The Lion's Heart: Part 6
Allan and Luke tend to Carter whilst Djaq tries to come to terms with returning to her family and homeland. Man, I suck at one-sentence summaries.
Return to Part 5
Scene: Bassam’s House
Night has fallen, and Will is twisting and turning in the centre of a large double bed, hung with gauze curtains and loaded with pillows. Eventually he sighs, grabs a pillow and rolls off the bed to bunk down on the floor. He’s just gotten settled when there’s a quiet rattling at the door. He grabs his hatchet as the door creaks open and Djaq pokes her face in.
Will breaths a sign of relief as she slips through, and then looks away awkwardly when he notices that she’s wearing a sleeping gown. She looks a little bemused at the sight of him down on the floor.
Will: The bed was too soft.
She nods her understanding and sits down behind him.
Will: Where did you go after dinner?
Djaq: I needed to speak with my uncle. Family matters. It was easier to do so in our own tongue. I’ve been thinking about Lar’d-nar.
Will: (trying not to get too distracted by the nightwear) What about him?
Djaq: Something about the whole story bothers me.
Will: What? McClellan found out about the pigeon handlers, broke into the aviary, took Lardner and his mate, gave one to the King and brought the other back to England. Simple.
Djaq: Yes…it makes sense.
Will: But you’re not convinced? What else could have happened?
Djaq: What if…what if there’s a third party involved in the use of these pigeons. Not Melek Ric, not the Sultan, but another? It just seems inconceivable to me that the Crusaders could know about the pigeons. Besides, it would seem that our message to King Richard never reached him - so then where did Lar’d-nar fly?
She chews on her thumbnail, letting her thoughts gather.
Djaq: What if a Saracen was responsible? Any Saracen who wanted to know more about England’s defences, either at home or abroad, could have sent McClellan with that letter to Robin and anticipated a reply that would be full of information.
Will: Except that the letter didn’t want information - it asked for reinforcements. Why would one of your people want that?
Djaq: Hmm.
Will: Look at it this way: if it was a Saracen then at least our reply didn’t tell him anything that might harm any soldiers. It just asked for the King to return.
Djaq turns to look at him, her brow furrowed, and Will drops his gaze. It has suddenly occurred to both of them that they are on different sides of this war. Djaq looks away sorrowfully. Despite their close proximity and their lack of clothing, they’ve never been farther apart.
Will looks up first, gazing at her sadly.
Will: Can I ask you something?
Djaq: Of course.
Will: This place…I can’t help but notice…but…
Djaq: What?
Will: Well, there’s a lot of very expensive stuff about.
Djaq: So?
Will sighs, trying to articulate his words.
Will: It’s just that…(he takes a breath and speaks quickly) you’re a very rich woman, aren’t you. You’re important here. A woman with position. Like Lady Marian.
Djaq: I once was. A long time ago.
Will: I should have realized. The daughter of a physician. All your learning. Even the way you move. But none of it seemed to matter back in Sherwood.
Djaq: None of it matters now. I am not Safiyah anymore.
Will: Yes, but you could be. If you wanted to.
Djaq: I don’t want to.
So she says, but she sounds uncertain. Djaq digs her bare feet into the rug beneath them, looking about at the richly decorated room. Her eyes glitter, and she clears her throat before speaking again.
Djaq: You should get some sleep. Do not be afraid. No one will hurt you in this place.
She gets up quickly and heads for the door.
Will: Djaq…
But she’s already let herself out, and closed the door softly behind her. In the corridor she leans against the door, breathing heavily, eyes closed. A voice speaks quietly in the darkness.
Salak: (in Arabic, subtitled) You’re up late.
Djaq jumps and whirls about, reaching for a sword that isn’t there.
Djaq: You startled me.
Salak glances at the door behind her.
Salak: Did you need to see your servant about something?
Djaq rolls her eyes and crosses her arms.
Djaq: His name is Will. And yes. This was the only time I could speak to him without fear of anyone eavesdropping.
Salak: You could speak in his foreign tongue. Then no one but my father could understand you.
Djaq: Did you want something?
Salak looks incredulous.
Salak: Do I want something? I’ve just found out that you’ve been alive all these years, living in an ungodly land, helping those who wage war upon our country and its people.
Djaq: The only people I have been helping are those who want to bring an end to this war.
Salak: And then what? Will you go back to England?
Djaq: I…I haven’t thought that far ahead, cousin.
Salak: (stiffly) Have you been dishonoured?
Djaq glares at him.
Djaq: No. The Christians treated me better than I ever could have hoped. They freed me from slavery and gave me a home and a purpose. They valued what I had to offer them. And I didn’t have to hide myself behind a veil or shut myself away in rooms designed only for women.
Salak waves this aside, deeming it unimportant.
Salak: It was wrong to bring him here.
Djaq: I would never have been able to return were it not for him. Anyone in this household who threatens him will have to answer to me.
Salak looks startled at her vehemence. He takes a deep breath, trying to control his impatience, but before he gets a chance to speak again, Djaq interrupts him.
Djaq: Please. I need time. I need to complete what I came here to do. And then…then I can make a decision.
