The Lion's Heart: Part 9

[ravenya03]

I think I've only just begun to realize how long this is! We'll be reaching new material soon (probably in the next part). But for now, the gang escape Bassam's house after it's attacked by the Hashashin, only to discover an unexpected way of turning the tables.


Return to Part 8

Scene: Jerusalem Streets

The small group stumble out onto the streets, desperately trying to get as far away from the burning building as they can. There are spectators in the darkness around them, gawping up at the house from the windows of their own homes or from the street, but no sign of any masked assassins. Djaq and Will, helping Bassam and Luke, stumble into a dark alley. Will paces up and down before them, checking for any signs of being followed. Djaq sinks to her knees, cradling the weakened Bassam.

Luke: Where’s Allan?!

A moment later and Allan jogs around the corner. Will gives him a questioning look.

Allan: I think everyone got out.

Will: No, I meant…well, that’s good, but - are you alright?

Allan: Yeah…yeah…

Luke: Who were those people? What just happened?

In the street they can hear people running and screaming, but here in the alleyway all is oddly quiet. Will and Allan look at each other, distress on each face.

Allan: They could have been anyone. Anyone who knew we were staying there.

Will: Who? Ismail? Prince Malik? What reason would they have to attack us?

Allan: Doesn’t have to be them. We’ve got a lot of enemies. The Hashshashin, the Black Knights, Saladin, Prince John…anyone working for any of that lot would like to see us dead.

Will: Don’t be ridiculous. They didn’t know we were there.

Allan: So how’d they find us?

Will: It had to have been someone close to us. Someone in the house.

Allan looks as though he’s going to lose his temper when Luke pipes up:

Luke: Did anyone see Salak?

Allan: Oh great, so ‘e’s missing too.

There is movement at the end of the alleyway and the boys sidle up against the wall.

Allan: We’ve gotta get out of here. The house was attacked and someone was after us. If they realize we’re still alive they’ll keep on coming.

Bassam is coughing weakly, and the number people in the street are growing. It doesn’t take much to realize that an assassin may well be among them.

Djaq: We need to get to a safer place, far away from here. My uncle needs help.

Will and Allan hoist Bassam up between them, struggling a little with his weight. Luke grabs Djaq’s arm and they follow close behind. With the glow of the fire still lighting up the sky behind them, they begin to move down the alleyway, in possession of nothing but their clothes, their weapons and each other.

Scene: Jerusalem Street; Night

Will and Luke have managed to fashion a stretcher out of planks of wood and an awning. Between the two of them they are carrying a half-conscious Bassam through the dark streets.  From the shadows comes Allan, carrying an armful of food. No one questions where he got it; they just take it and eat. Bassam moans deliriously in Arabic, and Djaq leans over to quieten him in her own language.

Djaq: (to the others) He is worried about Salak.

Will: He’ll be fine. He probably got out on the other side of the house.

Allan gives a little snort.

Allan: Yeah, I’m sure he’s fine. Probably deciding how best to spend his money.

Djaq shoots him an angry look.

Djaq: Salak did not do this.

Allan: Who then? Sorry Djaq, but you can’t say he didn’t ‘ave it in for us. Consortin’ with the infidel? Bringin’ enemies into ‘is ‘ouse? That would’ve gone down like a cup ‘a cold sick.

Will (muttering) He had better reasons than you at least.

The stretcher jolts as Allan turns around to glare at Will. Djaq throws up a warning hand.

Djaq: Stop it now. We will discuss what has happened when we have reached safety and not before. For now we must be silent.

For a few steps there is indeed quiet, until Luke - his voice weak with exertion - pipes up.

Luke: Where exactly are we going?

Djaq: To the Temple of the Dome, the most holy site in the city. For my people at least. There is a hospital where ammo can be tended.

The scene fades into darkness as the weary group of travellers struggle through the night with their load. Above, the stars shine brightly.

Scene: Temple of the Dome; Exterior

It is morning and Will, Allan and Luke are sitting in the square, leaning in exhaustion against the high stone walls of a grand temple. The massive dome rises over the top of the walls like a bronze sun as the morning sun gradually increases in strength. Luke seems to be asleep on his feet and Will and Allan - their faces half hidden by their makeshift turbans - look as though they’re clinging to the last of their strength to remain standing upright.

Will: Do you really think it was Salak who sold us out?

