‘Easy there!’ It was Al-Mashtub. He had pulled Yusuf back behind the line of mamluks. Behind him, the ram was rolling, picking up speed.
‘Fall back!’ Yusuf shouted. ‘Fall back!’
The ram rolled inside the gate, and Yusuf and his men began to retreat, moving backwards in step. They reached the gate and spread across the opening in a double line. Only twenty mamluks remained now, facing over a hundred Franks, with more arriving all the time. A horn began to sound, and Yusuf heard the rumble of hooves over the sound of battle. That would be the Frankish knights charging for the gate.
‘Close it!’ he shouted. ‘Close it!’
As the mamluks began to push the gates closed, Yusuf’s men fell back. The space between the two doors was small enough now that it could be defended by only three men: Yusuf, Al-Mashtub and Saqr. ‘Close the gate!’ Yusuf repeated as he fought desperately. But try as his men might, they could not force the gate closed against the press of Franks. As more and more Christians joined the attack, the doors of the gate began to swing wider. Now there were six men standing alongside Yusuf. And the thunder of hooves was louder. The knights were close.
Yusuf looked to Al-Mashtub. ‘The sand.’ Al-Mashtub nodded and left the line. Yusuf raised his voice. ‘Follow me, men. One last push!’
He led his men forward. They pushed the Franks back a few feet before their charge stalled. Beyond the heads of the enemy foot-soldiers, Yusuf could see the standards of the approaching knights.
‘Retreat!’ he shouted. ‘Inside the gate!’
His men rushed back inside. Yusuf was close behind. With a roar the Franks charged after them. But their cries of triumph turned into screams of agony as a shower of red-hot sand poured down from above. Some Franks fell to the ground, clawing at their armour, which trapped the burning grains of sand against their skin. Others ran screaming. Yusuf’s men were able to push the gate closed, and the first crossbar dropped into place with a loud thump. The second followed a moment later.
Yusuf ran up the ramp to the top of the wall. The battle was still raging. Thousands of Franks swarmed the length of the walls, but his men were holding. He joined the fight and soon lost track of the number of ladders he toppled, of the number of men he killed. And all the time, Saqr stayed by his side, silent but ruthlessly efficient. Finally, as the sun began to set, a horn in the enemy camp sounded three short blasts. The attack slackened. The three blasts repeated and soon the Franks were in full retreat, carrying their wounded with them.
Yusuf slumped against the battlement. Al-Mashtub came striding along the wall towards him. ‘You crazy bastard. I thought you were dead for sure when we went to seize the ram.’
‘I would have been, if not for Saqr.’ Yusuf looked to the young mamluk, who was still at his side. ‘You saved my life.’
‘I only did my duty, Emir.’
‘You did well. I need a new commander for my private guard. You shall lead my khaskiya.’
‘Shukran, Emir.’
Al-Mashtub spat towards the retreating Franks. ‘May you rot in hell!’ Then he grinned. ‘Look! Three men under a flag of truce. They wish to parley.’
‘Let us hope they seek peace,’ Yusuf said. The excitement of the battle was fading and the gnawing hunger in his gut had returned. ‘Have a list of our dead drawn up, Al-Mashtub. And have the wounded taken to the hospital. Saqr, you come with me. We shall meet with our enemy.’
John had stopped just beyond the edge of the Christian camp, behind Shawar and King Amalric. In the gathering dusk, he could just make out the southern gate of Alexandria. The gate opened enough to allow two figures to emerge.
‘Here they come,’ Shawar said.
‘I understand their commander’s name is Saladin,’ Amalric said. ‘What do you know of him, John?’
‘I have never heard the name.’
‘I am surprised at that,’ Shawar said. ‘He is Shirkuh’s most trusted adviser.’
John shrugged. The two men had stopped halfway between the Christian camp and the wall.
‘Come,’ Amalric said. ‘Let us meet him.’
As John approached, he saw that one of the two men was leaning on the other. John got the impression that he would have collapsed without the support. Having stopped only a few feet away, it still took John a moment to recognize the man as Yusuf. He looked terrible. His cheeks were sunken, and there were dark circles under his eyes. His mail hung loosely from his thin frame.
Amalric spoke first. ‘Greetings, Saladin. Peace be upon you.’
‘And upon you, King Amalric,’ Yusuf replied in flawless French. ‘I am honoured to meet you.’
Amalric tugged at his beard. ‘You speak our tongue well.’
‘Thank you, Your Majesty.’ Yusuf’s expression hardened as he turned to Shawar. ‘As-salaamu ‘alaykum, Vizier.’
‘A pleasure to see you again as well, Saladin,’ the Egyptian replied in Arabic.
As Yusuf turned to face John, his eyes widened and the blood drained from his cheeks. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came.
‘Are you well, Emir?’ Amalric asked.
Yusuf pulled away from the young man supporting him. He stepped to John and embraced him. There were tears in his eyes as he kissed John on both cheeks. ‘I cannot believe it! I saw you struck down. I thought you dead, John.’
‘And I thought you were someone else: Saladin, righteous in faith.’
‘Nur ad-Din gave me the name after the battle at Butaiha.’
Amalric’s forehead was creased. He had not been able to follow any of this. ‘You know this man, John?’
‘Saladin was called Yusuf ibn Ayub when I knew him. He was my lord amongst the Saracens.’
‘Indeed?’ Amalric’s eyebrows rose. ‘The two of you must speak, later. Now, we have important matters to discuss.’ He looked to Yusuf. ‘The siege is over.’
‘I will not surrender,’ Yusuf replied.
‘You have no choice in the matter. Shirkuh has negotiated a truce.’
Yusuf looked to John. ‘Is this true?’
John nodded. He produced the treaty from a pouch at his waist and handed it to Yusuf.
Yusuf frowned as he read. ‘Both Shirkuh and Amalric will withdraw from Egypt,’ he murmured. ‘It will be left to Shawar. Why would Shirkuh agree to such a thing?’
Shawar smiled. ‘Your uncle is not entirely unreasonable. I will pay him fifty thousand dinars.’
‘You will pay the Franks too,’ Yusuf said as he continued to scan the treaty. ‘And they will be allowed to garrison troops in Cairo.’
‘They are my allies,’ Shawar said. ‘That is why the treaty favours them.’
‘You and your uncle will be given free passage to Damascus,’ John said. ‘That is what matters.’
‘And the people of Alexandria?’ Yusuf asked. ‘I have sworn to protect them.’
Shawar scowled. ‘They must be punished for their treachery.’
‘Then this meeting is at an end. I will not surrender the city if it means their slaughter.’
‘But your uncle has already signed the treaty,’ Shawar protested.
Yusuf straightened and looked down his nose at the vizier. ‘I have a duty to Allah greater than my duty to my uncle. I will fight if I must.’
‘Saladin is right,’ Amalric said. ‘The people must be spared.’
Shawar’s brow creased. ‘But-’
‘It is a small enough thing to bring this war to an end,’ Amalric told him. ‘There will be no reprisals, Shawar. Swear it.’
‘Very well,’ the vizier muttered.
‘What good is his word?’ Yusuf demanded.
‘It will have to be good enough,’ Amalric replied. ‘Or you can continue to defend the city, and the people will starve. It is your choice.’
‘I will honour the treaty,’ Yusuf said reluctantly.
‘There is one more provision,’ Amalric said. ‘As part of the agreement, we will take a hostage. He will stay with us until Shirkuh’s army has left Egypt. Your uncle suggested that you send your brother, Selim.’