Read Online Widow of Jerusalem: A Medieval Mystery by Alan Gordon - Free Book Online
Authors: Alan Gordon
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of your thumb,” he said. “They supply purple dye made from it to Constantinople and beyond. If purple ever falls out of fashion, that will be the end of Tyre.”
“Thank Christ for royal vanity,” I said. “I’m surprised Saladin didn’t make more of an effort to take the city.”
“The effort would be extreme,” he said. “Take a look and tell me how it would be done.”
Ahead of us, a broad causeway jutted out from the coastline. The aqueduct ran down one side of it, plunging through a hole in a massive curtain wall that traversed the end of the causeway. The fosse lay before it, dry at the moment but with locks at both ends that would allow it to be flooded at a moment’s notice. A single drawbridge crossed the center of the fosse. The ramparts of the wall were heavily patrolled.
Beyond the wall was a higher wall. Beyond that was an even higher one.
“How would you press the attack?” asked Scarlet. “Each wall can be defended by the one behind it, and all of them give the archers a clear shot at the causeway.”
By sea? I suggested. He simply pointed in reply.
The harbor was enclosed by towers built on small artificial islands. A pair of walls stretched into the water, curving toward each other to form a Seagate for the inner harbor.
“At dusk, they close the inner harbor and raise heavy chains from tower to tower,” said Scarlet. “If you get close enough to a chain to try and ram it, you’ll also be close enough to catch a cauldron of Greek fire.”
“Impressive,” I said.
“When an army comes by, usually Tyre will wave a flag of truce and invite the commander in for a tour of the defenses, just so he knows what lies in store if he attacks. Most of them will see that it’s a waste of men and move on. As I said, Saladin tried the hostage approach, but he had the wrong opponent for that tactic. Oh, you had better take this.”
He handed me a document with the seal of Richard the Lionhearted on it.
“That will get a Norman captain into the city,” he said.
“But once I revert to foolery, won’t I need something else?”
“I’ll take care of that.”
We rode up the causeway, over the drawbridge, and through three sets of gates. The latter were staggered to prevent an easier line of assault, so the process took a bit of time, but finally, we emerged.
“Welcome to the play,” said Scarlet.
The layout was haphazard, as though people had tossed pebbles into the air and set up shop where they fell. Then they built, and when they needed more room, there was none around them. So, they built up, and up again. Everything was six or seven stories high, and sometimes the higher stories matched the architecture of the lower ones, and sometimes it was as if an entirely different building had been plopped down on the top of an older one. Stones had been taken from whatever structures had collapsed or been torn down before, so there wasa mixture of materials—sandstone, granite, marble, and what have you.
“It’s like a motley in rock,” I marveled. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It is a place that a fool could call his natural environs, certainly,” laughed Scarlet. “I’ve only been here a few years, but I’ve grown quite fond of it. I think the height of the buildings has the same effect on normal people that normal people have on me: at first, you become dizzy and overwhelmed by the madness of your surroundings, a Tower of Babel at every step. But gradually you get used to it, and soon you take everything you see in stride. I prefer it to Jerusalem. Everything there is so sacred that you have to walk on tiptoe to avoid offending anyone, and God forbid you disturb a single stone trying to improve things. Here’s where I live. We’ll take the horses around back and you can ditch the armor in the stables for now.”
I cannot say how happy I was to be back in motley. The aches and pains of the journey dissipated with each clunk of a piece of armor falling to the
“Thank Christ for royal vanity,” I said. “I’m surprised Saladin didn’t make more of an effort to take the city.”
“The effort would be extreme,” he said. “Take a look and tell me how it would be done.”
Ahead of us, a broad causeway jutted out from the coastline. The aqueduct ran down one side of it, plunging through a hole in a massive curtain wall that traversed the end of the causeway. The fosse lay before it, dry at the moment but with locks at both ends that would allow it to be flooded at a moment’s notice. A single drawbridge crossed the center of the fosse. The ramparts of the wall were heavily patrolled.
Beyond the wall was a higher wall. Beyond that was an even higher one.
“How would you press the attack?” asked Scarlet. “Each wall can be defended by the one behind it, and all of them give the archers a clear shot at the causeway.”
By sea? I suggested. He simply pointed in reply.
The harbor was enclosed by towers built on small artificial islands. A pair of walls stretched into the water, curving toward each other to form a Seagate for the inner harbor.
“At dusk, they close the inner harbor and raise heavy chains from tower to tower,” said Scarlet. “If you get close enough to a chain to try and ram it, you’ll also be close enough to catch a cauldron of Greek fire.”
“Impressive,” I said.
“When an army comes by, usually Tyre will wave a flag of truce and invite the commander in for a tour of the defenses, just so he knows what lies in store if he attacks. Most of them will see that it’s a waste of men and move on. As I said, Saladin tried the hostage approach, but he had the wrong opponent for that tactic. Oh, you had better take this.”
He handed me a document with the seal of Richard the Lionhearted on it.
“That will get a Norman captain into the city,” he said.
“But once I revert to foolery, won’t I need something else?”
“I’ll take care of that.”
We rode up the causeway, over the drawbridge, and through three sets of gates. The latter were staggered to prevent an easier line of assault, so the process took a bit of time, but finally, we emerged.
“Welcome to the play,” said Scarlet.
The layout was haphazard, as though people had tossed pebbles into the air and set up shop where they fell. Then they built, and when they needed more room, there was none around them. So, they built up, and up again. Everything was six or seven stories high, and sometimes the higher stories matched the architecture of the lower ones, and sometimes it was as if an entirely different building had been plopped down on the top of an older one. Stones had been taken from whatever structures had collapsed or been torn down before, so there wasa mixture of materials—sandstone, granite, marble, and what have you.
“It’s like a motley in rock,” I marveled. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It is a place that a fool could call his natural environs, certainly,” laughed Scarlet. “I’ve only been here a few years, but I’ve grown quite fond of it. I think the height of the buildings has the same effect on normal people that normal people have on me: at first, you become dizzy and overwhelmed by the madness of your surroundings, a Tower of Babel at every step. But gradually you get used to it, and soon you take everything you see in stride. I prefer it to Jerusalem. Everything there is so sacred that you have to walk on tiptoe to avoid offending anyone, and God forbid you disturb a single stone trying to improve things. Here’s where I live. We’ll take the horses around back and you can ditch the armor in the stables for now.”
I cannot say how happy I was to be back in motley. The aches and pains of the journey dissipated with each clunk of a piece of armor falling to the
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