He spoke quickly as he explained his order to Thomas who nodded gravely. They both knew this could turn into a bloodbath. None of de Chauvigny’s men were mounted which gave de Capo the advantage and he wondered at the arrogance of the man for failing to post pickets, ‘Now what are they doing?’ he muttered.
Both men watched mystified as a dozen of de Chauvigny’s men unstrapped a number of wooden poles from their pack horses, carried them to the middle of the gully and dropped them on the ground. What they were doing soon became apparent as they began to sharpen the ends of the poles.
‘Double pointed stakes,’ Thomas said uneasily, ‘he is going to spike the prisoners!’
‘The bastard wants to start a war,’ de Capo hissed angrily, ‘he came prepared….obviously his intention from the start!’
The two knights crawled backwards until they could stand without being silhouetted on top of the ridge and quickly made their way back down to their weary but battle hardened men. The orders were passed down both columns as de Capo and Thomas prepared themselves for a fight they hoped could be avoided. The men of the Imperial Order of Jerusalem were not known for their charity.
‘Remember,’ de Capo reminded Thomas as he led his column away, ‘one long blast, and then wait for my signal.’
Thomas nodded and led his men back the way they had come at a slow canter. De Capo prayed the noise would be hidden by the walls of the gully, although he suspected de Chauvigny and his men were too preoccupied with their sport to worry about being disturbed. Using hand signals he led his men up the slope and stopped short of the ridge as they spread out either side of him. He knew Thomas would not let him down but what he did not want to find when they rode into the gully was to find prisoners already being impaled. He waited patiently, glancing to left and right to ensure his men were ready; they all knew what was required of them. The waiting was always the worst, and the sound of the long horn blast came as a relief to him. He dug his heels in to his horse’s flanks and she bolted the short way to the top of the ridge where he pulled her to a halt, his men flanking him in extended line, staring at the unfolding saga below.
~
De Chauvigny, true to his word had ordered the young Mameluk warrior to be impaled first. If none of the others screamed or showed fear, he was sure this one would. Two of his men grabbed the young prisoner and dragged him towards the line of stakes. The Amir turned and watched in horror as the young man’s lower clothing was ripped from his body until he was semi naked. He was forced onto his back, his ankles bound and his legs pulled up towards his face with the rope wrapped around his neck. He struggled but still made no sound and the Amir, proud of the young man’s strength and courage muttered prayers for his soul. It took four knights to hold him down until he was trussed up with his anus exposed. A fifth knight picked up the first stake and walked towards him.
~
Impalement was a horror that even de Capo could not accept and he snarled angrily as he saw the first stake approach the stricken prisoner, ‘Enough of this!’ He kicked his horse hard and she leapt forward, scrabbling down the stony slope towards the bottom of the gully with his men following. The sound of a horn and the sudden and unexpected intrusion of armoured horsemen swooping down into the gully prevented the first impalement as de Chauvigny’s men turned and gaped. Such was their surprise they stood and stared, confused at the appearance of Christian knights.
De Capo’s men stopped twenty feet from the prisoner and watched with grim expressions while their horses snorted and rattled the iron fixings of their harnesses as they tried to shake off the flies that constantly irritated them. De Capo continued at a trot, reaching the Mameluk who had been released by the knights holding him down. He circled the young man, expanding the circle and pushing de Chauvigny’s men further and further back until he was satisfied there was no immediate danger to the prisoner. His mount stepped from side to side, clamping on her bit and blowing moisture from her nostrils as she felt the tension in her rider, a tension that normally preceded a charge into battle. He only half struggled to control her, knowing her skittishness was as threatening to these men as a sword being pointed in their faces. He needed every man standing to hear him and he spoke loudly, ‘You all know who I am.’ His mount snorted hard in frustration as her muscles trembled with expectation. ‘I have the Kings authority,’ he stated powerfully, ‘and any man who harms these prisoners will hang!’ He glanced back at one of his own men, ‘Edward, release this prisoner!’
