Chapter XCI
In the morning the donkey drivers left, saying that they would return to Jerusalem to see if they could do anything for their families in the city. "If the city is besieged, you will find work with the Sultan," Babrak told them. "An army always needs donkeys."
We four stayed at Gibran that day, helping the steward to stow the goods we had brought and then the next day we parted. I rode to visit Trudy and take her such news as we had, the other three rode to al-Quds to find out what was happening in the city. We arranged to meet on the third day at the Inn of the Good Samaritan.
"Go with God," we called to each other as we rode away from Gibran.
My road led me back up the valley to Bethlehem and twice I had to dismount and wait while bodies of armed men rode past in the distance. I was sure that my Muslim faith would protect me from harm, but I had no wish to be conscripted into the Sultan's army.
By an hour or so after noon I came out near Bethlehem and circled the village to the south, then rode down over the barren hills towards my father's encampment. I passed two flocks being kept by boys but they were not of the Bani Ibrim and I kept my distance.
It was late in the day when at last I came to the flock being kept by my youngest brother and we walked slowly together back to where the tents were pitched. My father and an uncle greeted me warmly.
"Where is es-Sitt?" I asked, surprised that she had not shown herself, even within the tent.
My father shrugged. "She helps your mother to fetch the water."
I had to wait until nearly sunset before two veiled women approached, driving a pair of donkeys laden with waterskins. They were both shabbily dressed and so covered with dust that I could not tell them apart until they entered the tent and Trudy came, lifted her veil and kissed me before going off to join my mother in the women's part of the tent.
We men ate together and my mother and Trudy talked with us from behind the curtain. I told all the news I had, but when I spoke of the Sultan's army coming to Jerusalem my father laughed.
"God grant that the Sultan may come soon and deliver us from these Franks, but he has not come yet."
"Not come yet?" I echoed in surprise.
"La," my older brother said. "I was in al-Quds this morning, selling the cheese, and there is no one there but the Franks only. The Sultan has not come. What you heard must have been a bazaar rumour."
"Ya Allah!" I exclaimed in disgust. "Then Hilmi, Babrak and Hamed will sleep tonight in the house of Sid Guy. Sitt Trudy, we are to meet them on the day after tomorrow at the Inn of the Good Samaritan. If you agree, we will take you to Gibran."
"Aieeee," my mother said. "She has become like my daughter and now you wish to take her away?"
"She should be in the household of her father," I told her. "She is es-Sitt; it is her place to order the household."
"Are there no men?" my mother demanded. "Whoever heard of a woman ordering a household."
"By God!" my father said, but he kept his voice low, "and does not a woman order this household with her much talking?"
There was much weeping from both Trudy and my mother when we set off in the morning of the third day, but as soon as we were out of sight of the tents Trudy threw back her veil and urged her donkey up beside my horse.
"I like your mother," she said, smiling at me. "And your father is a good man too. A bit gruff at times, mind you."
"He would die to defend you, Trudy," I said. "This is the custom of our people."
"Oh, I know that," Trudy said. "We were very careful not to let any strangers see our faces. I think your mother will be glad to remove her veil now that I am gone."
"There were strangers?" I demanded, turning towards her.
"Two or three every day," Trudy said. "Messengers from the Sultan, mostly."
I shivered. "Trudy, you must still cover your face if we meet anybody. Let it not be said that a Frankish woman came this way."
"Oh, I will, don't worry," Trudy grinned at me. "I have no wish to end up in Damascus."
We reached the Inn of the Good Samaritan before noon and waited there until Hilmi arrived.
"Where are the others?" I demanded of him.
"There is no danger," Hilmi said after he had greeted Trudy. "The Sultan has not come yet, but Balian of Ibelin has arrived and the people have persuaded him to become their commander."
"He is a good man," I said. "He knows how to fight."
Hilmi shook his head sadly. "Alas, he breaks his oath to the Sultan, for he was taken prisoner and obtained leave to come and see to his family, swearing that he would never bear arms against the Sultan again."
"He is forsworn?" Trudy gasped. "I can't believe it."
"It is true, ya Sitt," Hilmi said. "He admits it. The Patriarch has absolved him of his oath, but from what I have heard he is not satisfied. Some say that he will secretly yield to the Sultan at the first opportunity."
"And the Sultan, God prosper him?" I asked.
"I have news," Hilmi replied. "Joppa has been taken by al-Adil, the Sultan's brother, and Acre surrendered to the Sultan himself."
"Surrendered?" Trudy sounded stunned. "I can't believe it."
"Alas, Sitt," Hilmi looked grave, "they had not men enough to man the walls and where there is no hope of keeping the enemy out, it is only prudent to surrender."
"I wonder what has happened to the Emperor's brother?" Trudy said. "It was Acre, wasn't it, where he was held?"
Hilmi shrugged. "No doubt the Sultan, may God preserve him, will set him free and thus gain credit with the Rumi."
The next day there was even worse news, for a young Arab came asking for the house of Sir Guy d'Orleans and when we admitted him, he told us that he came from ash-Shams and bore a message from Karl, the German squire. None of us could read the German writing and we had to take the messenger and his writing to the bazaar and find a scribe who could read the message to us.
"It says this," the scribe told us after he had read the scrap of parchment. "A man named Karl, squire to Sir Guy d'Orleans, is captive in the house of one Tugluk Bey. He has agreed a ransom of one hundred and fifty dinars and asks that the money be given to the messenger who carries this and whose name is..."
"Wait!" Babrak commanded. He turned to the messenger. "What is your name?"
"I am Feisal ibn Amir az-Zarqawi, in the service of Tugluk Bey," he replied.
"Is that correct?" Babrak asked the scribe.
"It is correct," the scribe answered.
"Then come," Babrak said to Feisal. "We will arrange for this money to be given to you but it may take two or three days to fetch."
Feisal shrugged. "I am told to wait no more than a week."
"It will be ready before then," Babrak told him.
We conducted him back to the house of Sid Guy and Babrak took him down to our old room, for the rest of the house was filled with women and children from the countryside and the few men were gathered in that one room. When he came back his face was grave.
"What will we tell es-Sitt?" he asked.
"That one has come asking for a ransom for Karl," Hilmi replied.
"For Karl," Babrak said slowly. "But not for es-Sid."
"Perhaps he has news of es-Sid?" Hamed suggested.
"La." Babrak jerked his chin upwards. "I have asked."
"Then we should say nothing," Hilmi was definite. "Let her not know that one has come from ash-Shams."
"But if we do not tell her, how will we get the money?" Babrak asked. "It is one thing to take goods to the steward at Gibran; it is another thing to ask him to give us money. Surely he will want a writing from es-Sitt."
"Let me go," I said, remembering es-Sid's seal. "I will persuade him."
