"Prayer time is coming soon. We should begin preparing."
Kalanisi dismounted from his camel as he spoke.
At his gesture, his companions and servants removed prayer rugs from the camels' backs.
The movements were practiced and familiar.
Kalanisi looked back at the road they had traveled.
"Five days already…"
They had left Damascus and were heading south, toward Mecca and Medina.
The purpose of their journey was simple.
Transport silk and pilgrims to the holy cities, purchase local goods there, and sell them in Damascus.
As Kalanisi spread out his rug, someone approached him.
Al-Ahdal.
A fellow merchant and close friend.
"I drank too much date wine last night. My stomach's unsettled. I think I'll pray a little later—"
"Stop your nonsense and prepare for prayer."
Kalanisi frowned.
"How many more times do you intend to grumble on this journey? I've never seen a believer as lazy as you."
"I serve Allah in my heart. That should be enough. Must I bend this old back as well?"
"Where do you keep finding such blasphemy…?"
"Did not the famous poet of Ma'arra say there are only two kinds of people in this world?"
Ahdal laughed.
He raised two fingers.
"One has a mind but no religion. The other has religion but no mind."
"A famous poet of Ma'arra, is it?"
Kalanisi snorted.
"Have you forgotten what happened to Ma'arra when the Franks invaded? Innocent children were skewered and boiled alive."
He continued,
"A man needs both mind and religion to survive. Especially when facing the Franks."
"Very well, very well. I cannot even joke around you."
"If you have strength to complain, use it to prepare for—"
A shout rang out.
Closer to a gasp than a scream.
"The Franks! Frankish cavalry!"
"What?!"
Kalanisi rushed forward.
Others stood and looked where the man was pointing.
Chainmail.
Brightly patterned cloaks and surcoats.
Frankish cavalry.
About ten of them stood atop a ridge, watching.
Silence fell.
"They're likely scouts from a nearby fortress," Ahdal said. "We can give them a few coins. We have a travel permit."
"No. Those aren't local soldiers. Do you not recognize that banner?"
Kalanisi pointed.
"That is the banner of al-Quds."
"Al-Quds… Jerusalem? Then that means a member of the Frankish royal house is here…"
Silence again.
The Frankish riders stared down at them.
"Kalanisi! They mean to attack us! We must turn back—"
"It is too late. Even if we flee now, we will not gain distance."
He raised his voice deliberately.
"I possess a travel pass issued by Lord Reynald of Kerak! Do not panic!"
"But how often has Reynald broken his word?" Ahdal whispered.
His face had hardened.
"If Reynald himself has come to attack us—"
"Then we pray Allah grants us mercy."
Just then, another group of Frankish cavalry appeared on a neighboring ridge.
Around thirty.
They positioned themselves opposite the first group.
"We're surrounded."
"Wait… something is strange."
The two Frankish groups rode toward one another and began shouting angrily.
"Are they fighting over us?"
"Perhaps. If they want a larger share of the spoils…"
After several exchanges, the second group turned and withdrew.
Soon, one knight separated from the first group and approached.
A black cloak.
Kalanisi had seen such attire before.
The Knights.
Among the Franks, the fiercest warriors.
Kalanisi swallowed.
The knight halted before them.
"Who is your leader?"
He spoke in Arabic.
Kalanisi stepped forward, concealing his surprise.
"I am."
"I am Garnier of the Hospitaller Order. May I ask your name?"
"Tahir al-Kalanisi of Damascus. We travel with pilgrims to the holy city of Mecca."
He produced a document.
"We have permission to pass through this region—"
"I regret to inform you that you and your goods must be detained for a short time. We do not intend harm. I ask that you comply peacefully."
The knight's tone was calm, almost like a morning greeting.
"Listen—take the camels and goods if you must."
Kalanisi gestured behind him.
"But release us and the pilgrims. Consider the cargo ransom if you wish—"
"You misunderstand."
The knight smiled.
"If you accompany us to Eilat, you may go wherever you wish afterward. Your goods will be returned."
"…?"
Kalanisi frowned.
"If we are released in Eilat, then what is the meaning of this?"
Kalanisi and Ahdal exchanged looks.
This situation was unfamiliar to them both.
"Perhaps it is a trick," Ahdal whispered. "A way to take our goods without struggle."
"If they wished to take them, they could do so now. We have no choice. We must entrust ourselves to Allah."
