The Tragedy of Men - Chapter Five
Title The Tragedy of Men
Chapter: Our Stars Align (5/9)
Author: smaragdbird
Summary: After being rescued and while he’s healing Much becomes friends with Knight Templar Thomas.
Pairings overall: Richard/Philip, Much/Thomas, allusion to Robin/Marian plus diverse historical married couples
Characters/Pairings in this chapter: Much, Robin, Thomas, Jubayr, Guy de Lusignan, Alix de Lusignan, Jocelin, LeGrand, Adhémar
Rating: overall rating of NC-17
Spoilers/Warnings:overall warnings of detailed violence and torture
Disclaimer: Robin Hood belongs to BBC and not to me. Also I don’t make any money with this. It’s just for fun
Notes:Okay first a big, big thank you to both my beta-reader thymelady and my artistneaptidea. They have both done a more than incredible job especially in that short time. You are awesome guys, both of you :)
Second, I took a historical liberties with this fic: Richard and Philip didn’t arrive in Acre until summer 1191 but here I made them come to Acre in 1189 for dramatic purposes. Also I interpreted the historical characters in this story as it fit my purposes which I only say here in case one of you has seen Kingdom of Heaven and wonders why Guy de Lusignan is such a nice guy (although according to my textbooks and Wikipedia he wasn’t so bad ;)
Third, all Arabic in this fic comes from the phrase pages in an old travel guide. Feel open to point out any mistakes I made
Artwork, by neaptidea
Previous Chapter
The tragedy of men
Our Stars Align
When Much woke up again he was in a bed in a house he didn’t recognise, but the knowledge alone that he wasn’t in that cellar any more calmed him and eased his pain.
“Hey, you’re awake.” Much tried to twist around to see who had spoken but instead the man kneeled down next to him.
“Your master asked me to look after you while he looks after the King. I’m Thomas.”
His arm was bandaged and in a sling but he smiled and Much recognised him.
“You’re the Templar that brought me to King Guy.” Thomas’ smile widened. He seemed pleased that Much remembered him.
“I didn’t think you would recognise me. How are you feeling?”
“It hurts,” Much admitted. “But I’m here and not there anymore, so that’s good. Very good.”
“Your master is seen as quite the hero for slipping behind the enemy line with only two men at his side and getting you out.”
“It was very brave of him,” Much affirmed. He frowned. “Where are we? Is this Acre?”
“No, “Thomas laughed. “No, do you remember the abandoned village on the North side of the Belus?”
“We didn’t have enough men to take it,” Much answered unsure.
“We got reinforcements while you were captured,” Thomas told him. He seemed quite comfortable sitting on the floor next to Much’s bed.
“The Italian Fleet?”
“No, King Richard’s and King Philip’s vassals from the continent. Also, Leopold of Austria managed to take control of most of Barbarossa’s scattered army and led them here.”
“But Saladin’s siege!” Much threw in.
“We were holding him off for eight days. When he saw that he couldn’t overrun us, he decided to let time do the dirty work, but he didn’t know we would get help from home. No one did. You should have seen the King’s faces when the ships arrived. Hell, all our faces. I mean, I could barely remember decent food, could you?” Much shook his head but the memory of the long, tough months under siege, faded against the recent memories of his captivity.
“Anyway, Saladin was a bit taken aback, I imagine, when he got the news that our fleet had captured Haifa. Even if he still had had a fleet, he wouldn’t be able to enter the bay. We can do this, Much. We can win,” Thomas grinned. It was a good look on him, Much thought.
“How do you know my name?”
“I remembered from when we first met,” Thomas blushed. “Also your master told me.”
“Oh,” Much hesitated. “How long was I... I mean how many weeks have passed since Saladin attacked the camp?”
“Fourteen, I think,” Thomas replied frowning. “Yes, it’s been a little more than three months now.”
“Three months!” Much gasped.
“That’s why no one believed that Robin would bring you back alive. He stayed out there for a month or so. Even the King told him that it was madness,” Thomas winced slightly and moved his arm.
“You shouldn’t be sitting on the ground like this only to talk to me,” Much told him.
“Your back looks like it hurts more than my arm.”
“How did that happen? Your arm I mean.”
“Being in King Richard’s Guard is dangerous, as you know,” Thomas winked at him. “I went for years as a Knights Templar and never got any worse than a bad sunburn, but as soon as I joined the King’s Guard, I get shot down by a Turk.”
“Knights Templar can become part of the King’s Guard?” Much frowned.
“Well, I’m one of maybe a dozen Knights Templars left in this camp. And we haven’t had a Grandmaster since Gerard died, so we have no commander at the moment. Since I’m from England, I thought I’d make myself useful and protect the King until a new Grandmaster was elected.”
“What part of England do you come from?”
“Oxfordshire, what about you? I mean, you speak French like a Norman but your master spoke English to you when he visited you.”
“We’re from Nottinghamshire. My master is the lord of Locksley, Earl of Huntington.”
“I’m not able to keep up with a title like this. But a credo of my order says that we’re all equal anyway.”