Allan: Yes. Maybe. I dunno. It could have been any of the servants, I s’pose.

Will: But how could they do such a thing? Betray their own people for money?

Allan: It’s not about money, Will. Not really. It’s about fear. People just tell themselves it’s about earning an extra bit of dosh, because even that’s a better excuse than just bein’ afraid.

They fall quiet, silently soaking up the sun. Luke yawns widely and slumps against Allan, eyes closed. A woman, shrouded from head to toe in a black burqua shuffles forward with a basket of apples balanced on her hip. Allan is the only one with his eyes still open and she waves one in his face. He shakes his head, and after a few more attempts to entice him, she hobbles away again. As she heads toward the temple she almost collides with Djaq, looking just as exhausted as the men. The two sidestep each other and the men perk up a little at her reappearance.

Djaq: He is resting now.

Will: Will he be alright?

Djaq: He is worried about his pigeons, and about Salak - in that order. But he is well cared for where he is. The four of us must turn to more important matters.

Will grips his staff meaningfully. The Pact is still inside.

Allan: What should we do? Try and find Prince Malik or try and get to King Richard?

Djaq: Neither. What we must do for now is hide.

Allan: Huh?

Djaq: I still do not think you realize the danger we are in. If the Hashashin have chosen for us to die, then they will not stop after one failed attempt. Besides, if we want to find Prince Malik, we must wait for his people to contact us. He would have had Bassam’s house watched just as surely as the Hashashins did.

Allan: Great, so how do we know he didn’t set the place on fire last night?

Djaq: (a little angrily) He is a man of honour. He would not do such a thing. Besides, I know it was the Hashashin. I killed a man last night. He was a Frank, but he had tattoos all over his body, just like Harold. Come.

She turns and walks across the square. Still exhausted, the three men trail into formation behind her. Djaq looks back at them over her shoulder.

Djaq: We must bide our time, and meet in a place where the Hashashin would not dream of looking for us.

Scene: The Church of the Holy Sepulchre

A large crowd of pilgrims is gathered before the massive church, wailing and tearing at their clothes. Will and Luke look a little awed, Djaq looks respectful, and Allan seems uncomfortable.

Djaq: Christians call this place the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. It is where all your pilgrims come. This is where the man you call your Saviour died. Keep your eyes open for Ismail.

Without consulting each other, the four separate and blend into the crowd, each moving toward the entrance. At the two great doors leading inside, armed Saracens collect money from the Frankish pilgrims. Each member of our little group pays, though there are some Christians among them who seem highly resentful of this entrance fee.

The interior of the church is huge, and Luke looks around reverently at the immense space. The church is built on many levels with chapels, balconies and passages all around him, and candles and incense burning everywhere.

A line of pilgrims cross the floor, chanting and sobbing quietly, each person’s hands on the shoulder of the person before them. There are hawkers trying to sell fruit and relics, and other people loudly discussing business as they look around. Luke deliberately looks away from them, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, composing himself.

Luke: This is the heart of Christendom. I made it. Here all sins will be forgiven. All illnesses can be cured.

He begins to look around for an appropriate place to pray. On the other side of the building, Will and Djaq have exited a small door and are climbing the stone steps to Golgotha together. In Will’s hand is Robin’s crucifix. He is quietly muttering to himself as they climb, braced against the crowd on all sides. Djaq glances down at the tiny cross in his hand, her face unreadable as they surmount the low hill.

Djaq: (softly) This was where your prophet was crucified. Look around carefully. This is what your people fight for.

The two gaze about the hill: a Muslim woman and a Christian man, caught up in the rush of noisy pilgrims. Finally Will drops to his knee and digs a small hole with his hands. Despite the dirt under his fingernails, he rubs Robin’s crucifix clean before lowering it into the hole and covering it up again. Djaq watches silently and looks at Will as he rises to his feet again. The two of them seem to have run out of words.

Back inside, Allan is looking about the gilded walls and valuable decorations with his usual interest in shiny things. Around him float conversations in dozens of different languages, and he’s jostled on all sides as he wanders. He stops in the middle of the chapel at the sight of a mural upon the wall: that of Christ and the two thieves crucified on Golgotha, momentarily entranced by the sight of it.

He keeps moving until he can duck through an archway, finding himself in a surprisingly large alcove that is currently empty. He breathes a sigh of relief for having escaped the crush of people. Sliding down to the ground he rubs his neck and looks around, gazing at the graffiti that litters every surface.

