VIII. Redemption
Leaving Antioch felt bittersweet for everyone, knowing we were leaving what was like to be our last safe haven in the Levant for Crusaders. We manage to scrape together a meagre amount of supplies using what little monies we had. Outside of Artur, a pair of grizzled guards begged to join the final leg of our journey. This was a request I was more than happy to oblige, knowing it would not do well to deny them the chance to gain some measure of retribution on those who sacked their city.
Artur adapted fast to the trials of travelling on the road. Though he was malnourished due to many long years of mistreatment, he took every step with a hearty smile on his face. I opted out of having Noll teach Artur the basics of sword fighting. I had tasked myself with passing on what knowledge I could. I saved him from a dark fate in the city, but I was subjecting him to a far worse one in the coming weeks.
The two guards from Antioch travelled alongside myself and Hann at the head of the column. They decided to take on active roles in the group, despite having a limited exposure to life on the road or even in combat. But they proved themselves quite adept at scouting. In places where the road from Antioch found itself overrun with sand or too treacherous to cross, they were quick to find a suitable route around.
“How do you feel being so close, Milord?” Hann asked.
“I remember these paths. I feel the sun from all those years ago beaming down on my shoulders. I was naïve in those days. I fought for what I believed in, even if it was not right. Now, it feels different. A more righteous sense of worth washes over me with each step. A renewed vigour fills my body. Does the Lord smile upon you in such a way, Father?” I asked.
Grey tangles of hair wound their way through Hann’s ever-growing beard and thinning hair. The effects of the sun were prominent on Hann’s skin. Layers were peeling in large flakes and he was a bright red. Several times people urged him to wear a hat to offer him some protection, but he was quick to turn down any suggestions with a curious smile.
“The Lord bestows many gifts upon those He gives favour. His cruelness comes in the form of the harsh and laborious environments we endure, but I would not trade His suffering for anything else. A final show of servitude and piety will provide the final sacrifice in this life. I shall enter into battle and into the afterlife bearing the wounds He bestows upon me.
“As for yourself, Milord, the glory coming with fighting for what one believes in is second to none. I see, despite the severity of your injury, you march forward with a spring in your step. I have not seen such wondrous motion since we departed England,” Hann said.
“You know what I miss about home? The rolling hills and green fields. I miss reaching out my hands and feeling the flowers brush against my skin. I miss the long grass as it dances in the wind, carrying a spring breeze. I miss seeing my children frolicking about in the rivers as the water meanders through the countryside, birthing life to everything it touches. But here, in the furthest corner of the world, in the place which came to define who I am today, it brings me great joy. I do wonder what kind of world we will leave behind for those who continue to survive,” I said.
“I hope a better one than we lived in, Milord. A world without war or infighting betwixt men of differing faiths or cultures. We are on the right path to affording future generations such a wonderous world. I know, even if no one will remember our names, our spirits and our sacrifices shall live on. In the times of great darkness, when the world closes in and men themselves argue and come to blows, our spirits will serve as a reminder of how men can come together for a singular goal,” Hann said.
A lofty, ambitious, yet noble idea. I was unsure of how much I agreed with Hann’s words, though a sense of pride washed over me the more I thought on what he said. He spoke with confidence and surety. Yet it was not Hann or Noll, nor even Elric who provided the greatest insight of this long journey.
“If I may be so bold, Milord, you believe you owe the world a debt which cannot be paid. For what little I know of you, you are selfless. A man with such virtue and honour, he would give his life for any other, no matter their worth. You came along and you saved me from a lifetime of abuse and hunger. I can only repay you by honouring your legacy and allowing my life to be tied to yours,” Artur said.
Before I could say anything to Artur, the stocky guard we recruited in Antioch spurred his horse forward along the winding road leading over a rocky knoll. A murmur rose through the ranks behind me. I raised my hand and a small hush escaped from my lips. My heart began to thump in my chest.
“Something wrong?” I asked the other new recruit.
“A fell scent lingers on the air. Be ready to fight. Something is coming,” he said.
The stocky guard disappeared over the crest of the cliff and the world went silent. No one dared breathe too hard or move wrong, in case of an incoming attack. The seconds turned into long minutes. We continued to move forward at a snail pace. Boomer’s hooves clopped on the compacted dirt and the metallic sliding of my armour grinding against itself filled my eardrums. The crest of the hill grew closer with every step. There was no sound of fighting, nor the sound of harried feet or haggard breathing. The leather inside my gauntlet creaked as I tightened my fingers around the handle of my sword.
“Be at ease, sir!” the stocky guard said.
