A Destrier's Tale, Part XVII: Surrender

A Destrier’s Tale

Balian d’Ibelin’s Destrier “Centurion” Tells his Story

Part XVII: Surrender

Incredibly, Lord Balian tried a second night sortie just a few days later. But this time the Horse-Haters were waiting for us. No sooner were we across the bridge, than they swept down on us from all sides. There was literally no way to escape them — except to get back inside the city.

The horrible thing was that the Horse-Haters seemed to be concentrating on Lord Balian rather than me — trying not so much to kill him as to drag him out of the saddle. By now, I was pretty confident that I could defend myself. I could bite and trample and kick viciously enough to make the Horse-Haters back away long enough for me to spin around and run for safety behind the walls. (In the dark there were no archers.) But I wasn’t going to leave Lord Balian to those murderers! Behind us the knight-colts were breaking and running, and only Gabriel was still with us it seemed. He pressed in to try to come between the Horse-Haters and Lord Balian. His intervention enabled me to swing on haunches and start back for the draw-bridge. Gabriel and his stallion were right behindw me.

We had just made the drawbridge when Gabriel’s stallion Gypsy gave a blood curdling scream and reared up. I don’t know how they did it, but they brought him down just yards from safety.  He tumbled right off the side of the bridge into the ditch, tossing poor Gabriel through the air. Horse-Haters pressed forward, hot on our heels. They were on both sides of us, yelling their curses and grabbing for Lord Balian. One came up so close on our left that he grabbed for my bridle, apparently intent on pulling me around and into their camp.

The only thing I could think to do was to leap up and kick out with my hind legs. I landed that kick with so much force that the attacker’s mare crumpled up and fell into the ditch with a piercing whinny — chocked out when she broke her neck as she hit the bottom. I was now through the gate, however, and although some of our pursuers came in with us, they were quickly slaughtered by the Christian infantry.

In fact, the Christians were so frantic by now that they killed the slave horses as well as the Horse-Haters. Just swarmed over them hacking, stabbing, jabbing and screaming in fury.

On my back I felt Lord Balian crumple up, falling forward on my neck. I was sure he was wounded, maybe mortally so, and was grateful when a half dozen humans rushed over to him, calling “My lord! My lord! Are you alright?”

“They were waiting for us! We rode straight into a trap!” He gasped out, righting himself again with a groan and adding in a voice laden with pain and grief. “We lost Sir Gabriel.”

“You did the best you could, my lord.”

When I got back to the stables, Georgios untacked me, checked me over for wounds, and made sure I had fresh water and hay, but I was exhausted. What was more, I could tell the situation was hopeless. In the first sortie, we’d managed to destroy those terrible giants that threw rocks and flaming balls at us, but within two days the Horse-Haters had recruited even more of them. The bombardment was worse than ever, and now we couldn’t sortie out anymore either. Our situation was absolutely hopeless.

I guess I went to sleep eventually, but so late that I was still groggy when Georgios led me out after daybreak to brush away the sweat stains of the night before. He wasn’t even finished, however, when suddenly Mathewos ran into the yard yelling for Georgios to tack me up. Again? I thought. I have to admit that for a moment I was genuinely reluctant and snapped irritably at Mathewos and Georgios.

But then Lord Balian appeared and he had fixed himself up. He was in a surcoat with gold trim and his hair was brushed, his face shaven. He was going to face the enemy! And there was no way I could let him down. I pulled myself together and arched my neck to show him I was ready too. If we were going to die, it would be together — fighting. I nickered my readiness to him.

But he didn’t call the remaining colt-knights together. Instead he took only Mathewos and he carried an all-white banner, rather than the one with the arms of Ibelin. We rode again to the Jehosaphat Gate and the streets were completely empty, apparently abandoned, but I could hear the distinct sounds of battle raging to our left. Men were screaming, shouting, cursing and the clang of metal was audible too. Those sounds, I realized with horror, couldn’t have come from outside the walls. Somehow the Horse-Haters had gotten inside the city!

Lord Balian ordered the men manning the gate to signal to the enemy. They started waving banners and blowing horns until they reported they had the enemy’s attention. Only then did Lord Balian ordered them to open the gate.

We rode straight out at a sedate walk. I wanted to charge. I feel stronger charging, but Lord Balian kept me to a walk. So I pranced and danced my way forward with my nose tucked in and my tail up. We rode like that all the way to the large church set among olive trees before the Horse-Haters swept down on us and blocked our way about 30 yards ahead of us. They didn’t attack us though. It was like back at the city-by-the-sea. Somehow the Horse-Haters knew Lord Balian had come to talk not fight.

