The Wolf and the Snake (English version)

Chapter 17

I remember the day I fell off the Templar house wall. Alas, Reyn was very angry and holding me on his horse, just like this Turk is doing now.

So with all my strength, I try to think that the army isn't far from Damietta, soon safe.

Undoubtedly, he will go to look for me, not knowing if I'm alive. The sufferings endured will mean the beginning of a very long life together, or they will turn us into ugly corpses.

And if we survive, perhaps we will become strangers, doomed never to see each other again.

My tears roll down my cheeks once more. Then the Turk says he will offer me fresh fruits and find a good place when we arrive in Al Mansoura.

An excellent place to be a prisoner!

As I passed through the gates of the Nile fortress, my captor's hand squeezed my waist a little tighter.

I think of the fifteen hundred knights massacred here, who will never see their beautiful dungeon again. I don't doubt the participation of the Turk and his brother in this horrific slaughter.

The night will soon fall. Streets are calm, despite tenacious smells of dried blood, of rotten flesh which stink atmosphere.

I question the young mameluke coldly, "Was the body of brave Count of Artois treated with the respect due to a prince, whose lineage is ancient?"

"This detail isn't a woman's business, even less a slave's!" he mumbles briefly.

I don't insist, attentive to observe the place, to consider rare possibilities of escape. We dismounted in front of a large, square house of which we crossed the porch to end on a small closed court. I find myself sequestered in a cellar where they store grain bags, with openings high that let pass moonlight. The Turk puts blankets on the ground and takes the precaution of tying my feet too. "I don't tighten ropes too much! I will bring you some food, then try to sleep a little. We leave tomorrow for Cairo," he says.

He returned a few moments later with fresh fruit and a pitcher of water. He releases my hands, so I feed myself with relish anticipating my upcoming escape.

"Aren't you eating?" I ask politely so as not to arouse his suspicions.

"I'll be sharing a meal with my brother tonight," he replies, giving me a bright smile.

Alas, the mantle slipped off my shoulders, and this damn dancer's gown is indecent. Turk's eyes are on me when I try to cover my body.

Burning eyes!

Quickly, his hand settles on my neck, and I release myself despite my bound legs.

"Don't touch me!" I warn severely.

He shrugs, amused by my resistance.

"Your people captured me because I was distracted by your beauty! My brother doubted me when I told him about the existence of such a gorgeous woman among infidels," he says, staring at me. "And he challenged me to kidnap you."

He comes closer to me, quietly letting out some scary words, "You're mine now, and you have nothing to fear! I never had to be rough with a slave. You will soon understand what is good for you, my delicate Frankish princess."

Then he finally walks away, not without giving me a long look. I'm in shock, terrorized by the idea that this Turk could do the same horrors to me as Congast.

Exhausted, I end up falling into a restless sleep.

I'm awakened by abominable clamors disturbing the silence of the night suddenly. They seem to be unceasing. I hear bits of words shouted in my language, also in Arabic. And there's always this haunting smell of dried blood in the air.

Or is it fresh blood?

A significant number of unfortunate people are mercilessly massacred in this fortress. Is it possible that Al Mansoura stinks of corpses because the Mamelukes are slicing up Christians until daybreak?

The screams, the complaints lasted a long time.

I guess the Turk and his brother are complicit in the bloody carnage of our knights, of our sergeants, all delivered naked to swords. And desperately, I don't want to imagine Reyn or Aurel falling into that mouth of hell, threatening to swallow them.

Then, the horrible moans stopped piercing the night like a thousand fire spears cutting through flesh. Finally, I manage to find some rest, my heart heavy with frightening uncertainties.

In the morning, I'm determined to explore my prison in detail. First, I try to undo my bonds. Fortunately, the Turk didn't see fit to tie me up tightly, as he admitted. Next, I look around closely, noticing that grain bags are piled up one on top of the other almost to the house ceiling. Luckily, I spot an opening without a grid that I could undoubtedly reach by climbing the bags. I begin my ascent with care, but I hear a key turning in the lock. I panic to the point of losing my precarious balance and fall awkwardly to the ground at the feet of a giant with light hair.

His blue eyes seem as transparent as ice.

***