As Edward dismounted and ran towards the half-naked Mameluk to cut the rope binding him, de Capo nudged his horse towards de Chauvigny who had watched open mouthed and speechless at the interference. De Capo’s own men continued to watch with impassive expressions and lances pointing to the sky, their horses nodding and shaking their heads in the heat.
Stopping a horse’s length from the Frenchman, de Capo stared at de Chauvigny for several seconds before asking ‘I trust you have a good explanation?’
Blades were half drawn and De Chauvigny raised a hand. The hollow sound as they were pushed back into their scabbards rang across the battle ground as de Chauvigny replied with a smirk, ‘I trust you have a good explanation for this disturbance?’
‘I owe you no explanation, ‘de Capo snapped back angrily, ‘you are breaking the treaty!’
De Chauvigny feigned surprise as he replied, ‘I don’t know of any treaty and nor do my men.’
‘Then you are a liar as well as a murderer!’
‘Do not push me Sir Ralf,’ de Chauvigny’s face turned dark and his eyes narrowed as he snarled, ‘this is my ground.’ He took a step towards de Capo and sneered as he looked up at him, ‘And you are outnumbered!’
De Capo expressed mock horror, ‘You threaten me when I have the Kings authority?’
‘I don’t make threats,’ de Chauvigny sneered as he spat in the dust in front of de Capo’s horse and wiped the remnants from his spittle covered lips, ‘I have no need to….now go back and hide behind your walls while real men destroy this pestilence in our land!’
De Capo half raised his left arm, the signal for his horn blower to sound two long notes. As the sound reverberated around the gulley de Chauvigny looked quizzically at de Capo. His unspoken question was quickly answered when Thomas appeared on the opposite ridge, his men appearing one by one in extended line either side of him. De Chauvigny’s men turned and glanced anxiously at each other.
‘I think, ‘said de Capo, we are now equal, and I choose to stay.’ Looking around at the prisoners he quickly counted the living and the dead, ‘Not odds you favour, one against one!’
Half drawing his sword as he took another step forward de Chauvigny allowed his anger to get the better of him, ‘If you think me a coward then we will settle this now!’
De Capo leaned forward and rested both hands on the pommel of his saddle, away from his sword, he was not scared to face de Chauvigny or any other man, but fighting him would cause more problems than it solved. There were no cowards in this land, only men who were stronger and better than other men. He smiled mockingly, ‘No one can accuse you of cowardice Reynaud, nor your men, but you do not have to be a coward to be stupid!’
The insult was a deliberate attempt by de Capo to force de Chauvigny to make a choice. If de Chauvigny drew his sword against de Capo his men would attack. The ensuing melee would shed Christian blood and cause repercussions for years to come. If he accepted the insult he would lose face, either way de Capo would win, he could not afford to do otherwise.
‘My Lord!’ Robert de Balon stepped through the ranks of angry looking knights and placed a hand on de Chauvigny’s arm, ‘My Lord,’ he spoke softly, ‘they have the advantage!’
De Chauvigny glared at his second in command, angry that he had almost lost control of his emotions. Nodding, he took a step back and forced a smile, despite the affront to his intelligence he was not stupid, ‘Your insults are pathetic,’ he said forcing his voice to remain calm and controlled, ‘and you
exceed your authority. These are my prisoners according to the rules of war and you have no right to interfere.’
De Capo looked at the men on their knees, their faces devoid of any emotion as they watched the standoff, and he knew they hated him as much as they hated de Chauvigny, ‘Then these men are bandits?’
‘And why, ‘De Chauvigny asked with a hint of mockery, ‘would they be bandits?’
It was a slaughter, and the headless bodies lay where they had been butchered, both before and after death. De Capo was no stranger to death, neither seeing it or causing it, but his orders were clear and he suppressed the triumph in his voice, ‘I didn’t think so,’ he said soberly, ‘which means they are the Sultans men; and I am commanded by the King…..’
‘The King?’ De Chauvigny callously interrupted, ‘Which King are we talking about, the boy in Bavaria or the boy in Cyprus? They couldn’t command my arse to shit!’
