Yusuf knelt down beside him and placed a hand on his forehead. De Capo and the orderly stood a respectful distance away from Yusuf as he made a cursory examination. He felt gingerly around the area the bolt had entered, Thomas flinched and opened his eyes as the pain coursed through his body, ‘Muslim?’ Thomas asked hoarsely.
‘Yes,’ said Yusuf. He turned his head, ‘I need someone to wipe his face with a cold towel.’
No one moved and Yusuf looked at de Capo who turned to the orderly, ‘Do as he says, do everything he says without question.’
The orderly nodded, picked up a bucket and left the room as Osmond le Vicomt entered. Yusuf stood and the two men greeted each other like old friends, ‘’It’s good to see you Yusuf.’
‘I am here for you my friend,’ replied Yusuf, ‘the debt will never be repaid.’ He gave a small bow as de Capo watched with interest.
‘What do you think?’ le Vicomt asked as he looked down at Thomas.
Yusuf knelt back down beside the injured man and opened up his bag, ‘How long ago did this happen?’
‘An hour or so,’ said de Capo, ‘maybe less.’
‘I think he has been poisoned,’ stated Yusuf, ‘I believe the barb had a poison and there may be nothing I can do.’
‘But you’ll try?’
Yusuf looked hurt, ‘I am a follower of Abu al-Qasim al-Zahrawi, of course I will try.’
De Capo looked at le Vicomt who answered his unspoken question, ‘The most famous of Muslim surgeons, our own surgeons could learn from them,’ he folded his arms and lowered his tone as he continued, ‘but of course they won’t because they say God forbids it.’
‘I need an armourer,’ said Yusuf as the orderly returned with a bucket of water, placed it down near Thomas’s head and started to wipe his head and face. ‘Before I can remove the head of the bolt, ‘Yusuf continued, ‘you must remove this ridiculous mail’
‘We will arrange it,’ said de Capo. He turned and left the room with le Vicomt and they walked rapidly across to the building used by the smithy and the armourer. Le Vicomt gave instructions to the armourer and he and the blacksmith grabbed some tools and ran across the compound.
De Capo watched as they entered the infirmary and looked around at le Vicomt, ‘The man owes you a debt that can never be repaid?’
Le Vicomt nodded, ‘Aye, he was one of de Chauvigny’s Pilgrims from the massacre at Baysan.’
De Capo was surprised, ‘I thought they were all killed!’
‘Not all,’ said le Vicomt, ‘some were rescued by men from this order under my command.’
‘By you?’
‘Aye, by me,’ he paused and frowned as he remembered, ‘Yusuf and his wife were among those I rescued, she was with child at the time and he believes he is in my debt for as long as he lives.’
‘I didn’t realise,’ said de Capo as he looked at his commander in awe, ‘all the stories say there were no survivors.’
‘Officially there were no survivors,’ he gave de Capo a warning glance, ‘and officially there are still no survivors.’
De Capo nodded as he realised the significance of the statement. The massacre had occurred three years before he had set foot in Acre and although he had heard the stories he had never discovered until now about le Vicomt’s involvement or the fact there were survivors, ‘Now I understand why de Chauvigny doesn’t like us.’
‘It has always been a sensitive arrangement between us, if it had been made official de Chauvigny would have been hung.’ Le Vicomt looked sombre, ‘At the time we were trying to negotiate an agreement with the Sultan. Any proof of our involvement would have led to war, regardless of de Chauvigny being hung or not, of course, now, things have changed as you made your incident official with the Constable.’ Le Vicomt placed his hand on de Capo’s shoulder, ‘I’m not blaming you; I would have done the same. Everyone knows it was him at Baysan but officially there has never been any proof and I was forbidden to bring my proof to bear.’
‘Then I have put us all in danger,’ de Capo gritted his teeth as he realised his act of mercy could be anything but, ‘Thomas was right, I should have ignored what was happening.’
‘No,’ insisted le Vicomt, ‘you did what was right, there is enough horror in this land and one day we will pay dearly. It makes no difference what you have done, now tell me, what did the Constable say?’
