Light of Heaven

 (Written to be read aloud in an audience; like a scribe or a dramatic chorus)

Balian had been met in the city streets by three of his father's men: Almaric, who seemed to have been one of Godfrey's most trusted soldiers. Lenard, a young man with red hair on his crown and above his lip, and a Spaniard who was called Ruiz, and said very little. Of course the first order of business had been to confirm Balian had indeed known Godfrey and carried his sword for a good reason. The second was sorting out why he traveled with a Saracen servant.

“Nassir asked to follow me and I accepted his help. There is nothing more to it than that, nor should there be.” Balian replied tersely.

“Nassir.” Lenard said with an ill-favored glance at the man. “What kind of Chevalier DeGuise actually chooses that name?”

“None.” The man answered. “My master, my old master called me that as a job description. And I answer to it easily, far more easily after yesterday because now I asked for the position.”

“What are you discussing?” Balian all but demanded. “I am asking Almaric more than else.”

Nassir raised his left hand in a 'if I may' gesture and the solider, Almaric nodded his assent. “The name Nassir means 'champion or supporter'. It made sense to me that Mummad al-Fais would take to calling me that: I was his closest companion when he had no other support with him. Three days ago I asked to be your guardian and chose to stand with you, no matter what. I do not foresee myself changing my mind. Unless and until I do, I have no reason to use a different name for myself.”

“Nassir, if any of your equals met you in the market place, what would they call you?”

“My name is even less my choice than 'Nassir'. To be clear, my master did not give me a name, replacing one identity with another. He simply 'called' me Nassir as a term of endearment. I was 'Imad' to people who knew me well. But please, if I have any say in the matter NASSIR is what I wish to be called. It always has been.”

“I am sorry for my assumption.” Lenard said softly but clearly.

“And I am sorry if I've made you doubt yourself.” Balian said, agreeing with the man.

“I hope I may still count on your friendship, now that I know you are not actually afraid of me.”

“A reminder of humility, and antidote to arrogance?”

“You asked it's permission.” Balian said suddenly. Nassir looked up startled and if possible, intrigued. “the only way we could make this journey is if your masters steed accepted you and you asked its...approval I guess; without trying to buy his acceptance.”

“Yes. I...must admit you surprise me.”

“I am the baron of Ibelin. But until Godfrey found me..That is..before my father came back for me I was a blacksmith in Niece. I know the behavior of horses.”

“I should give them a little something?” Nassir suggested. With Balian's nodded approval the stranger took a couple of carrot stubs out fo his satchel and handed one to each horse. “Please forgive the intrusion but are you...like Godfrey?”

“I am not sure honestly.” Balian replied with hesitation. “I only knew him for a short while before he passed on. Why do you ask?”

“Godfrey of Ibelin was one fo the few Christian lords we respected for his character and honor as much as his skills as a warrior, or the respect due one of his rank. Sala-ho-deen himself respected him as a man of conscience and principle...I am sorry.” Nassir quickly hung his head and lowered his eyes. “I know you must feel overawed as it is. I did not mean...” He trailed off.

“It is quite alright Nassir. I'm going to miss you.”

The shock on the other mans face was considerable. “Where am I going?” He said in a quick voice.

“I have a new life to live; I cannot ask you to be a part of it. You should go, be about your business. Be with those you are for.”

“Forgive me but are you jesting with me?”

“No why would I...would anyone say something like that in jest?”

“Why would you let me go?” Nassir replied, equally mystified. Haltingly he began to explain his confusion. “Sir, this is your prize of battle. I was the servant of the man you killed I fair combat. I am your prisoner...your slave should you wish it.”

“Am I correct this is because of my rank not your lack of it?” Balian asked calmly. Nassir nodded, wondering how Balian could be so ignorant in the world. “Explain further, please.”

This allowance is granted because of your...condition I believe. But it would be true anyway, to a point. We, my master and I created a situation that brought us to this current moment. Put simply, you won, it's your decision what happens from this point on. What...What do you intend to do with me?”

“I categorically refuse the allowance, I do not deserve it and I will not claim it. Nassir, until a week ago, I was not a man of rank, and have done absolutely nothing to deserve that honor. I will not use a title I have not earned to make any man follow after me. As far as your being my slave, I will never keep one nor suffer any to be kept if I can change it. This world, being a lord and having recognition is as foreign a world to me as the Holy Land and Syria itself. I do not deserve your admiration. Go in peace.

“I cannot Milord.” Nassir said slowly but firmly. “ALL is as God wills it; I truly believe that. I cannot see how the two of us could have met at all unless Allah wished it so, unless God himself brought us together. At any rate, I am not permitted to leave your side. I refuse to leave a stranger to Jerusalem alone in a sea of faces.” Nassir smiled thinly. “No matter what life will be like, it will be worth living.” he quipped, looking vaguely mystical. “Call em a servant or a protector if you want; it would not be far from the truth. No matter what else my life is now, it is bound to yours and not out of compulsion, I assure you.”

“I'm not going to dissuade you from this, am I?” Balian said with a soft smile. Nassir shook his head slowly. “Then so be it. But I will insist on one thing. Do not call me 'sir' or 'Milord' My name is Balian and that's what you at least should call me.”

“Very well....Balian.”

(Note: Chavilier DeGuise literally translates from French as 'knight disguised'. Which at the time would have been understood more as 'dis-guised' -- closer to 'de-robed or 'without standing')