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...
Without knowing if they're alive or dead, we pile up unfortunates on board the ship. I didn't see Reyn or Aurel again. From boats, we heard battle noises in the middle of the night. The next day, we learned that Turkish soldiers attacked our camp to plunder and slaughter. Luckily, our knights fiercely repelled them.
Maybe Reyn and Aurel were there, fighting like warriors of hell.
The main army has already started to retreat when captains order to lift anchors. I remain standing on deck, hoping to recognize a fantastic figure in iron clothing, sword still covered with Turkish blood, glorious shield with two lions against the chest.
Alas, I only see Nile banks drowned in a thick and worrying mist.
In convoy, vessels slowly make their way across the river. And for our soldiers, the road overland is extremely hostile. I try not to shout out how much I fear he will be hurt, captured, or worse. Instead, I want to keep faith in the wolf's strength which Aurel told me about.
Could it spring from him against Saracens?
Is it reasonable to believe in this ancient magic, long forgotten in the silent torpor of humanity?
After a few minutes, or a little more, arrows and javelins begin to rain down on our fleet. Poor wounded men, placed on the deck and protected with blankets, are prime targets. Yet, despite projectiles, ships in the vanguard sent reassuring signals to the rear. Oliver of Termes is happy not to encounter any enemy vessels.
The breeze is blowing hard, but the road to Damietta seems easy.
Alas, a terrible stormy wind suddenly rises to shake our boats in all directions, at risk of crashing on river banks or even against each other. It's an awful mess, and we hear instructions shouted by captains to avoid disaster. Guillaume of Olivari orders without hesitation to turn back, a perilous maneuver. However, it can prevent us from running straight into front boats since we're last in the convoy.
One morning in March, in 1257, dawn is just breaking on the Nile. With tears in his eyes, Guillaume of Olivari announced with gravity that lookouts saw Egyptian ships very close, probably left from Al Mansoura. The current drags us relentlessly toward them, and we will have to fight one against one hundred.
All vessels having retreated will come face to face with enemy boats.
Very quickly, Turkish soldiers stand on the banks, brandishing their lances, shouting with joy.
Then, we suffer the terrible Medea's fire, and the deck is engulfed in smoke and flames. Panicked, I look for Azalia and Johannes, but they may have already jumped into the waters. Finally, I reach the top of the stern, where we had stored pots filled with lime. I see Egyptians on their boats, and one of them sounds familiar.
He's a young man armed with a bow.
Could he be the soldier I treated and unfortunately helped to flee?
It would be a strange coincidence.
I turn my gaze to the waters and finally identify Azalia, Johannes, and the king's physician. All three are desperately swimming in the big river.
I must join them.
At this moment, I'm unaware that an evil figure has managed to crawl onto our ship. I watch enemies anxiously on vessels in front of me, not suspecting that the worst plague is lurking behind me. An old instinct tells me to turn around at the mere creak of the floor.
Alas, Bernard of Congast is close by, his crossbow pointed at my belly.
"I thought sooner or later I would find you," he sneers at me.
He mustn't know how terrified I am, so I try to keep calm.
"Have you gone mad to threaten me when Egyptians attack us?"
"I didn't plan to fall into their hands," he says with a horrible laugh.
Involuntarily, I glance at the enemy ship now a few yards from ours. The unknown man has drawn his bow, remaining motionless, as if he wanted to adjust his target.
Congast grabs my arm hard, his crossbow still loaded.
"You jump, or I'll blow your belly out!" he roars.
From such a height, I could kill myself.
"It's too dangerous! We have to go down."
"No way, the ship is burning! I'll give you a slight chance not to die immediately. Hurry up! I'm sure snakes like you swim perfectly."
Throughout my childhood, the Lake of Tiberias in Palestine was a wonderful playground for me.
Thus, it's true I swim very well!
I dive bravely into the river, cutting through waters with ease. Congast has probably followed me, and I'm praying that he's a poor swimmer. I rise to the Nile's surface, cautiously approaching this foreign shore. All seems calm, so I take courage and put one of my feet on the great river's bank.
Brutally, two awful arms cling to my ankles. Unbalanced, I collapse to the ground, flat on my face. Congast pulls me without care further toward a thicket of reeds. Skinned all over, terrorized, I try to get up.
"Don't move!" he mumbles.
Then he circles me nervously like a wild, angry animal.
"On the king's ship, you were a mere distraction! But your damn husband saw fit to skewer me, leaving me for dead!"
He removed the leather belt around his waist. It held a large bag made of leather, too, near which he put his crossbow.
I can feel his ugly eyes scanning my body with cruelty.
"The matter could have ended there," he admits. "And I didn't want to mess with you anymore because I was in too bad shape."
I shuddered with terror as he crouched beside me, slowly sliding the belt between his fingers.
He gets very close, and a big shiver shakes me.
"But when assassins sent by the Visconti tried to gut me when I was barely convalescent! I felt fear as intense as yours at that moment!"
I weakly raise my head, observing him without understanding. Suddenly, he seizes my hair with an iron fist and, with the other, tears my gown to expose my back. I scream, but he violently hits my forehead against the wet ground. Half stunned, I guess his icy hands, ripping off my clothes.
"No matter you're a bastard, Snakes have recognized you as one of them! I killed their damned mercenaries! Now, I will punish you severely! Then I'll enjoy your charms and take my time," he promises in a hateful tone.
Minutes pass slowly, and I try to catch my breath. I remember Reyn and his whip. Deep in my heart, I knew my husband would never hurt me or cause me any pain.
Then I hear a brief whistle in the air before the belt rips my skin hard. Another immediately follows this first blow and many more. Dazed with pain, I hiccup plaintively, cowering under the burn of leather. I don't know how long it lasted, but whistling finally stopped.
And despite this cruel treatment, the monster rapes me with unheard-of ferocity.
I resist with all my last forces.
***
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