De Chauvigny’s men sniggered at the lack of respect reminding de Capo there were two claimants to the Kingdom of Jerusalem, both boys and both controlled by their relatives.
Ignoring the remark de Capo continued, ‘My orders have been passed to me by Sir Osmond le Vicomt on behalf of the Kings Constable stating no soldier of the Sultans army shall be molested, harmed or otherwise detained or the treaty becomes void.’
‘The only order I have is to kill our enemies,’ said de Chauvigny sarcastically, ‘and I told you, I know nothing about a treaty…..therefore this is a legal action, these are my prisoners and will be treated in the way I deem fit.’
De Capo sighed and gave de Chauvigny a pitiful look, his next words would be powerful and there would be no backing down. His orders were to prevent exactly what was happening and he would not fail in his duty, ‘You would do well to heed my words Reynaud,’ he said grimly, ‘these are now my prisoners and you will return to Acre and present yourself before the Constable and explain to him why you have attacked these men, if you do not you will be arrested; and you will be lucky if you do not hang!’
The Constable was William of Botron, commander of the army of the Kingdom of Jerusalem and the arbiter of Military Justice. He was second only to the Bailli, Geoffrey of Sargines who ruled the kingdom as regent on behalf of the boy King, Conrad V of the Holy Roman Empire. For any knight to be ordered to report to the Constable by another knight indicated the power held by the knight giving such an order.
‘Do not threaten me vous Bâtard,’ de Chauvigny hissed as he cursed in his native tongue. Breathing heavily he clenched his fists in an effort to control himself as he continued in the common language, ‘You have no idea who you are dealing with!’
De Capo remained impassive, he had no fear and had proven himself in battle on numerous occasions. Both men knew the strength and skill of the other and no man would be able to guess the outcome of a fight between the two of them. He spoke clearly, ensuring de Chauvigny’s men heard every word, ‘All your men are afoot Reynaud, and I too do not need to make threats, but I will cut them down like the murdering scum they are unless you give the order to return to Acre!’
The atmosphere was tense as the two knights stared at each other. The Frenchman’s face slowly contorting as his rage threatened to boil over. Once again it was his second in command, Robert de Balon who stepped in to prevent de Chauvigny escalating what could only result in their deaths. He moved close and whispered, ‘There is another way, but not here.’
The only sound was made by horses shaking their heads and snorting as they stood in the merciless sun waiting for a jab in the side to send them lurching forward into battle. De Capo knew the position de Chauvigny was in had to be reinforced and slowly he raised his right hand in a clenched fist. De Chauvigny and his men watched uneasily as de Capo unclenched his fist and splayed his fingers wide, another command, only this one was the precursor to a bloody fight as both columns moved closer to de Chauvigny and his men with lances lowered. De Capo’s column halved the distance between themselves and the knights of the Imperial Order of Jerusalem, while Thomas and his column scrabbled down the slope in a pincer movement. The tactic was designed to impress their resolve and de Chauvigny’s men looked around nervously.
Trying not to look smug de Capo felt a sense of satisfaction at the effect this move had on de Chauvigny and his men, ‘This is not a threat,’ he said, ‘if I drop my arm, my men will attack and there will be nothing I can do to stop them.’
The shade of purple on de Chauvigny’s face turned darker as he stared unblinkingly. All that could be heard was the snorting and jangling of steel and iron as the horses surrounding the two men moved restlessly in the heat, their riders sitting grim faced and unmoving as they watched their commander’s arm. Their orders were simple and they would carry them out. If the arm dropped they would treat any man wearing a black cross as the enemy. There was no love lost between the two Orders.
De Chauvigny looked at his men who he knew would fight to the death at his command. A futile attempt to save face that would result in the demise and bloody end of his order in Acre. He looked back at de Capo, ‘This will not be forgotten,’ he hissed, ‘you have made a serious mistake!’
‘Go back to Acre Reynaud,’ de Capo ordered in a calm voice, ‘before my mistake costs your men their lives.’
