He arrived to find Baldwin in a meeting with Reynald, Agnes and Amalric de Lusignan. The king sat huddled by the fire while the three others stood around him. They were discussing possible husbands for Sibylla. John took up a position in the corner and waited for an opportunity to present his news.
‘Guy de Lusignan,’ Agnes said emphatically.
Baldwin frowned. ‘No, Mother. For the hundredth time, no. I do not pretend to think I will live to an old age. After I die, the man who marries Sibylla will be king of Jerusalem until my sister’s son comes of age. He should be a great lord.’ Baldwin glanced at Amalric, who was Guy’s brother. ‘Guy is a nobody. And he is a Frenchman, new to our lands.’
‘That is why he is perfect,’ Agnes replied. ‘He can bring the support of the French king and also of Henry II of England, who is his lord.’
‘Henry chased him from his lands, Mother. That is why he is in Jerusalem.’
‘Sire!’ Amalric protested. ‘We left France to fight for Christ in-’
Baldwin held up a hand. ‘Save your talk for my mother’s bed, Amalric.’
‘How dare you!’ She raised her hand to slap him.
Baldwin caught her wrist. ‘I am the King, Mother. How dare you?’
They locked gazes.
John cleared his throat. ‘Excuse me, sire. I have important news.’
Baldwin waved him forward. ‘Speak.’
‘Saladin is on the march from Cairo. He will reach Ascalon in a matter of days.’
Agnes paled. ‘All our men are in the north. We must recall them.’
‘There is no time,’ Baldwin said. ‘By the time the army returns, Saladin will have taken Jerusalem.’
Agnes looked to Reynald. ‘Why did you insist on supporting Philip? You have doomed us all.’
Reynald flushed red. He turned to John. ‘How many men does Saladin have?’
‘As many as thirty thousand,’ John replied.
‘We cannot defeat such a number.’ Reynald swallowed. ‘The court should withdraw to Acre.’
‘And let Saladin take Jerusalem?’ Baldwin asked. ‘No. Saladin will have to take Gaza and Ascalon on his way north. Ascalon is strong. If we can stop him there, then we can save Jerusalem.’ Baldwin looked to Reynald. ‘How many men can we gather?’
‘Perhaps eight thousand sergeants, but most of our knights went north with Philip. There are no more than five hundred available.’
‘Have the constable assemble them as quickly as possible.’
‘Humphrey is gravely ill, sire,’ John said.
‘Then you do it.’
‘But sire!’ Reynald protested. ‘I am your regent. It is my duty to command your army, and I must insist that we withdraw to the north. Riding to confront Saladin is mad. If we fail to reach Ascalon before him, then we will have to face him in the field. He will outnumber us nearly three to one. We will be slaughtered.’
‘Then we shall have to reach Ascalon first.’
‘No. I insist that we-’
‘Reynald!’ Agnes’s sharp voice cut the regent short. ‘We have followed your advice and look where that has led us. We will do as the King says.’
Baldwin turned to John. ‘Send out the call for men. We leave tomorrow.’
Chapter 24
NOVEMBER 1177: THE ROAD TO ASCALON
A crow’s harsh cry carried from the branches of a dead tree, startling John awake. He had nodded off in the saddle, lulled to sleep by the even gait of his mount. The army had left Jerusalem the day before. They had reached the coast and ridden south late into the night until Baldwin finally allowed the men a few hours of sleep. The march had resumed early, when the birds were still sleeping and the only sounds were the jangle of tack and the crash of the surf. Now it was getting light and the crows were waking. They were the inevitable companions of every army. They picked over the scraps of food the army left behind during its march. After the battle they would feast upon the bodies of the dead. John watched as one of the infantrymen scooped up a pebble and threw it at the crow in the dead tree, sending the bird flying off, cawing in protest.
John shivered as a chill wind blew off the sea. The long column marched along the coast under low, scudding clouds. At their head the Patriarch of Jerusalem and the knights of the Holy Sepulchre carried the True Cross: a small fragment of the original, embedded in a huge cross of gold. Just behind the cross rode John, Baldwin, Reynald and the other great lords, followed by nearly four hundred knights. Eight thousand sergeants brought up the rear. It was a sizeable force, but less than half as large as Yusuf’s army.
Baldwin slowed his mount to draw alongside John. The king wore mail under a white surcoat adorned with the Jerusalem cross: a single large cross of gold with four smaller crosses around it. Despite the weight of his armour, he rode straight-backed. His helmet had a long nosepiece and wide cheek pieces, which together hid most of the sores on his face. He looked nothing like the sickly man who had spent most of the past year huddled before the fire in his chamber.
‘That armour suits you better than priestly robes, John,’ he said.
John had set aside his alb, chasuble and stole for mail and a surcoat. Instead of the cross around his neck, he wore a sword at his side. It was normally forbidden for priests to shed blood, but under the circumstances no one had protested. The Kingdom needed every soldier it could find.
Baldwin spoke again in a lower voice. ‘I do not trust Reynald. Keep an eye on him for me. If he so much as takes a piss, I want to know the colour.’
‘He will not welcome my presence, sire.’
‘Tell him you are there on my orders. Say that I feel he needs a spiritual adviser, and that I have chosen you.’
‘Very well.’
John rode ahead to join Reynald. The regent had been talking with Odo Saint Amand, the bull-necked grand master of the Templars. The two fell silent at John’s approach.
‘What do you want, Saxon?’ Reynald demanded.
‘Baldwin has asked me to ride with you. I am to be your spiritual adviser.’
Reynald snorted. ‘Tell Baldwin he can-’
‘Good day, Reynald,’ Baldwin said as he joined them. The regent flushed red. ‘Tell me,’ the king continued, ‘will we reach Ascalon soon?’
‘This afternoon, sire. But if Saladin has arrived first, we are dead men. Perhaps it would be best to stop some distance off and send scouts ahead.’
‘We do not have time to be cautious. We will ride on and pray to God that we reach Ascalon first.’
‘I have no talent for prayer,’ Reynald muttered.
‘That is why I have instructed John to remain by your side every waking moment. He is a priest. He shall pray for you.’
They rode on as the afternoon sun burned off the clouds and the gulls began to circle overhead, filling the air with their harsh cries. Finally they saw Ascalon, at first only a smudge on the distant horizon. It was an ancient city, already great when the Romans conquered it. It was said to be the place where Delilah had cut off Samson’s hair. Now it was a fortress town, its thick walls protecting the frontier with Egypt. As the city grew closer John began to make out some details: walls dotted at regular intervals with square towers; tall buildings of white stone; a church fronted with twin, massive towers. He squinted. The cross still flew above the city gates.
Baldwin grinned. ‘God is with us! We have arrived in time!’
‘You may have spoken too soon, sire,’ John said. He pointed beyond the city to the horizon, where a tall cloud of dust was rising. ‘Saladin’s army.’
‘There is still time to retreat,’ Reynald said.
Baldwin shook his head. ‘We must reach the city first.’ He raised his voice. ‘Forward, men! As fast as your legs can carry you!’ He urged his mount to a trot. The knights followed, and the sergeants jogged to keep up.