Lord Balian ordered Mathewos to remain where he was and advanced until we were just 10 feet apart. The humans exchanged words in the language of the Horse-Haters, and the tone was harsh and threatening. Then another Horse-Hater appeared in magnificent robes with a jewel-studded turban and he rode a stallion that was almost as big as me. When he spoke the others backed away and Lord Balian and he were then alone but about 8 feet apart with my head level with his stallion’s tail and vice-versa.

They seemed to talk for a long time and the emotions were raw in both voices, though I couldn’t understand the words. First one then the other raised his voice, then they both grew more reasonable but still sharp. Until, abruptly, it was over. The Horse-Hater turned and started to ride away. Lord Balian called something after him. He paused, looked back at us with fury in his eyes, but then nodded and rode away. At last Lord Balian turned me back toward the city.

We reached Mathewos. “I have surrendered Jerusalem,” Lord Balian said. He did not sound very happy about it, although after they had talked a bit more Mathewos exclaimed “This is a miracle, my lord!”

Lord Balian clearly didn’t think so, he drew up and questioned Mathewos further, but then we continued together toward the city. We hadn’t even reached the bridge before people started streaming out and surrounded us. Some were cheering, others weeping, still others singing. They completely enveloped us just as when we’d first arrived in the city. I didn’t understand it at first, but then I realized that the giants had stopped hurling things at us, the archers had stopped shooting at us and the sound of combat had died away. Whatever it was Lord Balian had said, he’d convinced the Horse-Haters to let us live — at least for another day.

The siege of Jerusalem is described (from human perspective) in Book II of my Biographical Novel of Balian d'Ibelin:

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                                                                                                       or Kindle!

The three part biography begins with:

A landless knight,

                       a leper king,                                                                                          and the struggle for Jerusalem!

Knight of Jerusalem: A Biographical Novel of Balian d'Ibelin, Book I, is a B.R.A.G. Medallion Honoree and finalist for the 2014 Chaucer Awards for Historical Fiction.

Buy now!

A Destrier's Tale Part XVI: Siege & Sortie

A Destrier’s Tale

Balian d’Ibelin’s Destrier “Centurion” Tells his Story

Part XVI: Siege and Sortie

I wasn’t given much time to enjoy that victory though. Just a couple days later the largest host of Horse-Haters ever seen was attacking Jerusalem. At first they just charged at the walls, but the Christians — men and mares both — fought them back. The Christian archers were on the walls all day firing at the Horse-Haters, and Lord Balian rode me around and around the city so he could tell the humans what to do.

But then the Horse-Haters found giants willing to throw boulders and flaming balls over the walls and into the city itself. Those rocks were so huge they made the earth shake when they struck they smashed anything that got in their way — masonry or flesh. Most of the horses had been taken out of the city, of course, or were protected in stables, but I didn't like those boulders roaring through the air. Worse, however, were the flaming balls. They set the shops and many a roof on fire and I saw one person go up in flames too. After a couple days of this the whole city seemed to be on fire.

That night Georgios, who had replaced Gabriel as Lord Balian’s squire, woke me up. Dawit and Mattheows were there too, tacking up their own horses, and as soon as we were ready, Lord Balian mounted me and we all rode to the Postern of Mary Magdalen. Here we three were joined first by three strangers in funny clothes, and then by a pack of about two score of those colt-knights that had panicked so badly in the last fight before the siege started. They were riding their horses, who were nickering among themselves and generally behaving badly.

Lord Balian ordered everyone to be silent, then he closed the chainmail flap over his mouth and chin and took a lance in hand before leading that pack out of the postern into the night. Just beyond the postern, Lord Balian pointed me not at the bridge but the ditch. I hesitated, but he urged me forward and so we descended into the dry ditch surrounding the city and walked along the bottom of that ditch along the north side of the city. The ground was very uneven and there were rocks littered around down there too so you had to be careful about your footing. Lord Balian trusted me and gave me a long rein so I could find my way but progress was slow.

Eventually, however, Lord Balian signaled a halt and jumped down. He flung the reins over my head and led me up the steep bank out of the ditch. We emerged just beside the Leper Pool, and here he remounted. Then we just sat there doing nothing. It was hard to see in the dark, but I was pretty sure there were Horse-Haters up to the hill to our right and they appeared to be guarding the terrible giants that flung the stones at us. But there were Horse-Haters on our left too. They were crowded around the giants that were leaning right up against the corner tower of the city.

Suddenly there was a lot of shouting from that direction, and several of the young colts behind me shied at the noise. You could hear the clang of metal and then screams of pain. Lord Balian wasn’t happy at all. His muscles tensed and although he wasn’t telling me what he wanted, I could sense that he wanted action of some sort. I stamped and slapped him with my tail. I even flung my head up to try to make him pay more attention. The next thing we knew a huge flame shot up into the air with a roar. We all jumped and some of the younger colts bolted in panic. Lord Balian seemed oddly relieved, and with a shouted “now” he tightened his calves on my sides. I didn’t need any more urging than that. We started charging up the hill toward the sleeping giant.