‘You and I are to attend the castle one hour before noon tomorrow so de Chauvigny can answer the charges.’
‘Ah, I see,’ le Vicomt was angry, ‘killing you would have rid him of the witness, and I believe the Bailli is looking for a way to get rid of him and you might well provide it; damn the man! Well he has missed his chance today but tomorrow we will attend the castle in force.’
They both started to walk towards the infirmary as the armourer and the blacksmith appeared carrying Thomas’s mail hauberk. Le Vicomt stopped him, ‘You’ll repair that?’
The armourer held the mail coat up, ‘I will,’ he stated as he showed the two men the damage, ‘but it looks like the bolt pushed one of the rings inside his shoulder.’
Le Vicomt shook his head, ‘Damn, how is he?’
‘Looks near death to me,’ the armourer looked grave and made his way back to his workshop with the blacksmith, both pleased to be out of the place where men normally went to die.
Le Vicomt and de Capo reached the infirmary door just in time to see the surgeon making his way towards them, ‘This just gets better,’ said le Vicomt grimly as he turned and walked towards the angry looking man while de Capo entered the infirmary alone.
Thomas lay naked from the waist up, his gambeson, the thick padded undergarment protecting his flesh from the weight and discomfort of his mail had been cut to allow Yusuf free access to the wound. A small dish was in the hands of the Muslim and he gently stirred a clear liquid before placing it to Thomas’s lips, gently lifting it to dribble into his mouth.
As Thomas swallowed he saw de Capo standing at the end of his bed and whispered his name, ‘Ralf.’
De Capo watched his friend as his eyes slowly closed, his breathing became regular and he fell asleep. With his chest rising rhythmically and the expression of pain on his face vanishing as he drifted off, de Capo watched and wondered at the skill of the Muslim. Yusuf picked up a small bladed knife and after washing it in water heated it over a flame until the steel was white. The orderly placed a strip of leather between Thomas’s teeth and held his head and chest firmly as Yusuf cut the flesh around the shaft. The stench of burning flesh struck de Capo in the face and Thomas’s body arched involuntarily as the pain swept through his unconscious body.
Yusuf sliced and cut until the wound had expanded enough for him to see the extent of the damage. With one hand holding an instrument that clamped around the shaft near the flesh, he used another instrument to snap the shaft off leaving just a small stump protruding from the wound. He inserted another device which opened the wound wide and de Capo watched in astonishment as Yusuf removed from his bag an instrument similar to two spoons joined together. The ends of the spoon parted and Yusuf pushed the spoons into the wound. With a few deft movements he clamped the spoons together and slowly withdrew the shaft and barbed head. He placed the spoons and the bolt in a small dish and poured water into the wound to wash away the blood. He looked closely at the shaft and the barbed head and muttered in Arabic. When he received no reply he repeated what he had said in the common language, ‘This is a Christian weapon!’ He turned to de Capo, ‘You were attacked by your own people?’
‘Aye.’
Yusuf shook his head, ‘You are truly a strange race.’
De Capo stayed silent; he had no answer to the comment which he knew was true.
‘The ring from his mail is still in there,’ said Yusuf, ‘and I have to remove it or the wound will mortify and he will die whether there is poison or not.’ Choosing another instrument with long steel tongs, he pushed into the wound until he felt the ring, closed his eyes, whispered a
short prayer and slowly removed the tongs with the piece of iron attached to it. He looked round at de Capo and smiled, ‘And that my friend was the easy part.’
De Capo glanced around as le Vicomt entered and stood next to him, ‘Do you ever think we might be on the wrong side?’ he asked.
Le Vicomt smiled and they both watched in silence as Yusuf continued to treat the wound. He sprinkled some powder into the injury and using a fine thread he said was silk closed the wound. After wrapping the shoulder and chest in bandages he mixed another powder with water and stirred it before dripping it into Thomas’s mouth. Thomas’s eyes were closed and his breathing was shallow but he was still alive. The orderly continued to wipe his face as Yusuf sat back on his haunches and watched his patient.
‘How do we break his fever?’ De Capo asked.
