36.

Al Quds Archers stood atop the wall, and below them a phalanx of guards lined both sides of the Eastern gate. Only one of the heavy doors was open, and the entryway was packed with people trying to enter. Donkeys brayed and men shouted within the swelling mass at the gate that oozed as a thin trickle into the city . Husaam and his household stood before the guard, waiting to pass scrutiny.

"Let them enter!" An impressively accoutred offi cer and a standard bearer rode across the courtyard toward the gate. Behind them, a groom led a string of two horses.

Faaria pulled Amhara and Reni away from the hooves that clattered on the stone pavement.

The offi cer drew up before the ser geant of the guard. "These people are the guests of the emir ," he announced as the line of horses swung around behind him. After an acknowledgement from the guard, the offi cer assisted her, Amhara, and the baby onto one of the horses and signaled that Husaam should mount the other one.

Faaria glanced anxiously back at her brother , who was still held along with a white camel at the checkpoint.

"What about that one, sir?" The guard pointed with his thumb toward Sharif. "We are under orders to send them to the Dung Gate."

Astride the emir 's horse in his new status as guest, Husaam appealed to the offi cer. "Minfadlak, sayyid, we have obeyed this most reasonable of orders. Our drovers have taken the rest of our caravan to the southern gate. This beast carries gifts for the emir."

"Admit them," the offi cer ordered, and Sharif led the camel inside.

With surprising speed he couched the camel, mounted it, and brought it to its feet again. Meanwhile, the offi cer drew his horse alongside Husaam. "On behalf of the emir , Idris ad Dawla, I am here to escort you to the Citadel."

"I thank you and my family thanks you. I look forward to speaking with the emir." Husaam appraised the offi cer's rich costume and seemed pleased.

* 141 *

Faaria knew why . The prosperity of the host always refl ected favorably on his guests.

The offi cer led them through a tunnel-like archway into a street just wide enough for two horses to walk abreast. "Do you know Jerusalem, Sayyid Husaam?" the offi cer asked.

"A bit. I was here when the Turks were masters. I remember the plentiful souqs and craft markets. Much better than we have in Cairo."

While the men talked amiably, keeping their horses close, Faaria glanced back again to assure herself that Sharif was still behind them.

He swayed serenely on his white mount, occasionally running his foot over the square shapes in the red woolen camel bags.

She turned back again to watch the standard bearer who rode next to them and seemed to struggle to keep a dignifi ed bearing while his standard kept catching under the window screens that jutted from the walls. Suppressing the urge to laugh, Faaria studied his costume. Over a linen undergarment he wore a wide silk coat patterned with geometric designs and tied at the waist by a sash. A short sword in a silver scabbard was tucked into one side of the sash and a smaller curved dagger into the other. On his rather pretty head, a short conical cap was wrapped with swaths of silk in yet another color , and a long section of it was draped across his chest and thrown over his shoulder.

"We do not know this city , sayyid. Can you tell us, for example, what that is?" She looked toward the enormous wall that ran parallel to the road they traveled.

He fi nally tilted his banner permanently forward in line with the horse's neck and turned his attention to them. "That is the north wall of the Temple Mount, which held the Temple of Solomon. What you see above it is the Dome of the Rock." He pointed with his free hand, so that the silk of his coat sleeve hung down handsomely. A band of embroidery around the upper arm held some inscription in calligraphy, though she couldn't read it. "Holy places for both Jews and Muslims. But the road we ride on is the path on which our savior bore his cross."

"Our savior? So you're a Christian," Faaria observed. "The emir has a Christian in his service?"

"Several. And his physician is a Jew. I cannot say the brotherhood here is all that warm, but we manage. It must be so. The city is sacred for all of us."

* 142 *

Vulture's Kiss "Are there any sites of the old religion? Of the many gods?"

The standard bearer laughed. "For the pagans? No, of course not.

Though there are stories about a temple to Venus deep under the Church of the Sepulchre."

They reached the corner of the mount and he pointed left again.

"Down there is where the Jews pray . In a moment we will cross the Al Wad and go past the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and behind that, on the opposite wall of the city, is the Citadel, where my master awaits us."

Faaria shook her head, puzzled. Believers of three faiths, worshipping within sight of each other , each one convinced the other two were in error. Didn't anyone fi nd that comical?

