Templar's Acre

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

Baldwin stood with Sir Otto as the Commune met to hear the message.

It was a quiet and attentive meeting. The representatives were gathered in a semi-circle about the Constable. Baldwin noticed that in particular. In the past there had been two groupings: on the one side the merchants and tradespeople who wanted to avoid antagonising the Muslims, and on the other the Orders. Now there appeared to be a feeling of unity in the Commune that Baldwin had not seen before.

The messenger from al-Fakhri stood anxiously before the Constable, who glowered from his throne. ‘Speak.’

Al-Fakhri’s servant turned to the crowd, and spoke clearly in slightly accented French.

‘My master, the Emir al-Fakhri, bids you welcome. He prays that the Franks of Acre are thriving and sends his good wishes to all his friends in the city.’

‘Get on with it,’ the Constable snarled.

‘Your messengers arrived on the Thursday before last. My master saw them with his own eyes: one Templar, one Hospitaller, and their servants and assistants. They were arrested as soon as they entered the city, and all were refused permission to meet with the Sultan. They were taken directly to the gaol.’

‘But they were emissaries travelling under promise of safe conduct!’ the Grand Master of the German Order protested.

The messenger shrugged. His manner indicated that if the Sultan did not extend safe conduct, there was little security for them.

The Constable leaned back in his seat. There was a moment’s absolute stillness in the chamber. High overhead, a flag flapped and cracked in the wind from the sea, and Baldwin was startled by its loudness. Birds wheeled and soared, their cries oddly plaintive, as if they were announcing the disaster to come. Baldwin reckoned all in the square felt the same wretched discouragement.

‘Is there more?’ the Constable asked quietly.

‘My master bids you prepare your defences. The Sultan swore to bring his army here on his father’s deathbed, and it was his generals who advised him to wait until after the winter rains. The rains are finished. The army marches.’

‘Do you have any idea of numbers?’ Guillaume de Beaujeu demanded.

‘I was told sixty thousand cavalry, and one hundred and sixty thousand men-at-arms on foot.’

The Constable’s jaw fell open. ‘You mean the total of marching men and cavalry was one hundred and sixty thousand, surely?’

‘No. The total is two hundred and twenty thousand warriors. There are more, but they are miners and masons to attack the walls.’

There was an appalled silence as the men absorbed this. Only Baldwin and Guillaume de Beaujeu were unsurprised.

‘Sweet Mother of God,’ a man murmured. It summed up the feeling of the men in the chamber.

‘How soon will they arrive?’ the Grand Master asked, bringing them back to the present dilemma. ‘How long do we have?’

‘They will be here in the first week of April, I think. There are many obstacles since the rains. They have more than a hundred siege engines, and the wagons for them take time to cross rivers.’

Guillaume de Beaujeu bowed to the messenger. ‘I am grateful for your news. It shows what needs be done.’

The messenger looked warily at the Commune members before him, then at the Constable, who gave a motion with his hand. The messenger then bowed low, wished them all peace, and left, his eyes going from side to side as though he feared to be attacked on his way out. One man did reach for his dagger, but another put a hand on his and shook his head. There was a sense of futility, of despair beyond comprehension.

Baldwin found himself staring at the spot where the messenger had stood. In his breast he was aware of a relaxation of tension, oddly. At last the dreadful waiting was to end.

A merchant Baldwin recognised as a friend of Mainboeuf’s, spoke wonderingly. ‘This must surely be a mistake? The Sultan would not unnecessarily take a peace envoy, would he? Perhaps we should send a message asking the Sultan to release our friends and explain again the reason for their embassy? Maybe it was the presence of two warlike ambassadors that gave the Sultan the wrong impression? We know he detests the Orders.’

Guillaume de Beaujeu turned slowly to stare at him, and when he spoke his contempt was acid.

‘Do you mean he thought we had sent an army of two knights to take his city? Are you blind to the facts? Our position is clear: we cannot negotiate. We had two options: flight — or fight to defend our city. But there is now no choice. All Christians have a sacred duty to remain here. We in the Temple know our duty.’

‘The Hospital will remain with the Temple,’ the Grand Master declared. ‘This is the destiny of our Orders, to fight and die if need be in the service of God and the Kingdom of Jerusalem.’

‘The Knights of Saint Lazarus too will fight.’

There was a moment’s pause, and then the Grand Master of the German Order, Burchard von Schwanden, grunted his own assent. Baldwin thought he looked distraught, whereas the other Grand Masters were steadfast in their commitment.

The Constable nodded and looked over the remaining members of the Commune. ‘The city will soon be at war. From this moment, all supplies of food must be subject to the demands of the city’s defence. I wrote last year to ask for more help from our friends, and with luck we shall gain some support from there. What of the Orders? Can we hope for help?’

Guillaume de Beaujeu spoke first. ‘I have hope that I can call on more knights.’

The Hospitaller nodded to de Beaujeu. ‘I will order my knights to send all who may be spared.’

The only unhappy Grand Master was von Schwanden. ‘My men are already involved in the Crusades in Lithuania and Poland. I do not know if I can have men here in time.’

‘So, we have a thousand knights and sergeants on horseback,’ the Constable said. Against the Sultan’s army.’

‘Sir, the most important thing now is to send away all those who are no use to the defence of the city,’ Jacques d’Ivry said.

Baldwin noticed that Sir Jacques appeared to feel no concern for himself, as always. His faith was so strong, it preserved him from fear.

The Constable considered. ‘It will take time to arrange such a plan. We have so many thousands to evacuate.’

‘We have planned for this already,’ Ivo put in. ‘We can begin to remove those people as early as next week.’

‘Very well, I agree. Gentlemen, my Lords, we all have much to do. Any questions should be addressed to my clerk.’ The Constable stood. ‘Good luck, and may God go with us all.’

Turning, he made his way to a curtained doorway. Baldwin watched, and was shocked to see him stumble, clinging to the doorpost like a frail old man.