‘Yes, sayyid.’
‘You did right to whip those men. Do not doubt yourself.’ Saqr nodded. Yusuf squeezed his shoulder, and continued along the wall.
Over the last week, there had been far too many scenes like the one in the tower. The autumn rains had not yet come, and with the canal blocked, water in the city was running short. Men were always troublesome during a long siege, but thirsty, starving men were worse. Yusuf studied the mamluks he passed. Their cheekbones protruded from emaciated faces. And each day they grew thinner. At this rate, they would soon be nothing but bones. His skeleton army.
‘My lord!’ Qaraqush called as Yusuf approached his tower. The formerly stout mamluk’s armour hung from his gaunt frame like clothes on a scarecrow. He forced a smile.
‘How are the men?’ Yusuf asked.
‘They gripe of hunger. Who can blame them?’
‘Can they fight?’
‘They can hold the wall for maybe two weeks more, but if you are thinking of mounting an attack, then we had best do so now.’
Yusuf shook his head. ‘We are too few.’
‘We could slip out at night, as Shirkuh did.’
‘And leave the people of Alexandria to suffer for our cowardice? No.’
‘So we stay here to starve.’
‘We stay, old friend.’
‘That’s it.’ Jalaal pointed across a field of rich black earth to a squat structure of dirty white stone, half covered in creeping vines. It looked like any of the other half-ruined buildings that stood near the city. It was perhaps two hundred yards from the south-west corner of the walls, not far from a single column that towered over the nearby fields.
John and Jalaal headed towards the building. They carried lamps, as did the sergeant who would be exploring the catacombs with them. Adenot was a Breton with a strange accent and large eyes that made him look perpetually surprised. He had a bit of a belly, and he looked to be a practical man. He had brought a coil of rope with him.
Jalaal reached the grain shed and kicked the door open. ‘In here!’
John followed the others inside. There was barely room for the three of them. On the far wall was an open doorway, no more than three feet tall. It looked as if it had been half buried. ‘The farmer said he never saw it,’ Jalaal explained, ‘because the shed was always at least half full with grain.’
John took a flint and steel from the pouch at his waist, lit the lamps, and then got down on his hands and knees to peer into the hole. The darkness swallowed up the lamplight after only a few feet. He glanced up at his companions. The Nubian was whispering a prayer, and Adenot was clutching the medallion of the Saint-Sepulchre that hung around his neck.
John crossed himself. ‘I will go first.’ Pushing the lantern before him, he wormed through the hole. The ceiling was low, and he was forced to crawl on his belly along the dirt floor. Ahead, the space illuminated by the lantern slanted downward, curving to the left. As John moved forward, the ceiling grew higher. Soon he was able to crouch and then stand. Beneath him, the dirt floor gave way to widely spaced steps cut into stone. He turned and called to the others. ‘The way is clear! There is a staircase leading down!’
John pulled his wool cloak about him as he waited. It was cold down here, the chill air wet with moisture. Soon, he could see the lamps of Adenot and Jalaal approaching in the darkness.
‘What is this place?’ Adenot asked, his eyes wide.
‘That is what we are here to discover,’ John replied, and led the way down. The stairs ended, and John edged forward through a stone passage and into a round chamber. On the far side of the room, a dark passage led further into the catacombs. Two other passages opened off to the left. John headed for the nearest one. It opened into an empty room. The next room was also empty, save for the bones that littered the floor and cracked underfoot. There was only one passage left to explore. The entrance was more elaborate than the others, topped by stonework carved in the shape of a scallop shell. A broad staircase led into the darkness. John headed down, his footsteps echoing loudly. The air smelled of rock and earth. The staircase split around a dark space and then came back together. At the bottom, he found himself in a small square room with a high ceiling. To either side, passages led into darkness. Before him, two thick columns framed a doorway. The walls on either side of the columns were decorated with dragons coiled around staffs.
When Jalaal arrived behind John, he gasped. ‘Signs of the devil.’
Adenot was gripping the hilt of his sword. ‘This is an evil place.’
‘There is nothing to fear from false idols carved in stone,’ John told Jalaal in Arabic. ‘Explore that side passage.’ When he had reluctantly shuffled off, John turned to Adenot and made the sign of the cross over him. ‘God will protect you. Now go. See what lies in that passage.’
John went to explore the doorway framed by columns. As he entered the room his lantern illuminated a pair of horrifying figures carved into the stone on his left and right. Each was a man in armour with the head of a dog. The one on the left had the tail of a snake instead of legs. John felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Perhaps Adenot was right. This was an evil place. He took another step into the room, and a human form loomed in the darkness ahead.
‘Christ!’ John cursed. He took a deep breath and edged forward again. His lamp illuminated a life-sized female figure carved from stone. To its right was a statue of a man. Beyond them was an empty room. He left and found Jalaal and Adenot waiting for him.
‘I found nothing,’ Jalaal said in Arabic.
‘Only bones that way,’ Adenot added in French. ‘You?’
‘Another dead end. Let’s leave this place.’ He looked to Jalaal. ‘Yalla.’
Adenot and the Nubian hurried up the stairs. John followed at a slower pace, but then stopped. A glimmer of light flashed in the darkness between the branches of the staircase. He held his lamp over the space and peered down. The lamplight reflected off water far below.
‘Wait!’ he called. ‘Adenot, give me the rope.’
John tied the rope off around one of the columns that held up the ceiling. He tugged hard to make sure it held and then threw it into the hole. He heard a splash as it hit water.
Jalaal was peering into the hole. ‘I am not going down there.’
John looked to Adenot. The sergeant shook his head.
‘Give me your sword,’ John told him. He belted the blade to his waist, took hold of the rope with both hands and positioned himself over the hole. ‘Wait for me,’ he told Adenot. He turned to Jalaal and spoke in Arabic. ‘If you are not here when I return, I will lay a curse on you, and you will spend the afterlife haunting this place.’
‘We will be here,’ Jalaal assured him.
‘God keep you, Father,’ Adenot added.
John climbed down the rope into the darkness. He reached the water and lowered himself in. ‘’Sblood, that’s cold.’ His feet touched the bottom. The frigid water came up to his waist. He looked up to Adenot and Jalaal, some fifteen feet above. ‘Pull up the rope,’ he instructed them, ‘then use it to lower my lantern.’
The lantern descended slowly, illuminating the space around John. He was in an octagonal room, the walls decorated with strange figures: a lion with the head of a man; human figures with the heads of dogs and crocodiles. There was only one passage from the room. John untied the lantern. ‘Wait for me!’ he shouted up one final time, then crossed himself and splashed from the room.
A passage opened up on his left and another on his right. John had no idea in which direction the city might lie. He whispered a silent prayer and continued straight ahead, emerging into a square room lined with rows of burial niches. He jumped as something bumped into his waist. It was a human femur, floating on the water. The lower niches in the room had been flooded, and bones floated all around. John whispered a silent prayer and pushed on.