Subdued by awe, Faaria and Amhara followed the servant to a bench at the end of a long dark corridor . The narrow space was unpleasant until they saw they sat before an elaborate grillwork. The pattern of carved arabesques was in fact cut through the wall so that, sitting in their darkness, they could peer unobtrusively into the stateroom on the other side.

Faaria was uncertain why they had been allowed to witness the audience rather than kept waiting outside as she had feared. It appeared that Husaam al Nouri carried such authority that his women, too, were accorded certain privileges.

The audience room was impressive, suggestive more of a palace than a citadel. It was lit at all four corners by multi-ringed candelabra that hung on long chains from the ceiling. A long L-shaped divan fi lled the corner of the state room opposite the grillwork wall.

Wide, fl at cushions were placed in a row at the back of the divan, and cushioned stools stood in front of it.

As they watched, a servant carried in a brass tray with a tall snorkled coffeepot, glasses, and a dish of sweetmeats. A boy dragged over a round wooden table for him to set the refreshments on, and they both padded away soundlessly.

A moment later, the emir arrived with his ministers. Idris ad Dawla was a striking man, though none would call him large. The height of an average man, he had the demeanor of one accustomed to command. He * 143 *

walked close by the grillwork wall and faced it briefl y, as if he did not know they were behind it. Ridiculous, of course, Faaria thought. What commander would keep a spying room without full knowledge of who was in it?

She liked his face. The deep grooves that ran from the side of his nose diagonally into his full black beard gave strength to his mouth and lent him an air of authority even when he was silent.

He dismissed his ministers and greeted his guests standing. With genuine warmth, he gripped Husaam' s upper arms and held him at arm's length.

"Old friend. I am pleased to see you again. How fares your trade in times like these?"

All three sat down as the servant poured cof fee from a high- spouted copper ewer.

"Alhamdullilah, Emir ," Husaam replied. "Every caravan investment brings the risk of ruin until delivery, but for the moment we prosper enough to offer you this gift."

Sharif presented a slender leather volume to the emir with a slight fl ourish, while Husaam took a polite sip of his coffee.

Husaam set his cup down. "I know the emir's love of verse, though this will certainly not be the usual fare. This Persian mathematician Khayyam has made a name for himself in two languages. You will fi nd his philosophy daring, but I believe the emir appreciates daring, in his poets as in his offi cers."

Ad Dawla ran his hand over the cover of the book with a smile and set it aside. "Thank you. I will read it at my leisure, though I fear I have little enough of that now. You know, of course, about the scour ge that sweeps down from Europe. We must consider that they will soon arrive in full force before our gates."

"More than soon, sayyid," Sharif interjected. "My sister was fetching water at a pool just outside the city wall and was set upon by a man with yellow hair who spoke a strange language. There is great likelihood that he was a scout from the Frankish army."

Ad Dawla crossed his arms over his chest. "That the Frankish kings are already sending spies...that is alarming. We sent emissaries to them and offered complete freedom of religion in Jerusalem. All men may visit, as pilgrims, unmolested, as long as they are unarmed. And still they send spies."

* 144 *

Vulture's Kiss "But Jerusalem has been open to pilgrims since the Fatimids have reclaimed it. Do you think they will accept your offer?" Husaam looked sceptical.

"It is unlikely," ad Dawla replied. "I anticipate a siege, although I had hoped it would be longer in coming. In any case, we are bringing in all the grain we can and will burn what we cannot. We will block or poison the wells outside the city-all but Siloam, which feeds our own cisterns. I will dispatch the catapults where we are most vulnerable and prepare the Greek fi re."

"A great pity, isn't it?" Sharif set down his cof fee. "The Franks have marched all this distance to reclaim what they essentially already had."

There was a frenzy of activity in the souq, as people rushed to buy food to last through the siege that all knew was coming. Though carts of grain and livestock still trickled in from the surrounding villages, the freshly slaughtered meat and new produce were bought immediately , and olives, which kept indefi nitely, were soon impossible to fi nd.

Sharif accompanied the women on what they feared would be the last day to shop.

"Ufff, Sharif. You smell of camel." Faaria linked her arm in his.

You've been visiting the stable again."

"For the books," he said under his breath. "I hid them under the camel straw. If we ever get out of this, they're our fortune." He perused the sparse and rotten produce that remained on the market cloths.