“But we’re not,” Much replied, thinking it was a joke. Thomas shrugged. “All I know is that you have the reputation of a war hero from the battle, and as long as I haven’t achieved that title myself, you’re above me.”
“Much, you’re awake,” Robin came into the room. He looked tired. “Thank you Thomas.”
“Any time,” Thomas answered but he was looking at Much.
Robin took Thomas’ position next to Much’s bed. “I’m sorry Much, the King expects me to entertain our Saracen guest.”
“A Saracen guest?” Much asked alarmed. “It’s not Saladin, isn’t it?”
“No, he’s called Ibn Jubayr. He’s an ambassador from Spain that travels back home.” Robin shook his head thoughtfully. “He’s a strange man, Much. He seems to know a lot about us but we know next to nothing about the Saracens. Sorry,” Robin said before Much could reply anything. “How are you?”
“You rescued me, master.”
“Yes, Much , I did, And I expect you to be back on your feet as quickly as possible so that we can bring Acre down and go home,” Robin smirked. “By the way, I think this belongs to you.” He took something from under Much’s bed and held it up. It was Much’s Saracen shield.
“Thank you, master,” Much replied moved. Robin shrugged lightly. “I only got it from Jocelin.”
“Master, how did you know that I wasn’t dead?”
“I didn’t, but I thought that they wanted to know something from you and as long as you didn’t give it to them you’d be alive.” Much looked away from Robin in shame when he said that.
“Much?” Robin asked.
“I did tell them,” Much said quietly. “At least the things I knew. Not immediately, of course, but I did tell them.”
“Oh Much.” Robin curled a hand around Much’s arm. “I was there, remember? They broke two of my toes just because I didn’t want to tell them my name. No one blames you for anything. We’ve both seen what torture does to a man and you were gone for three months. That’s a lot longer than most others would have lasted.”
“When did they set you free?” Much asked to change the subject.
“After a week, King Richard paid the ransom for me. He said that he didn’t need the money at the moment anyway, because he couldn’t eat it,” Robin chuckled and so did Much. It was good to be back.
///////////////////////////////////////
That night the dreams started. Much didn’t remember them but he remembered that when he woke up, he was so sure that he was back in the cellar that he jerked away in fear when Robin touched him to comfort him. The sudden movement pulled at his wounded back and he let out a choked scream.
“Sh, Much, it’s fine. You’re safe,” Robin whispered until Much fell asleep again. He had insisted that he would stay in the hospital with Much, even though the physicians had claimed that there was nothing he could do and would only be in their way, but Much was glad that Robin was there.
///////////////////////////////////////
Thomas came back the next day while Robin was occupied with the Saracen ambassador again.
“Hey,” he said and sat down next to Much’s bed again. “How are you?”
“I’m fine, well, better at least,” Much amended.
“Glad to hear that.” Thomas’ smiles were different from Robin’s. Robin’s smiles were boyish and mischievous, Thomas’ seemed to light up the room.
“Are you glad to hear that you’re not missing anything spectacular, just the same old skirmishes with the Turks?”
“I should be out there with my master,” Much replied quietly.
“You will. Maybe even earlier than me. I’ve heard the physicians talk about you and they’re amazed how much your wounds have healed already. Me? Not so much.” He gestured to his injured arm.
“How did that happen?”
“Lead a foray into a village. Of course I managed to catch the first arrow they shot with my arm. Not very heroic,” he smiled self-depravingly.
“Do you think heroics are that important?” Much asked.
“I believe heroic deeds make us immortal. I mean, look at all the men that are still remembered. Didn’t they all do something heroic?”
“I think I would rather go home,” Much answered truthfully. Thomas laughed.
“Well, the Greeks went home after they conquered Troy. I think you can do both.”
Thomas came by every day because Robin was occupied with the Saracen ambassador and brought bits and pieces from the front line and gossip from the King’s Guard. LeGrand and with him Adhémar had been sent to Cyprus and accompany the King’s mother and Queen Berengaria back to Aquitaine, while James and Jocelin were in Haifa to negotiate with merchants about the supplies for the camp.
Thomas was a man easy to like. He was a good storyteller and respectful, and even though Much was sure that he was of nobility, Thomas never mentioned his family beyond the stray mention of Oxfordshire.
He had also been right about Much healing fast. At least his back did, but he would need another few weeks until his feet and toes had healed enough for him to walk again.
Robin usually came late in the evening and left early in the morning, but he still slept in the same room as Much and was there to sooth him when the nightmares took over.
///////////////////////////////////////
“I see someone taught you our language,” ambassador Jubayr smiled. “I did not expect that from a Frank.”
“We are just as diverse as you are,” Robin replied easily. He had learned it after his return to the camp after King Richard had paid his ransom. Surprisingly enough, Much wasn’t the only soldier who had picked up the local language.
“Oh, believe me, I’ve encountered many Christians in my home in Balansíya,” the ambassador replied. “Most of them learned our language as well. My surprise merely stemmed from the fact that you are a crusader who doesn’t want to stay in this land after the war and yet you make the effort to get to know it.”
