“Then I’m a hostage,” Eleanor concluded practically.
But she was more than that. She was the cornerstone of an elaborate edifice of strategy the youth Saladin was erecting for the purpose of having it crash down on the head of the Crusaders. She was the key to the historical puzzle of their defeat at Damascus, and I was to be the keeper of the key.
The plan was as follows: The Crusaders would naturally attack from the east side of the city where the walls were not as formidable because they had already been breeched in previous wars and never properly repaired. Also, the east side faced the major trade route and there was a series of gates there which constituted weak spots in the fortifications of the citadel. These gates could be easily stormed—the sheer weight of numbers would do the job -- and once the Crusaders were inside, the fall of Damascus was assured. Saladin’s aim was to thwart this obvious strategy.
He planned to have the east wall guarded by only a token force. He would gamble on having the Crusaders almost succeed in their attack there. But at the last minute he aimed to distract them from their objective and turn them towards a different goal. The distraction was to be Eleanor of Aquitaine.
His idea was to stake her out on the desert some hundred yards from the north wall of the city. At the crucial moment in the battle she would appear at the top of a sand dune where she could be easily seen and she would scream for help. As soon as one of the chivalrous leaders of the Crusade saw her and started to go to her aid, she would be hustled back to the city and inside the north wall. Here she would mount the parapet and be held in view of the Crusaders to urge them on to attack at this point.
The north wall was the strongest defensive point of the city. It was actually a double wall, a low wall on the outside with a much higher one just behind it. It was laced with towers and catwalks. It was possible for large numbers of defenders to be concentrated there at one time. In addition, a troop of crack horsemen would gallop from the western entrance to the city and attack the Crusaders from the rear as soon as they concentrated their forces on the north wall. In this way, Saladin hoped to turn defeat into victory.
There were many things he had to do if he was to succeed. It was midnight now and the Crusaders would attack at dawn. In the intervening hours Saladin had to convince the Emir of the worth of his plan, get word to King Louis that Eleanor was being held hostage, arrange for the proper distribution of forces and make sure that the men in charge of the various operations understood the timing involved. While he was doing all this, I was to remain behind the dune he’d selected near the north wall and guard Eleanor. In the morning’s fray, at the proper moment, a signal would be given from a designated turret and I was to take Eleanor to the top of the dune so the Crusaders would be sure to see her. Then I was to bolt for the north wall with her. If I didn’t respond to the signal, Saladin assured me, crack bowmen with drawn arrows would immediately let loose and kill both of us.
Why was I to guard Eleanor rather than some professional soldier or guardsman who might seem more qualified for the job? Because—as Saladin thought-—I was a eunuch! He knew the lady and his logic was simple. Any “normal” man, no matter how loyal a warrior, might fall prey to her charms if she chose to exercise them. Only a eunuch would be impervious.
So I spent the night guarding Eleanor of Aquitaine. She slept and I considered my plight. I could run away. But where would I go? I might try returning her to the Crusaders, but I wasn’t sure whether she’d appreciate that. On the contrary, she might resent it so strongly as to persuade her liege to punish me. And if I simply ran off by myself there was no place to go except the desert where I might easily get lost and die of thirst. I decided to simply stay put and wait for whatever dawn might bring.
It brought the anticipated attack on the east wall. As was also anticipated, the Crusaders came within a hairs-breadth of overwhelming the defenders there. It was at this point that I received the signal from the turret. Remembering Saladin’s warning about the bowmen zeroed in on us, I hurried to pull Eleanor to the top of the sand dune.
Twisting her arm behind her back, I forced her to stand erect there. “Scream,” I instructed her.
“Why should I?”
It was a good question. I answered it by pinching her plump derrière as hard as I was able. Eleanor screamed.
A second scream caused one of the attacking knights to rear up on his steed and point in our direction. A moment later a troop of cavaliers had swerved from their objective to start towards us. They broke ranks to allow an elaborately plumed knight to head the column. This, I guessed, would be King Louis himself.
They were thundering towards us now. I grabbed Eleanor’s arms and we ran for the gate to the city. I didn’t have to urge her to hurry because behind us a barrage of spears launched from the city walls was falling like a thick blanket covering the horsemen.
Once inside the wall, the gate was slammed shut and barricaded behind us. Eleanor and I climbed to a catwalk running between two turrets on the lower, outer wall. Saladin awaited us here. A sort of alcove provided by the back wall shielded us from the flying missiles while still revealing us to the view of the attackers. Saladin was making sure that Eleanor would be plainly seen and so encourage the Crusaders to attack at this point. He left her in my custody while he checked on how the battle was progressing.
So far it was going according to plan. The pressure on the east wall had been relieved. The attackers there were withdrawing to lend their weight to the force led by King Louis, the legions storming the area before us. Chivalry had cost them an easy victory and now they faced a strong, prepared, entrenched defense.
Bowmen lined the lower wall, firing in unison at the exposed flank of the attackers. Behind them, catapults had been set up and huge boulders and bunches of spears were being fired at the Crusaders in the rear, the reinforcements attempting to regroup and come to the aid of their fellows. Above us, on the high wall, cauldrons of boiling oil were being poured over the vanguard of the attackers, sending them into a screaming retreat before they could raise their ladders against the wall. On their other flanks, the Emir’s cavalry was just swooping down to the attack. Bravely, by the sheer example of his courage, King Louis managed to regroup the vanguard of his forces again and again to lead them to the foot of the wall only to be driven back by the savage defense.
The battle raged for a long time. Its ferocity terrified Eleanor. She clung to me as if only human contact—even if just with a despised eunuch—-would allay her fear. I was pretty afraid myself. I clung back.
Pressed together tightly, we huddled in the small alcove as the deadly missiles flew thickly about us. Eleanor wasn’t wearing anything under her blue velvet gown. Her trembling body was ablaze as if in the midst of all the death and destruction around us the life urge flared to its most fiery pitch; the answer to devastation and war, it seemed to silently scream, could only be sex. Her breasts were hard against my chest, her thighs quivering and slightly parted, her lips hot and moist, buried at the juncture of my neck and shoulder.
I responded automatically. As she felt the growing response, she lifted her head and looked into my eyes. Her own eyes widened. “You’re not a eun—-” she started to say. I kissed her to seal her lips.
It all happened very quickly after that. It was mindless response, instinctive, unplanned. The bodice of her gown was cut low. Standing in the alcove, with my body shielding her, I reached into it and withdrew the ripe fruit of her breasts, holding them in my hands like large, burning coals, bending to press my lips to their hard, trembling tips.
One of her hands clutched the turban I was wearing, urging my lips to even more intense contact. Her other hand dropped to her side, gathering the folds of her gown there, pulling it up over her shapely legs. She was grinding her body against mine, seeking to encompass the staff testifying that I had never been gelded.