The Templar Knight. Jan Guillou

joking with His children. And at this he thought they could all laugh.

      Just then the Templar knight discovered a piece of smoked meat among the items his sergeant was setting out, and he said something harsh in Frankish and pointed with his long, sharp dagger. Red-faced, the sergeant removed the meat while the Templar knight apologized, shrugging his shoulders and saying that what was impure meat for one person in this world was good meat for another.

      The three faithful now understood that a piece of pork had been lying in the middle of the food, and thus the entire meal was unclean. But Yussuf quickly whispered a reminder about God’s word in those cases when a man finds himself in need, when laws are not laws in the same way as when a man is in his own house, and they all had to be content with that.

      Yussuf blessed the food in the name of God the Merciful and Gracious, and the Templar knight blessed the food in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and the Mother of God, and none of the five men showed any disdain for the beliefs of the others.

      They began offering each other food, and finally, at Yussuf’s invitation, the Templar knight accepted a piece of lamb baked in bread, slicing it in two with his grey, unadorned, extremely sharp dagger. He then handed half of it on the tip of his knife to his sergeant, who stuffed it into his mouth, hiding his distaste.

      They ate in silence for a while. The faithful had placed the lamb baked in bread along with chopped green pistachios baked in spun sugar and honey on their side of the muslin coverlet. On their own side, the infidels had dried mutton, dates, and dry white bread.

      ‘There is something I would like to ask you, Templar knight,’ said Yussuf after a while. He spoke in a low, intent voice, the way his closest friends knew he always talked when he had been thinking for a long time and wanted to understand something important.

      ‘You are our host, we have accepted your invitation, and we will gladly answer your questions, but remember that our faith is the true faith, not yours,’ replied the Templar knight with an expression as if he were daring to joke about his own faith.

      ‘Doubtless you know what I think about that matter, Templar knight, but here is my question. You rescued us, we who are your foes. I have already acknowledged that this is true, and I have thanked you. But now I want to know why you did it.’

      ‘We did not rescue our foes,’ said the Templar knight thoughtfully. ‘We have been after those six bandits for a long time. We’ve been following them at a distance for a week, waiting for the right moment. Our mission was to kill them, not to rescue you. But at the same time God happened to hold a protective hand over you, and neither you nor I can explain why.’

      ‘But you are the real Al Ghouti himself?’ Yussuf persisted.

      ‘Yes, that is so,’ said the Templar knight. ‘I am the one the nonbelievers in their own language now call Al Ghouti, but my name is Arn de Gothia, and my mission was to free the world of those six unworthy men, and I completed my mission. That is the whole of it.’

      ‘But why should someone like you do such a thing? Aren’t you also the emir of the Knights Templar in your fortress in Gaza? A man of rank? Why should such a man take on such a lowly mission, and a dangerous one at that, setting out for these inhospitable regions just to kill bandits?’

      ‘Because that was how our order came into being long before I was even born,’ replied the Templar knight. ‘From the beginning, when our troops had liberated God’s Sepulchre, our people had no protection when they went on a pilgrimage down to the River Jordan and the site where Yahia, as you call him, once baptized the Lord Jesus Christ. And back then pilgrims carried all their possessions with them, instead of leaving them in safekeeping with us, as they do now. They were easy prey for bandits. Our order was created to protect them. Even today it is considered a mission of honour to offer protection to pilgrims and kill bandits. So it is not as you think, that this is a lowly mission we give to just anyone; on the contrary, it is the heart and soul of our order, a mission of honour, as I said. And God granted our prayers.’

      ‘You are right,’ Yussuf concluded with a sigh. ‘We should always protect pilgrims. How much easier life would be here in Palestine if we all did so. By the way, in which Frankish country is this Gothia located?’

      ‘Not exactly in any Frankish country,’ replied the Templar knight with an amused glint in his eye, as if all his solemnity had suddenly vanished. ‘Gothia lies far north of the land of the Franks, at the ends of the earth. But what country do you come from? You don’t speak Arabic as if you came from Mecca.’

      ‘I was born in Baalbek, but all three of us are Kurds,’ replied Yussuf in surprise. ‘This is my brother Fahkr, and this is my…friend Moussa. Where did you learn to speak the language of the faithful? Men like you do not usually end up in long captivity, do they?’

      ‘No, that is true,’ replied the Templar knight. ‘Men like me don’t end up in prison at all, and I’m sure that you know why. But I have lived in Palestine for ten years; I am not here to steal goods and then go home after half a year. Most of the men who work for the Knights Templar speak Arabic. My sergeant’s name, by the way, is Armand de Gascogne; he’s quite new here and doesn’t understand much of what we’re saying. That’s why he is so silent, not like your men, who don’t dare speak until you give them permission.’

      ‘Your eyes are sharp,’ murmured Yussuf, red-faced. ‘I am the eldest, you can already see grey hairs in my beard; I am the one who administers the family’s money. We are merchants on our way to an important meeting in Cairo, and…I don’t know what my brother and my friend would want to ask one of the enemy’s knights. We are all peaceful men.’

      The Templar knight gave Yussuf a searching glance but said nothing for a while. He took his time eating some of the honey-drenched almonds. He paused and held up a piece of the delicacy to the firelight to examine it, concluding that these baked goods must have come from Aleppo. Then he pulled out his wine-skin and took a drink without asking permission or offering an apology, and handed the skin to his sergeant. Afterwards he leaned back comfortably and drew his big, thick white cloak around him with its terrifying red cross, looking at Yussuf as if he were assessing his opponent in a game of backgammon, not as a foe but as someone who must be evaluated.

      ‘My unknown friend and foe, what use do any of us have for falsehoods when we eat together in peace and both have given our word not to harm each other?’ he said at last. He spoke very easily, with no rancour in his voice. ‘You are a warrior, as I am. If God wills, we shall meet next time on the battlefield. Your clothes betray you; your horses betray you, just as your harnesses do, and your swords, which are leaning against the saddles over there. They are swords made in Damascus; none of them costs less than five hundred dinars in gold. Your peace and mine will soon be over; the truce is about to be ended, and if you don’t know this now, you will know it soon. Let us therefore enjoy this strange hour. It’s not often that a man gets to know his enemy. But let us not lie to each other.’

      Yussuf was struck by an almost irresistible urge to tell the Templar knight honestly who he was. But it was true that the truce would soon be ended, although it had not yet been felt on any battlefield. And their mutual oath not to harm each other, the reason they could sit and eat together at all, was valid only for this evening.

      ‘You’re right, Templar knight,’ he said at last. ‘Insh’Allah, if God wills, we will someday meet on the battlefield. But I also think, as you do, that a man should get to know his enemies, and you seem to know many more of the faithful than we know of the infidels. I now give my men permission to speak to you.’

      Yussuf leaned back, also drawing his cloak closer around him, and signalled to his brother and emir that they were allowed to speak. But they both hesitated, accustomed as they were to sitting an entire evening and just listening. Since none of them made any attempt to speak, the Templar knight leaned toward his sergeant and carried on a brief whispered conversation in Frankish.

      ‘My sergeant wonders about one thing,’ he then explained. ‘Your weapons, your horses, and your clothes alone are worth more than those unfortunate bandits could ever have dreamed of. How did it happen that