to most of those on the deck below; only his fellow Genoese crewmen could comprehend the Ligurian dialect. But his excitement was so obvious that the knights crowded to the gunwale to join Henri’s vigil. And then they all were laughing and hugging and shouting, for the red and gold banner flying over Jaffa was Richard’s.
Midst the clamor, Morgan had to shout, too, in order for Henri to hear him. “I confess that I’ve always been somewhat skeptical of miracle claims. But by God, no more!”
Henri’s smile was incandescent, brighter than all the gold in Montpelier. “You do not have to believe in miracles, Morgan. Just believe in my uncle.”
AS SOON AS THEY BEACHED their galley and waded ashore, Henri was surrounded by soldiers, eager to know when they could expect the rest of the army. He gave them a smile and a noncommittal “soon” and then asked for Richard. None seemed to know where he was, so when they said André de Chauvigny was in the town, Henri headed for the shattered Jerusalem Gate, trailed by his knights.
He’d never seen a city that had come so close to dying and he was shaken by the extent of the destruction. Even worse than the sights were the smells; it was like stumbling into a charnel house. He was not surprised that the men loading bodies into carts had their noses and mouths muffled by scarves. He found André by the east wall, climbing over the rubble to inspect the damage done by Saracen sappers and trebuchets. At the sight of Henri, he scrambled down so hastily that he turned his ankle and treated nearby bystanders to a burst of colorful cursing. Grabbing the younger man by the arm, he pulled Henri into the closest structure, a ruined, ransacked shop that had once been an apothecary. Standing in the wreckage of mortars, pestles, and smashed bottles and jars, Henri gave him the bad news, not even trying to soften his words for there was no way to make it palatable. The light was not good, but André seemed to lose color.
“Well, at least Richard will have his speech ready,” he muttered, kicking the broken glass and crockery aside to clear a path to a wooden bench. Sinking down upon it, he saw Henri’s puzzled look and forced a smile. “A private joke, lad.” Unhooking a wineskin from his belt, he drank deeply. “I suppose it is too much to hope that you brought wine with you? God curse them, the Saracens poured out every drop in the town.” He drank again before tossing the wineskin to Henri, and then got reluctantly to his feet. “We’d best get this over with. Let’s go find Richard.”
Henri was not looking forward to that conversation and took a long swallow before handing the wineskin back. “I could scarcely believe my eyes when I saw Richard’s banner. How in God’s Name did he do it, André?”
“Damned if I know,” André said with a crooked smile, “and I was there. I used to joke that men would follow him into the depths of Hell. Yesterday they did.”
As they stepped outside, the stench caused Henri to gag. He soon saw why; another cart was lumbering by, loaded with bodies. But as he glanced into the cart, he frowned. “What in the world . . . ?”
“Oh, that.” André brought up his aventail flap to cover his lower face until the cart had passed. “The Saracens killed every single pig in the town, for their holy book says swine are unclean. They dragged most of them into a churchyard and then the whoresons threw the bodies of slain Franks in with them. It was meant to be a mortal insult, so our lads are returning the favor. We’re burying our own, but we’re dumping the pigs outside the walls with the corpses of any Saracens we can find.”
Henri watched the cart rumble down the street toward the Ascalon Gate. His father had liked to quote from Ecclesiastes, that there was a time for every purpose under the sun. A time for war and a time for peace. The Holy Land had seen more than its share of war. When would the time for peace come? “How many died, André?”
“We do not know yet. There is always much bloodshed when a town is taken by storm. Those who were able to get into the castle, survived. Those who could not, died. Saladin did not seek a bloodbath, for he wanted