Silk Road (4 page)

The Kingdom of Jerusalem was governed by a monarch, with the aid of a council made up of the leading barons and churchmen of the realm. But there had been no council for two years, as the Crusader states of Acre and Tyre were at war over the succession.

For three years now, the Tatar armies had been making their way westwards, had torn down the mountain citadel of the dreaded Hashishim at Alamut, and had then sacked Baghdad, where they had massacred countless tens of thousands, fouling the air so badly with the stench of corpses that even their own soldiers had to withdraw from the city. Now, under their prince, Hülegü, they had reached the gates of Aleppo in Syria.

After Aleppo, the Holy Land lay open to them.

Perhaps that would get the barons of Jerusalem out of their
baths.

A
MARBLE CHAMBER
with vaulted ceilings, the walls hung with silk carpets. It opened on to a shaded courtyard with a fountain bubbling at its centre. On the other side there was a fine view of the winter sea. An onshore breeze raised whitecaps under a washed blue sky. In Rome there would be snow on the fir trees and ice in the wells.

The barons sprawled on divans, in their Saracen robes, while olive-skinned women in silk qamis, their wrists and ankles adorned with gold bangles, served them sherbets from silver jugs. There were little tables with copper salvers of melons and figs for their further refreshment. Other Saracens played drums and lutes in a corner of the room.

They all watched William stamp across the room, every inch a Dominican in his black and white habit and tonsured blond head.

‘Brother William,’ one of the them said, after his commission from the Pope had been read, ‘I am sorry we are not properly ready to receive you. We have no bed of nails prepared, just these soft cushions, I fear.’

There was a bubble of laughter.

William ignored the jibe. In the last few days he had come to expect no less from this rabble, despite their noble birth. He looked around at the great gathering: counts and constables, bailos and barons, a handful of Venetian merchants – fops and sodomites the lot of them – as well as the patriarch of Jerusalem, Reynald.

A surfeit of jewels and indolence. Only one sober presence, that of Thomas Bérard, the Englishman, Grand Master of the Knights Templar. He had with him an escort of ten soldiers, who waited, a silent but ominous presence, by the door, distinctive in their white surcoats with the splayed red cross pattée on the left breast. They
had cropped hair and wore beards, in contrast to the long hair and clean-shaven faces of the other nobles.

The Templars were the best soldiers in Christendom. Unlike the other knights and lords they owed their loyalty to no king; they were answerable only to the Pope himself. Yet because service in the Order guaranteed remission for all sins, the Templars also attracted rapists, heretics, even murderers to their ranks.

Malcontents and assassins. He didn’t trust any of them.

Especially that giant with the chestnut beard, lounging against the wall, his face creased in a smile of detached amusement. William detested him instantly.

Geoffrey of Sargina, the bailo, brought the meeting to order. He described the latest news from the East and the sweeping gains the Tatars had made in the last few months.

‘The question that faces us,’ he concluded, ‘is whether we confront these Tatars as a threat to our own sovereignty in these lands, or embrace them as allies in our fight against the Saracen.’

‘Perhaps we are a little tardy,’ one of the barons said, sucking on a fig. ‘Bohemond of Antioch has already rushed to submit to this Hülegü like a dog begging for scraps.’

Hugues de Pleissy, Bohemond’s representative at the meeting reacted angrily. ‘It is a prudent alliance, no more! In return for his cooperation Hülegü has offered to march with him to retake Jerusalem!’

‘Retake it, yes. But will he let us keep it?’

Count Julian was their host here in Acre. It appeared to William he spent more time fighting to stay awake than fighting for God. He lounged on the divan and offered them all an unctuous smile. ‘Bohemond got what he wanted. Hülegü has granted him extra territories.’

‘Which the Tatars have looted and burned just the same.’

‘The Tatars claim their khan has the right to universal domination!’ another of the barons shouted. ‘It is blasphemous! It is as much an affront to the Christian Church as the presence of the Saracen in the Holy Sepulchre!’

Thomas Bérard, the Templar, was the voice of sweet reason itself. ‘Our position here is not strong. If we treat with them we may yet turn the tables on the Saracens.’

‘Treat with them?’ one of the barons shouted. ‘Are we to forget what they did in Poland and Hungary? It is only two decades since they laid waste half of Christendom and burned and raped their way almost to the gates of Vienna. And you say treat with them? It is like getting rid of an unwanted dog by inviting a bear into your house!’

William had been just a child when these events had taken place, but he had heard the stories. The Tatar hordes had appeared without warning in the East, cutting a swathe through vast tracts of Russia, laying whole cities to waste and slaughtering tens of thousands. They took Moscow, Rostov and Kiev, and then decimated the armies of Poland and Silesia. At the battle of Liegnitz they had cut an ear from every corpse and worn them as necklaces as they rampaged on through Hungary and Dalmatia.

A plague of black rats followed the Tatars into Europe. It was said at the time that the devil horsemen had sprung from Hades itself, to punish those who had not been faithful to Christ. Everyone in his home town of Augsburg had taken sanctuary in the church, thinking it was the time of the final judgement.

But just as suddenly the Tatars disappeared, riding back the way they had come.

‘These Tatars are not men,’ one of the Venetians was saying. ‘They eat their prisoners. The women they ravish until they die and then they cut off their breasts as dainties. They eat snakes and drink human blood.’