The light of an idea brightens in his eyes. From his pocket he takes a small piece of flint and turns to face the wall, crouching down to hide what he’s doing. Scraping away quickly but carefully at the stone wall, the camera pans down to reveal what he’s done: a crude drawing of three figures standing close together, each a different height and carrying a staff, a scimitar and a bow. He returns the flint to his pocket and looks for a long time at what he’s drawn, vowing to keep it a secret in his heart. No matter where he goes or what happens next, he and Will and Djaq will be together here, forever in the rock, till the end of time.

After a while he stands, looking a bit misty-eyed, and returns to the world around him. A man is standing on the other side of the altar, and Allan peers at him intently, his brow furrowing.

Allan: ‘Ey. Sir Liam?

The man turns around with a jolt.

Sir Liam: Good heavens, it’s Allan-a-Dale!

Allan looks the clean-shaven and neatly dressed Sir Liam up and down. His arm is still in a sling, but he looks strong and well-fed. Allan brushes his flint-covered fingers down his pants, nodding in acknowledgement.

Allan: Sir Liam…

Liam: I was wondering if I would find you in Jerusalem. Could there be a more suitable place to meet than this? The Holiest of Holies?

Allan: Er…right.

Liam: I have come to pay my respects to the Lord before I re-join the King in Beit Nuba.

Allan: He’s still in Beit Nuba?

Liam: Of course. He will march upon the city soon, no doubt. It’s a wonder the Saracens haven’t torn this place to the ground already.

He gives Allan a shrewd look.

Liam: Have you given any more thought to joining Richard’s men?

Allan: I…well, I ain’t sure.

Liam: Well, perhaps I shall see you in the encampment. Don’t worry, I will vouch for you.

Allan: Thanks. Maybe I’ll be seein’ you again.

Liam claps him on the shoulder and leaves. Allan looks a little perturbed, but soon shakes himself out of it. With one last lingering look at the picture he’s created, Allan turns away to find the others.

Luke is wandering about the far end of the church, watching with interest as pilgrims cut their hair and tuck the strands of it into cracks in the walls, and with outrage as others chip away at bits of rock to collect as souvenirs. A man approaches him with a range of relics for sale: silver hands, legs, hearts and other body parts, all meant as offerings to God in exchange for healing.

Seller: Well, young sir. Where do you need healing? You seem a little peaky. Perhaps a silver heart? Are you limping at all? Perhaps you have an injured foot. Let me see your hands. All ten fingers still intact?

Luke: Yes, yes, I’m fine. That is…I think I might be unwell.

Seller: Ah, I see. Tell me your affliction and let me help God help you.

Luke: Well, it’s not really a part of my body. It’s something…deep inside me. I don’t know where exactly.

The man loses interest and simply wanders off, but a monk has been listening and approaches Luke, pointing him toward a doorway.

Monk: I’d suggest the caves then. Down there, you are enveloped, body and soul, in the presence of the Lord.

Luke follows the man’s pointed finger and heads down a narrow flight of stone steps. The catacombs under the chapel are dark, despite being lit all around with dozens and dozens of candles. He takes one down to light his way. There is a line of pilgrims who are waiting to touch a little rock tomb, like a stone shelf in the side of the rock-face. Luke joins the queue and when it is his turn he hesitantly reaches out to touch it; then looks at his hand as though expecting a change. Before he can fully process what he’s just done, the crowd shuffles him aside. If he was waiting for illumination, he hasn’t got it. Looking almost heartbroken, Luke wanders about in search of a quiet corner.

In a quiet alcove Luke accidentally knocks his candle. It extinguishes and he looks at it in despair, as though it’s nothing less than a sign from God. Shivering, he hunches down in the alcove, close to tears. At the sound of shuffling close by, he straightens quickly. Right in front of him in the darkness is a young Saracen boy with a seraphic face and a lit candle of his own. Silently he reaches out and relights Luke’s candle. Then he leans forward, almost as though he’s about to kiss Luke, and blows gently over his face. Without a word, he turns and leaves. The encounter lasts less than five seconds, and Luke is left with his candle in the dark, looking rather dazed.

Back upstairs in the central chapel Will and Djaq meet up again with Allan. He’s back to looking at the mural that depicts the triple-crucifixion. Will and Djaq take their places either side of him, staring up at the image.