He came into view as we crested the knoll. Beyond, plumes of smoke rose, breaking the monotony of the vast desert hellscape. A series of gasps filled the air as each man rose to the crest. My heart fell for the lives no doubt lost in the battles now littering the landscape. Antioch was behind us, but the county of Tripoli now lay before us. Beyond, the Kingdom of Jerusalem.
“Salah ad-Din has been through here. How long has it been?” I asked.
“Could be days, could be weeks. Those fires could be long extinguished, but the heat continues to allow the ashes to smoulder. It is not the Muslim army we should be afraid of,” the stocky man said. He held a limp, deceased raven in his hand.
“News from the front? Perhaps from one of the Holy Armies?” Noll said, pushing to the front.
“No. This is a eulogy. The Holy Roman Emperor, Barbarossa, will go no further than Antioch, where they intend to bury him,” the stocky man said.
I was quick to lower my head into prayer. Hann realised what I was doing within seconds and ushered the others to follow suit. The forces of the Pope and of the Crusader armies were now halved. I knew Barbarossa was a great man, and I felt it to be a tragedy to have never met him. All I could do was wish him a speedy entrance into the embrace of God.
“This is ill news, Milord. You and I both know the strength the Holy Roman Empire possesses. Victory slips further from our grasp,” Noll said.
“Our victory is not the victory of the Pope, Sir Noll, remember this. We have no word from King Richard, nor do I expect any word to reach us. We press on to the Holy City,” I said.
No more words came from behind me as I lurched forward. I could hear Noll fuming under his breath, but his loyalty prevailed over any animosity he carried. The wind blew in from the east, across the edge of the Mediterranean. A matching dust storm raged far to the west over the distant dunes. The Far East, a land of magic and mystery lay beyond. I always wondered what strange creatures and men occupied those lands. Were they wild as the stories painted them to be, or, as evidenced by the market in Constantinople, were they civilised, as in the West?
I drank deep from my waterskin as we crossed deep into the County of Tripoli. The plumes of smoke waved and wandered in the sky as our path crossed over itself. Noll retreated to the back of the column, but he harboured little in the way of anger. I saw his face in deep contemplation. Halim smiled as he rode his camel up the ranks and fell in next to me. A glow occupied his body, and when he began to speak, he spoke with great joy.
“I have been East, to Zhongdu once. They can light up the night sky in a wondrous variety of colours and shapes. The people are almost as exquisite as the food. So many exotic scents and spices grow in those fertile lands. I know it is hard on everyone, knowing what is to come. I spend my nights talking with each man, learning his story. Your men carry great faith with them, such as I have not seen in many long years,” Halim said.
“They’re scared,” I said.
“Perhaps they are. It is not my place to say. Fear is a motivator, my friend. I hold no love for those who ransacked these lands. Salah ad-Din knows better, for he follows the teachings of the Prophet. Men, however, are still mortal. We make mistakes and we err from the path. Much in the way waves in the rivers and seas ebb and flow. Mortals always, as an inevitable result, will come to war. Stories come after the fact, speaking of great deeds accomplished by the so-called greatest of men. What stories will they tell of us, my friend?” Halim asked.
“No stories shall come of us. Our vigil shall remain silent, unbroken in the shadows of ever-growing mountains and empires. Great palaces of men will rise and crumble around us. Our bones, bleached by the sun shall, long after we are robbed of our valuables, will turn to dust. Our story lives with us, and it shall die with us. We are not men who shall be remembered for good deeds or heroic epics. My tale is one of redemption, of faith, and of dedication. Who would wish to hear such a story, Halim?” I said.
The question hit me harder than it hit Halim. I had come so far from home for the second time in my life, except this time I knew I was not returning. This was my reality and it was starting to weigh heavier on my shoulders. In my heart, I felt young, but I felt the physical aspects of my body languish and drain with every passing hour.
Soon, I told myself. Soon it will be over. Soon we can rest and be at peace. Hold it together a little longer, old man.
“The world will need your story one day, my friend. One day, there will be need to hear what humble men accomplished and what this place means to them. You might save a thousand lives, my friend. If the Lord wills as much,” Halim said.
“Perhaps you are right, Halim. All men desire purpose. Some find comfort in large families. Some crave wealth. Others yearn for power,” I said.
“And you, Milord?” Noll and Hann said in unison.
“To die with the one I love,” I said.
It was when we made camp for the night I began to tell the whole story. The fire flickered against my face, illuminating the gentle folds and creases of my face. My beard glistened with water and wine. The story came to me hard at first, but I was determined to regale the tale. And I would tell it raw and unfiltered. It was the least anyone deserved. I started with how Halim and I first met, first as foes outside Constantinople.
