Galloglass Book One the Templar Read online

  I swung my shield onto my back, letting it hang there by its strap, and rushed to the top of the mound. Using the spear I had taken from the armory, I took my place directly behind the men in the shield wall and thrust its heavy blade over their shoulders into the snarling faces of the Mamluks with whom they were locked in combat.

  A spear is the first weapon a young warrior trains with. Its advantages are its reach, its ease of manufacture, and its cost. An accomplished spearman is a lethal opponent and that is why every army in the world is full of them and has been since the dawn of time. I plunged my spear over the shield wall into faces, throats, armpits. I killed quickly, without thinking, and I fought as I had never fought before. At some point my blade hung in the ribs of a Saracen, forcing me to take up my hammer and unlimber my shield. I stepped forward into the shield wall, and my world shrunk to the small space directly to my front. Men screamed and fell, blood sprayed into the air along with gobs of brain matter from shattered skulls and pieces of limbs from hacked and shattered bodies, and still we fought on.

  The shield wall collapsed, yet we did not run. The Mamluks pulled back to the edge of the breach and watched, panting in exhaustion. The mound we stood on had become a charnel house. The smell of blood and urine and opened bowels was overpowering. Men crawled away crying for their mothers or a God whose face was turned from them. The mewling cries of the dying were overcome by the shrieks of those whose guts were spilled and lay in their own offal. I could hear the Mamluk imams exhorting them to rush forward and kill us in the name of the Prophet. Still they waited. I knew they were gathering their courage and that they would come once again in an ecstasy of blood and madness. And when they came, we would die where we stood.

  I dropped my shield and hung my hammer from my belt and then I unsheathed my longsword. There were ten of us left atop the mound, two of whom were my friends Henri and Adolfo. Surprisingly, de Gaudin was there as well. Adolfo, like me, stood with his longsword grounded, point down, hands resting on its pommel, and waited for the Mamluk onslaught to begin.

  Somewhere nearby a trumpet blared, drums pounded, and the Mamluk shouted, "Allah Akkbar!" and once more the world became a nightmare of slaughter and destruction.

  My blade came up slightly, and I waited my attackers in what the Italians call the Mezana Porta di Ferro or the Middle Iron Door, and as the first Mamluk rushed forward, my blade rose and my hilt caught his sword coming down. From there I stepped forward, my blade staying in contact until I cut him from shoulder to crotch. As my sword continued its downward path, I brought it back up in a figure eight and cut from my left. Before the Mamluk could collapse, his head leapt from its shoulders and bounced. I continued my forward momentum and cut the next man from crown to chin and after that, everything became a kaleidoscope of whirling faces and chopped limbs.

  Ten minutes of heavy combat, weighted down with mail, will wind the greatest of warriors. As our strength failed and we were racked by exhaustion, unable to step back from the fighting line, men went down one by one. I remember thinking that I would be dead soon and that would not be so bad, when I heard the blast of trumpets directly behind us. Two spearmen rushed at me then. Rather than wait, I moved forward to meet them. From the Posta Falcone I attacked the spearman to my left. A short, chopping blow, drove the incoming spear point down and away and from there I stepped forward and thrust the tip of my sword into the oncoming Mamluk's throat. His companion whirled his spear over his head while lengthening his grip on the shaft and slashed at me. The blade's tip caught my cheek before scouring across the edge of my coif and then hammering into my shoulder.

  I staggered back as the warrior pressed his attack. Again he whirled the spear over his head and then slashed at my legs. Fortunately, the blade came in at thigh level and once again my mail hauberk saved me as it hung to just below my knees. With his blade tip down, he had to step forward and thrust in order to give himself space. As the spear came in, I turned my hips and caught the shaft with my hilt. Staying in the bind as one would a sword, I rode my blade down his spear and cut him from shoulder to sternum. He staggered past me, gasping like a landed fish only to fall face first and slide several feet down the mound.

  Moments later I was surrounded by men-at-arms from Jean de Grailly's French regiment. They rushed past me and slammed into the Mamluks who threatened to overwhelm us. A sharp, vicious fight ensued. Mamluk spearmen were hacked down as the heavily armored Frenchmen swarmed around us. Captain de Grailly clambered up the mound and threw himself into the fight as well. As I sank to my knees, utterly exhausted, the French assault drove the last of the Mamluks off the mound and back through the breach.