"Well and good. But for now , we need things like this." Faaria held up a lar ge bundle of dates tied in a cloth. Is anything left at the grain merchant?"

"No, but ad Dawla' s men have taken several barrels of it to the Citadel. If it comes to that, we'll have grain to eat, though nothing else.""Can we try to fi nd fl atbread?" Amhara asked. "It'll keep a long time and Reni can eat it. She' s been so good. She never cries, even in all this strangeness." She shifted her from one arm to another . "Look, the poor child's in rags. I'd planned to buy her a shirt in Damascus with our new money."

* 145 *

Faaria grinned. "I was waiting for you to say just such a thing."

From under her shirt she produced a gauze-wrapped package and handed it to Amhara.

"Oh, habibti, what a beautiful thing." Amhara unfolded the brick red smock and held it up against Reni's chest. "It'll fi t her perfectly!"

Her face lit up, and she pressed a damp fi nger on the embroidered panel in the front. "Burd!"

"Yes, darling. It's a bird. A yellow bird. Say thank you to Auntie Faaria."

Sharif took the bundle of dates from her hand. "Y ou may have a child of your own soon enough. Idris ad Dawla has spoken with Husaam about taking both of you as his wives."

"Idris ad Dawla? She snatched the dates back, suddenly truculent.

"But we've known him for only ten days, and besides, I don' t want to marry anyone."

"You couldn't do better. He's an Egyptian and wants both of you.

At a time like this, women need a strong man to take care of them.

There is no one stronger than Idris ad Dawla."

Faaria and Amhara sat on cushions in the corner of the spare upper chamber of the tower.

"Are you afraid?" Faaria asked.

"Of course I am. Terrifi ed."

"I'll protect you, you know, if it costs me my life."

"Oh, habibti. You're just as weak as I am. You know what happens to women after a battle." She drew the blanket over the shoulders of her sleeping baby. "And children."

"I know, but I trust Idris ad Dawla. He' s a fi ne commander. At least Sharif says so. But whatever happens, I want to be with you, even if we die."

"Samek says that lovers can be together in the afterlife if they have likenesses. You know, carved in wood. If we come though this, I'll have such things made of us, of Sharif, and of my father and Reni, too, so that we can be together forever."

Faaria offered a weak smile. "A good idea. I even know a wood-carver in Cairo. Now we must only survive Jerusalem."

* 146 *

Vulture's Kiss Amhara stood up respectfully as Husaam and Sharif entered through the narrow doorway.

"Sit down, sit down. We'll come and join you." Husaam dropped onto the cushion next to her and raised one knee to lean on. "I have looked to our goods, but I think they are lost," he said, wan. "If ad Dawla can negotiate surrender, they will no doubt be part of the ransom.

If he cannot, and the Franks attack, it will all be lost in any case." He gazed mournfully up at the opening in the stone wall through which sunlight poured in milky beams.

Sharif raised a slender hand. "Ad Dawla' s Sudanese are superb archers, and the city walls are strong. The Franks will surely negotiate.

And I've hidden our most valuable things."

Husaam shrugged. "If God so wills it."

At the other end of the room ad Dawla entered with two lieutenants.

In the days since they had seen him he had let his beard grow , as if to add another layer of protection before a great hand-to-hand battle.

His green surcoat, of embroidered leather, hung to his knees over his linen britches. A sash of embroidered silk wrapped twice around him covered his breastplate and held a sheathed dagger . A diagonal strap held a sword on his back, its elegantly fi nished hilt just visible above his shoulder.

His helmet was peaked, as if it had been poured molten and cooled before the last drop at the center had fallen. The steel was engraved with Quranic phrases, and the helmet itself was held in place by a bright blue-green turban. By his colors alone, he would be seen on the ramparts.

He approached them, laying a hand fraternally on Hassaan'

s shoulder. "Take heart, old friend. Jerusalem is well prepared. We have troops on guard at every corner of the city , and the food supplies are ample. In any case, the Citadel remains the center of our strength, and no matter what happens, your two women should stay here."

A loud knock came from the narrow door , and then it fl ew open.

The handsome standard bearer rushed in, breathless. He handed a message to ad Dawla, who read it silently before he crumpled it.

"The Franks have refused conciliation," he said grimly.

The messenger still stood at attention, and ad Dawla asked him, "Is there something else?"

"Yes, sir. You must come and see."

* 147 *