“The city was not too dissimilar back then. Less Holy Roman Soldiers lining the countryside, of course. My sire, Sir Guarin, was quite the curmudgeon, but I adored him. My first test for him, to prove myself worthy as a potential knight, was to win the local tourney. It was here, in the finals of the sword contest I first met Halim. Ragged and tattered, a boy with a wiry frame. Skin and bone, he was. Now he’s old and fat,” I said.
“Old and fat is happy, my friend,” Halim said.
The whole camp laughed and we all raised our wine cups. A round of cheers erupted and a dozen empty cups clapped on a large, flat stone we were using as a table.
“Halim was the finest man I have ever fought. His scimitar back then was a blur. I could hear it whistle in the wind. I recommend speaking to Halim if you wish to sharpen your sword to the point it can slice bread without effort.
“We came up against each other. Me, being the large brute I am, sought to overpower Halim. The hard part was catching him. For every swing of my sword, three came from him. All clashed, steel on steel. For ten minutes, we fought to a stalemate. Neither man could gain traction or advantage. Then, it happened,” I said.
Halim dropped his head and began praying in Arabic. Noll looked to the ground at my feet, taking a deep breath. I had to compose myself as the memories flooded back into my mind. All the blood, all the screams, and the pain of seeing those I had come to care about most dying around me.
“Three dozen Hashashins came from the shadows. Those on the outside fell first. Furious daggers, thrust with speed like you have not seen before. Blood spurted from deep wounds. These men chanted with empty eyes and stone faces. Despite being tired from our duel, Halim and I decided, in an instant, to turn our blades to the Hashashins. We were a flurry of steel and blood. How I wish we could go back to those days of our youth. We no longer move as fast, nor do we have the energy.
“You remember as well as I of how body after body fell at our feet. There were few who came away from the ambush unscathed and they participated in our retaliation. I ended up spearing the last two Hashashins on a broken piece of spear I wrested from another a few moments before. It was the first time after a fight I fell to my knees with exhaustion.
“I came to inside a small hut hugging the walls of the city. Halim watched over me for three days and two nights. He made sure my wounds were tended and others treated me with the proper respect. It was when I arose from my slumber I met her for the first time. She brought me fresh water and food. Such exquisite tastes I have never forgotten. It was hard at first, given we spoke no common language. But she was the one who, after another two days, got me to follow her.”
I paused and let out a long, deep breath. What came next was one of the hardest parts of my life, and I still hated to relive what I saw. Nothing can prepare a man for the sight of someone who mentored them being in such a horrific state. I felt Halim place a firm hand on my shoulder in solidarity.
“We went into the building next door. The scent of death filled the air from a back room. I heard a man groaning. Hundreds of candles flickered and, despite the lack of people, a solemn choir filled the air. A dirge and an ode to memory and loss. I knew what happened before I even drew the curtain back.
“I remember hearing Sir Guarin’s words as we locked eyes. His voice was weak, and everything was strained, but nothing could be more powerful. ‘By the grace of God, you are blessed. Not a surprise, given the iron will you have. Come, kneel. I must do this last thing,’ Guarin said. I did as he asked and lowered myself by his bedside. The stench of death came from halfway down his body, covered by bloodied sheets.
“I wanted to tell him this was not to be the end for him, but a wheezing breath escaping Guarin’s lips kept me silent and his voice came again, weaker this time. ‘The Lord gave me a singular purpose in this world. My time runs low and it is time to fulfill the greatest gift given to me. I wish, with all my heart, I could have done this the right way. With the last of my strength, I gift you my sword. I bestow you with the honour and integrity befitting a servant of the realm. As God is our witness, I knight you. Arise, Sir.’
“He spoke no more words. Before he could say my name, I heard the last of the air leave his lungs. I felt warm tears roll down my cheeks and a soft hand on my back. She told me her name. Narin.”
I smiled as I remembered the softness of her fingers and hands on my body, even through the tunic I wore. She understood what I needed in the moment. She pressed her slender, gentle body against my hulking, awkward frame. The scent of exotic flowers wafted into my nostrils and began to overwhelm the death and decay. Happiness intermingled with the grief in my heart. We stayed for several quiet minutes. Narin caressed me as I let the sorrow and tears flow free.
“We grew closer over the next few weeks I spent in Constantinople. Halim and I taught each other our respective languages. Communication was still far from perfect, but it deepened the bond between myself and Narin. I knew my time was short in Constantinople. Eyes watched my every move, waiting for a chance to strike. I had Guarin’s sword and in his final days, he had an edict written up for me to take back home.”
I reached into my rucksack and produced a rolled parchment tied with a silk ribbon. Age turned it yellow and dark stains stood out. The parchment crinkled and cracked as I handled it. With gentle fingers, I plucked at the ribbon and it came loose. A small cloud of dust rose into the air. I held the ribbon between two fingers and, with shaking hands, I unfurled the parchment for the first time in forty-one years. I spoke the words written before me with trembling breaths.
