comfort him.
"He has no choice," Trudy sounded confident. "Amalric has been the queen's lover for years, so naturally she favours his brother. Five years ago Guy seduced Sibylla - or she seduced him, if you prefer - and forced the king to give her to him or else there would be a terrible scandal. Those two always get what they want."
"He does have the Templars on his side," Guy conceded. "They've been friends ever since he came out here, but God help us if that madman Gerard de Ridefort has any influence on the fighting."
He put on his cloak and beckoned to me to follow him. We went immediately to the palace and this time I went with him into the presence of the king. I saw a boy of about my own age but covered with bandages, lying on a couch. Servants waved the flies away from him and a priest read to him from a book.
"Your majesty, we have news for you," Sid Guy said, bowing deeply.
"What is it?" the king asked, his words slurred and indistinct.
Sid Guy beckoned me forward and had me repeat what I had heard in the house of Ali.
"You realise what this means, your majesty?" Sid Guy said when I had told my story.
The boy was silent for a long moment.
"Yes," he said at last. "We are surrounded." He was silent again and then he spoke very softly. "We have no hope now but God. Thank you, Sir Guy."
Sid Guy bowed deeply again - as did I - and we left.
