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  “Lie still father, I will protect you.” I planted the standard on one side of his body and held my sword with the other. If we were to die then we would die together. I could not abandon his body to be butchered by these Ayyubid warriors. I looked for the next warrior.

  My father’s horse had not got far and now lay dying. The Ayyubid were reforming to come at me again. I sensed a movement to my right and saw William, Sir Richard’s squire crawling towards me. He was wounded but he held his sword. He hauled himself up the standard and stood behind me. I gave him what I hoped was a brave smile but, in reality, I was scared. Six horsemen galloped at us. They wanted the banner and they wanted my father’s body. The head of the Earl of Cleveland would make a great prize.

  I counted on the fact that the horses would not ride over us. There was room to our left and right. If we stood our ground then we would have just three lances to contend with. The others would get nowhere near us. They did not come at us full tilt. They came at a measured pace. I saw their spears pulled back ready to strike. The ones on the outside of them had dropped back. They would attack us once the others had tried their attack. The standard was all. I could not see their eyes nor could they see ours. It was like the games of dare we squires played. Who would blink first? Without the luxury of seeing eyes you had to rely on your own courage. That day I saw what I could do.

  Just as the first Ayyubid pulled back his arm I heard my father’s voice, “Fight them my son! You are of the Warlord’s blood!” They were the last words he spoke to me. They stayed with me to my dying day.

  As I deflected the first lance a second one was thrust at me. William managed to flick it away with his sword. He was leaning against the standard for support. The horse from the first rider was so close that I could feel its breath. I swung my sword and it bit into the horse’s chest. Its head came down and the Ayyubid flew from the saddle. The third horseman veered to avoid the dying horse and his lance missed me but stuck in William’s leg. As I glanced down I saw that the spear which had been deflected by William was now sticking from my father’s chest. He was dead and I was alone in the world! As William slumped to the ground I picked up one of the lances which had fallen to the bloody ground. Bracing it against my left foot I held it before me and kept my sword ready. I would sell my life dearly.

  The remaining Ayyubid were more cautious. It was as though the rest of the battle was being fought elsewhere. This was now a battle between me and these Ayyubid bodyguards. They were trying to surround me. They wanted the banner. I used the standard and my father’s body to guard my back. I would force them to come at me. One of them, more reckless, or possibly angrier than the others spurred his horse at me. There was no point in flinching. If I flinched then I died. I would face my death and see it coming. I began to swing my sword. He was moving so quickly that he found it hard to react. His eyes must have gone to the sword and he failed to see the lance. It went under his shield and up into his body. I was forced back to the standard but the Ayyubid was pierced through to his spine. His weight broke the lance and he fell before me. It was another barrier.

  Two of them rode at me next and they came on two sides. With just my sword I could not possible hope to deflect two lances. I was a dead man. One was slightly ahead of the other and I chose him to be the one I would take to the grave with me. I held my sword in two hands. I watched him pull back his lance. A lance is a long and heavy object. I saw the head waving up and down. I had to ignore the point and concentrate on the one strike I would have. At the last moment, when it seemed certain that the lance would strike me, I stepped to the side and swung my sword with all the remaining strength I had. His horse had avoided both me and the standard. I struck the leg of the Ayyubid warrior and chopped through it and into the horse.

  The last two warriors roared a challenge and came at me. I turned warily to face them and then, to my great joy and delight, saw them lanced by the household knights of King Richard.

  He reined in next to me, “You are a true warrior!” He saluted me with his sword. “I will return after the battle. You deserve honour.”

  I was spent and had no words. All that I could do was to give a half bow. I sheathed my sword and turned to William. I tore the surcoat from one of the Ayyubid warriors and used it to bind the leg above the wound. William was still conscious. “They are all dead, Tom! All!”

  William was a couple of years younger than me and had not been a squire as long as I had. “But we are alive. Lie still while I tend to my father.”

  His helmet had fallen from his head and he lay, looking at peace. He had been born in this land and he had died here. Perhaps that was why he was smiling. I took the lance from his body and hurled it away. I gently lowered his ventail so that I could see his face clearly. His eyes were closed and he had a half smile upon his lips. He must have been in great pain when he had died. How could he have been smiling? I laid him out so that his legs were straight and placed his sword down his body with his hands folded over it. Then I stood. The battle had moved away from us. Dying men were moaning. Wounded horses were thrashing their legs in pain. I ignored them all as I spoke to my father.

  “Father, I tried to do that which a squire should do and protect you. I failed. But I swear now that I will return to England one day and I will protect our valley as you have done; as did grandfather and as did his father. You said I have the blood of the Warlord in my veins. I will try to live up to that.” That done I took my cloak and laid it over his body so that it was covered.

  I went over the field to seek out the other knights. Perhaps they lived. All had fought bravely but they had been assailed by too many men. They were all dead. From the cuts and wounds, it had taken many strokes to end their lives. I found the bodies of Tristan and Peter, Sir Roger and Sir William’s squires. Of Raymond, Sir Ralph’s squire, there was no sign. I went to the dead Ayyubid. These warriors were mercenaries and well paid. William had no lord now. I searched their bodies and took their purses. It might help William to get home. The alternative was for him to find a new lord. I suddenly realised that I had no lord to follow. Perhaps I would need the coin to get home too.