“‘It is here, on the eve of my death, and under the watchful eye of the Father, with the grace of the Son, and the power of the Spirit, I do thusly decree: whomsoever is the bearer of this parchment carries within him my lineage. I take the bearer of this parchment as a member of mine own family and imbue him with the nobility passed down to me from mine own sire. In battle, he earned mine respect and outside, he earned the respect of the Lord above. He is a knight serving under God until his final days. Let no man question his glory and may he long serve God. I solemnly impart unto him, with God’s blessing, the greatest honour I can. I name him a Knight, true and uncontested. This is given with mine own decree and is thus truth.’
“I received Halim’s blessing the day I was to leave Constantinople. Narin won Halim over by speaking of the love she carried for me. Despite such a short period, we did grow close. Six soldiers and an ox cart met me at the stables. It was there Halim handed his sister into my care, with the affirmation of their father. The soldiers and the cart were a parting gift.”
I fell silent as teardrops splattered onto the ground between my feet. I was reliving memories I had long since buried. I was beginning to remember Narin’s face and her patient, caring, non-judgemental voice. In our short time together, she believed I could do no wrong, despite my hotheadedness as a younger man.
“Within eighteen months, I received two letters from my sister and my new brother,” Halim said. “They were so happy to welcome their first child into the world. She spoke nothing but praise of how gentle her husband was. She was scared of a new country, at first, as we all are. She spent many pages swooning over every little detail of her husband and how she could not wait to see their son grow up to be as strong a man as he. I wish I made more of an effort to visit in those days.”
I heard a soft prayer come from Hann in the background. One by one, we all turned to look at him. Hann sat, legs crossed and fingers tented in front of his mouth. He made eye contact with me, and even with the dim firelight, I saw the pain behind his gaze. Hann’s eyes were puffy and red and rivers of liquid streaked down his cheeks.
“Father Hann?” I asked.
“I remember the day you brought her into the parish, Milord. I was but a boy of ten at the time. You sat by her bed for four days and nights without rest, praying to God. On the fifth day you fell asleep, only for a moment, but a moment is all it takes. I can never forget the visceral cries of anguish. Every day since, I have uttered prayers for not only myself, but for you, Milord. God watches over us. And he calls for us. Every one of us. In your name, I will carry my weapon into battle, and lay my life down for you. God wills it. Amen.”
One by one, each man nodded and stood up with a firm ‘amen’ of their own. Swords and axes and bows were held in front of faces. A paltry company of two dozen had, over the past number of months, grown to a force of twelve dozen. Halim was the last to stand and brandish his scimitar.
I reached out and wrapped my hands around the crossbar of my sword. I buried the tip into the dirt. With a grunt and a groan, my muscles strained as I hoisted myself to my feet. All eyes looked up to me with awe and pride. Even with my bones and muscles creaking and cracking, I pushed my chest outward and stood with a regalness I had not had in years. The fire flickered off my sword and caused the sweat across my body to glisten. A gentle breeze passed across my face and rustled the bristled white hairs of my beard.
“Tomorrow, we will come to glory. We have come far, and we have bonded in various ways. Some I know better than others, but we are all brothers in arms. Fear not the touch of death, but welcome it as a long awaited friend. We, as of this moment, we all fight for the same cause. We are all Crusaders!”
I raised my sword high over my head to punctuate the last word. A roar went up through the camp and this raucous sound persisted for several minutes in the darkness. A lone star twinkled high above. I provided a call to action. These men answered.
Morning came hot and early. The wind died down halfway through the night, taking our firepit with it. A layer of sand gathered on the external canvas of the tents, turning the white into a pale yellow. Stands of armour and weapons which were upright in the night were now laying down with their contents strewn about. I saw spaces where there were tents, now dismantled and their owners preparing for the day ahead.
I stretched my back as I walked through the camp. I passed several men who gathered in a small group. They busied themselves with eating a sparse meal of oat and water. Our horses grazed on what little vegetation they could find. Halim’s camel fared little better, though required less nutrients.
Standing next to the ruins of the fire, Hann looked to the horizon in quiet contemplation. His tattered robes did little to cover the burnished armour he had worn since England. It was an ill-fitting suit, and the rough edges and mistakes across the seams proved it to be the work of a novice armourer. I wondered who Hann commissioned to make the armour and whereabouts they were now.
“The Lord blesses us with a wondrous morning,” Hann said.
“I would be remiss if I failed to mention how ridiculous such a statement sounds,” I said.
Hann smiled and chuckled. “Indeed, the weather in this corner of the world leaves much to be desired, but I speak not of something so trivial. I speak of this being a wondrous morning in the spiritual sense. It is a different feeling waking up in the Holy Land. It feels righteous and as if a part of your soul is at peace.”