Djaq: You look deep in thought.

Allan jumps a little, surprised at their presence.

Allan: I was jus’ thinkin’. I never really realized…or at least I never really thought about it…’e was sold out for a bag of silver too. I remember the priest tellin’ me that, back when my family bothered with church.

Will: I remember my Ma telling me that he didn’t die alone. The men who died with him were thieves.

Djaq: They all died as outlaws. So I guess the three of us are in good company.

Allan reaches for his outlaw tag but realizes that he isn’t wearing it. As they stand and stare, Luke joins them, still looking dazed.

Will: What happened?

Luke: There was a boy…he blew on me. Just blew.

Djaq gives a little smile.

Djaq: He was blowing the blessings of the Koran on you. It means that you are blessed now.

Luke: Really…?

Djaq smiles at him and for the first time Luke looks at peace. Djaq looks at each of the men in turn and nods to herself.

Djaq: (quietly) I think we are ready now.

Scene: Jerusalem Temple

Djaq, Will, Allan and Luke look despondently over the ruins of the temple in which they met with Prince Malik. There are several other sightseers, and plenty of children playing in the rubble.

Allan: Looks like the Hashashins got here first.

Will: Do you think anyone got away?

Djaq: We did. So too did they.

Luke: But how do we find them?

Djaq: We wait.

Sure enough, after a few minutes of loitering near the burnt-out debris, Djaq motions to the others, having heard something. From an alleyway, a figure is beckoning to them. They pick their way across the ruin and join him in the shadows: it is Harold/Ismail, looking very much the worse for wear with his head bandaged and a pronounced limp. Djaq tries to look him over but he brushes her aside.

Ismail: I cannot stay. It was a risk just coming here. They came in the night.

Djaq: For us as well.

Ismail: Then it is already over. The Man in the Mountain will not stop until we are all dead.

He is beginning to exhibit some of his old twitches: he looks shifty and suspicious.

Djaq: Does the prince live?

Ismail: Yes. We got him out.

Djaq: We need to speak to him.

Ismail: That is impossible.

Will: Why?

Ismail: (losing his cool) Because the Hashashins are after us! One does not fight them, one can only hide.

He begins to shake.

Ismail: I can’t go back. I can’t go back.

Allan: Steady on mate.

Djaq tries to reach for him, but he shrugs her off.

Djaq: Where is the prince?

Ismail: Safe. Away. Where I should be. I cannot stay here. It might already be too late!

He yanks himself out of Djaq’s grasp and hurtles away down the alleyway. Allan makes to go after him but Djaq holds him back.

Djaq: No. He is frightened enough. He can be of no help to us now.

Will: What do we do if we can’t reach Prince Malik?

Djaq: Then we try to get to the Sultan. He will help us.

Will and Allan exchange troubled looks over her head.

Allan: The thing is…about that…

Djaq: What?

Will reaches out to put a hand on her shoulder.

Will: We’re just worried that you might feel the same way about the Sultan as Robin does about the King. You believe he can do no wrong.

Djaq: I think that because it is true! He is a good and noble man! Far greater than your Lionheart!

Allan shrugs as if to say “see our point?” and Djaq glares at him. Will takes a deep breath.

Will: When we began this journey, I told myself that I would let you take the lead. You know this land better than I ever could, but you have to understand that it’s difficult for us to trust the same people you do.

Djaq: You should trust them because I trust them.

Will: I do trust you, more than anyone else in the world. But I think it would be a wiser if we concentrated on getting the Pact to the King. That is what we came here for, after all.

Djaq: We cannot simply approach Beit Nuba and present Melek Ric with the Pact. We need a delegation if we are to be taken seriously: diplomats and translators and witnesses and scribes! The Sultan alone can provide us with those things.

Will: And how long will that take now that Prince Malik has gone into hiding? Do you even know where to find Saladin? And I know that they’re your own people, but how do you know that any of them can be trusted?

Djaq: Because I do. Noble blood runs in their veins.

Will looks a little hurt. Allan gives a little snort.

Allan: Now you really do sound like Robin.

Djaq glares at him again. Sensing a fight, Allan wanders away to the entrance of the alleyway to peer out at the crowd.

Will: There is more than one way to approach the King. We could go to him in secret, by night. We snuck into the castle all the time. It can’t be that much harder to infiltrate a campsite.

