Baphomet's Meteor (1972.DAW No. 35) Read online

  Suddenly, tongues were loosened and wagging again. Everyone speculated as to whether the forces would launch an attack on the city or whether they would pass around it. The presence of the siege machines seemed to favor the first hypothesis. It was also the “version” which found most favor among the Crusaders because, once the city had been taken, they dreamed of being able to enjoy some days of carousal and repose.

  With the setting of the sun, where the western sky took on tones of amethyst, William pitched camp close to the city walls, but beyond the reach of arrows.

  While they were setting up the tents, the squires could see the heads of the defenders who watched this activity with apprehension. But the multicolored banners on the ramparts were not lowered, proof of their willingness to resist. However, the city had had little time to prepare for a siege and its provisions would not last long. The inhabitants had few illusions as to the outcome of this test of strength.

  Only Bibars’ army could save them. Of course messengers had been sent, hurrying southward with all possible speed. Unfortunately, it would take the Mamelukes several days to assemble and come back up the coast: without a doubt the city would have fallen long before they arrived.

  Women, children and old men had fled to the mountains, hoping thus to escape the fury of the Christians, but they would be unable to survive long among the barren rocks burned by the sun....

  Soon, the camp fires began to blaze while the blacksmiths occupied themselves with the horses and wheels damaged by rocky roads. The cooks busied themselves around caldrons that spread tempting odors far and wide. Around the tents reserved for the dignitaries of the two Orders, watchful knights mounted guard. Close by, the banners of the Temple and the Hospital flapped lazily in the sea breeze.

  The night was peaceful. Only the calls of the sentinels troubled the silence, accompanied by the howls of some jackals coming from the nearby hills.

  In the morning, before dawn, everyone was called to attend mass. Then the Crusaders awaited the orders that would let them know what their leaders’ intentions were.

  Their uncertainty was short-lived: a small contingent was designated to blockade the city, while the body of the troops broke camp to resume its march toward Jaffa.

  Once the Carmel Mountains were cleared, the army again took the trail following the coast And, stage by stage, it came to Pilgrim Mountain and Caesarea, fording the shallow streams that flowed down from the mountains of Samaria. The advance across the plain of Sharon offered no difficulties; nevertheless, the hearts of the rude knights sank progressively as they got further from their base: Acre.

  William of Beaujeu had none of their fears. He knew that the alert had been given and that the squadrons of Bibars were gathering. Each day, his Turcopole spies came to report on the situation. As he had foreseen, the Saracen forces were gathering around Jaffa and his only wish was to cross the Yarquon so as to assure his men a supply of drinkable water.

  On the other hand, the Grand Master knew that the small fleet had left Acre and was moving down the shore to support his land forces.

  After Caesarea, one party of the cavalry had been sent ahead toward Arsuf and the reports from the Commanders stated that, around the port of Jaffa, the nights were ablaze with fires, so numerous were the Saracens.

  Despite all precautions this news spread through the companies. Until then, the forces of the Grand Master had handled themselves extremely well. They had made the usual complaints about the heat and fatigue, nothing really serious. Now the foot soldiers firmly refused to advance another step.

  All these brave men, the brothers Tholon included, thought it utter folly to go thus to face in open country an inestimable army which had, besides, a fortified city where it could entrench itself and receive supplies.

  For William, the situation was tragic. How to persuade his troops to resume the advance? Must he unveil a jealously guarded secret, thus running the risk of losing his unique advantage? Uncertain, he convened his Council in order to decide what action to take, which proved extremely fortunate.

  Actually, the subtle mind of the Grand Master of the Hospitalers suggested a ruse to him which offered a good chance of success. William of Beaujeu, therefore, made his way to the very center of the masses of men, and in substance, rallied them with this speech:

  “Brothers of the Temple and of the Hospital, knights, squires and sergeants, I know the anxiety that grips you. You believe that we must retrace our steps in haste in order to regain the shelter afforded by the ramparts of Acre, which we have only just left. Men of little faith! Do you think that William of Beaujeu and John of Villiers, not to mention our noble allies from France and England, would take such a risk without sufficient reason? Know, therefore, that a vision appeared to us. The Archangel Gabriel himself ordered us to quit the city where, with heavy hearts, we awaited the assault which would put an end to our presence in the Holy Land. Verily I say unto you, we are indeed masters of Jaffa and of Jerusalem, for the Lord of Hosts will launch His lightning to assist in the liberation of the Holy Places. Some among you shake your heads in disbelief. For them, I add these simple words: they may try to get back to Acre if they wish. I know from a trustworthy source that they will never reach it, because Bibars has divided his forces in two, cutting off the route that we have followed to come here. Any retreat is, therefore, impossible. Your only hope is to defeat the army which separates us from Jaffa, and for us to take possession of the city. A fleet come from Cyprus will help us there. By Jesus Christ, our Savior, victory stands at the end of your labors!"

  Only a gloomy silence answered him.

  The Crusaders were pondering what they had just learned. They did not believe overmuch in that story about lightning. From olden times, their ancestors had known many a harsh ordeal, and heaven had never come to their aid....

  On the other hand, the news of Bibars’ encirclement was a heavy weight in the balance: even victorious over the Saracens, there would have to be long marches to reach Acre, and they knew how the enemy knights would ravage a column in retreat, harassing it day and night.