‘Did you hear what they did at Maiyafaqin?’ another said. ‘They took the emir as their prisoner and cut pieces of his flesh away, toasted them over a slow fire and forced them down his throat. It took him hours to die.’

‘Of course we have never stooped to such barbarous acts in Outremer,’ the giant with the chestnut hair said.

The conversation stopped for a moment and the others stared at him, unsettled by this pricking of their own consciences. But Bérard did not reprimand him. Instead he smiled indulgently into his beard. ‘They also say that this Hülegü’s general is a descendant of one of the Three Kings who brought gifts to Our Saviour. Indeed, did not William of Rubruck report that Hülegü’s own wife was Christian?’

William remembered this Rubruck, a Franciscan monk who had
been sent as emissary to the Tatars by King Louis. He had travelled through Russia to the Tatar capital some five years before and returned with tales of Christians living among the barbarians.

What credence could be given to his claims was another matter.

Anno von Sangerhausen, Grand Master of the Teutonic Knights, spoke next. He had no love of the Templars but on this point at least they were of one mind. He slapped his leather gauntlets into the palm of his hand impatiently. ‘I say we offer them a parlay.’

Geoffrey of Sargina stroked his chin, disturbed by the clear divisions among them. ‘Before we decide on this, I must tell you all some further news. We have received, under flag of truce, a message from the Saracens, from their prince, Baybars. He wishes to offer us an alliance against the Tatars.’

‘Of course he wishes it,’ Bérard exploded, laughing. ‘He doesn’t want his ear on a Tatar belt!’

‘I say we do not make alliance with either of them,’ Count Julian said. ‘Let their two armies fight each other. When they are both exhausted we may think again. Side with the victor if he is yet strong; crush him if he is weak. Then, whatever happens, we cannot lose.’

And so it went on, hour after hour, until the shadows crept across the courtyard and the first bright stars appeared on the velvet horizon. William felt his frustration growing. Privately, he agreed with those that said that the Tatars were as much an abomination as the Saracens. But he had his sacred commission from the Pope himself and, regardless of the outcome of this meeting, he must see it through.

‘So, what say you, William?’ Geoffrey of Sargina said at last, appearing physically exhausted by the arguments that had raged around him for the last two hours.

‘My opinion in this is of no account,’ he said. ‘I am not here to sanction your actions. I have on my person a letter from the Pontiff for the prince of the Tatars, to be delivered by my hand.’

‘And what does it say?’ Geoffrey demanded.

‘I have been charged to bring the letter to the Tatar prince, not to the bailo of Jerusalem. It is also my trust to bring the reply direct to the Holy Father in person. Further than that, I cannot say.’ William was delighted to see the anger and dismay on the faces of the nobles
around him. ‘The Holy Father has also charged me with preaching the doctrine of our faith to the Tatars,’ he went on, ‘and he has given me the authority to establish churches and ordain priests among them.’

‘The Pope thinks he can convert the Tatars?’ Count Julian said, his voice choked with disbelief.

‘I do not deem to know the mind of the Holy Father. But, like you, he has received reports that there are Christians among them and feels that it is time to exercise God’s will and bring all believers into the arms of the Holy Mother Church.’

They all muttered into their beards. Christians they might be, but not all of them regarded the Pope with the veneration that they might.

A gloomy and profane silence fell on the discussion.

‘What of Prester John?’ someone said.

Prester John was the legendary priest-king, a descendant of the Magi, who many believed would come from the East to save Christendom in its darkest hour. His name had first been spoken in Rome 150 years before.

‘Isn’t he a little old to save us now?’ the giant Templar muttered.

William glared at him but the Templar stared him down. ‘Some believe that John may have been vanquished by the Tatars,’ William went on, ‘and that their king then married John’s daughter. It is their descendant who now sits on the Tatar throne and this is why we hear talk of Christians among them. We may yet find our salvation there.’

‘It is a possibility we should not ignore,’ Geoffrey said.

Thomas Bérard nodded. ‘If Father William wishes to arrange a meeting with this Hülegü, then we shall be happy to accommodate him, as our charter requires us to do.’

‘What do you suggest?’ Geoffrey asked him.

‘We can arrange for him to be escorted to Aleppo under flag of truce to deliver his message. One of my own knights can serve him as escort and interpreter. This man might also serve as our spy, so that we may better know the mind of this Tatar before we proceed.’

Geoffrey nodded, thoughtfully. ‘Do you have someone in mind for this charge?’

‘Indeed, I have,’ he said. ‘He speaks Persian, Arabic and Turkic,
and is as accomplished at diplomacy as he is at arms.’ Bérard smiled and looked over his shoulder at the giant knight with the chestnut hair. ‘May I present to you Josseran Sarrazini. This man I would trust with my life.’ Then he added: ‘He may even save yours, Brother William. If it suits him.’

When they left meeting Bérard took Josseran aside. ‘Try not to slit his throat the moment you are outside the castle walls.’

‘Why would I do that?’

‘I know what you think of churchmen like him.’

‘I came here to fight for God not the Dominicans. But I also took an oath of obedience and if you say I must escort this fool on his errand, then that is what I shall do.’

‘You have almost completed your five years of service. You could ask to be relieved of this duty.’

Josseran thought about it. For a moment he was almost tempted. A long journey in the company of a Dominican friar was not a proposition he relished.

‘I have nothing to hurry back to France for. I am not sure I know how to take up my former life. Besides, France is full of men like this William now. At least here there is only one.’