John hung his head. The pain that he felt was nothing compared to the shame that flooded through him. He had failed. Perhaps this was God’s punishment for violating his oath, for killing his fellow Christians at Banyas. Or perhaps it meant that there was no God, only brute strength, and John was not strong enough. He felt cold steel pressed against his neck and looked up to see Reynald standing over him. ‘Do it,’ he whispered. ‘Finish me.’
‘That would be too good for you, dog,’ Reynald smirked. ‘Some day, you will burn for betraying your people and your faith, and I will be there to watch.’ He spat in John’s face, then kicked him in the chest, knocking him to the ground. John lay there unmoving, shuddering with each painful breath.
‘I cannot believe it.’ Yusuf stood in the stands, clenching the wooden barrier in front of him. Around him the crowd was silent as they watched Reynald walk to the middle of the ring and raise his arms in triumph. A mamluk hissed his disapproval, and soon the entire crowd was hissing. Across the ring, Nur ad-Din shook his head in disgust. Reynald just grinned.
‘I will wipe that grin off his face,’ Yusuf muttered. He stood on his bench, then vaulted over the barrier to land in the ring. ‘I challenge you,’ he called to Reynald.
The Frank turned to face him. ‘Challenge me?’ he snorted. ‘I have already won your tournament. I have beaten the best you have to offer.’
‘You have not beaten me.’
‘And why should I? I already have what I want. The slaves are mine now, to use as I please.’ He turned away and walked towards the exit of the ring.
‘You said a Frankish knight is worth ten Saracens, yet you have defeated only three,’ Yusuf called to him. ‘Are you afraid to fight one more?’
Reynald turned back to face him. He took Yusuf’s measure and then laughed. ‘I will fight you, runt,’ he said and raised his sword. ‘And you are the one who should be afraid.’
Yusuf smiled and turned to Nur ad-Din. ‘He will fight me!’ he shouted in Arabic. The crowd roared.
‘On one condition!’ Reynald shouted over the crowd. ‘If I win, then I go free.’
Yusuf translated the request for Nur ad-Din. There were shouts of protest and hisses from the crowd. Nur ad-Din raised his hand for silence. ‘And if you lose?’ he asked Reynald.
‘If I lose, then I will abide by your rules so long as I am your prisoner, and once I am ransomed, I swear that I will leave these lands. I will never fight the Saracens again.’
Nur ad-Din stroked his beard as he considered the proposal. Finally he nodded. ‘I accept.’ He turned to Yusuf. ‘If you lose, then you will pay his ransom; one hundred and twenty thousand dinars.’
‘I do not have half that sum,’ Yusuf protested.
‘Then you will return Tell Bashir to me.’
Yusuf looked to John, still slumped on the ground, then to Reynald, standing proud and defiant. He turned back to Nur ad-Din and bowed. ‘Yes, malik.’ Again, the crowd cheered.
Yusuf went to John and knelt beside him. ‘Come, let’s get you out of here.’ Yusuf took John’s arm and helped his friend to rise.
‘You crazy bastard,’ John croaked. ‘You don’t have to do this for me.’
‘I am not doing it for you. I do it for the slave girls in Reynald’s household. This tournament was my idea. I thought Reynald would be beaten easily. Those girls do not deserve to suffer for my mistake.’
They left the ring and entered the dim area under the stands, where Ibn Jumay was waiting to take John. The doctor helped him away, and servants came forth bearing armour for Yusuf. He stripped off his caftan and slipped on a leather jerkin and breeches, then pulled the heavy coat of chainmail over his head. He strapped on his helmet and was sliding his left arm through the straps of a small, circular shield when Shirkuh appeared, a scowl on his face.
‘Are you mad, nephew? If you lose, then you will have nothing.’
Yusuf met his eyes. ‘I will not lose.’
Shirkuh stared at him for a moment, then nodded. ‘Very well. But do not underestimate this man. He is a snake, and like a snake, he is dangerous.’ Shirkuh kissed Yusuf on the cheeks. ‘Allah protect you, young eagle. Do not fail.’
Yusuf re-entered the ring to the applause of the crowd. He crossed to where John’s sword lay and picked up the blade of dark, curved steel. Then he turned to face his opponent.
‘Come to avenge your Saxon lover, infidel?’ Reynald asked.
‘I have come to teach you a lesson, dog,’ Yusuf replied as he adopted a fighting stance — knees bent, legs wide, sword held at an angle before him.
Reynald raised his blade. ‘Come on then.’
‘Fight!’ Nur ad-Din called.
Yusuf sprang forward immediately, lunging at Reynald’s gut. The Frank moved to parry, and Yusuf changed direction, spinning to his left and slashing down so that he caught Reynald on the side of his knee. He finished his spin and stood facing Reynald.
‘Jesus!’ the Frank cursed, limping slightly as he backed away. He flexed his knee, his face tight with pain as he straightened it. ‘Infidel pig!’
‘That is your first lesson,’ Yusuf told him.
‘I’ll teach you something,’ Reynald roared and charged. Yusuf retreated, moving back until the last second, when he jumped to the side. Reynald crashed into the wall of the arena, the wood splintering in the middle. Yusuf slashed across his back, and Reynald roared in pain. He spun around, his eyes wide and nostrils flared.
‘That is your second lesson.’
Reynald growled and charged again, hacking down at Yusuf. Yusuf blocked with his shield, but the weight of the blow left his shield dented and his arm numb. He sidestepped the next blow and swung out, catching Reynald in the side of his helmet. The Frank stumbled back, his helmet dented and blood running down his face. Immediately, Yusuf went on the offensive, slashing at Reynald’s waist. Reynald managed to parry, but Yusuf reversed the blow and hit the Frank just under his left arm. Reynald cried out in pain and lowered his sword. Yusuf swung for his head to finish him. At the last second, Reynald raised his bare left arm and knocked the blow aside. Yusuf heard a crack as the Frank’s forearm broke. Grimacing in pain, Reynald swung up with his sword, catching Yusuf in the ribs and knocking him to the ground.
Yusuf looked up just in time to see Reynald’s sword arcing down towards him. Yusuf blocked with his shield, but felt something snap in his arm. Reynald swung down again, but this time his sword bit into the earth as Yusuf rolled out of the way. Yusuf sprang to his feet and ducked under an attack. He parried another strike, but the strength of the blow sent his sword flying from his hand. He raised his shield and backed away until he came up against the wall of the arena. The crowd had fallen silent; Yusuf could hear the snap of pennants atop the arena.
Reynald grinned and raised his sword. ‘Time to win my freedom.’ His eyes widened in surprise as Yusuf pushed off from the wall and charged. He ducked Reynald’s hurried blow and drove his shoulder into the Frank’s gut, knocking him backwards. Then Yusuf brought his shield up, wincing in pain as he smashed it into Reynald’s face. As the Frank stumbled back, Yusuf sprinted past and scooped up his sword. He turned to face his enemy.
Reynald stood unsteadily, his face a mask of blood. His left arm hung useless at his side. Yusuf’s own arm ached with pain, and his ribs burned. Nevertheless, he stood straight and forced himself to smile. One of the first lessons he had learned from John was to never show pain.
‘Have you had enough?’ he asked. ‘Or shall I teach you a final lesson?’
‘You dirty son of a whore,’ Reynald growled. He limped forward, swinging his sword backhanded at Yusuf’s head. Yusuf dodged away, slashing at Reynald’s back as he passed. Reynald spun around and came after him, but again Yusuf slipped away, scoring a stinging blow on Reynald’s sword arm.