Chapter LX
In the morning I washed myself, prayed, ate quickly and then went to the mosque. Already there was a large crowd gathered in the square and I had to push and shove in order to arrive at the front and then push some more to keep my place as others tried to do the same. Several hours went by; I bought some pistachios from a vendor and also some bread from another seller. The sun rose higher and it was at least half-way to noon when there was a stir in the crowd and some small boys ran past yelling, "They're coming!"
First came many soldiers with their weapons, then came the prisoners - three Arabs and the Frank, all with their hands bound behind their backs. Last of all came the executioner, a huge black man carrying an enormous scimitar over his shoulder. By the will of Allah the procession came to a halt almost directly in front of me and I was nearly pushed into the midst of the soldiers by the mob crowding from behind to seek a better view.
The captain of the soldiers with his whip beat all those pressing in upon the place of execution, driving them back. I myself received several cuts from this whip, but though they stung I remained in the front row, pressed back as far as possible but determined to be where the Frank could see me.
Some of the soldiers remained on guard facing us, to make sure that no one came forward from the line that the captain had established. The others herded the prisoners into a row facing away from us and towards the mosque and made them all kneel down.
We waited like that for another considerable period of time before a party of men dressed in pure white and with gold ropes on their headdresses, rode up on horses and stopped where they could get a good view of the place of execution. One of them called out something and at once the executioner bowed and performed a few flourishes with his scimitar.
Two soldiers dragged the first of the Arabs over to the centre of the empty ground and pushed him to his knees. The man struggled and cursed, but when the soldiers stepped back from him he made no attempt to rise. Instead, sensing the executioner behind him, he hunched up his shoulders so that they protected his neck. The executioner came quietly up to him and then jabbed him hard in the back with the point of his weapon. The man gasped with pain and for an instant his shoulders came down and he stretched out his neck. Instantly the executioner swung his scimitar like a stroke of lightening and the man's head leaped from his body and rolled across the ground towards me while the body toppled sideways.
"Wallah!" and "Allahu akhbar!" the crowd shouted and several of those near me cursed the faithlessness of the beduin who had betrayed their religion by following and aiding the Franks.
The second man was dragged forward, but he tried repeatedly to stand when the soldiers released him. At last they bound his feet and tied his hands to his ankles and then he, too, hunched his shoulders until the executioner jabbed him with his scimitar.
The third man, seeing the bodies of his companions, was positively frantic in his struggles, kicking and biting at the soldiers until they beat him with their fists and with sticks. When at last he was on his knees he was only half conscious and one of the soldiers had to hold him upright by his hair. The executioner swung his scimitar and the soldier's arm jerked upwards, lifting the head and holding it up for us to see before dropping it contemptuously on the ground in front of the body.
Now at last came the moment for which everyone had been waiting. The Frank was led forward and a great silence fell as everyone craned their necks to see how he would behave. I made sure that I was right at the front where he could see me, but though his eyes were open, I do not think he saw anyone. In any case, he had only seen me dimly in the darkness; how could he possibly recognise me?
The soldiers pushed the Frank to his knees and he made no resistance, but knelt quietly with his head bowed and his lips moving so that those around me muttered that he was praying to his God. The executioner moved towards him but someone from behind me shouted to him to wait until the Frank had finished praying and the man stopped and leaned on his scimitar.
Only moments later the Frank must have finished his prayers for he raised his head and once more looked around the circle of faces watching him. I nodded as his eyes passed over me, but again there was no sign of recognition. The executioner lifted up his scimitar and came to stand behind the Frank and the Frank ignored him. He did not hunch up his shoulders or pull down his neck, but held his head proudly and calmly erect.
The executioner raised his weapon and still the Frank did not move. The executioner held his scimitar poised for a moment and then slowly lowered it and with the point gently lifted a lock of the Frank's hair out of the way. At the touch of the metal the Frank shivered slightly and his eyes widened, but apart from that he made no sign.