Djaq: Creeping around like thieves and outlaws?

Will: We are thieves and outlaws, or did you forget?

Djaq: Will, please, this is a matter of royalty and due process. One cannot simply wander up to the King and hand him a piece of paper. It just doesn’t work like that.

As this argument is going on, Allan is scanning the crowd with Luke at his side. Suddenly he jumps, puts a hand on Luke’s shoulder and leans closer.

Allan: It can’t be…

Amongst the crowd of sight-seers is a woman clad head to toe in black, looking over the burnt remains of the temple in silence. She is alone, and carries a parchment in her hand, partially concealed by her sleeve.

Allan: Guys. Guys!

Stopping mid-argument, Will and Djaq look over at him. Allan beckons them closer.

Allan: Look. It’s Bassam’s serving girl.

Djaq: Where?

Allan points her out.

Djaq: Zahra? How on earth can you tell?

Allan: From the way she’s standin’. I saw in the house last night. She jumped outta a window. She must’ve been one of the last to leave the ‘ouse.

Will and Djaq exchange wry glances at this, but Luke seems fascinated.

Djaq: We should go and see if she is alright. Poor girl must have been terrified.

Allan: Nah. Somethin’ strange’s goin’ on ‘ere. Look at ‘er.

The four of them stare, and Allan’s point becomes clear. Zahra is too calm, too composed, and the eyes that are just visible from the slit in her veil are roaming the area in search of something. Instinctively, all four of them lean back into the alley as her eyes pass by the alley.

Luke: She’s looking for us…

Allan: And check out what’s in ‘er hand.

Djaq: The Pact!

Will: No…the fake Pact.

He wobbles his staff a little, the real Pact still safely tucked inside. As they watch, Zahra steps away from the rubble and heads down a small side street.

Djaq: Quick!

The four of them emerge from the alleyway, their hoods up over their heads. Stealthily they make their way across the ruined building and follow Zahra down the narrow streets, carefully staying in formation. Every time she stops or looks around, they quickly dart back behind doorways or against the walls of buildings. The camera pans up to show us the vastness of the city through which they are following her: the flat rooftops, the domes and minarets of the mosques, the ancient stone walls, the arched windows and crosses silhouetted against the sky.

When we return to ground-level again, Will, Allan, Djaq and Luke are approaching a wide stone courtyard. Weeds are growing up between the cobblestones and piles of dust and debris have accumulated in the corners. No one is in sight, and the place looks utterly deserted. A grim building of dark stone rises up before them, with only few narrow arched windows too high up to climb into and a single door in its otherwise blank façade.

Luke: This doesn’t look like a friendly place.

Allan: Where’d she go? She was right in front of us a second ago.

Djaq: Inside, I think it is safe to assume. Be careful. We are probably being watched.

Allan: Nah, she never saw us.

Slowly but surely, the four of them step into the courtyard. Djaq’s eyes are on the high windows, but there’s no sign of any movement. Allan gives the door handle a tentative pull. It’s locked.

Allan: Obviously. Maybe I can pick the lock.

Will: Don’t bother. It’s not a real door.

Allan: Huh?

Will gestures to the hinges.

Will: Those weren’t designed to open. I can tell just by looking at them. It’s a fake door made to keep a stranger’s attention away from the real entrance.

Allan looks a little put-out.

Allan: Well, alright then. I suppose all places like this ‘ave secret passages. ‘Ow do we find it?

Will carefully looks over the flagstones in the courtyard. Then, he slowly and deliberately presses his weight down on a particular one. With a low grinding noise, a square portion of the courtyard rolls back to reveal a flight of stone steps.

Djaq: How did you know?

Will: The workmanship was shoddy.

Djaq raises an eyebrow at him.

Will: (reluctantly) And there were no weeds growing around it.

The four of them cluster around the entrance way and draw their weapons. The stone steps disappear down into darkness, though there seems to be a flickering light at the bottom.

Djaq gives a few hand signals and Luke is pushed to the back of the group, with Will and Allan flanking Djaq on either side. Slowly they descend the steps, holding their breaths, weapons at the ready.

At the base of the stairs a voice cries out in guttural Arabic. A guard is standing at the threshold of the underground base, dressed in a helmeted turban and the dark blue robes of the Hashashin. As he’s caught off-guard, Djaq and Will make quick work of him. Knocked unconscious, they drag him back into a small alcove opposite the steps, whilst Luke checks the hallway to ascertain that they were not heard. Allan hurries to join them, taking off the man’s turban and using it to bind and gag him.