Kalanisi turned to the knight.
"Very well. We will accompany you—on the condition that the safety of our caravan is guaranteed."
"A wise decision. Our commander will speak with you directly."
"Your commander?"
"Baldwin. Prince Baldwin of the royal house of Jerusalem."
The knight smiled and signaled the others.
"As Sir Garnier told you."
I stretched as I faced the two Muslim merchants.
After days on horseback, my entire body ached.
At first it was just my backside. Now my shoulders and lower back throbbed as well.
Vult had too much energy.
"You need only follow us to Eilat. There your goods, horses, and camels will be returned. If you wish, we can put it in writing."
"So…"
The older merchant spoke cautiously.
His skin was deeply tanned by years under the sun.
"Does that mean Your Highness intends to escort us to Eilat?"
"You were attacked by us. That part must be clear."
I replied.
It is an escort, yes—but we cannot call it that.
Perhaps I should charge something for appearance's sake.
"One dinar. To be released in Eilat, each of you must pay one dinar as ransom."
"Each person?"
"Let us say so."
The two merchants looked even more bewildered.
I barely held back laughter.
'Yes. That's the proper reaction.'
We attack them—then promise the safety of their goods and people.
Like a kidnapper who feeds the hostage well and sends him home by ten at night.
"I truly do not understand."
"There is no need to understand. Only remember that today, you were 'raided' by me."
"Very well. We will remember."
They nodded stiffly.
"Good. Other caravans are waiting nearby. Join them and prepare to depart. My men will guide you."
Just then Aig entered the tent.
The look on his face was familiar.
Urgent news.
"Your Highness, you should come outside."
"What is it?"
"Lord Reynald is approaching. With many knights."
"Later than I expected."
I stood, smiling.
I thought he would come much sooner.
Perhaps he needed time to understand what was happening.
Outside, dust clouds rose.
Through the haze, mounted figures charged forward.
Medieval tanks.
Reynald was unmistakable at the front.
Large frame. Jagged beard.
He dismounted and strode toward me.
Several knights followed.
He stopped before me and bowed slightly.
"This humble servant greets Prince Baldwin of Jerusalem."
Reynald of Châtillon.
I had seen his likeness hundreds of times.
His face matched his reputation.
The Mad Dog of the Crusade.
A man who had spent most of his life raiding, burning, slaughtering, or imprisoned.
It was said he once tied a bishop to a stake for refusing to fund his campaign.
"Had I known Your Highness would be here, I would have come to receive you."
Reynald growled.
"I was told you were rebuilding the port at Eilat."
"That matter is precisely why I am here, Lord Reynald."
I answered calmly.
"I trust you are aware that I was attacked by desert tribes while traveling to Eilat. Upon investigation, I learned their base lies in this region."
"Then…"
Reynald lifted his head.
"Have you come to eliminate them? Then why seize the caravans?"
"Is there any fault in taking the wealth of heathens and using it for holy war?"
I smiled.
Using his own logic against him left little room for reply.
"I also heard there was a minor altercation between your men and mine today. It would be wise to discipline your subordinates more carefully."
I added.
"Unless you intended to take my spoils."
"But this land is my domain, Your Highness."
Reynald's face flushed red.
A predator deprived of prey.
'Good. Show it.'
Over the past few days, I had intercepted every Muslim caravan and pilgrim group around Kerak before Reynald's men could strike.
Not escorting—raiding.
With the justification of securing the area near Eilat.
And I held another card.
"I hear you maintain close relations with the desert tribes."
Reynald had a cooperative relationship with them.
They provided information. He raided caravans. They shared the spoils.
That allowed for another narrative.
'Reynald incited the tribes to attack Prince Baldwin.'
He would never truly do that.
But rumors do not require truth.
"Is that true, my lord?"
"I do not know what you imply."
Reynald growled.
"No man hates the Saracens more than I. I intended to eradicate those desert dogs entirely."
"Then we share the same objective."
I smiled.
'The higher authority here is me.'
Not only royalty—but royal representative for Eilat's reconstruction.
Even a lord cannot ignore that.
Reynald spoke slowly.
"Still, there is no need for Your Highness to remain here. As His Majesty's loyal servant, I—"
"There is no cause for concern. I have brought sufficient men and supplies. I shall assist you, Lord Reynald."
I turned my head slightly.
"Provided, of course, that you do not object."