Again the executioner raised his sword and again he lowered it to brush it against the Frank's neck. Still the Frank remained quiet though his lips moved and I am sure he called on the name of Jesus.
For the third time the executioner raised his sword and this time there was no hesitation. With both hands he brought it round in a great swinging arc and for an instant the Frank's head seemed unmoved as though the sword had passed through his neck without harming it, but then the body slowly fell sideways and his head toppled off his shoulders and rolled over the ground to come to rest near the other heads.
"Allahu akhbar! Allahu akhbar!" the crowd screamed repeatedly, many of the men hoarse with their excitement. "God is great! God is great!"
The crowd surged forward and many snatched off their shoes and struck at the body with them to shame it. I shuddered at the unreasoning hatred in their eyes and voices and turned and pushed my way through the crowd, but so great was the press of people that it was well past noon before I made it back to the Khan ez-Zeit. I thought of leaving at once, but I still had ceremonies to perform, so instead I went out to Meena and joined with other pilgrims to stone Iblis. After throwing my stones at the pillars I marched with the other pilgrims to Mt Arafat where the Qur'an was first revealed to the Prophet, peace be upon him. In the evening when I returned to the Khan ez-Zeit all the talk was of the Frank and how he had not flinched, despite the best efforts of the executioner.
The next day I went again to the Great Mosque, to the place where Amalric had died. A mangy dog was lying on the ground outside and I wondered whether it had eaten the bodies or merely licked at their blood. I entered the mosque and saw before me the Ka'aba, the sacred stone which God brought down from heaven. This was the sight for which I had longed all my life and it should have filled me with joy, but instead all I felt was a great emptiness.
I circled seven times round the Ka'aba and on the seventh time pressed forward to reach between the hangings that covered it to touch the sacred stone, for those who touch this stone are immune from hell fire. All around were men murmuring the Shahada, but all I could think of was Amalric proudly refusing to change his religion in order to save his life. From time to time someone would should "Allahu akhbar!" and before my eyes there would be Amalric, calmly and unflinchingly upright while the executioner toyed with his hair, or his head falling to the ground while the hate-filled mob screamed with jubilation.
Just as I came near the stone a crowd of black men came, thrusting their way through the crowd and driving all those before them aside by force. Even those like myself, who had been waiting patiently for a long time were pushed and justled away from the stone and if anyone withstood them there was shouting and voices raised in anger in the holy place and even blows were given and received. I looked for the guardians of the mosque to come and execute justice on these man who behaved like infidels, but nothing was done and I had to wait until the black men were satisfied before I could touch the stone.
On my way back to the khan I purchased a Meccan cap so that all might know I had made the pilgrimage, but for me the whole experience was dust and ashes. Amalric's death and the manner of his dying left no place for pious fervour and religious emotion.
At the khan I paid what I owed for my room and for the camel's stabling and food, and then I mounted and rode northwards towards Medina. That night, as I slept in one of the pilgrim shelters along the road, I dreamed of the execution, except that it was me kneeling down with the executioner coming up behind me and raising his scimitar. In my dream I repeatedly babbled the Shahada, crying out that I was of Islam and should be spared and when I woke I was sweating and could not sleep again.
The next day I could not remove Amalric's face from my mind. What would I have done in his place, I wondered? Would I have faced death rather than change my religion? Could I have faced death so calmly and bravely? I remembered what the serving girl in Dame Katarina's house had said; truly, I decided, Amalric was shahid, a martyr for his God. That night, perhaps because I was so tired, I slept without dreaming and woke only with the dawn.
I came to Medina and passed through without stopping. When night fell I was already half a stage towards Yanbo al-Bahr and the sea. At Yanbo, however, I paused; partly to let my camel rest after two weeks of continuous travel and partly because the news was that the surviving Franks had retreated back to Aqaba and travel by sea was now possible in safety. I thought of taking ship, but then remembered how the djinn of the sea had made me sick and dismissed the idea.
