A Blessed Meeting

“He says that, is his horse!”

“Why would it be his horse?”

“Because it is on his land.” The young stranger said simply. Whoever the older knight was, he was obviously well off, and did not bother himself talking to strangers or Frenchmen.

“I took this horse from the sea.” Balian said. It was the only reply he could think of. This was translated and the lord shouted something back in Arabic.

“He says you are a 'great liar'. And he will fight you not for the horse, but because you are a liar.” Balian shook his head. “Or can you not?”

“I can fight. I have no desire to...I do not see a reason.” This the other man apparently understood for he answered without waiting for a translation. The younger man smiled slightly at whatever had been said.

“He says give him the horse, or fight for it. That is how it shall be.”

Balian took his father's sword out of its scabbard and held it above his head in a defensive pose. “No.” He said simply. The knight charged him unceremoniously. Balian deflected two strokes and moved out of the way of the third. “Fight me fairly!” Balian called out.

“Li-mada.” The knight said curtly.

“Why, why should he? He is a knight.”

“And I am the baron of Ibelin.” Balian said defiantly.

“ yadaei 'anah sayid 'iiblin'.”

At this the solider began to dismount. “arrêt'.” The younger man said suddenly, holding his left hand up sharply. The knight stopped short. “Are you indeed?” The second man said uncertainly. “As his heir or his replacement?”

“If you mean did I take the title from Godfrey, the answer is no. I am his son. I inherited the rank. I will never know if I can...I can only do my best to be as good as him.''

''Very true. A moment please.'' The two natives talked briefly in their own language. And the knight dismounted and raised his sword. Striking the 'guard of the hawk' posture his father had taught him, Balian prepared himself to fight. It was over quite quickly. The servant tried to call off the fight, almost crying out for his master to yield. It came to nothing. Balian's sword sliced through the other man's neck. A moment later the Saracen servant was flat on his back in the sand. Balian stood over him with his sword drawn. The man didn't seem to notice.

''You miss him already?'' Balian inquired.

''I feel sorrow for his passing. I know it must be the will of God. We are taught nothing happens that God does not allow to happen. I still feel...responsible for his death. Inshallah.''

''...God wills it ?'' Balian guessed.

''More like 'God wills it...so it is'.'' The man replied with a hint of a smile on his face.

« If it will help... » Balian handed the man his masters sword. «...Until one of us yields. »

« You give me a chance to redeem myself ? »

« If you loved him enough to fight for him...then we will. I feel it's what my father would have done. »

« You are correct at that. » the other man said, rising slowly.

“You knew my father?” Balian said before he could stop himself.

“We fight in until one of us yields, no further than that. Which ever of us wins, they decide satisfaction. Compensation for troubles a 'prize of battle' however one says it. But only after. I do not want distractions...on either of our parts.”

“Shrewd...insightful even.” Balian said as he once again raised his sword above his head.

The battle was fierce. Whoever the stranger was, he had been well-trained. The speed and surety with which he moved would have impressed any military commander. He said nothing and made no sign what he thought of his opponent, focused completely on what was in front of him. Until finally, twisting his wrist in a particular fashion he wrested Balian's sword out of his hand. “Do you yield?” The man stated in formal French. Balian bowed deeply, his arms spread wide apart and his hands open. The only way he knew to say 'you will get no trouble from me'.

“Where were you going?”

“I was seeking Jerusalem.”

“Then we shall go there.” The man said simply.

“Wait please...what is your name?” Balian said before he could stop himself.

“My name is Imad al Din. And you?”

“My name is Balian.”

They each mounted their own horses and rode off to the East. When they were almost within the walls of the Holy City Imad stopped short. Balian instantly did the same. “We should go on foot from here.” Imad stated plainly. Balian simply nodded and dismounted. As he studied the man's face, Balian became aware of the thought that this stranger was either a personal servant to a great lord, or one of the most gracious and decent men he'd ever known. He carried himself with reserve and restraint, but beneath the service and courtesy there was a deep reservoir of both strength and intelligence. He hoped he wasn't imagining things.

“I am certain you have questions. Let them wait until we are inside the city, and indoors.”

“As you please.” Balian said easily.

They walked their steeds into the city gates and slowly made their way through the markets. “I keep a room near here. We shall be able to talk privately and freely. Follow me.” Silently and calmly Imad led Balian through the smaller, more deserted streets of the city, far from the thronging crowds and under the awnings of what might well have been a church. A moment later Balian realized that's exactly where they were: in the shadow of a Muslim house of worship. They entered what Balian took to be a hostel and were quickly welcomed. They walked into a room decorated with carpets and quilts, but otherwise sparsely furnished, Imad turned and faced him squarely. “I do not claim you. You are not my slave, that is not what I meant by 'satisfaction'. I would never ask that. Please do not bow to me. I would ask that you stay by my side but that is all I will ask of you, to be...I am not sure the word for it. Someone near by to help and to listen.”

“An attendant, or as we would say l' auxiliaire.” Balian said helpfully. “May I ask why?”

“I want you at my side, I cannot deny this. It feels, right. And almost like an answered prayer. Am I making any sense? Eh...Do you understand??”

“I am beginning to. I have a lot of questions for you. Some, I am sure will sound ridiculous.”

“And I will be happy to answer them. However, there are some things...”

“If I overstep, or don't know what I'm asking, just tell me and I will relent, with apologies. I will never mean offense. It's just lack of experience. This entire world is so new to me. My father's world was so new to me...” He seemed to realize he was rambling. “I was not raised as Godfrey's son. To be a lord in Jerusalem or even a person of any rank would have been a hard life for me to learn. What I wanted was another way to live in the world, a life to live other than the one I knew.”

“Then I believe you and I will get along splendidly. Ironically, I was seeking the same thing.”

“You must have been very close to...what was his name again?”

“Mummad al Fais. All in his house are well spoken.” Imad said, as if he had read Balian's thoughts on the subject. “And yes I knew him well. But I do not regret his passing. It was the end of his time. Allah has brought him into His marvelous light and I will cherish his life as he lived it. To speak plainly, I truly believe ALL is as God wills it. Including what happened in the desert and what came from it. Is it really so difficult to believe? You said you were looking for a new way to live, so was I. This is a very strange way to start a new life...But God brought us together to bring us this new beginning. What comes from it, what happens from this moment on is still our choice. I truly believe that. ”

“We should probably let my father's people know I am all-right.” Balian said suddenly.

“...Yes. They would most certainly be awaiting word. I will send a letter tonight and we will seek them tomorrow. Balian, answer me honestly...do you regret...”

“I was not raised as a nobleman. I would have been to say the least unequal the task of living up to what they expected of me, a life and responsibility that was thrust upon me by the death of a man I barely knew. I knew Godfrey for only a short time before he died. This lodging, this 'lot in life' suits me far better than what I expected was waiting for me.”

“That is a very... perspicace view of things. ” Imad said quietly. A moment later his head lowered in what might have been genuine shame. “I have been silly. I cannot keep you from your father's household...I WILL not keep them worried about what might have happened to you. We should find your father's people. And let them know what has happened. I must make sure they believe that this, whatever happens from this time forward is your choice. I will NOT be known as someone who...takes freedom from another.”

“You would not keep a slave, even if you could?”

“By no means.” Imad said with certainly and calm.

“Why does he stand out for you?” Balian asked. “My father, I mean. What do you...remember of him? Or perhaps...” Balian's mouth closed to stop him from making a bigger fool of himself.

Imad looked bemused. “We know and honor him for his restraint, dignity and goodness.”

“I hope I can do him some honor.” Balian admitted.

“Believe me monsieur, you already have.”