“Knowing your enemy is half the battle,” Robin replied just as easily. He felt impatient because he really didn’t want to be here. He wanted to see how Much was doing, not entertain a Saracen traveller even if it was the last day because the ambassador would leave on a merchant ship that sailed for Sicily today.
“That is a good advice,” Jubayr chuckled. “Perhaps I should warn my King that his Christian subjects will rise against him soon.”
“It is their country,” Robin countered. It always went like this. In some way or another Jubayr found a way to engage him into a discussion.
“But it is our country as well.”
“You conquered it.”
“As you did with this one?” Jubayr’s intelligent eyes rested on Robin’s face. “You say you have a right to Jerusalem because it is your Holy City. It is our Holy City as well. Have you ever talked with a Jew?”
“No,” Robin answered. He couldn’t see where this was leading.
“Maybe you should. They claim this country as well, and Jerusalem as the land that their God gave to them. It seems like everyone wants Jerusalem for themselves.”
“Why don’t you help him then? Saladin.”
“He is not our ruler,” Jubayr explained. “We respect him, but we don’t own him anything. My people are content to remain in their own country. I am, of course, an exception. I’m a very curious person.”
“Is that why you came here?”
“Of course. Your King has some reputation amongst the people here. I wanted to see if he lived up to the rumours.”
“You were probably disappointed that he wasn’t a demon,” Robin bit out.
“Not at all. The people around here see your King in a favourable light, misguided and an unbeliever, yes, but a noble unbeliever if you will.”
Robin bit his tongue to avoid saying anything offending. It wouldn’t look good if he killed an ambassador on his way to the ship.
They stopped at the quay.
“It’s been a pleasure,” Robin lied.
“You are an interesting man, Robin of Locksley,” Jubayr said and reached into his cloak. “I will miss our discussions.” He took a small bundle and gave it to Robin.
“I assume a man like you can read Greek?”
“Yes, I can. What is this?”
“It’s a translation of the Qur’an. My people’s Bible if you will. I believe you will find it interesting.”
“Shokran jazeelan,” Robin thanked him, genuinely touched. He had always assumed that the ambassador only argued with him to annoy him and not because he found his arguments interesting. “Ma’a salama.”
“Ma’a salama, young Frank” Jubayr replied and climbed up the platform.
“Eh, Robin!” It was Matthew Kent, one of the two soldiers that had accompanied him into Saracen territory when he had saved Much.
“Matthew, was is it?”
“The King wants to speak with you. He convoked the council of Nobles.”
“Of course, run ahead and tell him I’m on my way.”
///////////////////////////////////////
The taking of Haifa had secured the maintenance of supplies to the camp. As a side effect, scurvy had disappeared, but there were enough illnesses that weren’t cured by food and the camp still had to subsist on the foul water of the Belus. Many soldiers on both sides of the siege fell ill with malaria over the summer and more than a few of them died.
The Italian fleet arrived at the end of August, blocking the harbour and the bay of Haifa for once and all, but as of October, the storm season of the Mediterranean Sea began and every ship was forced to stay in.
The Italian fleet was not the only thing that arrived in September. With them, they had brought the plague. It was nothing short of a miracle that neither Much nor Thomas were infected, as the illnesses liked to target the wounded and weak. Others were not so lucky.
The rooms of the hospital were soon filled with the ill. At first the physicians had tried to keep the ill away from the wounded, but soon there simply wasn’t enough space. Robin had wanted for Much to return to their tent, but the physicians had argued that the constant fighting so near the front would upset Much’s principal fluids and make him ill again, so he stayed.
Every day they brought in more men with chills, rashes and headaches and every day they buried more and more of them.
///////////////////////////////////////
“You have a funny emblem on your shield. What house are you from?” A small voice asked. Much turned around to see a small girl, maybe eight or nine, examine his shield. He wondered how she got in here.
“It’s not an emblem. It’s a Saracen shield. They all look like this,” he explained to her.
“Why do you have it then?” she asked. Her face and arms were covered in little bumps that looked like insect bites. “No one can see your house if don’t wear it on your shield.”
“I don’t have a house.”
“You’re a peasant?” she frowned.
“No, I’m a soldier of the King’s Guard.” Much corrected her.
“My father is the King.” she replied cheerily. Much stared at her.
“Your father is King Richard?”
“No, silly,” she grinned. “My father is King Guy. And my mother is Queen Sybilla. They own this country. They own Jerusalem which makes them the most important -;“
“Alix!” The girl stooped, looking caught.
“Don’t tell him I’m here!” She laid a finger over Much’s lips. “It’s an order from the princess.” Alix crawled under his bed.
“Alix, I know you’re -;“ Guy de Lusignan appeared in the doorway, stopping mid-sentence when he saw Much.
“What a surprise.” He looked much older than the last time Much had seen him, as if instead of three months, Much had been gone three years.
“Your Majesty.” Much bowed his head and fisted his hands nervously into the blanket. He remembered his failure to deliver de Lusignan’s letter with great shame.