Unfortunately some of the Horse-Haters who had been rushing to put out the fires behind us, now turned and starting running to take us in the flank. Lord Balian saw the danger the same time I did, and he turned to face them while some of the other knights continued toward the sleeping giants. There were no mounted Horse-Haters and we ran these footmen down pretty easily.

But then somehow that sleeping giant went up in explosive flame too. When that went up, we all bolted and soon we were just racing back for the comparative safety of the barn. Along our left flank, however, the camp of the Horse-Haters was alive with shouts of alarm and anger. Soon they started charging down at us, firing their arrows blindly. Fortunately, the Christians were manning the wall to our right and returned fire. I knew we had to let the archers fight it out and just stretched out my neck to flatten my stride and make us a smaller target.

Galloping across open countryside in the dark is pretty risky. A wrong step will break a leg and as we turned the corner to get around to the eastern wall, one of the horses did just that. Even in all the noise of the stampede you could distinctly hear his leg snap. Then he crumpled up, flinging his rider off as he fell, but we just kept going. We didn't have a choice.

I could see ahead of us the bridge to the Jehosaphat Gate was down and the gates were open. Humans were lining the wall cheering us on. Some of those younger stallions were trying to get ahead of me in their panic, but I shouldered them out of the way. Lord Balian had led this sortie out, and Lord Balian would lead it back! We thundered over the bridge in a pack and into a city that was wild with jubilation: cheering men and women, singing black-robes, and children jumping up-and-down and screaming with excitement. 

The siege of Jerusalem is described (from human perspective) in Book II of my Biographical Novel of Balian d'Ibelin:

Buy Now in Paperback!

                                                                                                       or Kindle!

The three part biography begins with:

A landless knight,

                       a leper king,                                                                                          and the struggle for Jerusalem!

Knight of Jerusalem: A Biographical Novel of Balian d'Ibelin, Book I, is a B.R.A.G. Medallion Honoree and finalist for the 2014 Chaucer Awards for Historical Fiction.

Buy now!

A Destrier's Tale Part XV: Encounter at Bethlehem

A Destrier’s Tale

Balian d’Ibelin’s Destrier “Centurion” Tells his Story

Part XV: Encounter at Bethlehem

There were more horses in the stables than I’d ever seen. All the horses from Ibelin were there — except poor Rufus, of course, and the others who had been killed on that horrible battle on the barren hills above the lake. Amira was there and Ginger too, and they were amazed to see me. But I knew things were bad when Lord Balian sent all the mares, colts and fillies away, horse and human both. The younger colts and fillies, who hadn’t been broken to the saddle yet were laden with panniers like common pack horses, and the older horses all had riders. All that were left in the stables after they went were old Spirit, Lord Balian’s old palfrey, myself, a couple of castrates the squires used to ride along with a half dozen pack-horses. I don’t know what had become of Gladiator, but he wasn’t with us anymore.

At first I rather enjoyed having so much peace, quiet and space. Furthermore, unlike at the city-on-the sea, Lord Balian took me out every other day or so. We would leave Jerusalem by one gate or another and ride about until we found an abandoned herd of animals, then we’d chase them back to the city. Once or twice we stopped to harvest apples, pears and plums that were ripening on the untended trees of the surrounding orchards.

But the mood was bad and Jerusalem itself was overflowing with people. At least it was a bigger city with more gardens than in the city-on-the-sea, so the stink wasn’t quite so bad, but it still wasn’t normal. There were too many people, and most of them were human-mares and human-foals. Far too many of the latter. Lots of black-robes too. I’ve never figured out what use these humans have. They didn’t seem to like horses at all and usually ride mules. They certainly never carried weapons and couldn’t defend themselves let alone us, but Lord Balian was always polite to them. I don’t why.

The weather was turning a touch cooler, when we went out in a hoard of knights and horses all the way to a town about five miles south of Jerusalem. It sat white upon the yellow-brown landscape, with orchards now laden with rotting fruit, at its feet. Lord Balian was leading a troop of about 80 knights and we rode into the very heart of the little town without seeing a single living soul — unless you count stray dogs.  In the large cobbled marketplace, Lord Balian jumped down, turning my reins over to Dawit, and entered the tall building flanking the square. The rest of just waited there in the hot sun swatting and stamping at flies.

Two of the knights apparently got bored and rode off on their own. Dawit told them not to, but they ignored him, saying something about water. I thought water sounded like a good idea, and was beginning to get annoyed with standing around in the heat, when those two horses came crashing back into the square at a full gallop. “Saracens! Saracens!” One of the knights was screaming in terror.