As Salak reaches for her hand, she pulls away and flits away silently down the passage.
Scene: Hospital
Carter sits on the edge of his bed, gently stretching out his leg with a painful grimace. Standing next to the bed, Allan and Luke watch anxiously.
Carter: (between groans and grunts) So Will and Djaq have gone on to Jerusalem to find Prince Malik and get an audience with the King.
Allan: Right. We’re meeting them at her uncle’s house.
Carter: And you need me with you to back up your story?
Luke: Right.
Carter: And you two are followers of Robin Hood.
Allan: (getting impatient) That’s what we’ve told you.
Carter: How come I never saw you in Sherwood Forest?
Luke: I was living with my aunt in Scarborough. Will Scarlett’s my brother.
Allan: And I was…undercover. In York. Investigating…missing tax money.
Sensing a lie, Carter narrows his eyes. Allan squirms uncomfortably.
Allan: Look, believe us or not, it’s the truth. Will and Djaq came miles and miles to find you, and Djaq stayed up ‘alf the night fixing that leg of yours. Now, I’ve got no idea what she was talkin’ about when she told me to tell you that someone or other ain’t cryin’, but I’m gonna assume that it means summing to you.
Carter stares at each of them in turn, slowly getting their measure.
Carter: “He’s not crying - he’s laughing on the wrong side of his face.” It’s what my brother used to say. I believe you. And I’ll help.
Allan nods, placated. Carter tries to stand up, get woozy, and sits back down again.
Allan: Obviously you won’t be helpin’ us any time soon though. S’alright. Luke, why don’t you see if you can try ‘n scrounge up some food.
Luke heads off as Carter stretches out his leg again.
Allan: By the way, you ever heard of a bloke called Sir Liam of Donnelaith? Only I’ve met ‘im, and ‘e seems pretty interested in what we’re up to.
Carter: Yes, I know him. That is, I’ve heard of him. My brother Thomas would talk about him often - they were both in the King’s Guard, with Robin. Liam was a good man, a trustworthy one.
Allan nods, reassured.
Allan: Well, that’s good ta know. So how’d you end up in ‘ere anyway?
Carter frowns, trying to recall.
Carter: I was riding through the desert. I was on my way to King Richard at Beit Nuba and I got hit from behind, but I don’t remember what happened next. I woke up here and my leg was in agony. The doctors said that it must have been bandits …but I can’t have been. My sword was still on my belt. My horse was still saddled.
He rubs his forehead. He’s clearly still in pain.
Allan: ‘Ere, don’t worry about it now, mate. ‘Ave summing to eat.
Luke returns with a plate of food, and Carter digs in.
Carter: (between mouthfuls) I feel like I haven’t eaten in months. I’ll need my strength back if we’re going to travel to Jerusalem.
Allan and Luke exchange smiles, satisfied. He’s just agreed to their plan.
Allan: Between you and the Pact, the King can’t deny that ‘e’s needed at home.
Scene: Beit Nuba (or as the show would put it: Crusader’s Frontier)
There is an encampment in the midst of a deserted village, the tents and lean-tos of the Crusaders all surrounding a large red pavilion hung with banners. Soldiers in battle-stained armour are wandering about under the hot sun, tending to their horses, their weapons, and themselves.
A small garrison of men march through the encampment, a shrouded figure in their midst. They arrive at the red pavilion and enter, ushering their guest inside the lofty tent. A large man sits on a carved wooden seat - one which is grand-looking, but not impractical. On his head is a simple crown and he looks over the arrivals with interest.
The Crusaders push forward the prisoner (?), who is revealed to be a rather shifty-looking Saracen. He grovels a little before the King, glancing about nervously. The Crusaders stand back against the sides of the pavilion, looking at him disdainfully. The King leans forward in his chair and beckons him forward.
King: Nasir. What news do you bring?
Nasir straightens a little, summoning his courage.
Nasir: News that will be of great interest to Your Majesty.
King: Go on…
Nasir snivels a little.
Nasir: I come here at great personal risk to myself…
The King gestures to one of his knights, who grudgingly throws Nasir a pouch full of coins.
Nasir: I bring you a warning, great king. An assassin is coming for you.
The King laughs a little.
King: Assassins are always coming for me.
Nasir: Not like this one. This one is a beautiful Saracen woman who will speak of peace, but carries the serpent in her heart. She already has three Englishmen enslaved to her power, and she is coming for you, Your Majesty.
The King looks grave and dismisses Nasir with a wave of his hand. The Saracen swiftly departs, and the King leans back in his chair, looking thoughtful.
From the ruddy shadows behind the makeshift throne, a figure moves out into the light. The Crusaders stand to attention, as does the crowned man on the throne, and all bow as a large, rugged, sandy-haired man steps forward and looks through the tent flaps after Nasir. The impersonator hastily removes the crown on his head and lays it on the throne.
King Richard (the real one): So, another assassin is out for royal blood. At least this one sounds more appealing, eh?
There is a scattering of nervous laughter, but another Crusader steps forward and bows deeply. It is Sir Ralph.