Hann was right. It was a humbling experience, knowing how half a world away from home, we found ourselves in the holiest land in all God’s great planet. All I could hope now was to bring peace to Narin and her soul, as well as find peace for myself. I wondered what my family back home were thinking of me in this moment. I found myself asking what they might be learning and doing to pass the time.
“Pray well for us, Father,” I said to Hann.
He smiled and nodded and turned his attention back to the east, embracing and welcoming the dawn with outstretched arms. His shadow cast a long crucifix on the sand. It would be a majestic sight, were it not some ominous. A deep sense of dread tickled the back of my mind. I knew I was to bear the sins of these men. Would they forbid my entry into Heaven?
Elric stood with three others whose names escaped my memory. Though young, Elric took great care in arming himself. My eyes met his as he was wrapping a bloodied and stained cloth around his right forearm. I canted my head to the side and Elric sighed and lowered his head.
“A small wound, Milord. It shall not stop me from fighting the good fight. I vowed my weapon to you, and I intend to honour my word. My father instilled a strong sense of honour inside me, Milord,” Elric said, continuing to wrap his arm.
“Your father sounds like a man of great wisdom and morals,” I said.
“He was. When I knew him,” Elric said.
“My sympathies. If I knew, I would not have said anything,” I said.
“No sympathies or apologies needed, Milord. He lives, yes, but last I saw him, he was a shadow of the man who raised me. I last saw him in London, a few months before I headed north for a new life. He had this wiry beard and greasy hair. I could see his bones through his skin and his teeth were all yellowed and rotten. He was begging on a street corner by the river. He was not the strong man I knew as a young lad. I promised myself I would do something of value with my life, not for the approval of my father, but for my own self. I wanted to be better, and accomplish something meaningful,” Elric said, voice shaking.
“How do you feel you have done?” I asked.
“In truth? It’s difficult to say. Have I made any meaningful contributions to this journey? I have learned much but I feel, in terms of giving, there is nothing I can say I have put forward. What legacy am I to leave? I wish I could do more,” Elric said.
I stepped forward and pulled Elric into a firm hug, as a father would hold his child close. It was a rare display of affection from me, and I felt Elric tense up his body at first. It took a few seconds for him to relax. I felt him exhale as he loosened up.
“You are a knight, Sir Elric. A soldier worthy of God. There is no honour higher than this, and this much I promise you. Accomplishments come and they go. In a thousand years, no one shall remember those who sat idle. History will remember those who are here today, those who fight for what they believe in. Our names may never pass the lips of another man, but our deeds, as mysterious as they are great, shall persist. This is as much my legacy as it is yours. You are not your father. You are better than he,” I said.
Elric clapped a firm hand on my shoulder and I did the same on his opposite side. I felt his entire body quaking, but this was not fear. This was pride flowing freely through his soul. I knew I could make no promise his name or his legacy would live on, but I gave Elric the greatest gift of all. Hope.
“For glory, Milord,” Elric said.
Over Elric’s shoulder, I saw a lone figure standing with a familiar silhouette. Noll waited with great patience as I meandered my way through the camp to his position. His cloak hung low, dragging on the ground whenever he would walk. He stood with one hand on the pommel of his sword and his helmet tucked under his arm. As stone-faced as Noll could be, he was weary of the long journey, evidenced by the heavy blackness under his eyes and gaunt face. When he spoke, I could hear the wear and tear through the hoarseness in his voice.
“At last we come to it,” Noll said. “This could very well be the final day we meet in this life, Milord. I can’t state how much of an honour it has been.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Noll. Not once have you taken your eyes off the end goal, and I can respect your dedication. A worthy man to call himself a knight.”
“It will be good to rest at long last. I did not start this journey as a man with a high interest or opinion of religion, but,” Noll paused and looked toward Hann. “He has a magical way with words. His devotion and knowledge are beyond comparison. We wouldn’t be here without Hann.”
“I agree. Hann has kept us together and kept us strong. Far more than I could ever envisage doing,” I said.
“Gather around, my brothers!” Hann shouted.
Noll and I nodded to each other and, along with the last stragglers finishing packing their tents, we joined the hemisphere facing the mound Hann stood upon. The sun created a brilliant aura around his body and, once the last person stood in the crowd, Hann threw his cloak to the ground with a shrug of his shoulders. In an instant, he appeared a hundred feet tall.
