After the none on Thursdays Arn held a majlisoutside the eastern wall of the fortress, where he decided disputes and judged criminals together with the learned physician Utman ibn Khattab. He invited Siegfried to come along and watch, as it might be interesting for a fortress master from the north to see the different sort of problems that required adjudication down here in the south. One condition, however, was that Siegfried had to wear his full Templar garb with mantle and sword.

Siegfried went along to the court mostly out of curiosity. But he also tried to convince himself to go there with an open mind, not to be too hasty in his judgment of anything that at first might seem foreign or repugnant. He reminded himself how the odd customs of Gaza still produced very good results when it came to the skill of the Saracen physicians.

But at first he saw only what seemed to him a tasteless spectacle. It was like a mockery of all things holy when not only God’s Word but also the Koran were brought out and laid on a table before the tribune, where he sat together with Arn and the Saracen doctor named Utman ibn Khattab. A large crowd of people had gathered round a square marked off by ropes and guarded by black-clad sergeants with lances and swords. The proceedings began with Arn reciting the Pater Noster; only a small number of the onlookers seemed able to follow along. But then Utman ibn Khattab recited a prayer in the language of the infidels, and most of the listeners knelt and bowed their foreheads to the ground. When that was done, Arn declared that the first case should be called, and a Palestinian peasant from one of Gaza’s villages stepped forward with a woman, her hands bound behind her back, and another woman at her side. He pushed the bound woman down in the sand before him. The second woman, who was wearing a veil over her face, he shoved behind his back as he bowed to the three judges. Then he raised his right arm and rattled off a long prayer, or perhaps it was a homage to Arn. To Siegfried it was merely gibberish.

Then the Palestinian peasant began to state his case clearly, and Arn translated in a whisper to Siegfried so that he could follow along with the argument.

The bound and humiliated woman was the peasant’s wife. He had refrained from the right given to him by the true faith to kill her for her adultery. This leniency was entirely due to the fact that he wanted to respect the law within Gaza, which he, like everyone in his village, had sworn to obey so that they might have security in their lives. But now he had caught his wife in a grave sin, and as a witness he had brought along an honest woman who was his neighbor in the village.

Then Arn interrupted the monotonous lamentation and asked the honest woman to step forward, which she did as silence sank over the audience. Arn asked whether what her neighbor had said was true, and she confirmed it. He asked her to place her hand on the Holy Koran and swear before God that she might burn in Hell if she swore falsely, and then she had to repeat the accusation. She obeyed, but she was already trembling as she held out her hand to the Koran, and she placed it very gingerly as if afraid she might be burned. But she repeated the accusation word for word as was asked of her. Arn then asked her to step back and leaned over to Utman ibn Khattab, who made a quick whispered comment that Siegfried could neither hear nor understand, but he saw that the other two finally nodded in agreement as if they had reached a decision.

Arn stood up and recited a text from the scripture of the infidels, which Siegfried could not understand until Arn translated it to Frankish. And Siegfried found that they were astonishing words, for the gist of it was that four witnesses were required to prove adultery. And if it was not proven, then no man or woman could speak of it. Here a man had produced only one witness, which gave him no right to accuse his wife.

After this explanation Arn drew his dagger and strode over to the bound woman as a gasp of fright went through the crowd. But he did not do what some had feared. Instead he cut off the rope binding her hands and declared that she was free.

Then he did something that surprised Siegfried even more. He announced in both Arabic and Frankish that the woman who had sworn to the sin of adultery had sworn falsely, and that she would be punished. Henceforth she would have to serve the wrongly accused woman for one year, or leave the village. And if she did not obey, she would receive the punishment reserved for a perjurer, which was death.

And the man who had brought forth one person to bear false witness would now, as prescribed by the law of the Holy Koran, be taken away and given eighty lashes.

When Arn had pronounced his judgment, everyone stood as if petrified at first. Then two sergeants came forward and seized the man to be whipped and dragged him away to turn him over to Gaza’s Saracen provost marshals. The two women retreated horror-stricken back into the crowd. When all three were out of sight, a loud roar of conflicting voices broke out, and it was evident that there were people both for and against the judgment. Siegfried gazed out over the crowd and noticed a group of elderly men with long beards and white turbans, whom he surmised must be some sort of infidel clergymen. He guessed from their calm conversation and nods of agreement that they must have found the odd judgment to be both wise and just.

The next case involved a dispute about a horse, a case that was now called out for the second time since the judges had set aside the case until the horse was presented. Now it was brought forward into the empty square beyond the cordon by two men who seemed to be having a hard time holding the horse by the bridle. The case proved to be simple in that both made claim on the horse and likewise accused the other of horse thievery.

Arn asked them both to swear on the Holy Koran that they were telling the truth, and they did so, taking turns holding the horse, which the audience found extremely comical. But neither of them hesitated to swear the oath. And there was nothing to indicate that either one had sworn falsely, although one of them had to be a perjurer.

Arn had another muttered discussion with his Saracen assessors and then reached behind him to signal to one of his guards. He whispered an order which Siegfried could easily hear, to call out the butchers from the slaughterhouse and a cart.

Then Arn stood up and spoke first in the incomprehensible language and then in Frankish so that Siegfried and the others could understand. It was sad to see when someone bore false witness, Arn explained. Today a man had forsworn his soul and would burn in Hell for the sake of a broken-down horse.

There could be only one verdict, he warned, drawing his sword and raising it high as if to make an exaggerated downward stroke. Both the men who laid claim to the horse looked equally terrified, but it was hard to tell which of them was the perjurer.

Arn watched them for a moment with his sword raised, then he turned slightly and swung with the sword in only one hand, severing the horse’s head. He jumped quickly away so as not to be kicked by its death throes or drenched by the blood spurting in all directions. Then he calmly wiped off his sword with a rag taken from under his tunic and slid it back into its scabbard, raising his hand to put a stop to all the noise from the crowd.

The horse now had to be divided into two pieces of equal size, he explained. That meant that the man who was a liar would get half a horse in payment. But his punishment from God would be all the more severe.

One man would get only half a horse even though he told the truth. His payment would be all the greater from God.

The slaughterhouse butchers brought their cart and loaded up both the horse and the horse’s head, strewed sand over the blood, and quickly took the cart away, bowing to Arn.