And sure enough, there were Horse-Haters right behind them. Hundreds of them. They came clattering into that square with their swords drawn and the ties of their turbans flying. They were hooting and shouting in triumph — until they saw how many of us there were. Then they sat back and tried to stop their slave-horses. That’s not so easy on pavement, and the slave-horses were soon skidding and scrambling. Half lost their footing and the others were nearly knocked over by the horses behind them running into them.

Meanwhile, Gabriel had drawn his sword and started shouting. The knights around me followed his lead and within a moment they were rushing at the Horse-Haters but not in an organized, proper charge. A bunch of amateurs! Furthermore, half the horses were screaming and trying to run away rather than putting their heads down and helping their riders fight. The slave-horses weren’t helping things, because they were screaming too, and in all that confusion, horses couldn’t find their footing on the cobbles.  I flattened my ears and stamped my feet, snorting at the idiots to close ranks and fight properly, but no one was paying any attention.

Fortunately, Lord Balian came out of the building and seeing what was happening just grabbed my saddle from the off-side and hauled himself into it. The minute his seat hit the saddle, I turned toward the enemy like a bat out of hell. Ears flat and teeth bared I aimed at the nearest Horse-Hater, confident that Lord Balian would have his sword out in time to support me.

He did. In fact, I don’t think I’d ever seen him fight the way he did that day. It helped that there were no archers, of course, and no infantry either. It was just us against those Horse-Haters on their slave horses, but the other knights were a bunch of colts, really, none of them old enough to grow a beard and you could see how panicked most of them were. Their horses, sensing their fear, weren’t feeling very confident either. So it was up to me and Lord Balian to show them how it was done.

Suddenly this Saracen in a gawdy coat that glittered gold in the sunlight came charging at us on a white stallion. Now, he was no slave! He was scrambling on the cobbles in his eagerness, and he had a look of hatred in his eye as he came at me. I knew it was him or me. Lord Balian seemed to understand that. He spurred me forward for the first time in years, and even as I tore off half that stallion’s neck, the top half of that Horse-Hater fell over onto the bloody cobbles while the lower half of him bobbed away on the back of his bleeding stallion. That bastard then showed his real worth by fleeing from me abjectly.

When the other slave-horses saw their stallion run away, they turned and followed him without a thought to what their riders wanted. They were racing each other to get away from me, but I wasn’t surprised that  Lord Balian sat back and signaled “no pursuit.” What was the point of chasing a bunch of terrified mares and castrates? I’d shown the stallion which if us was better!

Lord Balian re-sheathed his sword and gave orders to the other knights to collect the dead and wounded. As he turned back to the frightened black-robes crowded in the building on the side of the square, he reached down and patted me on the side of the neck. “Well done!” he told me in a low voice. “Well done.”

That was even more satisfying that defeating that arrogant Saracen stallion, and I snorted my thanks and pranced with pride.

The siege of Jerusalem in 1187 is described (from human perspective) in:

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                                                                                                       or Kindle!

The three part biography begins with:

A landless knight,

                       a leper king,                                                                                          and the struggle for Jerusalem!

Knight of Jerusalem: A Biographical Novel of Balian d'Ibelin, Book I, is a B.R.A.G. Medallion Honoree and finalist for the 2014 Chaucer Awards for Historical Fiction.

Buy now!

A Destrier's Tale: Part VII -- Lord Balian

Balian d’Ibelin’s Destrier “Centurion” Tells his Story

Part VII: Lord Balian

I recognized him at once. I mean, he walked in and the grooms and even the squires stopped to bob their heads to him. The horses nickered. The big bay stallion in the stall next to me, who had nearly been killed by the Horse-Haters and was now lame, immediately went to hang his head over the stall door. And he stopped to clap Gladiator on the neck and tousle his forelock. Then he looked straight at me.

It was terrifying. First of all, he was tall and dark — which reminded me of the Black Knight. He had golden spurs — just like the Black Knight. Although he wasn’t in armor, he had an enormous sword in a fancy sheath at his hip. He was a knight alright. Lord Balian.

He started toward my stall door and I retreated into the corner. I tried to get as far away as possible, and just waited for what would happen next. Nothing did. So I looked over my shoulder to see if he’d gone away. He hadn’t. He was still staring at me — and so was Gladiator in the next tall.

He slid the bolt back to let himself into the stall, and I tried to make myself smaller. He stopped. By now I was trembling from head to foot out of sheer nervous anticipation. I knew that I was only going to be allowed to stay in this beautiful place if I pleased Lord Balian, but he reminded me so much of the Black Knight I was terrified. I’d tried to please the Black Knight too, but he had still beaten me. I had never intentionally thrown the Black Knight, not like later with the horse trader, but he still fell off and blamed me for it. What if Lord Balian was the same?

