Decisions had to be made. The Grand Master, Odo de Saint Armand, who was now in Acre, had to be warned. Brothers of the Order had to be called in to reinforce both Jerusalem and Gaza. The king, that unfortunate leprous boy, and his court riddled with intrigue had to be warned. Messengers would have to ride off that very night at full speed in many directions.
Because momentous decisions are often easier to make than small, unimportant ones, the whole matter was soon settled. Weapons master Guy left the other two alone to take care of all the tasks that had to be accomplished before dawn.
Arnoldo de Torroja, Jerusalem’s Master, had remained seated at the table the whole time he was leading the discussion and issuing orders. But after the iron-clad door had closed behind the swiftly departing weapons master, he stood up with an effort and gestured to Arn to follow him. The two men then crossed the big, empty space of the Order Hall, heading for a side entrance that led out to an arcade with a view. They stood there a while with their hands propped on the stone railing, looking out over the darkened city and taking in the smells carried on the mild summer breeze: meat frying and spices, garbage and decay, perfumes, incense, and camel and horse droppings, all combined in the same sort of mixture that God had created of life itself: high and low, ugly and beautiful, delightful and loathsome.
“What would you have done, Arn? I mean if you were Saladin, if you’ll pardon the impudent comparison,” asked Arnoldo de Torroja at last.
“There’s nothing to apologize for; Saladin is a magnificent foe and we all know it, even you, Arnoldo,” replied Arn. “But I know what you’re thinking; both you and I would have done something altogether different in his place. We would have tried to draw the enemy into our area, extending the test of strength, harassing the enemy with constant small attacks by Turkish knights, disturbing his sleep, poisoning the fountains in his path—all the things that Saracens usually do. If we had the chance to defeat a large Christian army, then we would have seen a huge advantage before spring, when we would have moved on Jerusalem.”
“But Saladin, who knows how much we know of him and the way he usually thinks, will instead do something completely unexpected,” said Arnoldo. “He will purposely risk Homs or Hama because he has set his sights on a larger prize.”
“You have to admit that it’s both a bold and a logical plan,” Arn continued the thought.
“Yes, I have to admit that it is. But thanks to your…unusual measures, or whatever we should call them, may God have mercy on you, at least now we are prepared. It could mean the difference between keeping Jerusalem in our hands and losing it.”
“In that case I believe God does have mercy on me,” Arn muttered in annoyance. “Any chaplain could set about praising the Lord and say that the Lord had sent the enemy into my arms in order to save Jerusalem for us!”
Arnoldo de Torroja, who was not used to being reprimanded by subordinates, turned in surprise and gave his young friend a searching look. But the dim light in the arcade made it hard to interpret the other’s gaze.
“You’re my friend, Arn, but don’t abuse that friendship, for it could cost you someday,” he said peevishly. “Odo is the Grand Master now, but you may not have that protection forever.”
“If Odo falls you will probably be the next Grand Master, and you too are my friend,” said Arn as if commenting on the weather.
This made Arnoldo completely lose all intention of showing stern leadership and instead he burst out laughing. If anyone had seen them, such behavior would have seemed extremely out of place at this difficult hour, both for the Knights Templar and for Jerusalem.
“You have been with us a long time, Arn, since you were very young, and you are like one of us in everything but your speech. Sometimes, my friend, one might think you were speaking with audacious candor. Is everyone of your Nordic race like this, or is it merely that we haven’t whipped the rascal out of your body yet?”
“My body has been well whipped, don’t worry about that, Arnoldo,” said Arn in the same unconcerned tone of voice. “It’s true that up there in the North, in what was once my home, we might speak with less fuss and fawning than do some Franks. But a Templar knight’s words must always be compared with his actions.”
“Still the same impudence, the same lack of respect for your superiors. And yet you’re my friend, Arn. But watch your tongue.”
“Right now it’s more my head that is at stake. Down there in Gaza we’ll be taking the first blow when Saladin arrives. How many knights can you spare me?”
“Forty. I’ll put forty new knights under your command.”
“Then we’ll be eighty knights and fewer than three hundred sergeants against an army that I suspect will be no less than five thousand Egyptian cavalry. I hope you’ll leave it to my judgment as to how to confront such an army. I wouldn’t care to receive an order to meet them out on the open field lance to lance.”
“Are you afraid to die for a holy cause?” Arnoldo de Torroja wondered, with clear irritation in his voice.
“Don’t be childish, Arnoldo,” Arn replied. “I find it almost blasphemous to fall in battle for nothing. We’ve seen far too much of that here in Outremer; new recruits who want to go straight to Paradise, causing the rest of us unnecessary losses and benefiting the enemy. In my opinion such stupidity should not be rewarded with the forgiveness of any sins, because such behavior is itself a sin.”
“So you think that the Templar knight who knocks on the gates of Paradise, out of breath after having rushed into death, might have an unpleasant surprise awaiting him?”
“Yes, but I wouldn’t say that to any brothers except my closest friends.”
“I would agree with that wholeheartedly. Nevertheless, attend to your command in accordance with whatever situations arise and your own best judgment. That is my only order to you.”
“Thank you, Arnoldo, my friend. I swear I will do my best.”
“I don’t doubt that, Arn, I certainly don’t. And I’m glad that you were the one to be given the new command in Gaza now that the first battle of the war will take place there. We actually had not intended to put you there in such a high position; many men can handle a high position, but you are much too valuable in the field to sit and manage a fortress all day long.”
“But?”
“But that is how things have turned out. Odo de Saint Armand is holding a protective hand over you; I think he wants you to move up in the ranks. I’m holding my hand over you too, for what it’s worth. But God was apparently standing by us. Against all rhyme and reason it was you, our Turcopole, who won the position, even though it meant a poor allocation of fighting forces.”
“And now it turns out that the enemy is coming to Gaza, of all places.”
“Precisely. God has a plan for everything. May He now stand by you and all your men when the storm comes. When are you leaving?”
“At dawn. We have much to build in Gaza, and very little time.”
The city of Gaza and its fortress represented the southernmost outpost of the Knights Templar in Outremer. Since the fortress was built, the city had never been besieged, and the armies that had passed by had always been their own, coming from the north on their way to war in Egypt. But now the roles would be reversed; the enemy was not going to be attacked, but would instead attack them. It could be regarded as a sign of the times, a warning that from now on the Christians would have to pay more attention to defense than to offense. They now had an enemy whom they had greater reason to fear than all the men who had come before—men like Zenki and Nur al-Din. But none of these Saracen leaders could measure up to the man who had now assumed leadership: Saladin.