“I heard that you had returned, unlikely as it seemed.”
“I’m so sorry Your Majesty, I didn’t mean to... I mean I would have... ” de Lusignan interrupted his babbling.
“I believe that you did your best. Since you returned and that relatively unharmed, I believe that God still has plans for you. Important plans.”
“I - ... I - Thanks you, Your Majesty.” Much stuttered. de Lusignan nodded.
“Alix, come out under the bed.” The girl groaned in disappointment but did as her father told her.
“Come on,” he told her quietly. “Your mother waits for you.”
“Bye!” she waved at Much before she followed her father outside.
Much learned from Robin on the same night that Alix de Lusignan had died of the plague mere hours after Much had met her, together with her little sister and her mother.
///////////////////////////////////////
“Good to see you back on your feet.” Thomas smiled when he came in, carrying a quarter loaf of bread, a wineskin, some figs and a chunk of the local cheese. Much grinned happily. He could walk through the room and back to the bed by now and the physician was confident that he would be able to leave the hospital in about a week.
“Your arm looks better, too,” he pointed out.
Thomas didn’t wear the sling any more, but he only shrugged. “Still can’t use it like I did before.”
“Maybe it will get better when you fight again,” Much tried to cheer him up.
“Maybe,“ Thomas shrugged. “It’s only my shield arm. I’ll get used to it. Come on, let’s eat. Robin says he’ll come by later. The King wants his advice on the succession.”
“They haven’t even buried her! It’s outrageous.”
“Guy wants to keep the crown.”
“He said so?”
“He did, in front of the whole council. He said that Sybilla had crowned him herself when they married and therefore he wants to remain King until his death.” Thomas leaned back against the wall. “I’m glad I’m not Robin.”
“Why do you say that?”
“The King doesn’t want my advice. The advantage of being a Templar is that I can care less about who is King in which country.”
“But what when you return to England?”
“Maybe I won’t.” Thomas looked at Much thoughtfully. “I like it here. It never rains. It’s always warm - there’s not much in England I could return to. We could stay here, make some of the land our own and live in prosperity and peace.”
“My master wants to return home.”
Thomas’ smile fell slightly at Much’s words. “Of course you do.”
“It is beautiful,” Much stressed. “Nottingham, I mean. It’s very peaceful there as well and our sheriff is a good man. It barely ever rains either.”
“Sounds good. Does your family live there?”
“Yes, I mean, no, they did but they died eight years ago. My father was the local miller.”
“Why didn’t you take over after him?”
“It was the plague. They had to burn down the mill and I was too young to... Master Robin took me in, made me his manservant. I knew him since we were kids, it was very kind of him.” Much smiled at the memory of Robin, barely more than a boy, coming to him and declaring that he had a place in his household. Robin had always been so confident and he always had a plan, those two things Much could depend upon in his master.
“You seem to like him very much,” Thomas said but there was something in his voice that Much couldn’t identify.
“Everyone likes Robin.” Much declared but then added. “Well, everyone but the Saracens I guess.”
Thomas laughed. “I don’t think they like any of us.”
Much thought about Harun and Tahir, about his sister who had thought Much’s hair colour would come off, about Hamid who had made his shield... he had been sure that they had liked him, he knew that he had liked them but he didn’t say anything to Thomas. It was enough that Robin knew.
///////////////////////////////////////
The first day back in King Richard’s part of the camp was… well, it was sandy because Adhémar and Jocelin tackled him as soon as they saw him, and from the looks of it they had been waiting for him.
“I knew you would come back, you English weed.” Adhémar grinned and ruffled Much’s hair.
“We’re simply that indestructible,” Much replied. “Aren’t we?” he asked Jocelin.
“It would make no sense to say no when your return proved your own argument.” Jocelin replied but he sounded happy and grinned just as widely as Much and Adhémar.
“Eh! What’s up here?” LeGrand boomed over them. Quickly the three of them scrambled up to their feet.
“Sorry, master.” Adhémar said but he didn’t sound like he meant it at all. For a moment, LeGrand looked from on to the other until he suddenly pulled Much into a bear hug.
“It’s good that Robin has you back,” he said and let go.
“Thanks.” Much said confused. He didn’t think that LeGrand had ever taken notice of him before.
“Take good care of him,” LeGrand patted him on the back before he left again.
“That was an odd show of camaraderie for you master,” Jocelin commented with raised eyebrows.
“Just shows how much he values Robin,” Adhémar smirked.
“Don’t we all?” Jocelin asked.
“You should rather value your own master, shouldn’t you?” Adhémar teased.
“Valuing and serving are two very distinctive things,” Jocelin lectured him. Adhémar threw an arm over Much’s shoulder. “Let’s go and find a nice place where you can tell us everything.”
“You, too,” Much added and turned to Jocelin. “How was Haifa?”
“I am definitely not made for ships. My master may be fond of them, but if I never have to set foot on another ship until my death, it will still be too soon.”
“It’s winter. It’s highly unlikely that you will on another ship until April,” Much pointed out.
“And thank God for that,” Jocelin stressed with exaggerated relief.
