In the fortress at Ashkelon a war council was held. King Baldwin sat in a litter chair covered in blue muslin so that from the outside he could be seen only in silhouette. It was whispered that his hands were beginning to rot away and that he would soon go completely blind.
By the king’s right side sat Grand Master Odo de Saint Armand, and behind him Arn and the two fortress masters from Toron des Chevaliers and Castel Arnald. At the king’s other side sat the bishop of Bethlehem, and along the walls of the hall sat the Palestinian barons with whom the king had allied himself in his desperate attempts to wage war. Behind the bishop hung the True Cross, decorated with gold, silver, and precious stones.
The Christians had never lost a battle when they carried with them the True Cross into the field, so it was precisely this question that took up the most time and was considered the most important.
Carrying the True Cross, on which Our Savior had suffered and died for the sins of man, into a battle that could not be won was to show irreverence, a sin comparable to blasphemy, in the opinion of the brothers Baldwin and Balian d’Ibelin, who were the most distinguished of the barons in the hall.
To that the bishop of Bethlehem replied that nothing could more plainly express the prayer for a miracle from God than to take along the True Cross when only a miracle from God could ensure their salvation.
Balian d’Ibelin said that as he understood it, one could not negotiate with God by using coercion, the way one negotiated with an inferior enemy. In the impending battle the Christians in the best case could hope to disrupt Saladin for an extended period. Then the autumn rains would transform the hills around Jerusalem to a cold, red field of clay with wet snow and strong winds, so that the siege would be halted for reasons other than the defenders’ bravery and good faith.
The bishop opined that he was probably the one in the hall who fully understood how to talk to God, and he therefore refused more advice from laymen in this matter. The True Cross would be their salvation in a battle that could not be won unless God granted them a miracle. What other relic in the whole world could be more powerful than the True Cross?
Arn and his two fortress master brothers never said a word during this argument. For Arn’s part, this was partly because he had to remain silent when the Grand Master himself represented the Templar order. Besides, his two brothers were higher in rank than he was. But even if he were asked his opinion, he would have been hard pressed to answer, since he was inclined to think the bishop was wrong and the knight of Ibelin was right.
In the end it was the young leprous king who decided the dispute. He took the bishop’s side during the second day of discussion, at the very moment when everyone in the hall had begun to feel despair that they were all wasting their time talking instead of acting. The smoke from campfires had already spread across the horizon to the east.
Saladin’s army had first headed north toward Ibelin; his soldiers took the city and laid waste to it, then swung to the east and Jerusalem. From the smoke from the fires and from occasional refugees that arrived they deduced that the Egyptian troops had dispersed throughout the areas surrounding Ramle and were now plundering and destroying everything in their path. Ramle was the property of the brothers d’Ibelin, and they demanded to go in the vanguard of the secular army because they had the most to avenge. The king granted their request at once.
It was obvious who would lead the Templar knights, since Grand Master Odo de Saint Armand was in Ashkelon. But then he summoned the three knight-brothers of fortress master rank that were in Ashkelon—besides Arn from Gaza, the two masters of Castel Arnald and Toron des Chevaliers were Siegfried de Turenne and Arnoldo de Aragon. The matter immediately became more complicated. The Grand Master said that he would accompany the True Cross, and the standard of the Knights Templar with the image of God’s Mother, in the center of the army. He would take along a guard of twenty knights for this task.
Consequently one of the three fortress masters had to take command of the combined force of Templar knights. According to the rules, in that case it should be the master of Toron des Chevaliers, Arnoldo de Aragon, since he was the eldest of the three. Next in rank stood the master of Castel Arnald, Siegfried de Turenne, and third came Arn de Gothia. Yet God’s Mother had so clearly held Her protective hand over Arn when he attacked and conquered the Mameluke siege army, which was many times larger, so it would be an affront to Her demonstrated favor not to give Arn de Gothia this command.
The three fortress masters accepted their Grand Master’s instructions and bowed in acknowledgment that they would obey without question. The Grand Master left them alone then to attend to their own planning.
They took seats in a small and very simply furnished parlatoriumin the quarter of the Knights Templar in Ashkelon. There was a moment’s silence before anyone spoke.
“It is said that our Grand Master is fond of you, Arn de Gothia, and it seems to me that he showed as much in his decision,” muttered Arnoldo de Aragon peevishly.
“That may be true. Perhaps it is also true that it might have been wiser to assign one of you the command, since your fortresses are located in the region you know best, and there we will meet Saladin,” replied Arn, speaking slowly, as if weighing his words carefully.
After a moment of cold silence he went on, “But tomorrow all three of us may be riding to our death. Nothing could be worse than allowing our thoughts to dwell on petty personal matters rather than vowing to do our best.”
“Arn is right; let us now agree on what is best instead of quarreling with each other,” said Siegfried de Turenne between clenched jaws that made his accent sound even stranger than usual.
After that none of the three took any notice of the fact that the Grand Master had made a decision that might be considered contrary to the normal rules. They were short of time and had important decisions to make.
Some things were easy to agree on. The force of Templar knights would ride heavy as usual: armor on the horses’ foreheads, as much chain mail along the horses’ sides as possible, as few provisions as possible. All this was assumed, because the only chance of success was to take an attack position in which the Mamelukes’ mobility was restricted for one reason or another; then weight and power would decide the day. In any other situation the knights’ power would be wasted against a swift Mameluke cavalry, so there was no sense in trying to save weight on the horses. The enemy’s speed and mobility were factors they could never equal.
The question of whether to place the Templar knights first or last in the army, however, required some discussion. In the event of a surprise attack by the enemy, which would probably come from the front, it would be best to have the strongest part of their forces in the front, which would save the most Christian lives.
But the Christian army was not very large, only five hundred secular knights, a hundred Templar knights, and about a hundred sergeants. If the enemy launched a frontal assault, the soldiers would first see the colors of the secular army and assume that their opponent was not as strong. Consequently they might attack too soon with a smaller portion of the now divided Mameluke army. Then it could be crucial for the Templar knights, under cover of the multicolored secular army, to ride forward and past them and meet the Mamelukes storming forward when they were too close to change direction. That seemed the wisest course. They would ride behind the secular army. Then they could also go out to the flanks and counter any attacks from the sides.