A Cold Mountain
Chapter 2
by Daniel Pears, published on August 21, 2000
The late evening of July 15, 1099, the Holy Land
They had ridden for miles, how many Guillaume could not say. More than anything he wanted to sleep. His eyes burnt and his hands trembled on the verge of exhaustion. At the top of another hill- there always seemed to be another hill- father Gregory stopped and looked about, his eyes searching the oppressive gloom.
-"We turn aside from the road here," he announced.
-"Is that wise?" Guillaume asked. "There are vast fields hereabouts and I have heard that there were may be Infidels hiding there. Even if there are no Infidels, aren't we likely to lose our way in the dark?" He looked up at the murky sky, his face, dimly seen, troubled. "I wish there was a moon."
-"I do not think that we need to be afraid of Infidels, my lord," Mirepoix, one of the Duke's five men, said confidently, "since we secured this area some weeks ago." He smiled. "Most of the Infidels were forced to seek refuge beyond the Jordan River."
-"I am just happy that there isn't a moon, my lord," remarked a second knight called Durand. "It is just as well that no one happens to see us pass."
-"I suppose you are right, my fellow knights," Guillaume replied and with that he led the group into the fields that lay beside the road.
For Gavin, the young assistant of Gregory of Rubrouck the fields were impossible. If he had stumbled now on the road, the unseen furrows, holes and clumps in the road ground seemed to catch at his feet with every step. At the end of a mile, when they reached the edge of some woods he was almost ready to weep with exhaustion. "How can we find our way in there?" He demanded, peering into the utter darkness of the woods.
-"The Almighty will guide us through these treacherous woods, my son," Gregory answered him.
-"With all due respect, father," Guillaume smiled sarcastically, "I have much more confidence in the skills of my five armed companions than in the divine providence. It is going to be very dark in there, and the track is not wide. I'll go first, and the rest of you will follow me."
-"I will be right behind you, Gavin," Gregory said. "Do not worry. Everything will be all right." There was a note in his voice, however, that hinted that the words were more to reassure himself than to calm the young man.
It seemed warmer in the woods and it was so dark that Gavin could not understand how the Duke could possibly find his way. A dreadful suspicion grew in his mind that Guillaume and Gregory did not actually know where they were going and were merely floundering along blindly, trusting to luck. Suddenly there was a cry ahead. Gavin was jolted out of his reverie, his eyes alert to the likelihood of danger. "What is it, my lord?" He shouted.
Guillaume had drawn his sword. The road was blocked by a felled tree. It was not a casualty of the natural forest cycle, but had been deliberately toppled to bar the way. "It could be an ambush," he said. He turned to the knights. "Protect the monk, keep your eyes peeled on the trees!" The knights formed a defensive cordon around the monk and his assistant and faced the pillarlike trunks of the close-growing beeches.
-"Look at the trees!" Gavin bellowed, stabbing an urgent forefinger.
Darkly clad men were darting between the trunks, using them as cover to draw near to them. The defenders tensed and braced their weapons. They licked their lips, crossed themselves, spat. Durand took a step forward. "Hold the line!" The Duke snarled at him.
-"Yes, my lord." Durand reddened and stepped back.
-"Here they come. Stand firm, don't let them through!"
The black men, about ten in all, burst out of the trees, yelling and howling to frighten the horses and slashing the air with their vicious swords. Their plain dark clothing was a sharp contrast to the noble apparel of the Christian knights as the two sides clashed and the first blows were exchanged. While not wearing full battle armor, they still possessed their weapons and their horses were trained to warfare. More than one attacker was struck down by a vicious kick and a powerful shod hoof.
-"Hold the line!" Guillaume roared at his men as the defence grew ragged in one place. "Hold the line!"
Gavin remained where he was. His heart was beating fast. The line was holding and their attackers were taking by far the worst of the punishment. He watched the flash of reddened swords, the thrust of spear and gleam of sweat-darkened horsehide. His gaze fixed upon the dark garments, short crossbows and ripswords of their attackers. It was not long before they decided that they had taken enough punishment, that their target was not as soft as it had first appeared, and they began fleeing for cover of the trees. Guillaume, however, was not content to let them escape so easily. His fighting blood was up and boiling, while his sword was scarcely warmed. Ignoring his own earlier advice to his men, he himself broke the line. "Follow me!" He pointed to three knights. "Mirepoix and Guiscard, you stay here." He spurred his horse and charged in vengeful pursuit of the fleeing attackers.
The reduced cordon tightened around the monk and his assistant. On the other side of the road, hidden among the trees, a man turned to five others waiting on his command and gave it with a short chop of his fist. "Go!"