Ralph: Sire, I implore you not to take this news lightly. I believe that I have seen this woman for myself.
Richard: You have?
Ralph: Yes. I was leading a pilgrimage to Jerusalem when she and three Englishmen tried to join us on the journey. The pilgrims were anxious, naturally, but against our better judgment we allowed them to accompany us. The men she was with - a man, a youth, and a boy - were all entranced by her, and forced to do her bidding. Though she was cleverly disguised as their servant, it was clear where the power truly lay.
King Richard stares at him, deep in thought. Ralph twitches a little under his clear blue gaze.
Ralph: They were left behind when the pilgrims became too scared to go on. After Sir Baldwin’s untimely death, many believed that she was responsible. I should have cut her throat when I had the chance! I would not be at all surprised if the Bedouin who attacked us in the desert did so under her orders. All of them were slaughtered where they stood.
King Richard: Except for you.
Ralph clears his throat uncomfortably.
Ralph: I managed to escape, sire.
King Richard: Indeed. Would you recognise her if you saw her again?
Ralph: Absolutely, sire. Hers is not a face you would forget.
King Richard: Then keep your eyes open. And now, the rest of you - what news from our noble foe?
The rest of the Crusaders gather around, and the camera pans back through the red pavilion to where Nasir is hurriedly weaving his way through the tents, out to the desert once more.
Scene: Hospital
Luke, Allan and Carter are standing outside the hospital with their horses at the ready. Carter is still looking very pale and sickly, and walks with a pronounced limp. The horses are laden with water flasks and other supplies.
Allan: Listen mate, are you sure about this?
Carter: Yes. I’ve been stuck in that hospital for too long.
Luke: But do you really think that crossing the desert will be good for you?
Carter mounts his horse, wincing a little as he jostles his leg.
Carter: Robin needs our help, and so I’m going to the Holy City. We’re in God’s hands now.
He pulls a small crucifix out of his tunic and kisses it. Allan and Luke glance at each other doubtfully, and then mount their own horses either side of him.
Luke: I wonder what Will and Djaq are doing…
Allan: Don’t know. But they’ll be alright. Well then, to Jerusalem.
Carter/Luke: (in unison) To Jerusalem.
They head away from the hospital and the camera pans up toward the desert horizon. As they go, a figure stands at the doorway of the hospital and watches them go. Sir Liam touches his wounded arm thoughtfully, and then disappears back into the shadows.
Scene: Bassam’s House
Will, still asleep on the floor to avoid the softness of the bed, wakes up, stretches and blinks. Sun is streaming in through the window and into his face. Hey, let’s make it a shirtless scene. He throws on an Eastern robe, washes his face in a nearby basin of water, and carefully creeps to the door. Djaq is already waiting for him in the hallway, sitting in an alcove opposite his room.
Djaq: Morning.
Will: Morning.
They give each other a little smile and Djaq beckons him into the alcove. He’s so tall that he has to duck down, but the two of them lean in close to each other to talk softly. She’s wearing Saracen garb: not a dress, but loose fitting pants and a shirt (it’s the outfit we last saw her in on the show).
Djaq: Today I want to talk to my uncle about finding Prince Malik. The sooner we see him, the sooner we can deliver the Pact to King Richard.
Will: What about Carter?
Djaq bites down on her bottom lip.
Djaq: Yes, we will need his testimony. Let us hope that Allan and Luke bring him soon. But there is no time to lose.
Will: But do you really think Malik will help us?
Djaq: Before he left Sherwood Forest, he told me that if we were to ever meet again, I would only have to ask and he would grant me any help I ever needed. I fought under him for years after my brother’s death. He is an honourable man.
She speaks so passionately that Will is a little taken aback.
Will: I just meant that we’re going to ask him to help us meet with King Richard. And the only way he can manage that is to go to Saladin. Last time we saw him, Saladin had sent assassins to kill him.
Djaq: (looking uncomfortable) That was years ago. Perhaps they have reconciled…
She doesn’t look particularly convinced.
Djaq: (more firmly) But it is the only choice we have. We must risk it. Bassam can arrange a meeting with the Prince, and then it is up to us to make sure he takes us to the Sultan, who in turn will take us to Melek Ric.
Will rubs the back of his neck.
Will: It all sounds pretty complicated.
Djaq: Welcome to the world of politics.
Scene: Bassam’s Study
Bassam is sitting in a beautiful room that appears to be his study. He is sitting at an ornately carved desk, writing something. He covers it up at the sound of a knock on the door, only to relax when he sees Will and Djaq enter. Djaq has noticed his gesture and gives him a little smile.
Djaq: (in Arabic) Messages for the pigeons?
Bassam: Yes. Although since you told me about Lar’d-nar, I worry that the secrets these birds carry are not so secret after all.
He carefully deposits the letter into a carved box on the desk, and then looks up expectantly at Will and Djaq.
Bassam: How can I help you both?
They glance at each other, and then Djaq clears her throat, switching to English.
Djaq: We need your help. We want to make contact with Prince Malik.
Bassam: I see. And what makes you think I can help you?
Djaq gives a little laugh.