De Chauvigny spat angrily in the dust at the feet of de Capo’s horse, and turned to de Balon. No words were needed as de Chauvigny gave a small nod.
‘MOUNT UP,’ ordered de Balon, ‘WE RETURN TO ACRE!’
~
As de Capo watched the Imperial Order of Jerusalem ride out of the gully and disappear over the first ridge he lowered his arm.
‘You’ve made an enemy this day,’ Thomas said as he rode up beside him.
De Capo continued to look in the direction de Chauvigny had ridden and shrugged, ‘I was already his enemy; all I did was remind him.’
The two men had clashed once before when de Capo had prevented de Chauvigny from slaughtering prisoners who had surrendered. Despite the ferocity of the fighting and the cruelty both sides could inflict upon each other, de Capo still exhibited the humanity de Chauvigny and many other knights failed to show. He looked around at the prisoners, ‘Send some men to make sure he doesn’t double back, and get these prisoners untied, but don’t return their arms yet, and make sure they get water….and find their Amir,’ he added as Thomas turned his horses head, ‘and bring him to me.’
Thomas nodded, shouting orders as he turned away. Within seconds four knights rode off towards Acre while half of de Capo’s men dismounted, approached the prisoners and started to cut their bonds. The rest remained mounted, with lances once more pointing to the sky, but alert and ready to defend themselves against any sudden attack either from de Chauvigny or the prisoners.
De Capo was tired. The fatigue in his face had aged him and he knew his men felt the same after two weeks of desert patrol. Removing his helmet he strapped it to the pommel of his saddle and wearily dismounted. Untying a leather water skin strapped to the packs behind his saddle he pulled the stopper and drank hungrily. The water tasted bitter but at least it was cool due to the extraordinary properties of the leather that protected it from the heat of the sun. He was hot, his body ached and he longed to be rid of the strength sapping armour they were forced to wear, day in, day out.
His name was called and he turned his head to see Thomas approaching with one of the prisoners, ‘This is their Amir,’ explained Thomas as the prisoner stopped within swords length and rubbed the circulation back into his hands.
De Capo stepped forward, wary of the hatred these men would feel for him despite his intervention. He held out the water skin, a small peace offering he hoped would show his intent, ‘As-Salaamu `Alaykum,’ he said giving the traditional Arab greeting.
‘Wa-Alaikum-Salaam,’ replied the Amir guardedly. He took the water skin, raised it to his mouth and drank slowly, all the while watching de Capo with suspicion. He handed the skin back and glanced around to see his men
being treated in the same way. With a frown he turned back to de Capo, ‘I did not expect to thank my enemy today.’
‘No,’ de Capo said gravely, ‘and I did not expect to save mine.’
The Amir glanced down at de Capo’s left hand that rested on the hilt of his sword, he eyes flitting uncertainly between the weapon and de Capo’s face, ‘And what will you do with us now?’
De Capo understood the Amir’s doubt. To be offered mercy without being asked for anything in return was a paradox in a land where violence was a way of life, ‘Do?’ he smirked at the question, ‘I did not save my enemy just to kill him. You are free to return to your families knowing that not all Christians are murderers!’
The Amir still looked doubtful as he asked, ‘And our weapons?’
Thomas, shifting uncomfortably at the mention of their arms, caught de Capo’s eye and gave a small shake of his head.
‘There are those who would say it would be foolish of me to return them,’ de Capo said without malice, ‘your men have the right to demand vengeance for their dead comrades; and it would be right that you saw us as responsible.’
The Amir glanced at his men, who having been released stood in small, apprehensive groups drinking water. He looked at de Capo curiously, ‘You have shown mercy when you could have turned away, this is an honourable thing, but I do not understand why you would make enemies of your own people!’
‘Those men lack honour,’ de Capo stated vigorously, ‘we both know a grave injustice has been made this day and the promise made by my King is mine to keep; to do anything less would make me like the men who attacked you.’
The Amir gave the slightest hint of a smile as he inclined his head slightly, ‘Then may Allah in his wisdom protect you and your men; you have nothing to fear from us for we are now in your debt.’