At midday, Arn’s most beloved horse Khamsiin was led up to the city gate, saddled and covered with a coat of felt and chain mail along its sides. The attack that was imminent would be considerably more dangerous for the horses than for their riders, but he had chosen Khamsiin because mobility and speed were more crucial than a heavy frontal assault. Their paths would soon part in one way or another, and it was of minor importance which of them died first.
Inside the gate of the fortress the entire contingent of knights made ready to launch the attack. They said their last prayers because they knew that many of the brothers would die; in the worst case almost all of them would perish, if they had miscalculated, if the enemy saw through the plan, or if God so willed it.
But what Arn saw as he stood in his usual spot did not indicate that the enemy suspected any danger. There were no large groups of cavalry anywhere near. Far in the distance a large force was conducting an exercise, and down in the camp most of the horses seemed to be penned in, grazing. There could not be any hidden forces anywhere else in the vicinity, for in daylight the view was good. This was really the right moment to attack.
He knelt down and prayed to God for support in this reckless endeavor, which might result in losing everything, but might also save God’s Grave for the believers. He placed his life in God’s hands and took a deep breath. Then he stood up to give the order to attack and go down to the impatiently waiting Khamsiin, who was being held with some difficulty by a stable boy. Khamsiin could feel that something major and fateful was at hand; Arn could tell by the way his steed was moving.
Then he saw a group of riders approaching the gate of Gaza in tight formation and bearing Saladin’s colors. They stopped a short distance from the moat and lined up in a row, and a single rider with lowered flag rode forward as a sign that he wanted to parley. Arn quickly gave the order that the rider was not to be fired on.
He ran down the stairs from the tower by the city gate, leaped up on Khamsiin, and galloped out through the gate, stopping in front of the emir who had ridden forward, within easy range of the archers on the walls. The Egyptian rider now lowered his flag almost to the ground and bowed his head as Arn approached.
“I greet you in the name of God, most benevolent and ever-merciful, you, Al Ghouti, who speaks the language of God,” said the negotiator when Arn rode up to his side.
“I greet you also with God’s peace,” replied Arn impatiently. “What is your message and from whom?”
“My message is from…he asked me to say only Yussuf, although his names and titles are many. The men you see behind me are prepared to offer themselves as hostages during the time the negotiation is under way.”
“Wait here, I will come back at once with an escort,” Arn commanded, wheeling Khamsiin around and galloping back in through the city gate.
When he was out of sight, he reined in Khamsiin and walked him slowly down the cleared street toward the gate of the fortress. Inside sat the eighty mounted knights, ready to attack. If they struck now, the surprise would be great. They would hardly have another chance to burn and destroy the siege engines.
There were Christians who said that they could not win against Saracens by using deceit, since deceit could not exist between believers and unbelievers. Such a promise, according to this school of thought, would be worth nothing. Arn had entered into negotiation, and that was the same as a promise. But disagreement was great on this matter. Hadn’t he a short time ago been in complete agreement with Jerusalem’s Master that the word he had given to Saladin by the rocky shore of the Dead Sea must be honored?
Was it not pride to set the value of his own honor so high? Balanced in the other pan on the scale might be Jerusalem and God’s Holy Grave. A broken word, a single brief moment of deception on his part could possibly save the holy city.
No, he thought. Such a deception would only gain time. Destroyed siege engines could be replaced. The promise of his word could never be undone.
He gave the order to open the fortress gate, rode inside, and summoned the first squadron among the waiting knight-brothers to come with him. He ordered the others to dismount and rest, for he was convinced that Saladin was not preparing a deception.
Arn rode out at a brisk trot at the head of his squadron, with his confanonierbearing the flag of the Knights Templar at his side, up through Gaza and out the city gate. As he neared the waiting Saracen flag-bearer he commanded the whole squadron to form a straight line, and their opponents did the same. The two groups of riders approached each other slowly until they were a few lance-lengths apart. Then a group of five riders from the other side broke off and began moving toward Arn, who in turn countered their movement and rode with only his confanonierat his side toward the approaching hostages until the two groups met.
Among the hostages he recognized at once Saladin’s younger brother Fahkr, but the other emirs were unknown to him. He greeted Fahkr, who returned his greeting.
“So we see each other sooner than we expected, you and I, Fahkr,” said Arn.
“This is true, Al Ghouti, and we meet under circumstances that none of us would have wanted. But He who sees all and He who knows all willed it otherwise.”
Arn merely nodded in agreement, and then he declined to keep any hostages other than Fahkr. He ordered Armand at his side to see to it that this man was treated as an honored guest in every respect, but he should not be shown too much of their defenses or the number of white-clad knights.
With that Fahkr rode past Arn, who in turn rode into the group of waiting Mamelukes. The Templar knights formed an escort around Fahkr and the Mamelukes around Arn, and thus the two groups rode away from each other in opposite directions.
Saladin honored his foe with greater gestures than was proper for a man who was master of only a single fortress. A thousand riders formed two columns alongside Arn the last stretch of the way toward Saladin’s tent, and not a single scornful remark was uttered during this short ride.
Outside the commander’s tent stood two rows of Saladin’s security guard, forming a path with swords and lances to the very opening of the tent. Arn dismounted and one of the guards hurried to take Khamsiin by the reins and lead him away. Arn did not bow and showed no expression as he now unbuckled his sword as custom demanded, handing it over to the man he judged to be of highest rank in the guard. But he was met only by a bow and the explanation that he could put his sword back on. This surprised Arn, but he did as he was told.
Wearing his sword again at his side he entered the tent. When he came into the dim light, Saladin stood up at once and hurried to meet him, taking both his hands as if old friends and not enemies were meeting.
They then greeted each other with greater heartiness than any of the other men in the tent had expected, for when Arn’s eyes got used to the gloom he saw astonished faces. Saladin showed him to a place on the floor in the center of the tent, where a camel saddle decorated with gold and silver and precious stones stood next to another just like it. They bowed to each other and sat down, as the other men sat down on mats along the walls.
“If God had brought us together at a different moment, then you and I would have had much to discuss, Al Ghouti,” said Saladin.
“Yes, but at this meeting with you, al Malik an-Nasir, “the victorious king” as you are also called, you have brought your cavalry and siege engines to my fortress. So I’m afraid that our conversation will be quite brief.”
“Do you want to hear my terms?”
“Yes. I come to decline your terms, but respect demands that I listen to them in any case. Tell them to me now, without evasion, for neither of us believes he can fool the other with sweet and guileful words.”