Djaq: These messages you send have to come from somewhere. We’ve heard rumours all over the city that King Richard is ready for peace, and Prince Malik has always petitioned for an end to the fighting. He is the Sultan’s nephew. You are the Sultan’s pigeon handler. There’s every chance that you know where Prince Malik can be found.
Bassam nods his head slowly.
Bassam: Word is that the prince is in Jerusalem even as we speak. In secret of course.
There is an audible intake of breath from Will and Djaq. Djaq steps forward and rests her hands on the edge of Bassam’s desk, leaning forward to look her uncle in the eye.
Djaq: Can you tell us how to contact him?
Bassam presses his fingertips together, looking around the room casually, speaking softly.
Bassam: I’ve heard it said that anyone wishing to press an audience with the prince should go to the Temple Mount as the evening falls. There they might see a beggar sitting against the Dome of the Rock. They should go to him and put a coin into his offering bowl.
Bassam has slowly risen from his seat and leans over the desk toward Djaq.
Bassam: And then they should say…
He whispers something in her ear, something not even Will can discern. Bassam sits back down, looking pensive.
Bassam: Safiyah, if you are hoping that Malik will lead you to the Sultan, then you may be disappointed. Relations are still cool between uncle and nephew.
Djaq takes a step back and unconsciously reaches for Will’s hand.
Djaq: We have to try. You do understand that, ammo?
Bassam’s eyes flit briefly to Djaq’s hand intertwined with Will’s.
Bassam: I do. I wonder Master Scarlett, if you would excuse us for a moment. My niece and I need to talk in private.
Will looks to Djaq who seems hesitant, but nods at him. Will gives her hand a little squeeze and leaves the room, glancing back once at the door: Djaq is still standing before Bassam’s desk, the two gazing silently at each other, Djaq’s hands gently clenched behind her back. Will shuts the door behind him and starts at the sight of Salak prowling away down the hallway, as though he’s been listening at the door. Will straightens his shirt and heads in the opposite direction.
Back inside Bassam’s study, Djaq is looking rather pained. Bassam gets up slowly from his chair and moves slowly around his desk to her, finally taking her by the shoulders and staring into her face.
Bassam: (in Arabic) Dear one, if you do find the prince, and by some miracle he leads you to the Sultan, who in turn takes you to the Frankish king so that you might place this document into his hands, and all your hopes for an end to this war come to fruition…what then?
Djaq: What do you mean?
Bassam: You know precisely what I mean. There is a life waiting here for you, but it would take a blind man to see that you are not the young girl who left this place so long ago.
Djaq shrugs his hands off her shoulders, looking uncomfortable.
Bassam: And yet, I can still see Safiyah within you. This is your home.
Djaq: Safiyah is long dead.
Bassam sighs and moves away, resigned.
Bassam: In that case, her death has left you a very wealthy woman. Your dowry was entrusted to me by your father and it has never been touched, not even after we received news of your death.
Djaq: (quickly) I don’t want it!
Bassam: Do not speak so hastily, child. When the time comes, you have a decision to make. I cannot believe that you are…content in England.
Djaq opens her mouth for an angry retort, but a strange look crosses her face, and she closes it again.
Djaq: I…I cannot think on this yet. I have work to do.
Bassam nods sadly.
Bassam: It’s just that…you’re back from the dead. I don’t want to lose you again.
He returns to his seat and sits down heavily. Djaq approaches him from behind and puts her arms around his neck, hugging him gently.
Djaq: You never lost me.
Bassam gazes out the window sadly, and pats her hand.
Scene: Bassam’s House; Hallway
Djaq closes the door behind her, looking as though she’s been crying a little. She wipes her eyes and is about to head down the hallway when she jumps at a nearby noise. Salak is back, standing behind the door and watching her intently. She relaxes when she realizes who it is, but he talks to her in a low, urgent voice.
Sarak: I want to come with you.
Djaq: No.
Salak: I can help. Prince Malik knows me; I’ve met him when he and father were discussing his pigeons. And you may not remember the city as well as you used to. I can take you straight to the Dome of the Rock by the easiest route.
Djaq: Have you been listening at doors, Salak? I remember you and Djaq used to do that often.
Salak: I remember that you were always with us when we did. You wouldn’t let us leave you behind.
Djaq: Every little girl wants to keep up with her brother and her cousin.
Salak: And now it’s my turn to follow you.
Djaq: It’s too dangerous.
Salak looks at her incredulously. He splutters for a moment, unable to form a coherent sentence.
Salak: If it’s too dangerous then you shouldn’t be going.
Djaq: I am a trained soldier. You are a scribe.
Now Salak looks stunned.
Salak: And what about your friend? What’s he?
Djaq just stares at him. She’s not impressed, and isn’t going to dignify that with an answer, thank you very much. Salak settles down and takes a deep breath.
Salak: Please. I want to help you. It feels like you’ve been out there all this time, fighting battles, and I’ve been stuck here, feeding pigeons. I just want to help you, just this once. I can take you to the temple, and then I promise I won’t get in your way.
Djaq looks away and closes her eyes.
Djaq: I’ll have to speak with Will first.