The attack troops swept down on the cordon and hurled themselves upon the remnants of the knights. The fight was suddenly hard and frantic. The clash and clang of weapons was all around, close, hard and desperate. Gavin was praying, wailing God to save them. With a choked cry, one of the attackers stumbled back, Mirepoix's knife cut his throat. Another doubled over sharply, clutching at his stomach, and fell to the ground, groaning. With a great sweep, Mirepoix's heavy sword shattered an upflung blade and crunched down into the angle between the neck and the shoulder of the man, attacking him from his right. Another attacker turned to Guiscard, carrying a saber in one hand and a knife in the other. At the last moment, the knight dived forward, rolled and struck the attacker full in the chest with both feet. Without pausing, he came up and ripped his dagger into his enemy's belly. The dagger made a wet, tearing sound as it sliced upward, and the stricken man fell on the ground. Suddenly, an fourth attacker appeared from their behind. He rose his sword and brutally hit Guiscard. The body of the knight collapsed on the ground. As Mirepoix kept on fighting courageously, he was suddenly grabbed roughly from behind. He struggled for an instant, then felt a stunning blow as the sword of one of the attackers hit him from behind. The two victorious attackers approached the monk and his assistance. Upon their belts their crossbows were hooked, immediately to hand.
-'What can we do?" Gavin yelled.
-"Nothing but pray, my son," Gregory replied calmly.
Gavin heard the arrow lock home and knew it was intended for his master and him. Suddenly loud voices were heard from behind. Guillaume and his three companions were running towards the small group. One of the attackers' face grew dusky with fury. "You are dead!" He snarled, and jerked his head at his companion. Together they attacked. Guillaume met the first sword halfway with an explosive parry and delivered a clubbing fist blow to the attacker's face. Still in motion, he caught the second man's sword arm as it descended and sent his weapon flying. The first attacker, still half stunned by the blow to his face, tried to strike Guillaume and missed. While he was attacking, his friend pulled a dagger from his belt and threw himself upon Guillaume, body to body. The Duke felt the power in the man's arm in the moment before it surged into the thrust of the dagger. He turned to meet it, locking his own wrist. The attacker shuddered, and his stare widened, then fixed on nothing. Guillaume gave a twist and a wrench and felt the heat and wetness of blood upon his fingers. His victim fell off the sword blade, leaving its bright edge bloodied. A snarl on his face, Guillaume turned upon the remaining man, who fled for his life. Durand grabbed the crossbow of the dead attacker. He aimed, fired and the arrow slammed into the remaining attacker. The man yelled in terror and collapsed on the ground, dead. The blaze of battle died in Guillaume's eyes. He stood like a stone, calm now, listening.
Gavin, who had been both frightened and stunned at the sight of such deadliness in battle, rose to his feet, his breath indrawn to speak. "Thank you, my lord," he whispered. "You have just." Gavin's voice caught in his throat, trapped there by the hand that locked across his neck. His eyes widened upon Guillaume and his companions in stark terror.
-"Don't even breathe," his attacker, the one who had previously ordered the charge, said against his ear. He could feel the hardness of his body behind his, smell his stale breath and see in front of him his raised arm with the one-handed crossbow aimed directly at Guillaume. "Drop your swords at once!" The man shouted at the Duke and his companions.
-"Calm down," Guillaume whispered.
-"Just drop your swords!" the attacker snarled at them. Suddenly there came the muffled sound of a discharged crossbow and the attacker jerked back, a look of pure surprise on his features before they took on the blank expression of death and he slumped at Gavin's feet. Durand stood rooted to the spot, the crossbow pressed to his right leg. He stared at the dead man, not quite believing what he had done.
-"Well done, my boy!" Guillaume exclaimed.
-"I cannot believe my own eyes," Durand whispered.
-"You did what you had to do," the old monk said with a brief nod. "He was going to kill at least some of us. There are the hunters and those who are hunted."
Gavin remained silent. He was not quite believing that any of this was happening. "Who were all those people?" He finally asked.
-"I am not quite sure," Guillaume seemed puzzled. He approached one of the corpses and examined it carefully. "They do not appear to be Muslims. I have never seen Infidels wearing such strange black garments."
-"Have you noticed the colour tattooing that these men have on the palm of their right hand?" Asked Pion of Bourivan, one of the three knights.
-"You are right!" Guillaume said, kneeling down in order to examine the hand of the dead corpse. "It is a tattoo of a black dagger. What does it mean?"
-"A dagger?" Gregory murmured. "Are you sure, my son?"
