Lionheart A Novel - By Sharon Kay Penman Page 0,202

It was called “Crocodile River,” he declared, in memory of two knights attacked and eaten by crocodiles when they’d been foolhardy enough to go swimming. The joke was on Jacques, though, for what he’d assumed to be a myth turned out to be true; Balian and Guy confirmed the origin of the name and that there were indeed such creatures lurking in that river. None of Richard’s men had ever seen a crocodile, and after hearing a description of these fearsome beasts, they were quite content to keep it that way. Only Richard was intrigued, wondering how one could be killed, and his friends exchanged glances, hoping they’d not be asked to accompany him on his crocodile hunt.

They moved on to a discussion of the man who stood between them and the recovery of Jerusalem. Balian knew the sultan far better than anyone Richard had met until now, and he pelted the poulain lord with questions. Was it true Saladin was a Kurd? That he had more than a dozen sons? That Saladin was not really his name? Balian was quite willing to satisfy his curiosity, for he was always pleased when European Franks showed themselves open to learning about his homeland. Saladin was indeed a Kurd, not a Turk or Arab, he confirmed, and Kurdish was his native tongue, although he was also fluent in Arabic. He might well have that many sons, for Muslims had multiple wives and harims as well. And Saladin was a misnomer, referring to one of his laqabs, or titles, Salah al-Dīn, which translated as “Righteousness of the Faith.” In the same way, the Franks called his brother “Saphadin,” a contraction of one of his titles. Saif al-Dīn or “The Sword of Religion.” But the Saracens knew him as al-Malik al-’A-dil. “Their isms or given names, what we’d call their ‘Christian names,’” he said with a grin, “are Yusef and Ahmad. So the greatest of all Muslim rulers bears the biblical name of Joseph!”

Richard and his friends were astonished that Saladin shared the name of a revered Christian saint. But when Balian began to explain that Muslims did not consider Christians to be outright pagans, calling them and Jews “People of the Book,” Guy could keep quiet no longer. He’d been fuming in silence, deeply offended by Balian’s presence in their midst, and now he gave an exclamation of mock surprise, marveling that Balian seemed so knowledgeable about such an accursed religion. “Your good friend Renaud of Sidon speaks Arabic well enough to read that blasphemous book of theirs and men have long suspected him of secretly converting to their vile faith. I wonder now if you, too, were tempted to apostasy during your many visits to Saladin’s court.”

The other men tensed, for such an insult could well have led to killing back in their homelands. Balian merely smiled. “How kind of you to worry about the state of my soul, my lord Guy. No, I have not embraced Islam. And whilst I have indeed often visited the sultan’s court, it was always as an emissary, as when I was seeking to save Jerusalem after your defeat at Ḥaṭṭīn. I must admit that Saladin has never failed to show me great hospitality, as he does to all his foes. He told me that when you were brought to his tent after the battle, he offered you a cool drink and felt the need to reassure you that you would not be harmed, saying that ‘Kings do not kill other kings’ since you were so obviously distraught and in fear of your life.”

That was a memory still haunting Guy’s sleep. He jumped to his feet, his hand dropping to the hilt of his sword. But Richard had anticipated that, for Guy’s was an easy face to read, and he clamped his hand down on the other man’s wrist before he could unsheathe his blade. “I would take it greatly amiss if you were to shed blood in front of my wife and sister,” he said, sounding like a host rebuking a guest for a lapse of manners; his fingers, though, were digging into Guy’s flesh with enough force to leave bruises.

Balian was on his feet now, too. “I think it is time I departed, my lord,” he was saying calmly, when a knight burst into the hall, calling out for the king.

Recognizing one of the Préaux brothers, Richard gestured for him to approach. “What have you come to tell me, Guilhem?”

Guilhem knelt, struggling to catch