For the moment, he proved himself more patient. He retreated, left my stall, and just leaned on the stall door considering me. I started to relax. He held out his hand palm up. I considered it. There was something on it. I stretched out my neck to try to see what it was and sniffed. It smelt like sugar, but it looked different, small and granular.

“Come on! “ He coaxed. “Come and try it.”

I looked to make sure the stall door was still bolted, then took a step and reached out my neck as far as possible. I was still too far away. I had to take another step. Finally I could lick it up. It was sugar and it melted in my mouth! It was better than any cane. He laughed at my expression of surprise and left his hand out like that until I’d licked the last trace of it off his hand.

After that he came every day. Step by step, he stroked me, put a halter on, led me around the courtyard and out to the paddock. He lunged me as if I were still a colt, and he took me on the lead when he rode his big red palfrey Rufus.

I was beginning to think he was never going to ride me, but then one day he took me out into the ward, tied me there and brought a heavy saddle. I started to tremble again. This was the moment of truth. Because no matter how nice he seemed to be, I knew that if he didn’t like the way I performed under saddle, I would not be allowed to stay.

Mathewos and Dawit appeared out of nowhere and together they tacked me up while Lord Balian watched them. Then Dawit held the off stirrup and Lord Balian pointed his foot in the near-stirrup and swung himself up to land in the saddle so gently I wasn’t entirely sure he was there for a moment. Dawit and Mathewos stepped back warily as if they thought I might go wild or do something stupid when Lord Balian took up the reins. Well, partially took up the reins. He held them, but not tightly, then he nudged me with his calves. No one had ridden me like that since I’d left home.

We walked around the ward, then he turned in the saddle and I followed him. We were pointed for the gate and the draw-bridge. I started sweating. It was all very well at a walk, but what was going to happen when he wanted me to trot or canter? We walked to the edge of town and then out into the surrounding countryside. By now I knew this quite well from being on the lead. There were beautiful pomegranate and orange orchards all around Ibelin, and beyond that rich fields of wheat and barley.

Still on a long rein, he turned me away from the cultivated fields and toward the sand dunes. We rode past a hard-packed area where a dozen men in armor were jousting with each other. The squires turned to watch us ride past, bobbing their heads respectfully at Lord Balian. There was a trail of sorts between the dunes and Lord Balian asked me for a trot. I picked it up immediately, anxious to please, and by all the Horse Gods, his seat didn’t leave the saddle! It was as comfortable under him at a trot as at a walk. I started to relax, shaking my head and snorting to tell him what a pleasure it was not to have someone pounding on my back. He reached down and stroked my neck, and then clicked and tightened his legs. No kicking, no gouging. He didn’t even turn his heels inward to prick me with his spurs. Just tightened his legs. I picked up the canter and tensed for the horrid thumping on my back. It didn’t come! It was as if he were glued to my saddle.

Because he wasn’t pounding down on my back, jarring and hurting me, I felt free — liberated and alive for the first time since I’d left home. I risked going faster and faster. Soon we were racing over the sand, the bushes rushing past. It was wonderful! The wind was blowing back my mane and tail. The sand was flying back from my hooves. Lord Balian leaned forward, putting his weight on his knees and the stirrups and it was as if I didn’t have a rider at all. I felt as if I could fly.

And the next thing I knew there was this huge, gleaming, writhing monster in front of us. At the sight of us, it reared up and snarled viciously, slobbering foam and growling deep in its throat!

I’d never turned around so fast in my whole life! I just spun around on my haunches and tried to run in the opposite direction. In that moment, I was much more afraid of the monster than of Lord Balian or any human on earth. After five or six seconds, I realized that Lord Balian was somehow still on my back and he was hauling on the reins (none too gently under the circumstances) to get me to slow down.  I was relieved that he hadn’t fallen off, but I was not about to stop until I’d put more distance between us and the monster. Eventually, however, he did convince me to slow down to a walk, and I snorted at him in agitation. That monster was huge and who knew how fast it might be? I thought we should get back to the safety of the castle.

Lord Balian had other ideas. He wanted me to go and face the monster again. I kept shaking my head and when he turned me toward it, I backed up as fast as I could. I couldn’t understand why he was so determined to face that monster. It couldn’t possibly bring us any advantage, and it might very well kill us! The sensible thing was to get to the safety of Ibelin Castle.  But Lord Balian was not being sensible. He jumped down, took the bridle behind the bit, and started walking toward the monster.

At first I followed him, thinking maybe he knew something I didn’t know. Maybe the monster was already gone. But then we came over the last dune and it was still there! It was still seething with hostility and snarling at us, licking its lips ready to swallow us. I was not going any nearer! I reared up and spun about again on my haunches, lifting Lord Balian clear off the ground and starting to drag him with me before he let go of the reins.

After that, I just kept going at full speed, anxious to get to safety as soon as possible.