“Look around you, my brothers! See the faces standing beside you, eager for battle! Long have many of us marched, and through many trials have we come. Still, here we stand, proud to call ourselves Crusaders. God grants us strength through our bond and our pact with His glorious self. His radiance illuminates the darkness between us and carries with it the souls of our fallen and lost compatriots. We shall never forget those we lost, nor will we let their spirits wander this plane for all eternity, lost without us. God carries a plan for each and every man here. When you pass from this Earthly realm, accept His welcome with open arms!
“Fear not the sword of our enemy! Fear not the bow he uses to fire cruel arrows toward us! Fear not the beast he rides, for fear is their domain! Our domain is bravery and strength! We are justice and peace. We are love and compassion. We are the shield of the Lord. Jesus Christ, many, many years ago stood as I am now, giving His famous sermon. As He did then, so I do now. We are all blessed. Farmers, farriers, stableboys, it matters not, for we are all warriors! We are warriors of God! We will give no quarter to the enemy and we will prove our might.
“We fight with the Lord on our side! Each man to your left and to your right shares the same ambition. Glory. The Lord told me in my dreams our glory is not through overwhelming force in battle, nor is it through victory in battle. I serve as a herald for Him, but in this moment, after many long years of dedicated service, I am no different to any man gathered before me now. We are warriors. We are fighters! We are soldiers! WE ARE CRUSADERS!”
Perhaps the loudest, longest cry I ever heard emanated from all gathered. The ground vibrated with the stomping of our feet and the bellowing from our chests. Swords and spears and arrows found themselves pointed skyward on outstretched arms. Even I found myself drawn into the raucous cheering. Above all others, my sword stood firm. The men saw me and rallied around me, pushing me towards the centre of an imperfect circle. The words ‘glory’ and ‘honour’ echoed with dozens of voices.
At the centre of the circle, I saw Halim’s hand raise up next to me. He was holding the urn I carried since home in his hand. A silence swept through the crowd and a hushed awe awaited the next words. I bowed my head next to Halim. He lowered the urn with reverence, holding it in front of his face in both hands.
“Alan hu alwaqt,” Halim said.
He was right. As much as I wished it would not end, I had to see my quest through to closure. I breathed out and raised my hands, shaking and scared. I slid my fingers with grace unbecoming my size around the fragile urn. Each small movement felt like a lifetime. My thumbs brushed against the burnished copper plaque, small and faded. I smiled when I realised Narin’s name remained legible and clear. Halim lowered his hands away and I felt the full weight of the urn for the first time in many years.
I felt the tears welling up in my eyes as I cradled the urn. I blinked and saw, walking her way through the crowd, Narin’s spirit. A gentle smile crept across my face and the sweetest smile crossed her face. Her hair, a sandy shade of brown, billowed behind her. I wanted to reach out and cradle her soft cheek once more. She came to a stop next to Halim, who kept his head down in prayer and mourning.
“Narin,” I whispered.
Time stood still around us. Narin reached forward and her spectral hands apparated through mine, clasping on to the urn containing her remains. I did not feel cold as I expected, but her warmth flooded my body. My skin seemed to rejuvenate and vigour filled my veins. I felt stronger than I had in many years. Then, for the first time in almost forty years, I heard Narin’s voice, as soft and silky as I remembered.
“Look at you, my love. You are as mighty as the day I first lay my eyes on you. And all these years, I have watched you fall in love again and grow into a mighty man. Now, here you are, old and wise and honourable. I cannot express in words how much you mean to me, even in the afterlife,” Narin’s spirit said.
“You are as beautiful as ever,” I said.
“Shhhh, my love. We will be together soon. It is time to fulfill my last wish. You can do it,” Narin said.
Narin was right. I felt her hand guiding mine to the lid of the urn. My hand trembled as I grasped the smooth, weighty stone. I took a deep breath and with a small grunt, I opened the vessel for the first time. I raised the urn over my head and a tear dropped from my chin, spattering into the warm sand underfoot.
“Be free, my love,” I said.
I turned the urn upside down and the ashes within fell into a renewed wind. Some fell to the ground, but most of Narin’s ashes scattered into the desert. A strange wave of relief fell over me, accompanied by a mighty sadness. It was not to last. A lone horn shattered the silence.
I turned my gaze toward the south, where Jerusalem sat as a speck on the horizon. A cloud of sand and dust obscured much of the remaining panorama, moving closer. I could see the glint of steel within. My heart raced in my chest as adrenaline overtook my body. I felt the cold hand of death brush my neck, and I let out a satisfied smile. Ever since I first left this land, I was waiting for this day. A long journey could, after all these long years, come full circle. I let the urn in my hands drop into the sand, and stood as upright as I could.
“CRUSADERS! FORMATIONS!” I roared.
Our position was disadvantageous to riders, and I had a feeling a majority of the enemies we were to face would utilise horses or camels. The shuffling of feet and clashing of metal echoed around me as everyone scrambled to form a defensive line. Helmets and shields waved in the air, and I saw the few who carried bows stab sharpened stakes into the ground.
