‘For Allah! Allah! Allah!’ his men shouted back. They fell silent as shields went up. Yusuf turned to see that the Franks had stopped two hundred yards from the wall. Their archers loosed a cloud of arrows, which fell hissing towards the walls. Yusuf raised his shield and crouched behind the battlement just before the arrows began to rain down. Most shattered against the wall or flew over, but Yusuf heard cries of agony as a few struck home. Beside him, Al-Mashtub grunted in pain. Yusuf looked to see an arrow protruding from the mamluk’s left shoulder.
‘Save your speech, sayyid,’ Al-Mashtub said before Yusuf even opened his mouth. The mamluk grabbed the arrow shaft and snapped it in half. ‘I am not going anywhere.’
His last words were drowned out by another roar from the Franks. The foot-soldiers were rushing forward again. They carried ladders — four men to a side — with their shields held up for protection.
‘Archers!’ Yusuf yelled as he rose, now heedless of the arrows falling around him. ‘Archers!’ he cried again, pulling the man next to him to his feet. ‘Let fly!’ Yusuf took his own bow from his shoulder and nocked an arrow. He picked a target: one of the front men carrying a ladder. Yusuf held his breath and let fly. His arrow struck the man in the groin, just below his shield. The man fell and those behind tripped over him and dropped the ladder. They had only just picked it up when Yusuf shot again, dropping another Frank.
But most of the Franks were making it to the wall. Only a dozen yards to Yusuf’s right, four Franks raised a ladder while another four spread out, firing crossbow bolts up at the defenders. The ladder made contact with the wall and a mamluk began to push it off, only to receive a crossbow bolt in the throat. Below, two men held the ladder while two more Frankish soldiers began to climb. The first carried a shield before him. The second came close behind, holding a spear. As they neared the top of the ladder, another mamluk tried to push the ladder away, but the man with the spear picked him off the wall.
‘Use the rope!’ Yusuf shouted as he shouldered his bow and ran to the ladder. He picked up a coil of rope that had been placed there for just this purpose, and looped it around the end of the ladder. He began to walk along the wall, dragging the top of the ladder sideways. The ladder tilted and then fell back. The Franks screamed as they hit the earth.
All along the wall, ladders were going up and being dragged down. Yusuf’s mamluks shot arrows into the Franks below, while the Alexandrians hurled stones down on them. But there were too few defenders to hold off all the Franks. On the far side of the southern gate a Frank forced his way on to the wall and began to lay about with his sword, scattering Alexandrians. He was joined by another, then another. Soon half a dozen Christians were clustered atop the wall.
‘Al-Mashtub! Follow me!’ Without waiting for a reply, Yusuf drew his sword and sprinted towards the Franks. The wall was wide enough for four men to face Yusuf at once. They levelled their spears at his chest. At the last second, Yusuf dropped his sword and hurled himself forward on the ground, rolling beneath the spears and taking out the legs of the four men. One of them tumbled off the inside of the wall, dying instantly as he landed headfirst on the cobblestones below. The others fell across Yusuf, who found himself on his back, pinned beneath them. One of the Franks, a fat man with a thick blond beard, drew a dagger and reared back to strike. He collapsed in a spray of blood as Al-Mashtub’s sword struck him in the neck. The huge mamluk impaled a second Frank and grabbed the third, hurling him from the wall. More mamluks rushed past to engage the remaining Christians. At close quarters, their swords were more effective than the Franks’ spears, and the mamluks quickly cut them down.
Al-Mashtub had just helped Yusuf to his feet when there was a loud boom. The wall shook beneath them. The Franks had rolled the battering ram up to the southern gate. Yusuf’s men hurled stones down on it, but they clattered off the peaked roof. A shower of burning naphtha followed the stones. The liquid engulfed the ram in flames for a moment, but the roof had been covered in wet hides. The fire burned out without catching. The ram slammed into the gate again, and Yusuf heard a loud crack as one of the three thick beams that barred the gate started to give way. The Franks manning the ram began to roll it back from the wall, so that they could build momentum before striking the gate again.
Yusuf turned to Al-Mashtub. ‘We must take the ram.’ He raised his voice to shout at the men at the gate, who were still hurling stones down on the ram. ‘Men! Follow me!’
Yusuf led ten men down the ramp to the base of the wall. Two-dozen mamluks were gathered before the gate with spears pointing, ready to meet the Frankish assault if the ram broke through. Yusuf noticed Saqr amongst them. ‘Open the gate,’ he told the men.
They did not move.
‘Are you mad?’ Al-Mashtub demanded. ‘We will be overrun!’
The ram hit the gate again. The top beam splintered in the middle. The two other beams holding the gate shut were sagging inward.
‘We must do something!’ Yusuf pointed to four of the men with spears. ‘You four. Prepare to open the gate.’ He selected another six men. ‘You will take the ram and roll it inside. The rest of us will hold off the Franks.’ Yusuf looked to the four men who were now standing with their shoulders braced against one of the beams barring the gate. ‘Now!’
The men strained as they lifted the heavy beam from its brackets. They dropped it to the side and put their shoulders to the next beam. Yusuf raised his sword. ‘Ready!’ he shouted as the men removed the second beam and pulled the doors of the gate inward. ‘For Islam!’ He charged through the opening.
The soldiers manning the ram had their heads down as they strained against the bars protruding from its side, struggling to push it towards the wall. Yusuf impaled one and slashed across the face of another before the rest realized what was happening. They fled, and the six men Yusuf had selected went to the bars. But before they had even begun to push, dozens of Franks came rushing towards them from either side.
‘Get the ram inside!’ Yusuf shouted. ‘Form a line, men! Stay together!’
The mamluks had just enough time to form a semicircle around the ram before the Franks struck. Yusuf sidestepped a spear thrust and plunged his sword into his enemy’s gut. A sword blade slashed towards his face. He knocked the blow aside with his shield and then brought the shield up to smash the attacker’s face. He spun away from another spear and lunged, dropping a fourth man. More Franks joined the attack, and they surged forward, pushing back the line of mamluks. Yusuf found himself separated from his men and surrounded by Franks on all sides. He ducked a slashing blow, but as he rose, a spear struck him in the back. The blow was turned aside by his mail, and Yusuf spun and slashed down, snapping the spear shaft in half. He impaled his attacker, but a moment later a sword rang off the back of his helmet. He staggered forward. Another Frankish foot-soldier was standing before him. The man grinned, and instinctively Yusuf stepped to the side. A spear thrust past him and impaled the grinning Frank. Yusuf spun and cut down the man with the spear.
Out of the corner of his eye, Yusuf saw a sword flashing towards his face. He ducked, but another blade was thrusting towards him. It was blocked at the last moment. Yusuf looked to see Saqr standing beside him. The young mamluk turned the sword aside and slashed across the leg of the Frank who held it. The man dropped to one knee, and Saqr drove his sword into his throat. He parried a spear, and Yusuf dispatched the attacker. Together, they fought their way back towards the line of mamluks. Saqr was quick as a snake, his sword darting through his enemies’ defences and leaving them crying in agony. Yusuf blocked and lunged, parried and countered again and again, but the ranks of Franks seemed endless. Then someone grabbed Yusuf’s shoulder and pulled him backwards. Yusuf spun, ready to strike.