By the time I trotted across the drawbridge, I knew I was going to be in trouble for leaving Lord Balian behind, but had decided I was just going to have to weather it. He shouldn’t have tried to make me face a monster like that!

At the stables, everyone was so astonished that I returned alone that they didn’t immediately get mad at me. That’s when I realized how unusual it must be for Lord Balian to come back on foot (in contrast to the Black Knight, who’d done it rather a lot). Then I realized that most of the agitation was because they thought Lord Balian must be hurt. They were going crazy about that, calling for stretchers to be brought while Dawit rushed out on one of the fleetest mares. But I knew he hadn’t been hurt so I wasn’t too upset. Still, I knew he was going to be furious at me for leaving him behind, and I started to feel a little guilty.

When I heard the commotion at the door indicating he was back, I put my head down in the corner of the stall and waited for the storm. From the door I heard Lord Balian’s voice: “Is he ok?”

Is he ok? That was his first question: whether I was OK.

Dawit assured him I looked okay and they came over in a group. He stood leaning on the stall door and I looked over my shoulder at him.

“Silly boy,” he opened. “The sea can’t hurt you. It’s just water.” Then he held out his hand, palm up.

I wasn’t falling for that trick! If I’d gone over, he might have snatched hold of the bridle and then hit me. I stayed out of range.

He dropped his hand and remarked. “I don’t know. I thought of naming you ‘Centurion,’ but Roman officers were very brave, and you’re just a big coward.”

Coward? Me? After all I’d been through? But, of course, he didn’t know about the Black Knight or the Slaughter House. And I liked the sound of ‘Centurion.’ Anyone can be “Grey” or “Foggy” but Centurion was noble. I stood up straighter and lifted my head.

But he was gone. Fortunately, I caught the words, “We’ll try again tomorrow” as he left the stables.

Lord Balian and Centurion are characters in my three-part biography of Balian d'Ibelin staring with:

A landless knight,

                     a leper king,

                                 and the struggle for Jerusalem!

Knight of Jerusalem: A Biographical Novel of Balian d'Ibelin, Book I, is a B.R.A.G. Medallion Honoree and finalist for the 2014 Chaucer Awards for Historical Fiction.

Buy Now!

A divided kingdom,
                       
                         a united enemy, 

                                                  and the struggle for Jerusalem!


Defender of Jerusalem: A Biographical Novel of Balian d'Ibelin

Book II

Buy Now in Paperback!  
or Kindle!

A Destrier's Tale: Part VI -- Ibelin

A Destrier’s Tale

Balian d’Ibelin’s Destrier “Centurion” Tells his Story

Part VI: Ibelin

I went willingly with the black man, striding out for the first time in a long time. He led me through the town and then to a deep, dry ditch surrounding a castle. To get to the castle, I had to cross a bunch of wooden boards laid across the ditch. It didn’t look all that safe to me, so I stopped. Well, alright, I balked.

The black man looked back at me, and I started to back up as fast as I could anticipating his anger. This was not a good start, I realized, but how could I step on boards that were obviously going to break and send me crashing down into the ditch?

The black man did the strangest thing: he let go of my lead! I broke free and ran a few strides back toward the town. Then I stopped and looked over my shoulder confused. He was standing there with his hands on his hips just looking at me. Then he shook his head and walked over to me, talking to me as he came. “It’s all right. Haven’t you ever crossed a draw bridge before?”

I thought about that. I supposed I had going to the other castle, but then I’d been with the other horses.

He stroked and patted my neck, and finally took the lead again but rather than trying to drag me across the bridge he walked over to the guard house on the nearside of the drawbridge and handed the lead over to a soldier who’d come out to watch.

“What have you got here, Master Mathewos?” the soldier asked.

“A new destrier for Lord Balian.”

The soldier shook his head. “Doesn’t look like a good buy to me.”

“We’ll see what Lord Balian says. Hold him for me will you.”

So his name was Mathewos, and he now crossed that draw bridge and disappeared inside the gate to the castle. The soldier let me graze on the grass growing around the ditch until Mathewos returned with a second man, who looked so much like him that it could only be his son. They were both leading mares. I mean mares. Not broken down old female nags, but pretty little fillies. You know what I mean: high stepping little fillies that mince around flicking their tails at you and waggling their backsides while pretending to be totally indifferent to you! These two were not only foxy, they were so well groomed their coats absolutely gleamed in the sunlight and their hooves were oiled black, while their manes and tails were so fine they blew in the slightest breeze. I hadn’t seen anything like it since I’d left home, and I just stood there gaping at those two beauties until I got so excited everyone could see.

Mathewos and his son (later I learned his name was Dawit) brought those mares over the draw bridge and then turned around and walked them back over the drawbridge right in front of me. That did it. If both of those fillies could be on the bridge at the same time — and cool as cucumbers! — then it was sure to hold me. I mean, each was smaller than me, but together they weighed more. And if they weren’t afraid, how could I be?