  I leaned on my sword's hilt gasping and sobbing for breath. For the first time in my life, I was both amazed and hugely thankful to God to be alive. Captain de Grailly found me there, kneeling in a pool of blood and offal and laid a hand on my shoulder. "Brother, you must stand up and go to the surgeon. Your face needs attention."

  Nodding, I stumbled to my feet. Looking down I realized my mantel was stained crimson from my and mine enemy's blood. De Grailly took his hand and pushed a flap of skin that hung from my cheek back into place. "Take off your gauntlets, brother, and hold this. You will have a scar here worth telling about, for sure."

  Wiping my blade on my ruined mantel, I sheathed my sword and did as I was told. The captain led me down the heap of rubble to a cart that was loading the wounded for the infirmary. Numb and exhausted, totally spent, I rode the cart without thinking and then sat and awaited my turn in a courtyard of the Hospitaller commandery. As the wounded were brought in, they were triaged by their chaplains and surgeons. The worst cases were set aside and given the last rites. Those who had a chance were brought in and their wounds tended. The dead were taken off, stripped of their arms and armor, and then stacked like cordwood in a corner of the yard. By the time of my arrival, the pile was waist high, and the stench of putrid flesh, clotted blood, and excrement was nauseating.

  A lay brother brought me to where the surgeons were working. With hands incarnadined up to his elbows, one of them gently peeled my hand away and examined my wound. He was a tall man with a long face and the saddest eyes I have ever seen, as though he had endured the pain of all his patients. I was lucky. There was no damage to the inside of my mouth or jaw. The spear blade had cut cleanly and laid open my cheek from near my ear to the top of my mouth. "Can you be still? I am going to pour wine in the wound to clean it and then I am going to stitch it closed. I cannot give you any opium to dull your pain. We need that for the worst cases."

  "I will be still," I said and truth to tell, I was too tired and sore to move.

  The surgeon was good. He worked quickly, and within minutes, my wound was closed with no more pain than was to be expected. When he was finished, he gave me a salve of cornflower petals to keep on the stitches to help prevent an infection. "Normally I would tell you not to do anything vigorous that might pull those stitches open, but I realize these are not normal times."

  A smile was too painful, so I nodded instead and laid my hand on his arm. "Thank you, brother."

  As I stepped back into the yard, I was met by Thomas who had been squatting beside one of my Turcopoles who lay nearby. Beside him sat Adolfo and Henri. Both appeared unharmed though covered in blood. The Turcopole's hauberk had been pierced by a spear blade, and he was holding in his intestines with his hands. Thomas tried to keep the flies off him as he waited his turn. Adolfo shook his head as one of the Hospitaller chaplains knelt beside the warrior and performed the last rites, anointing him with oil. I knelt beside him as well and took his hand because for him, there would be no help. Wounds like his were always fatal. "Lord, is it true what the priest says?" he asked.

  I nodded. "You will be with God soon. There will be no pain."

  He grimaced as a wave of agony swept through him. He reached out a hand and clasped mine. He was already cold to the touch. Several heartbeats later, he smiled. "You're right, lord. The pain is gone."<
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  And it was. His hand fell away and he went to God. I stood and clasped Thomas on the shoulder. "You wished to tell me something?"

  "Marshal de Vendac asked me to find you and say that there will be a meeting in the great hall of Countess Lucia within the hour."

  "Concerning?"

  Thomas shrugged. "Rumor is the Venetians don't think we can hold the city. They are going to pull out."

  I looked over to Adolfo. He spat into the dirt. "If they go, the Genoese will not be far behind. It will be like rats fleeing a sinking ship."

  Henri nodded in agreement, rolling his great mailed shoulders as he stood and stretched his tired limbs.

  It would be just like the Venetians to pull out rather than risk the loss of all their goods stored in the Venetian quarter of the city, I thought. They had probably been unloading their warehouses for the last several weeks in anticipation of just such a move. "Thomas, take another Turcopole and keep an eye on the Venetian sector of the wall. If something happens, one of you find me at once."