  I turned around as Skuld neighed and walked towards me. I was relieved. I had thought that she had been hurt too. She nuzzled me and I stroked her mane. I was not entirely alone. I had Skuld.

  The priests arrived. They were the healers who saw to the wounded. If a warrior was too hurt to live then a sergeant at arms would be asked to give him a warrior’s death. Their vows had to be adapted out here in this merciless land. I watched as they began to dress William’s leg. I had just checked that Skuld had no wounds when I saw a column of men approaching. It was King Richard.

  He and his knights dismounted. He took off his helmet. He spoke loudly so that all men could hear, “Once again the men of the Valley of the Tees have come to my aid. Your grandfather did so often enough with my father. Now they are dead.” He took out his sword. “I cannot bring them back but I can reward a squire who deserves to be a knight. Kneel!” I did so. He touched me on both shoulders with his sword. One of his knights had taken the spurs from my father. He handed them to the king as King Richard said, “Rise, Sir Thomas of Stockton, serve me as your father did.” He handed me my father’s spurs. I was now a knight. I looked at the spurs and then at my father. I would give it all up if he were only alive. I was alone.

  The Holy Land

  Chapter 1

  Acre 1193

  It was more than a year since I had been knighted. I had wished to go back to England but the King had said that he needed knights such as me. I do not think that was true. I think he wanted the banner. I was one of the youngest knights and I had but one squire, William. I did not even own a war horse. I had captured three horses from the Ayyubid warriors I had slain but I had no war horse. King Richard liked my banner to follow his. The gryphon was known. It was feared. Despite the fact that there were no longer any knights save me he kept up the illusion. William had taken three months
to heal. In that time, we had learned how to be a knight and a squire in the mighty fortress of Acre. It was crowded but we were both accorded respect for our actions that day in Arsuf. The king kept us close. At the time, I was flattered but now, in hindsight, I see that he enjoyed the reflected glory of what we did. The glory was his by association.

  One advantage of being so close to the king was the fact that I had a better idea of what was going on. He was tiring of a war he could not win. He had argued with Leopold of Austria and sent him home. He browbeat and bullied the other leaders and there was dissention in the camp. He had promised to recapture Jerusalem but he would fail. He knew that. He was looking for a way out of this war which would leave him with some honour. I knew, from the secret negotiations that he was seeking some sort of honourable peace with Saladin. That suited me. I would be able to go home. However, events were being set in place which would prevent that.

  William and I were housed in the citadel that was Acre. Fought over for a century it was a formidable fortress. The only fighting we had to do was an occasional foray into Saladin’s land. Gone were the protective patrols for pilgrims. Now King Richard sent us out to harry the Seljuk Turks and to gather booty and treasure. I think that my grandfather would have been appalled. I had been unable to give William more than a third of the treasure I had collected. My fortune went with the death of my father. He had been earl. There was no mention of the title coming to me. Each time I asked I was told that I would have to wait until we returned to England. My father had used the money lenders to fund our knights. It went back to the time of my grandfather. He had used the money lenders to move money from the Holy Land. There was money in England but, without my father’s contacts, I was virtually penniless. I was reliant upon the good will of King Richard. He was not a generous king.

  I knew that King Richard was not in Acre. He had left with his closest advisers. There were, however, many Templars and there was the King of Jerusalem. He was a king with no kingdom. Jerusalem had been taken but their king still harboured dreams of retaining the city. It had been incredibly wealthy. I did not like him. He never ventured forth to fight in battle. I think that King Richard shared my view for he rarely spoke to him outside of the councils of war.

  One evening, after a month in which we had not ridden forth, I was summoned, along with other knights to the Great Hall. I expected an announcement from King Richard that we would be returning home. I could not afford to travel home without his help. King Richard, however, was not there. He had still to return from this mysterious meeting. It was the King of Jerusalem, Guy de Lusignan who spoke to us. He had achieved the crown through dubious means and he was not the most pleasant of men. If we were working for him then the task would not be an honourable one.

  There were twenty knights gathered. Most were English but I saw one who was not. He looked to be Swedish from his mail. The Scandinavian knights tended to wear slightly more old-fashioned mail and helmets. He sat next to me. I was alone. The other knights had clamoured to be close to my father but I had no influence. I did not even have a spare suit of mail.

  The knight smiled, “Can I sit down, young Cleveland?” His voice was accented but his words were clear.

  I gave a wry smile back, “I have no title, sir. I am plain Sir Thomas of Stockton. Any other title will have to wait until I return to England and the king can decide if I warrant the title.”

  “I am Jarl Birger Persson. I am from Sweden.”

  “You are even further away from home that we are. I have not seen many of your countrymen here.”

  “We have our own crusade against the Estonians, Slavs and the Karelians. They are barbarians and even worse than the followers of Islam!”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “Bishop Albert sent me here fetch back a piece of the true cross. He believes it will help us.” He shrugged, “I have been here some time and seen little evidence that anything from this crusade brings luck.”

