The young prince didn’t seem very surprised to hear this, and he mentioned that he had given orders to all the emirs that Al Ghouti had to be taken alive. But what he could not understand, either at the time or later on, was how Christian knights could so deliberately ride to their deaths.
There was silence around the table as they all waited for Arn to reply; he flushed because he had no answer. He shrugged his shoulders and said that for his part it seemed just as foolhardy as it must have looked to al Afdal himself and his men down below. There was no logic in such an attack. At such an instance, faith and reason parted ways. Such things happened sometimes; he had seen Muslims do similar things, but perhaps never as extreme as this. He went on to say with an unmistakable expression of disapproval that it was Gérard de Ridefort who ordered the attack and then decided to flee as soon as he had sent all his subordinates to their death. Arn, as the confanonier, was then compelled to follow his highest leader, he added shamefaced.
In the embarrassed silence that now arose, Saladin pointed out that God had still guided the events to the best outcome. It was better for Arn and for himself that the Templar knight was captured at the Horns of Hattin and not before. Arn didn’t understand just then what Saladin meant, but he had no desire to prolong this topic of conversation by asking.
Soon Saladin made it clear that he wanted to be left alone with his son, his brother, and Arn, and he was obeyed at once. When they were alone they went into another room and reclined comfortably among soft cushions with their ice-cold goblets of water. Arn wondered how they produced this delightful cold, but he didn’t want to ask about such trifles now that they would undoubtedly be speaking of the gravest matters, although he could not predict what they might be.
“A man named Ibrahim ibn Anaza came to me once,” Saladin began slowly and contemplatively. “He brought with him the most marvelous gift, the sword that we call the Sword of Islam, which had been lost for a long time. Do you understand what you did, Arn?”
“I know Ibrahim well; he is a friend,” replied Arn cautiously. “He seemed to believe that I had earned this sword, but I was convinced that I was unworthy. So I sent the sword to you, Yussuf. Why, I can’t really say, but it was a moment of great emotion, and something made me do what I did. I’m glad that old Ibrahim carried out my wish.”
“But you didn’t understand what you did?” Saladin asked softly, and Arn noticed at once the tense silence that fell over the room.
“I felt that I was doing the right thing,” said Arn. “A sword that is holy to Muslims is not for me to keep, but perhaps, I thought, it should belong to you. I can’t explain it any better than that. Perhaps God was guiding my action.”
“No doubt He was,” said Saladin with a smile. “It’s as if I would have sent you what you call the True Cross, which is now held in safety in this house. It was written that he who once recovered the Sword of Islam would unite all believers and conquer all the infidels.”
“If that is true,” Arn replied, somewhat shaken, “I am not the one you have to thank, but God, who guided me with that sudden decision. I was merely His simple tool.”
“That may be, but I owe you a sword in any case, my friend. Isn’t it odd how I seem to keep landing in your debt?”
“I have found a sword now, and you owe me nothing, Yussuf.”
“But I do. If I had sent you the so-called True Cross you probably wouldn’t think you could free yourself from debt to me with the gift of even the most beautifully carved piece of wood. We’ll talk about my debt later. I want to ask you a favor.”
“If I can in good conscience, I will do whatever favor you ask, as you well know, Yussuf. I am your prisoner and you can never get a ransom for me.”
“First, we will now take Ashkelon. Then Gaza, and after that Jerusalem. What I want is for you to be my advisor when that happens. Then you shall have your freedom and you shall not leave here unrewarded. That is what I ask of you.”
“What you’re asking me to do is truly appalling, Yussuf. You’re asking me to be a traitor,” Arn objected, and everyone could see his plight.
“It’s not what you think,” Saladin said calmly. “I don’t need your help to kill Christians. As far as that matter goes, I have countless helping hands at the moment. But I recall something from our conversation that night, the first time I ended up indebted to you. You said something about a Templar rule that I have often pondered: “When you draw your sword—do not think of who you shall kill. Think of who you shall spare.”Do you understand now what I mean?”
“That is a good rule, but I feel only partially relieved. No, I don’t entirely understand what you mean, Yussuf.”
“I have Jerusalem here in my hand!” Saladin exclaimed, holding up his fist before Arn’s face. “The city will fall when I want it to fall, and that will be after Ashkelon and Gaza. To win a victory is one thing, but to win a victory well is another. As to what is good and evil here, I must speak with someone other than my emirs, who are convinced that we must do as the Christians did.”
“Kill all the people and all the animals in the city and let nothing but the flies survive,” said Arn, bowing his head.
“What if it were the other way around?” Fahkr said, now joining the discussion for the first time, although without waiting for his older brother to ask his opinion. “What if we were the ones who had taken Jerusalem from you almost a century ago, and what if we had ravaged the city the way you did? What would then be your reasoning in your camp outside the holy city, when you knew that you would soon be taking it back?”
“The most foolhardy kind,” said Arn with a grimace of distaste. “Men such as your two captives, Gérard de Ridefort and Guy de Lusignan, would for once be in complete agreement. No one would speak against them. Not a single person would object when they claimed that now must come the hour of vengeance; now we must do even worse than the enemy did when they desecrated our city.”
“That is how we all reason, except my brother Yussuf,” said Fahkr. “Can you persuade us that he is right when he says that vengeance is wrong?”
“The longing for vengeance is one of the strongest emotions in men,” said Arn, sounding resigned. “Muslims and Christians are this way, perhaps Jews as well. The first argument against such reasoning is that one should behave with greater dignity than the enemy who acted in an ungodly way. But those who seek revenge don’t care about that. The second argument is what I heard both from a Christian, Count Raymond, and from a Muslim, Yussuf: that the war will never end as long as all pilgrims do not have access to the holy city, including Jews. But those who seek revenge don’t care about that either; they want to see blood flowing today, and they don’t think about tomorrow.”
“We have reasoned this far ourselves,” Saladin put in. “And we have come to the same conclusion; that those who want revenge, which is the majority of men, do not care about words or dignity or eternal war. So what more is there to say?”
“One thing,” said Arn. “All cities can be conquered, also Jerusalem, which you now shall do. But not all cities can be held as easily as they were taken. So your question must be, what do we do with such a victory? Can we hold on to the holy city?”
“At this time, when the Christians have only four cities left in Palestine, three of which we shall take very soon, no one doubts the answer, unfortunately,” said Saladin. “So is there anything more to say?”
“Yes, there is,” said Arn. “You want to hold Jerusalem for more than a year? Then ask whether next year you want to see ten thousand new Frankish knights in the country, or whether you prefer a hundred thousand. If you prefer a hundred thousand Frankish knights next year, then you must do with your victory what the Christians did. Kill every living thing. If you’ll settle for only ten thousand Frankish knights next year, take the city, reclaim your holy sites, protect the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, and allow anyone to leave the city who so desires. It’s simple arithmetic. A hundred thousand Franks next year or only ten thousand? Which do you prefer?”