  "Do you want Henri and me to go with them?" asked Adolfo.

  "No. I'll need you with me. If what Thomas says is true, there will be daggers in men's smiles. What is said and what is done will be two entirely separate things."

  "You mean de Gaudin?"

  "Not just him," I replied. "There is Embriaco as well, along with the Genoese and the Venetians. Each will do what is best for them and not necessarily what is good for the city or the Commune. There are also those within the Hospitallers who are not to be trusted." I had no illusions about this meeting. If the Venetians were to pull out, Tripoli was doomed. There were not enough men to man the walls as it was. If they left, it would be disastrous, and the race to abandon the city would be on.

  "We need to go then," said Adolfo. Thomas was already on his way back to the wall as the three of us began to leave the Hospitaller commandery. It was then that I noticed another cart of wounded being led into the yard. In the back, propped against a panel sat Rolf. I ran to him at once.

  The little man was missing an arm. They had a tourniquet on his arm above the elbow, but he was white from the loss of blood. What was worse, he was dribbling blood out of his mouth. "Rolf, can you hear me?" I asked.

  He opened his eyes and nodded. He beckoned me to lean in close so he could speak. When I had done so, he said, "Hear my confession."

  "There is a priest," I said.

  He shook his head and smiled. "No time."

  And so I stood there and listened to my friend confess his sins while blood leaked off the cart and those beside us beseeched a distant God and flies swarmed about in a blue cloud and I forgave him as best I could saying, "Ego te absolve a peccatis carnalibus simul amice." When I had finished, I closed his eyes and returned to Henri and Adolfo, both of whom, understanding what just transpired, crossed themselves and said a prayer for the dead.

  Sixteen

  The city was quiet. We walked the streets in silence. Those citizens who could had already fled by ship to Cyprus. Those who remained shut themselves in as night descended. Lucia's palace was not far, yet by the time we reached it, I was exhausted. The fight for the breach had been long and hard, and I found myself battered and unbelievably sore from my exertions. My face was bruised, and I could not see out of my right eye because of the swelling from my wound.

  Upon our arrival the three of us were ushered into the great hall by one of Lucia's men-at-arms. Prince Amalric and Captain de Graily were already there along with their officers. Marshal de Claremont was standing near a table with a small cask of wine atop it along with two other Hospitallers talking to Marshal de Vendac and Pietro de Moncada, the Templar commander of Tripoli. I noticed Commander de Gaudin in a corner in a whispered conversation with Bartolomeo Embriaco, and as I entered, both stopped and looked up. Embriaco glared at me while de Gaudin simply smiled and nodded.

  De Vendac smiled when he saw us and motioned for the three of us to join him. "I heard from de Claremont here of your fight in the breach today. You acquitted yourself well, though I see you are wounded."

  "Nothing a draught of poppy juice and some rest will not cure, my lord."

  De Vendac nodded. "Unfortunately, that may not be possible. As I'm sure you have heard, the Venetian Admiral de Ferrara has informed us that he does not believe we can hold the walls. As we speak, he has begun the evacuation of Venetian quarter."

  At that moment the Genoese Admiral, Benito Zaccaria, entered the hall accompanied by four of his men. They strode with purpose, eyes focused on Princess Lucia and her seat upon a dais in the back. Her guards, wary of their approach, placed themselves to her front, below her seat, hands on the hilt of their swords.

  Zaccaria stopped and then bowed. "Countess Lucia, tell me that those scum, the Venetians, are not withdrawing?"

  All eyes turned to the Countess. She stood then and addressed the hall. Pale and haggard, I knew then the rumor was true." Admiral, gentlemen of Tripoli, what you have heard is true. The Venetians are withdrawing. We must go on without them."

  The hall hummed and Zaccaria shook his head. "Forgive me, your grace, but that will not be possible. We cannot hold the walls without them. I cannot ask my people to sacrifice themselves for a victory that is impossible to achieve. The forces of the Republic of Genoa will be gone with the morning tide. I suggest you take ship as well. The city will fall just as surely as the sun will rise."

  "You condemn us to our fates, sir. The city cannot be evacuated in a day. There are not enough ships."