  There was a trade in objects which purported to be from the time of Jesus. Most were fakes. Until Jerusalem fell there were plenty to be found. Since then the priests were constantly trying to find them.

  “Just take a piece of wood home and say it is the true cross. I am not certain how anyone would know the difference!”

  Birger Persson laughed and clapped me on the back, “I like you Englishman! You are incredibly cynical for one so young!”

  “Perhaps it is this land.”

  “I knew your father. Not well but I knew him to be an honourable man. He would not like your cynicism.”

  “I have seen little noble about this war. I saw my father and his knights die to protect a king who does not seem concerned about the sacrifice. It is almost as though that was to be expected. Men will give their lives for the Lionheart!”

  I saw Birger Persson open his mouth to speak but the King of Jerusalem stood, “King Richard has asked me to speak with you. He has a task for you which is both dangerous and necessary. It requires knights who are noble in both heart and mind.”

  Birger said, out of the side of his mouth, “And poor knights such as you see here who will do what they are ordered for they cannot afford to do else.”

  The King frowned at the mumbled conversation. He continued. “However, you will be paid for your services. King Richard has observed that all of you in this hall have a need for coin. Before the Turks took Jerusalem, much treasure was rescued and taken to the Hospitaller’s refuge a few miles from Jerusalem. Unfortunately, the knights who were supposed to bring it to safety were killed. Now that the refuge has fallen the treasure would appear to be lost.”

  I shook my head. If the treasure was lost then what was this meeting about? This would be another waste of knights who could be fighting for something more than coin.

  “Word has come to us that the Turks have not discovered where it is hidden. There is a chance that it is still there. You will find it and return it here.”

  I looked around. Now that I had a chance to look at them I saw that Jarl Birger was correct. All of us were poor knights. We were desperate men. Without sponsors we eked out a living. We were expendable!

  The King pointed to his right and a knight entered. “Robert of Blois will lead you. He is a kinsman and a great warrior.”

  It was not Robert who had my attention. Behind him came four squires. They were all dressed in his livery. One of them was Raymond of Thornaby. He had been Sir Ralph’s squire. I had thought him killed at Arsuf. Now he looked not only alive but prosperous. His hair was groomed and, compared with William and me, well fed. He saw me. I did not expect his reaction. He grinned. His lord was dead but I was the son of the Earl. I would have to speak with him.

  I had never met him but I quickly realised that I did not like Robert of Blois. He was a broad and powerfully built knight but he had a hawk shaped nose. However, it was his voice which grated on me. It was hectoring. The King left and the knight from Blois spoke. “I have been charged with returning the treasure. That is my only concern. You are a means for me to do so. The fewer of you who survive the greater the pot of coins we will share! When we return I expect to be rewarded with a castle of my own. If you impress me then I may well have a position there for you.” He allowed that to sink in. “This refuge is at a place called Aqua Bella and we leave tomorrow before dawn.”

  It was as though someone had walked on my grave. Aqua Bella had been my grandfather’s home. My father had been born there. It was many miles inside Saladin’s Caliphate. Robert of Blois and Raymond of Thornaby were forgotten as I tried to remember all the stories my grandfather had told me about Aqua Bella. Knights moved and Robert of Blois and his squires left.

  Jarl Birger said, when I had been silent for so long and everyone else had left us, “Something troubles you, my young friend. I mean apart from the fact that we appear to be led by a man who would slit our throats while we slept.”

  “My grandfather was master of Aqua Bella when he was in the Second Crusade. My fathe
r lived there too.”

  “The Vikings of my land from whom I am descended told me that there were spirits who plotted and planned, who spun and trapped. They would believe that this was meant to be.” He laughed, “Of course I am Christian and do not believe such superstitions.” He tapped my gryphon, “However, I should tell you that another reason that I sat by you was because of this. The house of Folkung is a powerful and important family in Sweden. They are descended from Folke the Fat. The head of the family is now a jarl called, Birger Brosa. He is a cousin. They come from the town in which I was born, Stock Holm. The ruler of that town is related to Folke the Fat. The family have a battle flag. It is called the Folkunga Vapnet. It is a yellow gryphon on a blue background.”

  I looked down and rubbed my hand over the mythical beast. My grandfather told me how he had chosen the design when he had come to the Holy Land and now there was another connection.

  Jarl Birger said, “I like you, Englishman. You have an honesty I find refreshing. I think that we will need to watch each other’s backs on his little expedition. What say we make a pact to be brothers in arms until this is over?”

  I was grateful. For the first time since my father and his oathsworn had died, I was not alone. I took his arm in a warrior’s grip. “Aye Jarl Birger for I agree with you. There may be as many enemies inside this camp as without.”

  I found William. He had recovered well from his wound. However, if we ever returned to England I did not know how he would cope. His wound ached in the cold and wet. Here it was not a problem. In England, he might be in constant pain. I told him of our task and also of Raymond.

  “I never liked him, lord. He bullied us. He would not try that with you for you were son of the earl but he made our lives a misery.”

  “I did not know. You should have said something.”

  Shaking his head, he said, “That is not honourable in a knight. The others are free now but when I see him…”