-"Yes, father. Come and see for yourself." Guillaume pointed to the corpse. Gregory followed the direction of his pointing and saw the tattoo. Guillaume looked at the old monk and in his face he saw confusion and fear. "Is something wrong, father? Can you explain us the meaning of all this?"
-"We have to go, my children. We should not stay in these doomed woods any longer." His fine horse came trotting through the trees and halted at his side with a gusty nicker of greeting. Gregory seized the pommel and mounted in one motion. He looked stronger and younger than ever. Alert for sight of any stray attackers or reinforcements returning, he turned to the Duke. "Let's go, now!"
Guillaume looked up at him, wondering if he could trust him. The Count of Toulouse had asked him to guide the monk and his assistant wherever they wished to go. However, there was a dangerous air about the old man, and he was like no man he had ever encountered before. "Come on, boys," Guillaume finally said. "We still have a long way ahead of us."
It took them two more days to reach the small village of Mizpa. The first day went quite well, since it was cloudy and an agreeable wind kept blowing. They passed quiet farmsteads and an occasional farmer bent to labour in the middle of a field. Inevitably each man stopped his work to watch them pass. Some waved, but some did not. The next day, however, the weather was hot and humid. The adventure was growing much less exciting. The horses struggled their way up each hill and had to be rested often. In the late afternoon, they came over a high hilltop and saw below the village of Mizpa. Gavin caught his breath. After three days of wondering on the roads, the town looked very large and beautiful to his eyes.
-"Finally," Gregory said.
Guillaume stopped to lead the group. "Do we stop here or go on down to the village?" He asked.
-"We go to the village," the old monk said. "We have to find the ancient well by the ruins of the citadel."
How does it know all that? Guillaume asked himself. At the village gate two watchmen in stained tunics and wearing rust-spotted helmets came out of a tiny watch house just inside the gate. Both were Jews, not Muslims.
-"Salaam aleikum," one of the watchmen greeted the new arrivals in Arabic. "Peace be with you, noble strangers." He added in poor Latin. "What bring you to our humble village?"
-"We are looking for an ancient well. It is supposed to be located near the ruins of the citadel." Guillaume explained.
The watchman translated the Duke's question to his companion who nodded and pointed to the east.
-"Ride to the east of the village and you will find the well that you are looking for."
As they were moving away from the gate, the watchman yelled. "Is it true? Did it really happen?"
-"What are you talking about?" Guillaume raised his voice.
-"Is it true that the holy city of Jerusalem is now in Christian hands?"
The Duke simply nodded and then gestured towards the east. "Let's go."
Several minutes later, they reached the ancient well which was sealed with large paving stones.
-"There is an underground cave near by," father Gregory said. "The well is the opening to the cave. The paving stones must be removed!"
The paving stones were so heavy that it required ten villagers to remove it. It revealed a narrow passage leading to the bottom of the empty well.
Guillaume gave a shrug and easy smile. "Let's go inside, boys!".
He then precipitated into the passage, followed by the three knights. Gavin wanted to follow them as well, but father Gregory seized his arm. "Not yet, my son." He said.
Few minutes later, Durand emerged from the passage. "There is a large chamber down there but the darkness is overwhelming. We need some torches." The knight grabbed two torches and headed to the entrance of the passage. Suddenly he turned around one last time. "Aren't you joining us, father?"
-"I will be right there, my son. Go ahead." As soon as the knight disappeared inside the passage, the old monk said to his assistant "Stay here, do not enter the cave."
-"My duty is to accompany you, father, as I have always had."
-"Listen to me very carefully, Gavin. You know where I put the copies I had made from the precious parchments founded in the ruins of the old synagogue of Siloam."
-"Yes, father, but."
The old monk raised his hand, impatiently. "My son, we do not have much time left. If something wrong happens to me today, promise me you will take the copies of the parchments, seal them and hide them wisely so that they can cope with the years to come."
-"Father, I cannot."
-"Hide them under one of the paving stones in my room near the ancient synagogue in Jerusalem."
-"But why?"
-"Because written testimony is more important than anything else. And also for some other reasons that I do not wish to share with you just yet."
The old monk kissed the forehead of his assistant and then, without further notice, followed the others into the passage.
After several minutes there was a cry and then many other cries. The entrance of the passage seemed to shake and the yelling became stronger and stronger. Gavin saw one of the knights emerging in flames from the cave. He extended his right hand desperately towards Gavin and then collapsed on the ground, soon to be consumed by the flames. Gavin stepped slowly towards the entrance of the cave but all he could see was a tremendous light casting its spell from deep inside. Tears came to his eyes. He raised his voice in pain. "Father Gregory! What have you done?"
Last update: October 24, 2007
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