  "Nevertheless, your grace, I am bound by my oath as an Admiral of the Republic. I and all my people will be gone at dawn." He crossed himself, bowed, and said, "May God have mercy on you, my lady."

  Zaccarria and his men left us, and the hall fell silent. It is an odd feeling to know with certainty that on the morrow, a Mamluk army will come over the walls, and there will be nothing to stop them. My job as a member of our Order would be to fight and die so that those who could would escape. Young as I was, I had no illusions about my fate.

  The countess, still on her feet, watched as the Genoese departed and then said, "My lords, each of us must look to our defenses as best we can while preparing for the inevitable. I cannot ask you to stay, but to completely abandon the walls will invite disaster."

  Marshal de Claremont stepped forward then and said, "I speak for both the Hospitallers and the Templars when I say the Orders will do their duty, your grace. We will man the walls for as long as possible. Any who wish to join us are most welcome."

  "As always, my lord marshal, we are in your debt," responded the Countess.

  Captain de Grailly approached de Claremont and said, "My lord, the French Regiment will protect the harbor. If we can barricade the streets, we can provide a place of retreat to make a stand and allow those who can a means of escape."

  De Claremont clasped Captain de Grailly by the shoulder. "Jean, I would be grateful. You realize then, this is not going to end well?"

  The captain shrugged his mailed shoulders. "Inscrutabilia sunt judicia Dei."

  "Indeed. Only God knows the hour and the means of our deaths. It is not ours to choose. We will carry on."

  We left the great hall of the palace and went immediately to our commandery. It was surprisingly peaceful. Men went about their duties quietly and in an orderly fashion. The kitchens were busy as knights and sergeant brothers filed into the dining hall and feasted as our cooks emptied their larders. After eating, I went to the Turcopole barracks and left instructions that all men fit for duty were posed to the walls. Next I went to the armory with Henri where we met with Adolfo and spoke with Brother Colbert, our armorer. Both AdoIfo and I acquired one of the new coats of steel plates sewn into a gambeson and designed to be worn under our hauberks for added protection. Henri wanted no part of anything that bulky. We also picked up three pair of leather cuisses to be worn over our chausses. Henri found a short hafted ax for fighting at close quarters and grinned like a child with a new toy. I searche
d through several racks of spears until I found one with a short shaft and a heavy, narrow blade, ideal for penetrating armor. Adolfo chose a halberd with a heavy hammer on the back end of his ax and a wicked spike atop its head. Suitably prepared, we went to the chapel. We filed down the center aisle and waited for our chaplains to hear our confessions and then administer the last rites. As I said before, there was no panic, yet all of us were aware of our probable fates and were preparing to meet our ends in good grace.

  We three arrived on the wall an hour before dawn. A breeze was coming in from the sea bringing with it the tang of salt air. In the east a purpled sky was rimmed with orange as I stood between a merlon and looked out to the Mamluk camp. There was a great deal of activity. It was obvious our enemies knew there was something wrong with our defenses.

  "Didn't take them long to find out, did it?" said Adolfo.

  "No it did not. So much for the loyalty of our citizens."

  Adolfo waved his hand toward the Mamluk camp. "They are lining up from one end of the enceinte to the other. It will be a general assault on our entire defense."

  "There," I said, pointing to a spot opposite the Tower of the Hospitallers and its breach. "They are making a point. That is the flag of the Bahiri Regiment, Sultan Qalwun's personal guard."

  "Then they are in front of the Tower of the Bishop as well," said Henri, looking southwest along the wall toward the sea.

  I looked into the sky as the rim of the world brightened. "Have you noticed, brothers, the trebuchets have stopped?"

  "Dawn then. They will come at dawn," growled Henri.

  We watched as the sky lightened from purple to orange to the soft yellow of early morning and finally to a pale blue that can only be found in a Mediterranean sky. Their drums began soon after. A heavy, pounding beat that reverberated across the enceinte. We watched as column after column poured from the Mamluk camp and took up positions opposite the wall until their line stretched the entire length of the enceinte from shore to shore. I could hear their imams reciting the Sura of the Sword and the Sura of Conquest as their host stood in silence.