Next Chapter
Chapter: Our Stars Align (5/9)
Author: smaragdbird
Summary: After being rescued and while he’s healing Much becomes friends with Knight Templar Thomas.
Pairings overall: Richard/Philip, Much/Thomas, allusion to Robin/Marian plus diverse historical married couples
Characters/Pairings in this chapter: Much, Robin, Thomas, Jubayr, Guy de Lusignan, Alix de Lusignan, Jocelin, LeGrand, Adhémar
Rating: overall rating of NC-17
Spoilers/Warnings:overall warnings of detailed violence and torture
Disclaimer: Robin Hood belongs to BBC and not to me. Also I don’t make any money with this. It’s just for fun
Notes:Okay first a big, big thank you to both my beta-reader thymelady and my artistneaptidea. They have both done a more than incredible job especially in that short time. You are awesome guys, both of you :)
Second, I took a historical liberties with this fic: Richard and Philip didn’t arrive in Acre until summer 1191 but here I made them come to Acre in 1189 for dramatic purposes. Also I interpreted the historical characters in this story as it fit my purposes which I only say here in case one of you has seen Kingdom of Heaven and wonders why Guy de Lusignan is such a nice guy (although according to my textbooks and Wikipedia he wasn’t so bad ;)
Third, all Arabic in this fic comes from the phrase pages in an old travel guide. Feel open to point out any mistakes I made
Artwork, by neaptidea
Previous Chapter
The tragedy of men
Our Stars Align
When Much woke up again he was in a bed in a house he didn’t recognise, but the knowledge alone that he wasn’t in that cellar any more calmed him and eased his pain.
“Hey, you’re awake.” Much tried to twist around to see who had spoken but instead the man kneeled down next to him.
“Your master asked me to look after you while he looks after the King. I’m Thomas.”
His arm was bandaged and in a sling but he smiled and Much recognised him.
“You’re the Templar that brought me to King Guy.” Thomas’ smile widened. He seemed pleased that Much remembered him.
“I didn’t think you would recognise me. How are you feeling?”
“It hurts,” Much admitted. “But I’m here and not there anymore, so that’s good. Very good.”
“Your master is seen as quite the hero for slipping behind the enemy line with only two men at his side and getting you out.”
“It was very brave of him,” Much affirmed. He frowned. “Where are we? Is this Acre?”
“No, “Thomas laughed. “No, do you remember the abandoned village on the North side of the Belus?”
“We didn’t have enough men to take it,” Much answered unsure.
“We got reinforcements while you were captured,” Thomas told him. He seemed quite comfortable sitting on the floor next to Much’s bed.
“The Italian Fleet?”
“No, King Richard’s and King Philip’s vassals from the continent. Also, Leopold of Austria managed to take control of most of Barbarossa’s scattered army and led them here.”
“But Saladin’s siege!” Much threw in.
“We were holding him off for eight days. When he saw that he couldn’t overrun us, he decided to let time do the dirty work, but he didn’t know we would get help from home. No one did. You should have seen the King’s faces when the ships arrived. Hell, all our faces. I mean, I could barely remember decent food, could you?” Much shook his head but the memory of the long, tough months under siege, faded against the recent memories of his captivity.
“Anyway, Saladin was a bit taken aback, I imagine, when he got the news that our fleet had captured Haifa. Even if he still had had a fleet, he wouldn’t be able to enter the bay. We can do this, Much. We can win,” Thomas grinned. It was a good look on him, Much thought.
“How do you know my name?”
“I remembered from when we first met,” Thomas blushed. “Also your master told me.”
“Oh,” Much hesitated. “How long was I... I mean how many weeks have passed since Saladin attacked the camp?”
“Fourteen, I think,” Thomas replied frowning. “Yes, it’s been a little more than three months now.”
“Three months!” Much gasped.
“That’s why no one believed that Robin would bring you back alive. He stayed out there for a month or so. Even the King told him that it was madness,” Thomas winced slightly and moved his arm.
“You shouldn’t be sitting on the ground like this only to talk to me,” Much told him.
“Your back looks like it hurts more than my arm.”
“How did that happen? Your arm I mean.”
“Being in King Richard’s Guard is dangerous, as you know,” Thomas winked at him. “I went for years as a Knights Templar and never got any worse than a bad sunburn, but as soon as I joined the King’s Guard, I get shot down by a Turk.”
“Knights Templar can become part of the King’s Guard?” Much frowned.
“Well, I’m one of maybe a dozen Knights Templars left in this camp. And we haven’t had a Grandmaster since Gerard died, so we have no commander at the moment. Since I’m from England, I thought I’d make myself useful and protect the King until a new Grandmaster was elected.”
“What part of England do you come from?”
“Oxfordshire, what about you? I mean, you speak French like a Norman but your master spoke English to you when he visited you.”
“We’re from Nottinghamshire. My master is the lord of Locksley, Earl of Huntington.”
“I’m not able to keep up with a title like this. But a credo of my order says that we’re all equal anyway.”
