If that was really true, it was a golden opportunity. If Saladin had known that there were eighty Templar knights inside the fortress, he never would have dared leave his workers so unprotected. If Arn ordered his men out in a massed attack now, they could burn down and destroy the siege machines and kill the engineers. But in the dark it would also be possible to hold a large force of Mameluke cavalry in readiness without being seen from the city walls. And much could be said about the enemy’s most dangerous commander, but certainly not that he was stupid.
Arn ordered the drawbridge raised and the gates to the city closed. The first day of war, which had been more a war of minds than out on the battlefield, was over. Neither had fooled the other, and only one man had fallen. Nothing was decided. Arn went inside, prepared to sleep for many hours, since he suspected that this would probably be his last chance to get a good night’s sleep for a long time to come.
He went back up on the walls after matins. When the light of dawn slowly changed from an impenetrable black to a gray haze, he discovered the huge army waiting down in a low-lying area to the right of the siege machines, where hammers still pounded indefatigably. It was just as he had thought: there was a cavalry force of at least a thousand men. If he had sent out his knights to destroy the siege machines, succumbing to the temptation that Saladin had presented to him, they would have all died. He smiled at the thought that it must have been a hard night for the enemy riders, having to keep their horses quiet as they waited for the drawbridge to be lowered at any moment so that two columns of white-clad enemy could ride out to their deaths. He thought that whatever he did in the future, as much future as he now had left in life, he would never underestimate Saladin.
The guard was changing. Stiff and weary archers began descending from the breastwork as the new, fresh forces climbed up, greeting their brothers and taking over their weapons.
Arn’s only clear intention was to delay Saladin as long as possible in Gaza. Then Jerusalem and God’s Holy Grave might be saved from the unbelievers. It was a very simple plan—very simple to describe in words, at least.
But if it succeeded then he and all the knight-brothers in Gaza would be dead within a month. He had never viewed death this way before, so close and so clear. He had been wounded in battle many times but so far had been lucky. He had ridden with lance lowered into an enemy force that was superior in numbers more times than he could remember. But he had never been in a situation where he could foresee his own death. In some way he couldn’t explain, he had always known that he would survive every battle. He hadn’t taken any special consolation from the promise that he would go to Paradise after death, because he never believed that he would die. He wasn’t going to die, that was never the intention. He would live twenty years as a Templar knight and he would return home to the woman to whom he had promised his heart, making the vow on his honor and on his blessed sword. He couldn’t break his word, after all; surely it could not be God’s intention for him to break his word.
Now, as he stood up on the breastwork in the rising light of dawn, Arn saw that the trap that Saladin had laid was taking shape. What had at first seemed an illusion was slowly being transmuted to reality—from the sound of snorting horses in the darkness and an occasional clinking stirrup to gold uniforms that began to glimmer in the first rays of the sun. And he saw for the first time his own death. Gaza could not withstand such a large siege army for more than about a month. That was utterly certain, based on the deeds of men and discounting any miracle from God. But they could not expect a miracle; God was unyielding with his believers.
He could see Cecilia before him. He saw her walking toward the gate of Gudhem; he had turned around in tears before she vanished through the gate. That life was so different from his life now, after he’d spent such a long time in the Holy Land; those days seemed as if they’d never really existed. “God, why did You send me here, what did You want with a lone knight, and why don’t You ever answer me?” he thought.
He was embarrassed at once to be thinking this way about God, who heard all thoughts. He should not be so vain as to put his own interests before the great cause—he was a Templar knight after all. It was a long time since he had been affected by such weakness, and he sincerely prayed for forgiveness, on his knees by the breastwork as the sun rose over the enemy army, spreading its radiance upon weapons and pennants.
After his prayer at dawn Arn consulted with the weapons master and the six squadron leaders among the knights.
It was clear that Saladin had tried to lure them into a trap during the night. But it was also clear that it would be a very good thing if they could launch a successful sortie and demolish or burn the siege engines. Gaza’s walls would not withstand an onslaught of stone blocks and Greek fire for very long. Then all the men, women, children, and livestock would have to retreat, crowding into the fortress itself.
Saladin didn’t know how many knights there were behind the walls. His riders had never seen more than a squadron of sixteen men. And since no sortie had ventured out on the first night when it would have seemed most tempting, Saladin might still believe that the force of knights was far too weak for such an attack. So they ought to strike in the middle of the day, during work or midday prayers, just when the enemy decided that such an attack would not be forthcoming. The question was only how much such an action would cost in fallen brothers, and whether it was worth the price.
The weapons master thought they had a good chance. The siege engines were close to the city walls and downhill. If the attack came unexpectedly, the damage could be done before the enemy gathered themselves for a counterattack. Yes, they did have a good chance of setting fire to the siege engines. It would probably cost the lives of twenty brothers. According to the weapons master, that price was worth paying, since those twenty lives would extend the siege by at least a month, and thus Jerusalem would be saved.
Arn agreed, and all the others nodded their approval. Arn then decided that he would lead the attack himself, the weapons master would take over command inside Gaza, and all the brothers would participate, even those who normally would have been spared because of minor injuries. If they began preparing leather sacks filled with tar and Greek fire this morning, the attack could be carried out at the very hottest hour of midday, when the unbelievers were praying. As the others made ready, Arn returned to the walls to show himself to both the defenders and the enemy. As soon as he got there he ordered the city gate to be opened and the drawbridge lowered. When this was done, it caused a great stir in the enemy camp, but when nothing further happened they all returned to their work.
Arn took a turn along the city walls, which in both the north and south were protected by the fortress and the harbor. In the western part of the city the moats were deep and filled with sea water. That was Gaza’s strong point, and no attack would take place there in the early part of the siege. The weakest parts were far to the east around the city gate, and where Saladin had chosen to construct his catapults. The great cavalry army was no danger as long as the walls held; the Mamelukes would just get more and more impatient the longer they had to wait with nothing to do. The most important part of the battle would take place around the city gate, between Gaza’s archers and Saladin’s infantry and sappers. The enemy would attempt to cross the moat and reach the walls in order to undermine them and crack them with fire, thus causing a breach that would allow the cavalry to get inside the walls. Arn knew very well what to expect; soon the stench of all the dead Saracens around the walls would hang like a pall of smoke from roasting meat over all of Gaza. Fortunately the wind was mostly westerly and would blow it toward the enemy. But it was still a race against time. If the besiegers wanted to knock down the walls, they would eventually succeed. No relief could be expected from Jerusalem or from Ashkelon to the north along the coast. Gaza was entirely left to God’s mercy.