I slid my helmet over my head. I felt my heartbeat through the sides of my face thrum against the metal. I drew my sword and held it down by my side. My shoulders rose and fell with the deep, long breaths I took. Elric and Noll moved in front of me, standing shoulder to shoulder. Halim stood to my left and Hann to the right.
Another horn sounded in the distance, and a low rumble came from the dust cloud. Whooping and shouting came from the riders charging toward us. My sword hungered for blood and battle. I clapped my armoured left arm against my chest in rhythmic fashion, the dull thunk sounding out to my gathered force. Feet soon joined in, followed by grunting vocalisations. Our symphony grew in volume and ferocity as the riders of Salah ad-Din closed in our position. We reached a crescendo within a minute of starting our response to the horns of the enemy. One by one, we let loose a sustained, guttural, and visceral roar from deep within our chests.
The twang of bows loosing arrows broke through the cacophony. Our archers were of moderate skill, and most hit a target. A second volley did a similar amount of damage. But there were a lot of enemies charging toward us. At least a thousand men bore down upon us. A third volley took down another dozen riders. They were almost at our position, and masked men on camels with small curved bows returned fire. My heart pounded in my chest, faster than ever. A fury filled my mind and as the first wave of arrows struck and took down several Crusaders, I let out a sustained growl.
The riders came upon us like a wave. Spears impaled camels and horses and men alike, bloodying the sands. Cries of anguish and pain came from both sides. More arrows flew from my men and our enemy. Steel clashed against steel. My first swing was wide and low. I severed all four legs of a camel above the knees. The beast fell screaming and the rider slammed into the sand. The crunch of Hann’s mace into the fallen man’s back instilled terror into the riders nearby.
The riders began to circle our position as cloth-garbed men with curved swords and loud whooping cries slammed into what remained of our shield wall. My men held as much as they could, swinging with wild abandon. Swords rang against each other and each side yelled as loud as they could. Yet, the tide of Seljuks was unending. My men began to succumb to multiple wounds. Our defensive line began to collapse inward, but still, not a man surrendered or stepped away from his post. I stepped in behind the front line and, with a deep roar, I gripped my sword in both hands and swung as hard as I could.
A few Seljuks raised their swords to block. Something higher empowered me, and I sliced through the metal with ease. My sword cleaved through a dozen Seljuks. Another dozen took their place and continued to push us back. One of the Seljuk fighters leaped over the front line, carving down three men in quick succession. I locked eyes with him and he flourished his sword, a cruel smile crossing his face.
The skilled Seljuk came at me with a flurry of swings. His lighter, smaller sword proved difficult to block. I was not going to beat him in a battle of speed, so I planned to outmanoeuvre him. I blocked his swings where I could, sending sparks flying into the air. When I failed to defend myself, his scimitar bounced off my armour, though he was probing for weak points. I spent a few seconds studying his footwork, and deduced how he was next going to move. I feinted a strike coming from my right, and he raised his weapon to block his left side. I spun on my heels and connected with a sickening backhand to his face. I felt the bones and muscles in his face collapse and break on impact. He was dead before he hit the ground.
“TO THE DEATH!” I shouted.
I looked to my left flank and saw an arrow bounce off Noll’s helmet, leaving a deep dent. He and Elric stood back to back with a third man – Artur. Though he was unskilled and underfed, he held his own. The three were surrounded by no less than three dozen corpses. Two Seljuks swung at Artur. He blocked one of them, but the other ran him through. Artur dribbled blood and dropped his sword. Noll slashed the Seljuk who stabbed Artur, killing the man. He fought with the second for a few seconds before taking the man’s head.
Noll locked eyes with me. An arrow burst through the front of his amour and he staggered forward. Elric charged closer to defend, though four Seljuks impaled him with all their spears. A tear dropped from my eye. A second arrow pierced Noll’s armour, and he dropped to his knees, not taking his eyes off me.
“Thank you, Milord,” he said.
Noll dropped to the ground, never to breathe again. I stepped backward and felt two men bump into me. I knew it was Hann and Halim. The Seljuks circled us and angled their weapons toward us. Hann’s breathing was heavy and laboured.
“Bravery beyond bravery, Milord,” Hann said.
“Each man gave his last,” I said.
“Do you feel it, Milord? The warm embrace of death looking you in the face, watching and waiting for the end? We made it to the Holy Land, and with it, you brought peace to one you loved with all your heart. You made it back to the place of what you believed to be your greatest failure because you survived. I say to you, Milord, you were destined to come back here, not to confront failure, but to achieve this redemption. What better way to go out than fighting for God himself?