Once I was through the gatehouse into the castle, I knew things were going to be alright. The place was clean, and the humans were happy. You could tell. Some boys were sweeping the yard and they were chattering and laughing together, and children were playing on the top of one tower, laughing as they chased each other. A woman was wringing out laundry and hanging it up to dry and singing as she did so. Yes, I said, this is a happy home and if the humans are happy, surely they’ll be good to the horses. Besides, I had Mathewos to look after me and those two little fillies sure the hell hadn’t been mishandled by anyone!

Mathewos led me into the stables and I stopped dead in my tracks out of sheer wonder. Every horse had his own box stall! And it smelled of wood shavings, hay and sweet-feed. I was taken to a stall (at the other end of the stables from the fillies, mind), and everything was ready for me.  Fresh wood-savings so deep and fluffy I sank right into them and the sound of my hooves were silenced. There was a hay-net stuffed to over-flowing with hay and clover, and a water trough that had clean, cool water. It was wonderful.

Over the next several days, Mathewos and Dawit got me cleaned up. They brought in a farrier to re-shoe me with better fitting and lighter shoes. They oiled my hooves twice a day to spur the heeling of the tear. They trimmed my mane and tail. Before long those fillies and their friends would look up and nicker when I was lead past, proving I was still a stud — even if I’d never had a filly yet.

After several days, I was taken out to a pasture behind the castle and allowed to run around in a field that was green with long grass and dotted with flowers — even though it was the middle of the summer. The air here had a unique smell that unsettled me at first, but the other horses laughed it off and just said. “That’s the sea.”

“What’s the sea?”

“Water that stretches to where the sun goes down. It puts the sun out at night.”

That sounded pretty far-fetched to me, but they said I’d see it eventually, and went back to grazing.

So everything was fine — except the nagging memory of Mathewos saying he’d bought me for his lord. It was pretty obvious from this castle that his lord must be like the man who’d owned the last castle I’d visited: that is, he had to be important. And if he was important, he would be demanding and expect a lot of his horse. Although I tried not to think about it, I was nervous about meeting Lord Balian.

Lord Balian and Centurion are characters in my three-part biography of Balian d'Ibelin staring with:

A landless knight,

                     a leper king,

                                 and the struggle for Jerusalem!

Knight of Jerusalem: A Biographical Novel of Balian d'Ibelin, Book I, is a B.R.A.G. Medallion Honoree and finalist for the 2014 Chaucer Awards for Historical Fiction.

Buy Now!

A divided kingdom,
                       
                         a united enemy, 

                                                  and the struggle for Jerusalem!


Defender of Jerusalem: A Biographical Novel of Balian d'Ibelin

Book II

Buy Now in Paperback!  
or Kindle!

A Destrier's Tale: Part V -- The Ethiopian

A Destrier’s Tale

Balian d’Ibelin’s Destrier “Centurion” Tells his Story

Part V: The Ethiopian

I had landed in the hands of a horse trader. That meant we travelled from market-town to market-town, always staying at the worst inns and taverns, and anyone who wanted was allowed to ride me. I didn’t want anyone to ride me. I’d had enough. So when they tried, I reared and backed up and made a terrible fuss. Of course, the horse trader beat me for that. At first I fought back, but then he denied me food and water. I capitulated.

It was summer, and the heat was terrible during most of the day. The sun burned right through my hair and if we had to travel any distance I was soon drenched in sweat. I had lost all interest in my surroundings by now and remember nothing of what happened before he found me except I was standing in the middle of a cobbled market place with people milling about looking at us as usual. Some stupid boy was even throwing things and hooting to make me and the other horses shy. One of his missiles hit me on the haunch and I lashed out with my hind hooves, more in irritation than fear. I hated all humans!

A voice cut through the usual mutter of humans and a silence fell. The boy started to dart away, obviously frightened, and another human caught him by the arm and dragged him forward, shoving the now reluctant boy at a tall, elegant man with black skin.  There had been men with black skin among the Horse-Haters, so I tried to back away from him a bit, but he wasn’t dressed like a Horse-Hater. He wore a long, gently flowing surcoat that ended mid-calf and a leather belt, but no sash or turban. He also had a large cross made of metal hanging around his throat. After lecturing to the boy in a stern voice, he turned and approached me.

I tried to back away warily, but I was tied so when I got to the end of my rope all I could do was lean back on my haunches with my head raised as high as possible. He started muttering to me and reached out his hand. I was trembling all over for fear of a blow, but he started stroking me with the palm of his hand. Just stroking me. He didn’t pinch or poke or pull my lips apart. He just stroked me gently and talked to me in a low voice.