‘You don’t,’ replied Yusuf without turning away from Thomas, ‘the fever is necessary for the body to fight the infection spreading through his body from the poison. Without the poison he would survive, with the poison,’ he shrugged, ‘it is in the hands of your God.’ He rummaged in his bag and handed a small pouch to the orderly, ‘As you have seen me do, you mix a pinch of this with water and allow him to drink, or you drip it into his mouth. This you must do six times throughout the day and night,’ he handed another pouch over, ‘if the pain is too severe mix one fourth of this with a cup of water and allow him to drink and he will sleep without pain.’
De Capo knelt beside his friend with a worried expression, ‘Will he live?
Yusuf stood wearily and looked down at Thomas, ‘That, my friend is out of my hands, now you can only pray and wait,’ he shrugged, ‘if he is still alive this time tomorrow I think he will live.’
De Capo’s face relaxed, ‘You have my thanks,’ he replied as he stood and held out his hand. ‘If you come with me I will pay you and arrange for an escort back to your family.’
Yusuf took de Capo’s hand but shook his head, ‘No, my friend. The men of this order will never have to pay me, the escort I will accept, but payment? No.’
Yusuf left the compound with an escort of ten men and de Capo watched him leave before returning to the infirmary to check on Thomas. Yusuf had left instructions to call him if Thomas’s condition worsened but reiterated it was now a case of waiting. De Capo sat beside Thomas who woke shortly after Yusuf had left; his face was contorted with the pain and he looked at de Capo and smiled through the agony he was feeling, ‘The Muslim was here?’
De Capo nodded, ‘Aye, far superior to our own surgeon who tried to complain to Sir Osmond.’
Thomas tried to move and groaned with the effort, ‘What happened?’
‘He was told to find a Muslim teacher or find a new order.’
Thomas tried to smile but his face tensed with the pain. The orderly continued to wipe his face and Thomas sighed as the small conversation took its toll.
‘The orderlies will look after you tonight, and I’ll return in the morning; he has left medicine for you.’
Thomas opened his eyes and half smiled.
‘Make sure someone is with him all night,’ de Capo said as he gave the orderly a warning glance that suggested if anything happened the orderly would suffer, ‘and fetch me if anything happens.’
Chapter Five
It was a long night, both for the orderly and de Capo who slept fitfully. He finally rose at dawn and made his way to the infirmary to check on Thomas who slept all night and still slept. There was no change in his condition and de Capo left to prepare for the day.
The show of force le Vicomt talked about was twenty knights plus himself and de Capo. They marched through the city towards the castle of the Kings Constable in file. No helmets, no shields, but mail and plate and all carrying arming swords. The lack of helmets and shields was an indication they were not looking for a fight but the intention was clear and people moved out of their way and watched warily. As they approached the castle gates, the sergeant of the guard for that day looked cautiously at his own men and stood firm at the front of the building as le Vicomt and de Capo led their men towards him. As soon as le Vicomt stopped in front of the sergeant, the men of St Peter’s formed ranks and stood silently.
‘Sir Osmond le Vicomt and Sir Ralf de Capo…..we are here to see the Constable,’ said le Vicomt, ‘my men will wait in the courtyard to prevent any obstruction of the Kings justice.’
The sergeant stood stiffly in front of the two men and looked from one to the other, ‘I cannot allow your men in without orders from the Constable, Sir Osmond.’
Le Vicomt stepped closer to the sergeant until they were almost touching, ‘Do you doubt my intentions?’ he asked menacingly.
The sergeant wasn’t intimidated and he replied clearly for everyone to hear, ‘No Sir Osmond, but I have my orders and the Constable states only you, Sir Ralf, Reynaud de Chauvigny and Sir Robert de Balon are to enter. Anyone else is to remain outside the walls of the castle.’
‘And are de Chauvigny and de Balon here?’
‘They are, but they did not bring a small army with them,’ replied the sergeant impudently.
Le Vicomt turned to de Capo and taking hold of his arm led him away and out of earshot of the sergeant, ‘I’m not happy about this.’
‘I don’t see we have a choice,’ said de Capo, ‘the men will have to stay here and prevent anyone else from entering. De Chauvigny is just as likely to tell his men to force their way in, doesn’t make sense he came without them.’