She walks away without another word, leaving Salak alone in the hallway, looking hopeful and annoyed at the same time.
Continue to Part 7...
Return to Part 5
Scene: Bassam’s House
Night has fallen, and Will is twisting and turning in the centre of a large double bed, hung with gauze curtains and loaded with pillows. Eventually he sighs, grabs a pillow and rolls off the bed to bunk down on the floor. He’s just gotten settled when there’s a quiet rattling at the door. He grabs his hatchet as the door creaks open and Djaq pokes her face in.
Will breaths a sign of relief as she slips through, and then looks away awkwardly when he notices that she’s wearing a sleeping gown. She looks a little bemused at the sight of him down on the floor.
Will: The bed was too soft.
She nods her understanding and sits down behind him.
Will: Where did you go after dinner?
Djaq: I needed to speak with my uncle. Family matters. It was easier to do so in our own tongue. I’ve been thinking about Lar’d-nar.
Will: (trying not to get too distracted by the nightwear) What about him?
Djaq: Something about the whole story bothers me.
Will: What? McClellan found out about the pigeon handlers, broke into the aviary, took Lardner and his mate, gave one to the King and brought the other back to England. Simple.
Djaq: Yes…it makes sense.
Will: But you’re not convinced? What else could have happened?
Djaq: What if…what if there’s a third party involved in the use of these pigeons. Not Melek Ric, not the Sultan, but another? It just seems inconceivable to me that the Crusaders could know about the pigeons. Besides, it would seem that our message to King Richard never reached him - so then where did Lar’d-nar fly?
She chews on her thumbnail, letting her thoughts gather.
Djaq: What if a Saracen was responsible? Any Saracen who wanted to know more about England’s defences, either at home or abroad, could have sent McClellan with that letter to Robin and anticipated a reply that would be full of information.
Will: Except that the letter didn’t want information - it asked for reinforcements. Why would one of your people want that?
Djaq: Hmm.
Will: Look at it this way: if it was a Saracen then at least our reply didn’t tell him anything that might harm any soldiers. It just asked for the King to return.
Djaq turns to look at him, her brow furrowed, and Will drops his gaze. It has suddenly occurred to both of them that they are on different sides of this war. Djaq looks away sorrowfully. Despite their close proximity and their lack of clothing, they’ve never been farther apart.
Will looks up first, gazing at her sadly.
Will: Can I ask you something?
Djaq: Of course.
Will: This place…I can’t help but notice…but…
Djaq: What?
Will: Well, there’s a lot of very expensive stuff about.
Djaq: So?
Will sighs, trying to articulate his words.
Will: It’s just that…(he takes a breath and speaks quickly) you’re a very rich woman, aren’t you. You’re important here. A woman with position. Like Lady Marian.
Djaq: I once was. A long time ago.
Will: I should have realized. The daughter of a physician. All your learning. Even the way you move. But none of it seemed to matter back in Sherwood.
Djaq: None of it matters now. I am not Safiyah anymore.
Will: Yes, but you could be. If you wanted to.
Djaq: I don’t want to.
So she says, but she sounds uncertain. Djaq digs her bare feet into the rug beneath them, looking about at the richly decorated room. Her eyes glitter, and she clears her throat before speaking again.
Djaq: You should get some sleep. Do not be afraid. No one will hurt you in this place.
She gets up quickly and heads for the door.
Will: Djaq…
But she’s already let herself out, and closed the door softly behind her. In the corridor she leans against the door, breathing heavily, eyes closed. A voice speaks quietly in the darkness.
Salak: (in Arabic, subtitled) You’re up late.
Djaq jumps and whirls about, reaching for a sword that isn’t there.
Djaq: You startled me.
Salak glances at the door behind her.
Salak: Did you need to see your servant about something?
Djaq rolls her eyes and crosses her arms.
Djaq: His name is Will. And yes. This was the only time I could speak to him without fear of anyone eavesdropping.
Salak: You could speak in his foreign tongue. Then no one but my father could understand you.
Djaq: Did you want something?
Salak looks incredulous.
Salak: Do I want something? I’ve just found out that you’ve been alive all these years, living in an ungodly land, helping those who wage war upon our country and its people.
Djaq: The only people I have been helping are those who want to bring an end to this war.
Salak: And then what? Will you go back to England?
Djaq: I…I haven’t thought that far ahead, cousin.
Salak: (stiffly) Have you been dishonoured?
Djaq glares at him.
Djaq: No. The Christians treated me better than I ever could have hoped. They freed me from slavery and gave me a home and a purpose. They valued what I had to offer them. And I didn’t have to hide myself behind a veil or shut myself away in rooms designed only for women.
Salak waves this aside, deeming it unimportant.
Salak: It was wrong to bring him here.
Djaq: I would never have been able to return were it not for him. Anyone in this household who threatens him will have to answer to me.
Salak looks startled at her vehemence. He takes a deep breath, trying to control his impatience, but before he gets a chance to speak again, Djaq interrupts him.
Djaq: Please. I need time. I need to complete what I came here to do. And then…then I can make a decision.
As Salak reaches for her hand, she pulls away and flits away silently down the passage.