“But we’re not,” Much replied, thinking it was a joke. Thomas shrugged. “All I know is that you have the reputation of a war hero from the battle, and as long as I haven’t achieved that title myself, you’re above me.”
“Much, you’re awake,” Robin came into the room. He looked tired. “Thank you Thomas.”
“Any time,” Thomas answered but he was looking at Much.
Robin took Thomas’ position next to Much’s bed. “I’m sorry Much, the King expects me to entertain our Saracen guest.”
“A Saracen guest?” Much asked alarmed. “It’s not Saladin, isn’t it?”
“No, he’s called Ibn Jubayr. He’s an ambassador from Spain that travels back home.” Robin shook his head thoughtfully. “He’s a strange man, Much. He seems to know a lot about us but we know next to nothing about the Saracens. Sorry,” Robin said before Much could reply anything. “How are you?”
“You rescued me, master.”
“Yes, Much , I did, And I expect you to be back on your feet as quickly as possible so that we can bring Acre down and go home,” Robin smirked. “By the way, I think this belongs to you.” He took something from under Much’s bed and held it up. It was Much’s Saracen shield.
“Thank you, master,” Much replied moved. Robin shrugged lightly. “I only got it from Jocelin.”
“Master, how did you know that I wasn’t dead?”
“I didn’t, but I thought that they wanted to know something from you and as long as you didn’t give it to them you’d be alive.” Much looked away from Robin in shame when he said that.
“Much?” Robin asked.
“I did tell them,” Much said quietly. “At least the things I knew. Not immediately, of course, but I did tell them.”
“Oh Much.” Robin curled a hand around Much’s arm. “I was there, remember? They broke two of my toes just because I didn’t want to tell them my name. No one blames you for anything. We’ve both seen what torture does to a man and you were gone for three months. That’s a lot longer than most others would have lasted.”
“When did they set you free?” Much asked to change the subject.
“After a week, King Richard paid the ransom for me. He said that he didn’t need the money at the moment anyway, because he couldn’t eat it,” Robin chuckled and so did Much. It was good to be back.
///////////////////////////////////////
That night the dreams started. Much didn’t remember them but he remembered that when he woke up, he was so sure that he was back in the cellar that he jerked away in fear when Robin touched him to comfort him. The sudden movement pulled at his wounded back and he let out a choked scream.
“Sh, Much, it’s fine. You’re safe,” Robin whispered until Much fell asleep again. He had insisted that he would stay in the hospital with Much, even though the physicians had claimed that there was nothing he could do and would only be in their way, but Much was glad that Robin was there.
///////////////////////////////////////
Thomas came back the next day while Robin was occupied with the Saracen ambassador again.
“Hey,” he said and sat down next to Much’s bed again. “How are you?”
“I’m fine, well, better at least,” Much amended.
“Glad to hear that.” Thomas’ smiles were different from Robin’s. Robin’s smiles were boyish and mischievous, Thomas’ seemed to light up the room.
“Are you glad to hear that you’re not missing anything spectacular, just the same old skirmishes with the Turks?”
“I should be out there with my master,” Much replied quietly.
“You will. Maybe even earlier than me. I’ve heard the physicians talk about you and they’re amazed how much your wounds have healed already. Me? Not so much.” He gestured to his injured arm.
“How did that happen?”
“Lead a foray into a village. Of course I managed to catch the first arrow they shot with my arm. Not very heroic,” he smiled self-depravingly.
“Do you think heroics are that important?” Much asked.
“I believe heroic deeds make us immortal. I mean, look at all the men that are still remembered. Didn’t they all do something heroic?”
“I think I would rather go home,” Much answered truthfully. Thomas laughed.
“Well, the Greeks went home after they conquered Troy. I think you can do both.”
Thomas came by every day because Robin was occupied with the Saracen ambassador and brought bits and pieces from the front line and gossip from the King’s Guard. LeGrand and with him Adhémar had been sent to Cyprus and accompany the King’s mother and Queen Berengaria back to Aquitaine, while James and Jocelin were in Haifa to negotiate with merchants about the supplies for the camp.
Thomas was a man easy to like. He was a good storyteller and respectful, and even though Much was sure that he was of nobility, Thomas never mentioned his family beyond the stray mention of Oxfordshire.
He had also been right about Much healing fast. At least his back did, but he would need another few weeks until his feet and toes had healed enough for him to walk again.
Robin usually came late in the evening and left early in the morning, but he still slept in the same room as Much and was there to sooth him when the nightmares took over.
///////////////////////////////////////
“I see someone taught you our language,” ambassador Jubayr smiled. “I did not expect that from a Frank.”
“We are just as diverse as you are,” Robin replied easily. He had learned it after his return to the camp after King Richard had paid his ransom. Surprisingly enough, Much wasn’t the only soldier who had picked up the local language.
“Oh, believe me, I’ve encountered many Christians in my home in Balansíya,” the ambassador replied. “Most of them learned our language as well. My surprise merely stemmed from the fact that you are a crusader who doesn’t want to stay in this land after the war and yet you make the effort to get to know it.”