The horse trader came over and started to sing my praises. I was a great destrier. I’d been owned by great knight. Unfortunately, he lied, my knight had been killed at “Montgisard” — wherever that was supposed to be. Yes, yes, I’d lost a shoe in the battle, he said, and the tear wasn’t completely healed, but I wasn’t lame any more. To prove this, he took my lead and started trotting me up and down on the cobbles. The crowd was strangely still and everyone seemed to be watching.

After a bit, the black man signaled for him to bring me back, and he started stroking me again. Everything was fine, until he reached up toward my face. It’s stupid. I really knew at some level that he didn’t want to hurt me, but I was tied and those beatings by the Black Knight were still so vivid in my memory. I reacted instinctively, screaming and throwing my head back so violently that I found myself scrambling to get my feet back under me. Then one of my hind feet slipped completely out from under me and I landed on my haunches. By now the horse trader was shouting at me, and yanking on the lead to try to get me to stand up again. The black man shook his head and walked away.

That was the worst moment of my life. Worse than all the humiliations and the pain that had gone before because I had started to hope that this gentle man would buy me and take me away the hell I was in. But now, because of my own stupid reaction, he was disgusted with me and turned his back on me.

The trader saw it the same way and was furious with me. He hissed insults at me and slapped me a few times. Then he led me back to the stinking livery stable and shoved me into the stall, snarling. “No food or water for that behavior!”

I told myself I didn’t care, but it was so hot and soon I was so thirsty I was desperate. I whinnied and tried to tell the horse trader I was sorry. I begged him to give me just a drop to drink. OK, I’d go without food, but I needed the water. I was so distraught after a couple of hours, I pawing at the filthy straw and rocking back and forth, but, of course, I was tied in the standing stall so tightly I couldn’t turn my head.

I didn’t know what was happening until a hand touched my haunches and that lovely, soft voice was there beside me. I tried to turn my head, rolling my eyes as far back as possible, but I was tied too short. But it really was him, and he had a bucket full of cool, clean water. He loosened the tie, and I plunged my head down into that water and drank the bucket dry. Yet even as I was drinking he stroked my withers and talked to me in his own tongue.

When I’d finished drinking, I lifted my head and we looked at one another. He said clearly and distinctly, “I’m not going to hurt you, but you have to let me find out your age and injuries.”

I looked at him skeptically.

“I want to buy you for my lord, but he will want to know more about you.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. What if his lord was like the Black Knight? After all, the Black Knight’s squire hadn’t been so bad. Maybe things could get worse than this?

“Lord Balian is the best horseman I’ve ever seen. He taught the King to ride, even though he can’t use his hands. You have no reason to fear Lord Balian.”

I continued to look at him.

He started stroking my back, massaging it really. It felt so good I sighed unconsciously and he smiled at me. He worked his way down my spine, not pinching it like the horse trader did, just massaging it with his long, strong fingers. Eventually, he ran his fingers down the back of my legs too, and then he came back and faced me.

We looked at one another, and he slipped his hand under his surcoat and brought out a carrot. I wanted that carrot and I reached out my head a little to show him I wanted it, but then drew back afraid of him grabbing my head or hitting me. He held out the carrot to me on the palm of his hand and let me eat it unmolested. Then we looked at each other again. He brought out a second carrot. After the third one I let him touch my face and lift my lips to judge my age. He even slipped his fingers between my back and front teeth and tested now sensitive my jaw nerves were. But he did it very gently and respectfully.

When he was finished, he picked up the bucket, patted me on the withers and promised. “I’ll be back.”

That was the longest night of my life. The trader brought me no feed or water, but since I’d had that bucket and it was now cooler, I got through the night. In the morning, the trader came with water and food. Grumbling at me not to “muck up again,” he led me out to the market square. I looked everywhere for the black man. But he wasn’t there. The hours crawled by. The sun rose up the sky, getting hotter and hotter. The crowds of people came and went. My hope started to die. I let me head drop more and more.

The trader started toward me and he was smiling broadly. He had a halter in his hand and he fastened it around my neck before taking the halter holding me to the railing off. It was only when he started to lead me away in the new halter that I saw him. The black man was standing there smiling at me. He took the lead from the trader and led me away.

Lord Balian and Centurion are characters in my three-part biography of Balian d'Ibelin staring with:

A landless knight,

                     a leper king,

                                 and the struggle for Jerusalem!

Knight of Jerusalem: A Biographical Novel of Balian d'Ibelin, Book I, is a B.R.A.G. Medallion Honoree and finalist for the 2014 Chaucer Awards for Historical Fiction.

Buy Now!

A divided kingdom,
                       
                         a united enemy, 

                                                  and the struggle for Jerusalem!


Defender of Jerusalem: A Biographical Novel of Balian d'Ibelin

Book II

Buy Now in Paperback!  
or Kindle!