‘Agreed,’ said le Vicomt. He waved one of his men forwards, ‘Keep them outside John and keep an eye for de Chauvigny’s men.’
As the order was passed on, le Vicomt and de Capo walked past the sergeant towards the gates, ‘Very well, my men will wait here.’
The sergeant nodded and shouted at the guards, ‘Open the gate.’
Both men had been in the castle before and de Capo saw nothing different from the previous day, the guards were all in the normal place and the courtyard was desperately hot. They walked up the stone steps to the first floor and the coolness of the internal corridor was a blessing from the eternal heat. Both men automatically loosened their swords, glancing knowingly at each other as they did so. The door to the Constables official chamber was closed as they approached it and de Chauvigny and de Balon stood nearby talking quietly. Guards had been strategically placed preventing either side from approaching within swords reach of each other.
The commander of the guard, a French knight watched all four men closely and speaking the lingua franca ensured they were all aware of his orders, ‘The Constable has instructed you not to speak to each other, nor approach each other. When you enter the office Reynaud,’ he turned to de Chauvigny, ‘you and Sir Robert will stand on the right,’ he turned to de Capo, ‘and you Sir Ralf and Sir Osmond will stand on the left.’
Nothing more was said and the four men stood in silence watched by the guards. A small bell rang and within seconds a man carrying a wooden scribe’s box appeared from a room next to the Constables office, shuffled quickly to the Constables door and entered. The bell rung again less than a minute later and the French knight pushed open the door and ushered the four men inside, two to the left and two to the right.
Six guards entered and stood between the four men as the Constable sat at his desk dripping wax onto the seal of a parchment he placed to one side. He stood, his face a grim mask of anger as he looked at all four men. The tension was almost physical and he slammed his hand down on the table making everyone, including the guards jump, ‘All of you; hand your swords to the guards.’
No one moved but they all stared at the Constable in confusion.
‘Don’t argue about it, ‘said the Constable, ‘or I’ll have you all arrested,’ he raised his voice, ‘I am not in the mood for games, hand over your swords!’
The four knights slowly removed their blades and handed them to the guards.
The Constable nodded, relief visible on his face as the guards left the room taking t
he blades with them, all with the exception of the guard commander who stood to one side of the door, ‘Good, now you can’t kill each other, you can all sit down.’
De Chauvigny was the first to speak, ‘You disarm us Sir William! I take that as an insult!’
‘You can take it any way you like, now sit down before I have you arrested and strung up like a common criminal.’ The Constable spoke calmly, but kept eye contact with de Chauvigny who glowered as he and de Balon slowly sat on the chairs at one end of the table. Both men stared at le Vicomt and de Capo who still stood at the opposite end. The Constable raised his voice an octave, ‘I said….sit….down!’
Le Vicomt and de Capo sat and looked impassively at the two knights opposite them as the Constable turned to the scribe, ‘This time I want everything recorded.’ He turned back and looked at de Chauvigny, ‘You know why you are here.’
‘Aye,’ growled de Chauvigny, ‘I’m accused of disobeying an order I didn’t get by that Saracen lover.’
‘So you don’t dispute you killed a number of the Sultans men and prepared to torture the rest?’
‘I don’t deny it, that’s what I’m here for!’
The Constable sat, leant against the arm of his chair and looked obliquely at de Chauvigny while keeping le Vicomt and de Capo in his peripheral vision, ‘What you are here for is to protect this kingdom, and you do that by following orders!’ He glanced over at de Capo who was struggling to keep his composure, ‘Sir Ralf, for the record, what are your allegations against Reynaud?’
De Capo stared into de Chauvigny’s eyes as he spoke evenly and carefully, ‘He disobeyed orders and attacked and murdered men of the Sultans army who had been promised free passage to attack the Mongols. In doing so he put the safety of every man, woman and child in this Kingdom and in this city in danger.’
The Constable turned to de Chauvigny, ‘You have already admitted killing those men, do you still maintain you did not receive the instructions every other Order received?’
‘I do,’ said de Chauvigny, not taking his eyes off de Capo.