“Do you think he would have been proud of me, Milord? Would this have been the end Randel yearned for? The one he hoped for? I know I cannot bring him back, but I know I will see him again. And when I do, we will speak at length of your bravery and courage and strength, Milord. It has been an honour. I die a servant of the Lord. May he embrace me as his own son!” Hann said.
Hann continued shouting for several seconds after I felt him push off my back, the sounds of fighting filling the air. I heard the crunch of Hann’s mace on flesh and bone. Hann’s voice soon faded into nothing, replaced by laboured breathing and strained grunts. A body thumped into the sand. I felt Halim stand up straight, and felt the deep breath he took.
“It has been an honour, my brother. Here we stand, forty years removed from our first meeting. There is no man in this world I would wish to be at my back than you, my brother. We brought peace to Her. Now, we embrace our own peace. Farewell, brother,” Halim said.
In unison, we made a step forward away from each other. We swung our swords with ferocious roars, the singing of steel ringing out against the backdrop of the morning sun, sitting as a brilliant yellow orb hanging over the horizon. My first swing downed a Seljuk. A second and third succumbed to my second swing. In a frenzy, I carved my way forward, downing any who dared to face me. Halim did the same behind, the singing of our swords filling the air.
I swung my sword in a vertical direction and took the head of a camel. Then, my vision blurred and a loud ringing filled my ears as the butt of a spear slammed into the side of my head. I spun around and fell to my knees. My helmet clattered into the sand a few feet away. Blood streaked down the side of my face and I saw Halim in the middle of the fray.
Despite his scimitar flashing and his flourishes, there were too many Seljuks to overcome. He fought with all his heart and skill, but the inevitable was bound to happen. A bright flash came from a Seljuk, slicing through Halim’s throat. Blood sprayed forth from the wound, and the last thing I saw Halim do was look me in the eyes, pride and satisfaction in his face.
Several Seljuks grabbed my arms and held them out at my sides, immobilising me. One with a long tassel hanging from his headgear dismounted one of the last horses circling. An officer with a cruel scimitar. He loomed over me and moved the edge of his sword to the crook of my neck. A snarl crossed his face as he reared his sword back, but time stood still for me.
I felt the familiar feel of home came to the forefront of my mind. The rolling green hills and sweeping plains of the English countryside flooded my vision, replacing the distant sands and cruel hot sun of the Holy Land. I saw my children growing up and frolicking through the flowers and crops. The faces of the wives who stood by my side through the years appeared from behind a gnarled willow tree.
I saw my castle, small and humble as it was standing proud over the land I made my own. The faces of people who worked for me, and those who tended to the land stood, clapping their hands together. Many smiled from ear to ear, and others wiped the liquid from their cheeks and their eyes. I stepped forward, and felt Narin’s hand slip into mine. I turned my head down to lock eyes with her. And when I saw her, I let out a rare smile and a tear dropped from the corner of my left eye. I was happy. I had achieved redemption.
I saw the Seljuk officer swing his scimitar. I closed my eyes and smiled.
Postface
Crusader began as a much smaller concept, first published with the first chapter, “Call to Action” on November 30th, 2019. At the time, I intended to post a new chapter every couple of months, with no real end planned. Yet, over the past five years, Crusader has developed into something much bigger than I could have anticipated. Rather than be a simple story, following the lives of a small group as they make their way to the Holy Land, I became invested in the titular character of the book.
The decision to keep the Crusader nameless was a deliberate one. I usually would name characters in my stories, to give them more grounding in reality, yet in this instance, I came to a unique realisation. Crusader is about how the characters in the story interact with the world around them. Every choice made is a deliberate action, designed to create thought. Whilst Crusader might lack in length for a traditional story, there is a huge degree of substance.
Perhaps the most intriguing character created to bounce off the titular Crusader is the enigmatic Father Hann. I had always envisaged these grandiose speeches to inspire the characters within the story, but they were initially slated to be delivered by the Crusader himself. Hann represents the former grandiose nature of the Crusader, who morphed into more of a strong, silent type. This, of course, changes as we learn more of the Crusader throughout the story. This is a formula I have never used before in any of my works, but the results are evident.
Crusader is the story of my dreams. It does not rely on the action sequences to carry it, nor does it overstay a dramatic welcome. The pacing of Crusader fits the precise direction I wanted, and leaves room for you, the reader, to fill in the blanks. This is the beauty of stories. They are escapism, but also thought provoking.
As such, there is but one thing left to do to close out this amazing journey you have come on with me. And it is this:
From the bottom of my heart, I humbly and sincerely give all those who have come on this incredible journey a warm thank you. You are the reason I write.
With the warmest regards,
Fenrir.
Fenrir's Lair 
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