Scene: Hospital
Carter sits on the edge of his bed, gently stretching out his leg with a painful grimace. Standing next to the bed, Allan and Luke watch anxiously.
Carter: (between groans and grunts) So Will and Djaq have gone on to Jerusalem to find Prince Malik and get an audience with the King.
Allan: Right. We’re meeting them at her uncle’s house.
Carter: And you need me with you to back up your story?
Luke: Right.
Carter: And you two are followers of Robin Hood.
Allan: (getting impatient) That’s what we’ve told you.
Carter: How come I never saw you in Sherwood Forest?
Luke: I was living with my aunt in Scarborough. Will Scarlett’s my brother.
Allan: And I was…undercover. In York. Investigating…missing tax money.
Sensing a lie, Carter narrows his eyes. Allan squirms uncomfortably.
Allan: Look, believe us or not, it’s the truth. Will and Djaq came miles and miles to find you, and Djaq stayed up ‘alf the night fixing that leg of yours. Now, I’ve got no idea what she was talkin’ about when she told me to tell you that someone or other ain’t cryin’, but I’m gonna assume that it means summing to you.
Carter stares at each of them in turn, slowly getting their measure.
Carter: “He’s not crying - he’s laughing on the wrong side of his face.” It’s what my brother used to say. I believe you. And I’ll help.
Allan nods, placated. Carter tries to stand up, get woozy, and sits back down again.
Allan: Obviously you won’t be helpin’ us any time soon though. S’alright. Luke, why don’t you see if you can try ‘n scrounge up some food.
Luke heads off as Carter stretches out his leg again.
Allan: By the way, you ever heard of a bloke called Sir Liam of Donnelaith? Only I’ve met ‘im, and ‘e seems pretty interested in what we’re up to.
Carter: Yes, I know him. That is, I’ve heard of him. My brother Thomas would talk about him often - they were both in the King’s Guard, with Robin. Liam was a good man, a trustworthy one.
Allan nods, reassured.
Allan: Well, that’s good ta know. So how’d you end up in ‘ere anyway?
Carter frowns, trying to recall.
Carter: I was riding through the desert. I was on my way to King Richard at Beit Nuba and I got hit from behind, but I don’t remember what happened next. I woke up here and my leg was in agony. The doctors said that it must have been bandits …but I can’t have been. My sword was still on my belt. My horse was still saddled.
He rubs his forehead. He’s clearly still in pain.
Allan: ‘Ere, don’t worry about it now, mate. ‘Ave summing to eat.
Luke returns with a plate of food, and Carter digs in.
Carter: (between mouthfuls) I feel like I haven’t eaten in months. I’ll need my strength back if we’re going to travel to Jerusalem.
Allan and Luke exchange smiles, satisfied. He’s just agreed to their plan.
Allan: Between you and the Pact, the King can’t deny that ‘e’s needed at home.
Scene: Beit Nuba (or as the show would put it: Crusader’s Frontier)
There is an encampment in the midst of a deserted village, the tents and lean-tos of the Crusaders all surrounding a large red pavilion hung with banners. Soldiers in battle-stained armour are wandering about under the hot sun, tending to their horses, their weapons, and themselves.
A small garrison of men march through the encampment, a shrouded figure in their midst. They arrive at the red pavilion and enter, ushering their guest inside the lofty tent. A large man sits on a carved wooden seat - one which is grand-looking, but not impractical. On his head is a simple crown and he looks over the arrivals with interest.
The Crusaders push forward the prisoner (?), who is revealed to be a rather shifty-looking Saracen. He grovels a little before the King, glancing about nervously. The Crusaders stand back against the sides of the pavilion, looking at him disdainfully. The King leans forward in his chair and beckons him forward.
King: Nasir. What news do you bring?
Nasir straightens a little, summoning his courage.
Nasir: News that will be of great interest to Your Majesty.
King: Go on…
Nasir snivels a little.
Nasir: I come here at great personal risk to myself…
The King gestures to one of his knights, who grudgingly throws Nasir a pouch full of coins.
Nasir: I bring you a warning, great king. An assassin is coming for you.
The King laughs a little.
King: Assassins are always coming for me.
Nasir: Not like this one. This one is a beautiful Saracen woman who will speak of peace, but carries the serpent in her heart. She already has three Englishmen enslaved to her power, and she is coming for you, Your Majesty.
The King looks grave and dismisses Nasir with a wave of his hand. The Saracen swiftly departs, and the King leans back in his chair, looking thoughtful.
From the ruddy shadows behind the makeshift throne, a figure moves out into the light. The Crusaders stand to attention, as does the crowned man on the throne, and all bow as a large, rugged, sandy-haired man steps forward and looks through the tent flaps after Nasir. The impersonator hastily removes the crown on his head and lays it on the throne.
King Richard (the real one): So, another assassin is out for royal blood. At least this one sounds more appealing, eh?
There is a scattering of nervous laughter, but another Crusader steps forward and bows deeply. It is Sir Ralph.
Ralph: Sire, I implore you not to take this news lightly. I believe that I have seen this woman for myself.
Richard: You have?