Will: (rather impressed) Good idea.

Allan: Secret passages, low security, inept guards - I feel right at home.

As the unconscious man is trussed up, his robes are left slight askew, and Djaq gives a small gasp. She points out the tattoos on the man’s neck and collarbone.

Djaq: (to Allan and Luke) The two of you should stay here and guard this entrance. If you see anyone coming from above, hide. If anyone approaches from within the building, leave immediately.

Luke: What are you going to do?

Djaq looks pale with fright, but determined.

Djaq: This is some sort of meeting place for the Hashashins. If we can get an idea of what they are doing; what they are planning, then we can warn the King about it. This could be our only chance.

Allan: (who clearly doesn’t care about the King) No, it’s too dangerous. At least let me come with you. It’ll be safer if we’re together.

Djaq: No, we would be more noticeable. Do this for me, and I will take you to a harem.

Allan: A what?

She merely smiles. Will hesitates for a moment and then hands his staff to Allan.

Will: Here, take this. I can’t fight with only one hand. But promise me: you must guard it with your life.

Allan: A walking stick?

Will: It was my father’s. Promise me.

Allan: Alright. I promise.

Will gives his brother a nod, and Luke tightens his grip on the hilt of his sword in return.

Djaq: If we get separated, we will meet outside the Dome of the Rock. If not, (the implication hangs heavily in the air) then whoever is left must find the King.

There’s little time for sentiment, and the group gives each other quiet, hard looks before Will and Djaq scamper off down the length of the stone passageway. Allan and Luke watch them go - a little helplessly - and then take their positions in the alcove, the unconscious Hashashin still at their feet.

Will and Djaq move carefully down the hallway. The walls are bare and crumbling, and many of the archways they pass lead into chambers both vast and empty. It is a strange place - much of the furniture and wall hangings look as though they were once expensive, but now are dusty, broken and covered in cobwebs.

Will: What is this place?

Djaq: It looks as if it may have been a safe-house for a Sultan in times of war. But now…

They pass through the silent corridors like ghosts, their instincts leading them to a wooden door: one of the few that they’ve seen. It takes only a few seconds of Will running his hands over it before he pulls the pins out of the hinges and pries it open. He holds his breath as the door swings open, but when no sign of any life emits from within, they enter one after the other.

The octagonal-shaped room is just as decrepit as the rest of the building, though there are some dusty drapes hanging down from the ceiling. Will whips them back with the tip of his sword to reveal at least a dozen large chests stacked together in a pile. Djaq watches his back as Will uses his hatchet to tap the hinge-pins loose and open them up. Both glance at each other in astonishment. Will dips his hand inside and lifts up a handful of gold coins.

Djaq: But…these are English coins. Look, they are stamped with the royal seal.

Will: (grimly) I think I know where our tax money has been going.

Djaq: But what is it for? What is being funded here?

Will just shrugs helplessly. A fluttering noise makes them both jump, but having pointed their weapons in the direction of the sound, they soon stalk their way through the draperies on the other side of the chamber to find two pigeons huddled together in a small aviary built against the wall.

Will: Lardner. You were right. Our message never reached the King.

Djaq: (thinking it all through) McClellan was tortured by the Hashashins. When Robin and Marian found and buried him, they never even thought to check him for tattoos. But he was sent to England with a stolen pigeon to ask for more reinforcements.

Will: And who better to ask than Robin Hood? It was lucky we didn’t send important information straight back into the enemy’s lair.

Djaq: Someone does not want this war to end. Someone who wants to get rid of men who are loyal to Melek Ric.

Will: Someone who wants King Richard to continue fighting in the Holy Land indefinitely. Someone who can pay the Hashashins in English tax money.

Djaq: Someone who knows the name Robin Hood.

Djaq and Will: (in unison) Prince John.

Djaq takes a quick look at the pigeons in the cage and nods her head.

Djaq: Someone has been looking after them. We should not linger here.

Will: Wait. If this is the Hashashin headquarters, then perhaps there are English prisoners here as well. We should try and find them.

Djaq chews on her bottom lip, looking strained. The fear that surrounds the reputation of the Hashashins is beginning to take its toll on her.

Djaq: Very well. But we must be quick.
Continue to Part 10