they called me a fool for honoring my pledge.”
“They are the fools. Ah, here he comes.”
Al-’Ᾱdil was mounted on a chestnut as mettlesome as Fauvel and clad in an elegant tunic of scarlet silk brocade; Richard had been told it was called a kazaghand and was lined with mail. He looked to be close in years to Conrad of Montferrat, in his mid-forties. His hair was covered by a mail coif, his skin bronzed by the sun, his dark eyes glittering with intelligence, caution, and curiosity. He was obviously a skilled rider, for he easily handled his spirited stallion, who pinned his ears back at the sight of the other horses. When Humphrey offered a formal greeting, he answered at some length, watching Richard all the while.
“We observed the usual courtesies,” Humphrey explained, “but then he said that you and he almost met ten days ago, on the first of Sha’ban. The Muslim calendar is different from ours; that would be . . .”
He paused to calculate the date but Richard had already guessed it. “Sunday, August twenty-fifth. So the command was his, then. Tell him he could have made my acquaintance had he only lingered awhile longer.”
Although Humphrey spoke fluent French and Arabic, this sort of barbed banter had always eluded him; he’d never learned how to communicate in the sardonic, sometimes cryptic language of men like this. For reasons only the Almighty knew, he’d been born utterly without the swagger, the bravado that seemed essential for survival in their world. Glancing from one man to the other, he felt certain that the English king and the sultan’s brother were enjoying this verbal jousting, and that, too, he did not understand. He obediently continued to translate, but he was genuinely puzzled by al-’Ᾱdil’s next comment.
“He asks if your stallion is the famous Fauvel, my lord.”
Richard’s expression remained unrevealing, but his eyes gleamed with amusement. “He is letting me know how much they know about us. Tell him I am flattered that they find my activities so interesting, but I think it is time we speak of peace. Brave men have died on both sides. If we can come to terms, no more need die.”
Al-’Ᾱdil’s response was brief and to the point. “He wants to know what your terms are.”
“Tell him they are simple—that his brother the sultan withdraw from Outremer and return to his own lands in Egypt and Syria.”
Humphrey swung around in the saddle to stare at Richard. His obvious astonishment alerted al-’Ᾱdil, but he was still caught off balance when Humphrey slowly translated Richard’s demands. He stared at the English king incredulously and then his brown eyes blazed with anger. “He says that if this is Frankish humor, he does not find it amusing.”
“Well, mayhap he’ll see the humor in it once he has gone home to Cairo or Damascus.”
Al-’Ᾱdil wheeled his stallion, flung a terse retort over his shoulder, and galloped off to his waiting men. “Do I want you to translate that?” Richard asked and grinned when Humphrey shook his head. He then turned Fauvel, and Humphrey hastily followed. Catching up to the English king, he did something he’d never done before. He demanded an answer.
“I think I have earned the right to ask, my lord. What was the purpose of that meeting? For certes, it was not to talk peace!”
“I suppose you’d not believe me if I said I was simply curious to meet the man?” Richard gave him a sly smile before saying, “What is the Arabic word for ‘diversion,’ Humphrey? As soon as we get back to camp, we move out. We’re all packed and ready to go. Whilst Saladin’s brother goes to report the results of our meeting, we head into the Forest of Arsuf.”
SALAH AL-DīN had not expected the crusaders to set such a slow, deliberate pace, and provisions had become a problem, for he’d not anticipated having to keep an army in the field so long. Continuing to scout for a suitable battle site, he’d gone back and forth with such speed that some of his men became stranded in the Forest of Arsuf and he was forced to wait for them to catch up the next day. He’d ordered his baggage train to head south while he waited to hear about al-’Ᾱdil’s meeting with the English king, then changed his mind and called them back, not sure whether his enemy would remain in camp or continue the march south, and Bahā ’ al-Dīn reported that there was much