In 1099, a mysterious child of noble origin was taken in by Jews who had fled the Crusaders' arrival in front of Jerusalem.
Years later, Ada, the descendant of this child, travels through Palestine with her father. He's a merchant and knows medicin...
The night is close, and the proximity of the Nile gives a pleasant freshness in the camp. Among tents, I notice one more imposing than others, illuminated by big torches. With the hope to see the lord of Termes in this place, I quickly move towards lights.
"Geez! A pretty girl!" some men shout as I pass.
It's better not to hang around these rascals and find the crossbowmen's master. I rush inside the large tent where most soldiers and knights are busy drinking with whores.
They have probably followed the army from Cyprus.
Sens pleasure house looked almost like a convent compared to this horrible brothel. Women are slumped on tables, breasts, and thighs exposed, while soldiers are banging away at them as if they were animals.
I scan the place with a disgusted glance to discover the lord of Termes in good company.
Three or four wenches, not less!
In front of this distressing spectacle, I think of returning to Damietta. Alas, I see Aurel sitting with other lascars. He seems busy getting drunk, throwing dice joyfully.
And I believed he was flirting with Mistress Hersende!
"My God! Mother Nature surely forgot to give you a brain," I growl as I move close to him. "What would poor Hersende say of you being in this place of debauchery?"
He almost falls off his chair when he recognizes me. "Ada! What are you doing here? And leave that damn Hersende where she is," he replies slurred speech.
Did I hear right?
Are lovebirds already at odds?
"What have you done?" I ask. "Why treat a worthy and deserving person like Mistress Hersende so badly?"
"This woman wants to marry immediately, and I won't tie the knot any time soon," he says with an evil grin.
Around him, it's general hilarity.
"You're right, my boy!" a fat, toothless guy sneers.
I'm not sure any wedding could concern this one!
In front of the tent, men are lighting again extinguished torches. Darkness fell on the camp, and I can't consider going back alone. The lord of Termes seems too busy with his new conquests to care about me. Besides, he kisses one full mouth.
I grab Aurel's shoulder tightly. "Cousin! It's late! Could you escort me to Damietta?"
He gets up from his chair, staggering. "Beautiful cousin! My sword is yours to command," he proclaims.
And he pats his hip. "Uh!" he adds feverishly, feeling an empty scabbard.
No need to look far!
The toothless fat guy holds up Aurel's sword, laughing.
"Yes, knight! You played it! You lost it!"
It's the moment when a terrible convoy enters the tent. A poor girl has her hands tied on the end of a long rope, and a man pulls on it every time she weakens to follow him.
Bernard of Congast!
This monster has found defenseless prey.
Despite the fear, I rush to free the unfortunate girl.
"Go away quickly!" I tell her in Arabic.
She's a little Bedouin, almost a child. Her dark eyes are filled with gratitude. Half-naked, she shivers under her clothes.
From cold as much as terror, no doubt!
I cover her with my mantle, then watch her run away.
But her escape is broken in full swing by a crossbow bolt. It went deep into the girl's skull, killing her instantly.
His crime accomplished, Congast shrugs his shoulders under people's frightened faces. "This brat was a spy for sure! Some miscreants are peeping into our camp to inform the sultan of our number. He seeks revenge, offering one bezant for each of our heads."
A murmur of fear runs through the entire tent, and Congast puts on a satisfied grin.
"Sultan spies speak both our language and that of Mohammedans!" he says.
And he turns his rearmed crossbow on Aurel and me. "This woman knows Arabic! She's a bastard of foreigners who ruin our sovereigns to pay for passages to Orient on their ships when we gladly give our blood for the Lord. Why did she help a sultan spy?"
The crowd seems angry, staring at me with a mixture of rage and lust. They suspect my youth, my beauty, could hide bad intentions.
Congast is delighted to see how both scared and furious these people are. "My good friends! I'm concerned about the safety of all! I propose we take this female aside for questioning. If she's guilty, my whip will make her confess her misdeeds. And if she's innocent, God will always protect his own."
The monster wants to gain revenge by throwing me to these drunken and disgusting pigs. In this cruel century, women often fault of being too beautiful to appear honest. Soldiers gather around me, excited to strip me, to see my blood flowing, to hold me in their blind and brutal power.
Sobered up, Aurel understood the danger.
"Stay away from my cousin!" he roars bravely.
He's 1 to 100!
Without his sword, he's bound to die.
Suddenly a voice rang out, that of a man with a strong Italian accent. "We agree! In our country, graceful damsels are respected and honored! There's no question of bullying them."
"You see, my brothers!" Congast announces, pointing to the Italian and his companions. "Agents of Visconti, those horrible snakes, those Christians' enemies, are protecting the suspect. It's proof!"
The man throws a sword to Aurel, who grabs it skillfully.
"Stay behind me, cousin!" he orders.
The Italian stepped forth before Congast without any fear. "We serve owners of ships chartered for your king's expeditions. We didn't appreciate your words. A scoundrel like you might regret mentioning the name of Visconti lords," he threatens.
"That's enough!" Oliver of Termes roars.
His voice echoed strongly in the tent.
His crossbowmen are in a fighting position. Frightened, the populace slowly disperses. Congast lets out an expletive but doesn't insist. He leaves the place, to my great relief.
Oliver gives me a stern look. "Ada! You have nothing to do here and especially at night."
"You're right, my lord!" Aurel replies with conviction. "I will immediately escort my cousin to her home! Alas, the poor thing collects nonsense."
Oh, God! What damn idiot!
I will tear his hair out by the roots.
Although, once again, he showed great courage to preserve my virtue and my life.
***
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In the Middle Ages, the term bezant was used in Europe to describe several gold coins.
