This is a short story to hold ya'll over until Forsaken Legacy comes out in Sept. on Kindle or until I start posting more from Immortal Summer. ENJOY!
Desert Flower
“My lord,” a servant frantically called through the curtain that surrounded his master’s bed. “My lord, Saladin approaches our gates.”
“Saladin? Here in Damascus?” Tariq mumbled as he sat up and pulled his robe over his head. “Go prepare food and wake the others,” he said waking the wife who slept beside him.
Jerusalem was once again under fire so for Saladin to have traveled away from there in such a perilous time, whatever task he had for Tariq to do was immensely important. “Sultan, welcome to my home,” Tariq greeted. “What brings you so far from Jerusalem?”
The Sultan had with him his youngest daughter. Her face was hidden beneath a dark veil but from what he could see Tariq could tell she was no more than twelve.
“I need your knights,” Saladin told him.
“Of course, they are yours,” Tariq replied briefly but humbly lowering his eyes. “Shall we be fighting in Jerusalem or Acre?” he asked looking up.
“Your men will come with me, but I have another task for you.” Saladin held out his arm and the girl came closer. “You are my most trusted friend,” he began, “I want you to escort my daughter across the desert to Baghdad. She is not safe in Jerusalem,” the Sultan handed Saracen Knight a parchment scroll. “These are my terms. You have my full authority to negotiate with the Sheik on my behalf. This,” One of the Sultan’s men brought in a small chest and set it down in front of the knight, “goes with her.”
“She will be kept safe,” Tariq bowed his head and took the paper from Saladin’s hand.
“Good, now I shall return to Jerusalem. Have your knights follow me immediately.” The Sultan left Tariq’s home as quickly as he had arrived.
By dawn his entire company of Saracen Knights and soldiers were marching south to fight for Jerusalem and Tariq, along with two knights and the Sultan’s daughter were heading east across the desert.
Upon their arrival Tariq and his entourage were treated well. When he task was completed he and his knights bid the girl farewell and began their journey back to his home in Damascus.
The last thing Tariq remembered was traveling along the small tributary that ran off the Euphrates River near the city of Baghdad. He had been sent to arrange the marriage between Sheik Husam al Din and the daughter of the great Saladin, Sultan of Syria. The Sultan was, at that time, deeply entrenched in a fierce war with England’s King Richard the Lionheart over control of Jerusalem and Tariq was happy to have been sent to handle such a peaceful undertaking rather than risk his life in the heat of a senseless battle. He saw no point in fighting over a city that essentially belonged to neither party, “Jerusalem had belonged to the Hebrews for a thousand years let them keep it,” he had often said. He was a skilled soldier but in his heart Tariq was no warrior, he could fight when he had to but never went looking for it. He had a good life with plenty of his own wealth, four wives, and six sons and was in no hurry to die for Saladin’s futile causes.
He had spent a month traveling to the Sheik’s palace in Baghdad and another fourteen days negotiating on Saladin’s behalf. Finally, a satisfactory agreement was reached and Tariq,accompanied by his two Saracen guards, was on his way back across the desert to deliver the terms to the Sultan. Husam al Din had given a bag full of exquisite jewels as an offering of good faith between Saladin and himself, which Tariq carried with him. The three knights had been attacked in the night as they rested by the river. The two guards were killed and Tariq was unconscious and barely alive when he was found near the river bank by a woman and her daughter, who brought him to their encampment.