Ralph: Yes. I was leading a pilgrimage to Jerusalem when she and three Englishmen tried to join us on the journey. The pilgrims were anxious, naturally, but against our better judgment we allowed them to accompany us. The men she was with - a man, a youth, and a boy - were all entranced by her, and forced to do her bidding. Though she was cleverly disguised as their servant, it was clear where the power truly lay.
King Richard stares at him, deep in thought. Ralph twitches a little under his clear blue gaze.
Ralph: They were left behind when the pilgrims became too scared to go on. After Sir Baldwin’s untimely death, many believed that she was responsible. I should have cut her throat when I had the chance! I would not be at all surprised if the Bedouin who attacked us in the desert did so under her orders. All of them were slaughtered where they stood.
King Richard: Except for you.
Ralph clears his throat uncomfortably.
Ralph: I managed to escape, sire.
King Richard: Indeed. Would you recognise her if you saw her again?
Ralph: Absolutely, sire. Hers is not a face you would forget.
King Richard: Then keep your eyes open. And now, the rest of you - what news from our noble foe?
The rest of the Crusaders gather around, and the camera pans back through the red pavilion to where Nasir is hurriedly weaving his way through the tents, out to the desert once more.
Scene: Hospital
Luke, Allan and Carter are standing outside the hospital with their horses at the ready. Carter is still looking very pale and sickly, and walks with a pronounced limp. The horses are laden with water flasks and other supplies.
Allan: Listen mate, are you sure about this?
Carter: Yes. I’ve been stuck in that hospital for too long.
Luke: But do you really think that crossing the desert will be good for you?
Carter mounts his horse, wincing a little as he jostles his leg.
Carter: Robin needs our help, and so I’m going to the Holy City. We’re in God’s hands now.
He pulls a small crucifix out of his tunic and kisses it. Allan and Luke glance at each other doubtfully, and then mount their own horses either side of him.
Luke: I wonder what Will and Djaq are doing…
Allan: Don’t know. But they’ll be alright. Well then, to Jerusalem.
Carter/Luke: (in unison) To Jerusalem.
They head away from the hospital and the camera pans up toward the desert horizon. As they go, a figure stands at the doorway of the hospital and watches them go. Sir Liam touches his wounded arm thoughtfully, and then disappears back into the shadows.
Scene: Bassam’s House
Will, still asleep on the floor to avoid the softness of the bed, wakes up, stretches and blinks. Sun is streaming in through the window and into his face. Hey, let’s make it a shirtless scene. He throws on an Eastern robe, washes his face in a nearby basin of water, and carefully creeps to the door. Djaq is already waiting for him in the hallway, sitting in an alcove opposite his room.
Djaq: Morning.
Will: Morning.
They give each other a little smile and Djaq beckons him into the alcove. He’s so tall that he has to duck down, but the two of them lean in close to each other to talk softly. She’s wearing Saracen garb: not a dress, but loose fitting pants and a shirt (it’s the outfit we last saw her in on the show).
Djaq: Today I want to talk to my uncle about finding Prince Malik. The sooner we see him, the sooner we can deliver the Pact to King Richard.
Will: What about Carter?
Djaq bites down on her bottom lip.
Djaq: Yes, we will need his testimony. Let us hope that Allan and Luke bring him soon. But there is no time to lose.
Will: But do you really think Malik will help us?
Djaq: Before he left Sherwood Forest, he told me that if we were to ever meet again, I would only have to ask and he would grant me any help I ever needed. I fought under him for years after my brother’s death. He is an honourable man.
She speaks so passionately that Will is a little taken aback.
Will: I just meant that we’re going to ask him to help us meet with King Richard. And the only way he can manage that is to go to Saladin. Last time we saw him, Saladin had sent assassins to kill him.
Djaq: (looking uncomfortable) That was years ago. Perhaps they have reconciled…
She doesn’t look particularly convinced.
Djaq: (more firmly) But it is the only choice we have. We must risk it. Bassam can arrange a meeting with the Prince, and then it is up to us to make sure he takes us to the Sultan, who in turn will take us to Melek Ric.
Will rubs the back of his neck.
Will: It all sounds pretty complicated.
Djaq: Welcome to the world of politics.
Scene: Bassam’s Study
Bassam is sitting in a beautiful room that appears to be his study. He is sitting at an ornately carved desk, writing something. He covers it up at the sound of a knock on the door, only to relax when he sees Will and Djaq enter. Djaq has noticed his gesture and gives him a little smile.
Djaq: (in Arabic) Messages for the pigeons?
Bassam: Yes. Although since you told me about Lar’d-nar, I worry that the secrets these birds carry are not so secret after all.
He carefully deposits the letter into a carved box on the desk, and then looks up expectantly at Will and Djaq.
Bassam: How can I help you both?
They glance at each other, and then Djaq clears her throat, switching to English.
Djaq: We need your help. We want to make contact with Prince Malik.
Bassam: I see. And what makes you think I can help you?
Djaq gives a little laugh.
