Crusade

She wiped the tears from her eyes, kissed me on the cheek and hurried to her tent. As I watched her go, I thought about the burden she carried — the scars of an ordeal that would haunt her for the rest of her life — and was glad that I had at least let her know that I cared about her so deeply.

She was close to the Temple of Segesta, beginning to disappear into the long shadows of the setting sun, when the attack began. I saw her fall and heard her cry out, but there was no other sound or movement. I looked north and south towards the two sentries we had posted, but there was no sign or signal.

As I got to my feet, I saw our mounted assailants stream down the hillside towards us. Their recurved eastern bows were pulled taut as they unleashed volley after volley at our tents. Although the men were on horseback, their aim was lethally accurate. I saw at least three of our men fall before I had taken three paces. I shouted orders but I was too far away to be heard over the din of their horses’ hooves clattering on the hard ground.

I ran towards the temple as quickly as I could. As I did so, Sweyn appeared from behind one of the columns and brought down a horseman with a sweep of his sword across the steed’s fetlocks. He was on top of the rider before he could regain his feet and impaled him through the chest with his lance. Blood spewed out of the wound and the man spat and spluttered in his death throes as Sweyn put his foot on his chest to recover his lance. Just as he did so, looming above on horseback, two more adversaries were on top of him. The first he despatched easily by hurling his lance at him, impaling him through the right shoulder. The second one he brought to the ground by skewering his mount through its throat with his seax, then running him through with his sword as the horse rolled on top of him.

Sweyn then tried to run towards Adela, but he was hit on the back of his helmet by a Saracen’s latt. He collapsed in a heap and did not move. I then saw Edwin and two of our men surrounded by cavalrymen, desperately trying to defend themselves before they disappeared behind a wall of men and horses.

By the time I reached the temple, sword drawn, all was still — the fight was over. I had passed Adela, but she did not move or utter a sound.

As I approached the horsemen, I heard an order issued which was obviously a call to sheathe weapons. I looked around and put my sword in its scabbard. I was surrounded by more than forty black-bearded, swarthy warriors, all clad in lamellar-mail hauberks not unlike Norman armour. Their clothing was black, as were the turbans they wore around their conical helmets. Their shields were smaller than the northern European designs and bore no emblems other than simple geometric patterns. Their horses were small, agile, grey beasts — very different from our heavy bay destriers.

‘You must be lost, Christian.’

Their leader addressed me in good Norman French. I was trying to remain calm, but the speed and ferocity of the attack had left me shaking and very concerned for the welfare of my comrades. I had never encountered Saracens before, but I knew of their formidable reputation as soldiers.

‘I am Edgar, a prince of England. We are travelling to Mazara to meet Roger Guiscard, Count of Sicily.’

‘I am Ibn Hamed, Emir of Calatafimi. Have not the Normans conquered your land?’

‘Yes, my inheritance has been taken from me.’

‘So, why do you travel all the way to my homeland to visit the people who have taken your birthright?’

‘I am no longer heir to a throne, but I am still a prince. Now I am in search of a life beyond England.’

The Saracen lord looked at me curiously.

‘My comrades are in need of help. Will you permit me to see to them?’

‘Of course. I am forgetting my manners; my physician will help you.’

He then barked some orders in Arabic and his men started to move quickly to assess the aftermath of the skirmish.

‘We were driven from Calatafimi by Roger Guiscard three years ago. We now live in the hills, trying to defend our land. Like you, we have been dispossessed.’

Ibn Hamed’s men then began to bring bodies towards us and lay them on the ground. Both sentries had had their throats cut and had been dead for some time, and three more of our men had been killed by the Saracens’ arrows. Edwin, our sergeant-at-arms and our other cavalryman were all bloodied but able to walk. They were bound hand and foot, but did not appear to be badly injured.

‘The two knights are alive. This one will have a sore head for a few days and the one over there will need the arrows removing and the wounds cauterizing. My physician will see to it.’