“Knowing your enemy is half the battle,” Robin replied just as easily. He felt impatient because he really didn’t want to be here. He wanted to see how Much was doing, not entertain a Saracen traveller even if it was the last day because the ambassador would leave on a merchant ship that sailed for Sicily today.
“That is a good advice,” Jubayr chuckled. “Perhaps I should warn my King that his Christian subjects will rise against him soon.”
“It is their country,” Robin countered. It always went like this. In some way or another Jubayr found a way to engage him into a discussion.
“But it is our country as well.”
“You conquered it.”
“As you did with this one?” Jubayr’s intelligent eyes rested on Robin’s face. “You say you have a right to Jerusalem because it is your Holy City. It is our Holy City as well. Have you ever talked with a Jew?”
“No,” Robin answered. He couldn’t see where this was leading.
“Maybe you should. They claim this country as well, and Jerusalem as the land that their God gave to them. It seems like everyone wants Jerusalem for themselves.”
“Why don’t you help him then? Saladin.”
“He is not our ruler,” Jubayr explained. “We respect him, but we don’t own him anything. My people are content to remain in their own country. I am, of course, an exception. I’m a very curious person.”
“Is that why you came here?”
“Of course. Your King has some reputation amongst the people here. I wanted to see if he lived up to the rumours.”
“You were probably disappointed that he wasn’t a demon,” Robin bit out.
“Not at all. The people around here see your King in a favourable light, misguided and an unbeliever, yes, but a noble unbeliever if you will.”
Robin bit his tongue to avoid saying anything offending. It wouldn’t look good if he killed an ambassador on his way to the ship.
They stopped at the quay.
“It’s been a pleasure,” Robin lied.
“You are an interesting man, Robin of Locksley,” Jubayr said and reached into his cloak. “I will miss our discussions.” He took a small bundle and gave it to Robin.
“I assume a man like you can read Greek?”
“Yes, I can. What is this?”
“It’s a translation of the Qur’an. My people’s Bible if you will. I believe you will find it interesting.”
“Shokran jazeelan,” Robin thanked him, genuinely touched. He had always assumed that the ambassador only argued with him to annoy him and not because he found his arguments interesting. “Ma’a salama.”
“Ma’a salama, young Frank” Jubayr replied and climbed up the platform.
“Eh, Robin!” It was Matthew Kent, one of the two soldiers that had accompanied him into Saracen territory when he had saved Much.
“Matthew, was is it?”
“The King wants to speak with you. He convoked the council of Nobles.”
“Of course, run ahead and tell him I’m on my way.”
///////////////////////////////////////
The taking of Haifa had secured the maintenance of supplies to the camp. As a side effect, scurvy had disappeared, but there were enough illnesses that weren’t cured by food and the camp still had to subsist on the foul water of the Belus. Many soldiers on both sides of the siege fell ill with malaria over the summer and more than a few of them died.
The Italian fleet arrived at the end of August, blocking the harbour and the bay of Haifa for once and all, but as of October, the storm season of the Mediterranean Sea began and every ship was forced to stay in.
The Italian fleet was not the only thing that arrived in September. With them, they had brought the plague. It was nothing short of a miracle that neither Much nor Thomas were infected, as the illnesses liked to target the wounded and weak. Others were not so lucky.
The rooms of the hospital were soon filled with the ill. At first the physicians had tried to keep the ill away from the wounded, but soon there simply wasn’t enough space. Robin had wanted for Much to return to their tent, but the physicians had argued that the constant fighting so near the front would upset Much’s principal fluids and make him ill again, so he stayed.
Every day they brought in more men with chills, rashes and headaches and every day they buried more and more of them.
///////////////////////////////////////
“You have a funny emblem on your shield. What house are you from?” A small voice asked. Much turned around to see a small girl, maybe eight or nine, examine his shield. He wondered how she got in here.
“It’s not an emblem. It’s a Saracen shield. They all look like this,” he explained to her.
“Why do you have it then?” she asked. Her face and arms were covered in little bumps that looked like insect bites. “No one can see your house if don’t wear it on your shield.”
“I don’t have a house.”
“You’re a peasant?” she frowned.
“No, I’m a soldier of the King’s Guard.” Much corrected her.
“My father is the King.” she replied cheerily. Much stared at her.
“Your father is King Richard?”
“No, silly,” she grinned. “My father is King Guy. And my mother is Queen Sybilla. They own this country. They own Jerusalem which makes them the most important -;“
“Alix!” The girl stooped, looking caught.
“Don’t tell him I’m here!” She laid a finger over Much’s lips. “It’s an order from the princess.” Alix crawled under his bed.
“Alix, I know you’re -;“ Guy de Lusignan appeared in the doorway, stopping mid-sentence when he saw Much.
“What a surprise.” He looked much older than the last time Much had seen him, as if instead of three months, Much had been gone three years.
“Your Majesty.” Much bowed his head and fisted his hands nervously into the blanket. He remembered his failure to deliver de Lusignan’s letter with great shame.
“I heard that you had returned, unlikely as it seemed.”