Djaq: These messages you send have to come from somewhere. We’ve heard rumours all over the city that King Richard is ready for peace, and Prince Malik has always petitioned for an end to the fighting. He is the Sultan’s nephew. You are the Sultan’s pigeon handler. There’s every chance that you know where Prince Malik can be found.
Bassam nods his head slowly.
Bassam: Word is that the prince is in Jerusalem even as we speak. In secret of course.
There is an audible intake of breath from Will and Djaq. Djaq steps forward and rests her hands on the edge of Bassam’s desk, leaning forward to look her uncle in the eye.
Djaq: Can you tell us how to contact him?
Bassam presses his fingertips together, looking around the room casually, speaking softly.
Bassam: I’ve heard it said that anyone wishing to press an audience with the prince should go to the Temple Mount as the evening falls. There they might see a beggar sitting against the Dome of the Rock. They should go to him and put a coin into his offering bowl.
Bassam has slowly risen from his seat and leans over the desk toward Djaq.
Bassam: And then they should say…
He whispers something in her ear, something not even Will can discern. Bassam sits back down, looking pensive.
Bassam: Safiyah, if you are hoping that Malik will lead you to the Sultan, then you may be disappointed. Relations are still cool between uncle and nephew.
Djaq takes a step back and unconsciously reaches for Will’s hand.
Djaq: We have to try. You do understand that, ammo?
Bassam’s eyes flit briefly to Djaq’s hand intertwined with Will’s.
Bassam: I do. I wonder Master Scarlett, if you would excuse us for a moment. My niece and I need to talk in private.
Will looks to Djaq who seems hesitant, but nods at him. Will gives her hand a little squeeze and leaves the room, glancing back once at the door: Djaq is still standing before Bassam’s desk, the two gazing silently at each other, Djaq’s hands gently clenched behind her back. Will shuts the door behind him and starts at the sight of Salak prowling away down the hallway, as though he’s been listening at the door. Will straightens his shirt and heads in the opposite direction.
Back inside Bassam’s study, Djaq is looking rather pained. Bassam gets up slowly from his chair and moves slowly around his desk to her, finally taking her by the shoulders and staring into her face.
Bassam: (in Arabic) Dear one, if you do find the prince, and by some miracle he leads you to the Sultan, who in turn takes you to the Frankish king so that you might place this document into his hands, and all your hopes for an end to this war come to fruition…what then?
Djaq: What do you mean?
Bassam: You know precisely what I mean. There is a life waiting here for you, but it would take a blind man to see that you are not the young girl who left this place so long ago.
Djaq shrugs his hands off her shoulders, looking uncomfortable.
Bassam: And yet, I can still see Safiyah within you. This is your home.
Djaq: Safiyah is long dead.
Bassam sighs and moves away, resigned.
Bassam: In that case, her death has left you a very wealthy woman. Your dowry was entrusted to me by your father and it has never been touched, not even after we received news of your death.
Djaq: (quickly) I don’t want it!
Bassam: Do not speak so hastily, child. When the time comes, you have a decision to make. I cannot believe that you are…content in England.
Djaq opens her mouth for an angry retort, but a strange look crosses her face, and she closes it again.
Djaq: I…I cannot think on this yet. I have work to do.
Bassam nods sadly.
Bassam: It’s just that…you’re back from the dead. I don’t want to lose you again.
He returns to his seat and sits down heavily. Djaq approaches him from behind and puts her arms around his neck, hugging him gently.
Djaq: You never lost me.
Bassam gazes out the window sadly, and pats her hand.
Scene: Bassam’s House; Hallway
Djaq closes the door behind her, looking as though she’s been crying a little. She wipes her eyes and is about to head down the hallway when she jumps at a nearby noise. Salak is back, standing behind the door and watching her intently. She relaxes when she realizes who it is, but he talks to her in a low, urgent voice.
Sarak: I want to come with you.
Djaq: No.
Salak: I can help. Prince Malik knows me; I’ve met him when he and father were discussing his pigeons. And you may not remember the city as well as you used to. I can take you straight to the Dome of the Rock by the easiest route.
Djaq: Have you been listening at doors, Salak? I remember you and Djaq used to do that often.
Salak: I remember that you were always with us when we did. You wouldn’t let us leave you behind.
Djaq: Every little girl wants to keep up with her brother and her cousin.
Salak: And now it’s my turn to follow you.
Djaq: It’s too dangerous.
Salak looks at her incredulously. He splutters for a moment, unable to form a coherent sentence.
Salak: If it’s too dangerous then you shouldn’t be going.
Djaq: I am a trained soldier. You are a scribe.
Now Salak looks stunned.
Salak: And what about your friend? What’s he?
Djaq just stares at him. She’s not impressed, and isn’t going to dignify that with an answer, thank you very much. Salak settles down and takes a deep breath.
Salak: Please. I want to help you. It feels like you’ve been out there all this time, fighting battles, and I’ve been stuck here, feeding pigeons. I just want to help you, just this once. I can take you to the temple, and then I promise I won’t get in your way.
Djaq looks away and closes her eyes.
Djaq: I’ll have to speak with Will first.
She walks away without another word, leaving Salak alone in the hallway, looking hopeful and annoyed at the same time.
Continue to Part 7...