What I had witnessed as a boy, I saw again now, and a more terrible harvest could not be imagined. Even from the safe distance of the hilltop, I could see the fearsome gleam of the awful Arab swords as they slashed and slashed and slashed again, like fearful hail falling from on high to pound Bohemond's army into the ground, never to rise again.
Remorse, futility, and anger struggled within me; I did not want to see the final slaughter. 'Come,' I said, wheeling my horse and moving back up the slope.
As I turned from the sight, I caught the glint of gold on the edge of my vision, looked, and saw Bohemond's golden banner gleaming in the hard midday light. And then it was gone. It simply vanished -a fragile light swallowed by the dark-turbaned sea raging all around it. There was but a momentary ripple in the tide, the treacherous flood eddied and swirled, overcame, and then flowed swiftly on.
But wait, suddenly the banner appeared again, streaking across the plain-in the hands of a Seljuq warrior, this time. The enemy rider sped away with the prize, waving it on high, and screaming like the very devil. We could hear him from the hilltop; and long after, his shouts still echoed in my ears.
As we left the killing ground behind us, I raised my eyes towards heaven and prayed for the souls of those poor ignorant soldiers led blindly to the slaughter by the unfettered ambition of their overweening lord. I asked the Great Judge not to hold the stupidity and greed of their leaders against them. 'Demonstrate your immeasurable mercy, Blessed Redeemer,' I prayed, 'and give these unfortunates places in Paradise-if not in Heaven's highest halls, then in the surrounding tents at least.'
We left the battlefield behind and, after a short ride, halted to decide what to do. It seemed to me that our best passage lay on the far side of the dry river, well away from the battlefield. It would take us far out of our way, but keep us well out of sight. Once beyond the battleground, we could rejoin the road and continue on. Padraig and Yordanus agreed.
'There are goat tracks all through these hills,' Yordanus said. 'If we keep the river between us and the valley, we will soon be well away from the fighting.'
Accordingly, I chose a goat track that ran along the back side of the hill, out of sight of the conflict, and led the way; Sydoni came next, then Yordanus, and Padraig last, leading the pack horse. We followed the path a goodly way; when it branched off, I took the new one, always keeping the line of shielding hills to my right.
At one point, the track descended towards the dry riverbed, turning in its descent and passing between two broad outcroppings of broken stone. Much rock had fallen onto the narrow trail from the steep banks on either side, thus making the pass very difficult. It took us some time to pick our way through the jagged stones, and when at last we emerged out onto the dry bed of the river, we paused for a short rest and a drink.
We dismounted in the shade of the overhanging rocks, and Padraig fetched a waterskin from the pack horse, and we passed it among us, each taking a mouthful or two. It was cooler in the shade, and it was a shame to move on, but we had a long way to go to rejoin the road, and wanted to be well away from the battlefield by nightfall.
So, we climbed into our saddles and moved on. The dry stream bed was flat and wide, and sufficiently low to allow us to ride without being seen from the hills where the battle was taking place. I pointed this out to Yordanus, who also thought this would be an easier way to go – at least for a short distance-for, although rocky along the slopes leading to the banks rising steep on either side, at its narrowest the bed was fine sand and still wide enough for two to ride abreast. Sydoni came up beside me as we rode along, and we soon fell into conversation.
We talked about trifling things, nothing of any significance or substance. I think she just wanted to put the massacre out of her mind, and I was happy to oblige. Truth be told, I enjoyed Sydoni's company; on those few occasions she chose to share it with me, I soon found myself profoundly engrossed. Sydoni's way of expressing herself was unique and, I thought, refreshing. I decided it was her Coptic blood, and her upbringing in Damascus among Muhammedans that made her unlike anyone I had ever known.
Be that as it may, I was paying more attention to her than to the track ahead. 'Peacocks are my favourite,' she was saying, 'especially when they fly. Their tails are so long and graceful. People eat them in Damascus, but I think they are too beautiful. It would be like eating a sunset.'
'What do they taste like?' I asked, glancing at her face. She hesitated, and I saw her eyes go wide. The words died on her tongue.
I looked where she was gazing and saw a party of Seljuq warriors appear around a bend a few hundred paces ahead. They saw us at the same moment.
There were six of them, each in a blood-red turban, black shirts and trousers, and short black cloaks. They were mounted on identical black Arabian steeds, and each carried a small round shield covered in white horse-hide and bearing a sharpened spike in the centre boss. The leader of the group had a single white plume atop his turban; he regarded us with bold severity for a moment, and I held my breath.
Merciful God, cover us with your mighty hand, I prayed.
Then turning to the two warriors on his left, he spoke a rapid command, extending his hand towards us as he did so, and my heart lurched in my breast.
'Fly!' I cried, jerking hard on the reins. The grey responded without so much as a quiver of hesitation, and we were away. The horses leapt into full, racing stride effortlessly and with such swiftness I muttered a heartfelt prayer of thanks to God that Nurmal traded in only the finest animals.
Padraig released the pack horse and led the way with Yordanus right behind; Sydoni and I were last, but only by the length of a tail. I slapped the reins across the noble grey's shoulders and let the horse run, feeling the powerful muscles bunch and flow beneath me as we fled back along the dry stream, the horse's hooves biting deep into the sandy path and flinging grit skyward.
In no time at all we reached the bend where the track descended down through the cutting between the steep rock outcroppings. I risked a look over my shoulder to see that we had gained ground on our pursuers. We would have to hurry to get everyone up, but once through the gap we would have a clear path and I doubted the Seljuqs would think it worthwhile to follow.
So, with a prayer on my lips, my heart thudding in my chest, I slowed the pace of the grey enough to allow Sydoni to go ahead. Padraig had already reached the cutting and disappeared up the path; Yordanus followed, holding to the saddle like a child as the horse leapt onto the trail. Sydoni's mount shied. 'Hi!' she shouted, and gave the reluctant animal a sharp kick in the flanks with her heels. The horse darted into the gap after the others.
Then it was my turn. The Seljuqs were almost on me. I slapped the reins hard and urged the animal forwards. The magnificent grey responded without a quiver of complaint, surging up through the cutting and onto the rock-strewn path. I saw Sydoni gain the track on the other side; she paused and looked back. 'Go! Go!' I shouted. Tm right behind you!'
She disappeared in a clatter of hooves and I saw clear light through the gap, and an empty trail ahead.
That was the last thing I saw. For the next thing I knew, earth and sky had changed places and the ground was rising up before my face. I was thrown clear of the horse and landed hard against the side of the bank, loose rock pelting down on me.