“I’m so sorry Your Majesty, I didn’t mean to... I mean I would have... ” de Lusignan interrupted his babbling.
“I believe that you did your best. Since you returned and that relatively unharmed, I believe that God still has plans for you. Important plans.”
“I - ... I - Thanks you, Your Majesty.” Much stuttered. de Lusignan nodded.
“Alix, come out under the bed.” The girl groaned in disappointment but did as her father told her.
“Come on,” he told her quietly. “Your mother waits for you.”
“Bye!” she waved at Much before she followed her father outside.
Much learned from Robin on the same night that Alix de Lusignan had died of the plague mere hours after Much had met her, together with her little sister and her mother.
///////////////////////////////////////
“Good to see you back on your feet.” Thomas smiled when he came in, carrying a quarter loaf of bread, a wineskin, some figs and a chunk of the local cheese. Much grinned happily. He could walk through the room and back to the bed by now and the physician was confident that he would be able to leave the hospital in about a week.
“Your arm looks better, too,” he pointed out.
Thomas didn’t wear the sling any more, but he only shrugged. “Still can’t use it like I did before.”
“Maybe it will get better when you fight again,” Much tried to cheer him up.
“Maybe,“ Thomas shrugged. “It’s only my shield arm. I’ll get used to it. Come on, let’s eat. Robin says he’ll come by later. The King wants his advice on the succession.”
“They haven’t even buried her! It’s outrageous.”
“Guy wants to keep the crown.”
“He said so?”
“He did, in front of the whole council. He said that Sybilla had crowned him herself when they married and therefore he wants to remain King until his death.” Thomas leaned back against the wall. “I’m glad I’m not Robin.”
“Why do you say that?”
“The King doesn’t want my advice. The advantage of being a Templar is that I can care less about who is King in which country.”
“But what when you return to England?”
“Maybe I won’t.” Thomas looked at Much thoughtfully. “I like it here. It never rains. It’s always warm - there’s not much in England I could return to. We could stay here, make some of the land our own and live in prosperity and peace.”
“My master wants to return home.”
Thomas’ smile fell slightly at Much’s words. “Of course you do.”
“It is beautiful,” Much stressed. “Nottingham, I mean. It’s very peaceful there as well and our sheriff is a good man. It barely ever rains either.”
“Sounds good. Does your family live there?”
“Yes, I mean, no, they did but they died eight years ago. My father was the local miller.”
“Why didn’t you take over after him?”
“It was the plague. They had to burn down the mill and I was too young to... Master Robin took me in, made me his manservant. I knew him since we were kids, it was very kind of him.” Much smiled at the memory of Robin, barely more than a boy, coming to him and declaring that he had a place in his household. Robin had always been so confident and he always had a plan, those two things Much could depend upon in his master.
“You seem to like him very much,” Thomas said but there was something in his voice that Much couldn’t identify.
“Everyone likes Robin.” Much declared but then added. “Well, everyone but the Saracens I guess.”
Thomas laughed. “I don’t think they like any of us.”
Much thought about Harun and Tahir, about his sister who had thought Much’s hair colour would come off, about Hamid who had made his shield... he had been sure that they had liked him, he knew that he had liked them but he didn’t say anything to Thomas. It was enough that Robin knew.
///////////////////////////////////////
The first day back in King Richard’s part of the camp was… well, it was sandy because Adhémar and Jocelin tackled him as soon as they saw him, and from the looks of it they had been waiting for him.
“I knew you would come back, you English weed.” Adhémar grinned and ruffled Much’s hair.
“We’re simply that indestructible,” Much replied. “Aren’t we?” he asked Jocelin.
“It would make no sense to say no when your return proved your own argument.” Jocelin replied but he sounded happy and grinned just as widely as Much and Adhémar.
“Eh! What’s up here?” LeGrand boomed over them. Quickly the three of them scrambled up to their feet.
“Sorry, master.” Adhémar said but he didn’t sound like he meant it at all. For a moment, LeGrand looked from on to the other until he suddenly pulled Much into a bear hug.
“It’s good that Robin has you back,” he said and let go.
“Thanks.” Much said confused. He didn’t think that LeGrand had ever taken notice of him before.
“Take good care of him,” LeGrand patted him on the back before he left again.
“That was an odd show of camaraderie for you master,” Jocelin commented with raised eyebrows.
“Just shows how much he values Robin,” Adhémar smirked.
“Don’t we all?” Jocelin asked.
“You should rather value your own master, shouldn’t you?” Adhémar teased.
“Valuing and serving are two very distinctive things,” Jocelin lectured him. Adhémar threw an arm over Much’s shoulder. “Let’s go and find a nice place where you can tell us everything.”
“You, too,” Much added and turned to Jocelin. “How was Haifa?”
“I am definitely not made for ships. My master may be fond of them, but if I never have to set foot on another ship until my death, it will still be too soon.”
“It’s winter. It’s highly unlikely that you will on another ship until April,” Much pointed out.
“And thank God for that,” Jocelin stressed with exaggerated relief.
Next Chapter