  Everything considered, there was actually but one conclusion: “flight” straight ahead. If a fleet was arriving— and, on this point, the Grand Master assuredly would not lie—the city attacked by land and by sea would quickly fall. Then it would be possible to breathe in the shelter of its ramparts with their five hundred battlements....

  In the end, whether they liked it or not, the armed forces reformed and the march to the south was resumed. With the result that, ten days after their departure, the Crusaders crossed the Yarquon, sighting Jaffa, all white under the sun, from the height of that hill dotted with tombs which overlooks it. A few joyous shouts sprang from parched throats, abruptly cut off at sight of the huge army which barred their way.

  There was one poor consolation: the promised ships were at their appointed stations, blockading the small port.

  At once, William had horns sound the call for battle formation. Actually, one could not ask for a more favorable location. The hill, assuredly, could be surrounded by the enemy but a sudden attack could not be launched. There would be ample time to hurl down the lightning promised to the Crusaders.

  Under the careful watch of Commanders, the catapults and mangonels were immediately drawn up in a circle, and the precious coffers containing the projectiles placed beside them.

  Bibars wasted no time. He knew that the midday sun inflamed these men cased in steel, and he, too, had horns and trumpets sound the battle call of his Mamelukes.

  The squadrons moved off, one after the other, encircling the Crusaders with a deadly girdle. First he brought up his infantry, holding the cavalry in reserve, in case the armored knights should charge down the slopes of the hill.

  On that height, Templars and Hospitalers waited, kneeling and half-hidden by their shields as protection against volleys of arrows loosed by archers to cover the attack. At that distance, coats of mail and shields sufficed to avoid serious wounds. It would not, unhappily, be long until their adversaries were at close range.

  On signal, the English crossbowmen began to let fly their bolts on the advancing masses. Since the Mamelukes had no armor comparable to that of the Christians—a helmet and buckler constituting their only protection—the foremost ranks were decimated. This in no way dampened the ardor of their companions who strode unfeelingly over the bodies and continued the climb.

  Statue-like, William of Beaujeu silently contemplated the scene. He noted Bibars poised in the rear with his cavalry, there where the standards made an emerald stain. Then, starting from his reverie, he made his way swiftly to one of the mangonels, slyly nicknamed “the male cousin,” and with his own hands placed one of the gray projectiles in a recess made for that purpose.

  Careful aim was taken according to his direction, while the chosen Commanders busied themselves at the other catapults. Already their assailants were close: one could see the sunburned faces, the short beards, the grins full of hatred on their lips.

  The Baussant banner dipped twice.

  The levers of the war machines were freed and their deadly charges launched.

  The seconds that followed were apocalyptic.

  The explosion of the atomic grenades in the serried ranks of the Mamelukes wrought unbelievable havoc. Shreds of tom flesh flew far and wide. All the way to the city walls, a glaring light blinded the Saracens. Then immense clouds of dust boiled into the sky marking the brilliance of the sun. Some even thought that the luminary, reached by this dreadful explosion, had been extinguished.

  Then the thundering sound waves rumbled and reverberated for a long time between the ramparts and the hill, like the beating of a million keldedrums.

  When the Crusaders uncovered their faces hidden by their
shields, they viewed an appalling sight. More than half of the enemy forces had disappeared. Below them, the plain was covered with pustular craters. The men and horses that had been some distance away were burned alive by the waves of heat. One could see, far off, the flash of white teeth in the blackened jumble of charred flesh.

  The few survivors, shocked by this cataclysm as sudden as unforeseeable, remained prostrate on the ground. Some bushes still smoldered, giving off a dense smoke that spread close to the earth as though to conceal this frightful sight. In the distance, riderless horses galloped aimlessly. At last, a silence like death reigned.

  The Crusaders, themselves, did not venture to breathe a word, almost believing that they dreamed. Some crossed themselves, fearing that the end of the world had come.

  Only William, a cruel smile on his lips, dared to contemplate the effects of the infernal lightning that he had unchained. All had happened as Baphomet had said and henceforth, with such weapons, who could hold out against him?

  The empire of the world was his.

  He had only one decision to make: did he want to reign over Europe or over Asia... ?

  For some time, he meditated in silence, then, when he saw that the fires, lacking fuel, were burning out and that the smoke was thinning, he drew his sword and made a sign for all the echelons of his forces to advance toward the city of Jaffa.

  With the Templars leading, the Crusaders descended the slopes of the hill. There, they discovered some who still survived. But the shock sustained had been too terrible: all surrendered, begging the Christians to spare them.

  Then the knights reached the points of impact They skirted the still-smoking craters and came upon the heaps of dead bodies. Men and horses were entangled in an inextricable fashion, the blasted bodies giving off a nauseous odor.

  Bones stabbed through the tatters of shriveled skin and it was impossible to recognize the Sultan in such a charnel house. Nevertheless, Bibars was vanquished. There was no longer anyone to oppose the victorious Crusaders.

  The Grand Master of the Hospital and the Commanders of the troops contemplated this spectacle, horror-stricken. Never had they imagined that the lightning of the Templars could possess such power and they almost regretted having been accomplices in this massacre.

  Before they reached the foot of the walls, the troops took numerous prisoners who did not even consider defending themselves. They would presently swell the number of their fellow countrymen entombed on the hill.

  In the city itself, the explosions had caused no serious damage. Some roofs had given way, a few fires had started, all in all nothing serious. Also, when the defenders had somewhat recovered their spirits, they found that the troops stationed in the open had disappeared, noting, on the other hand, that the walls had played their part in protecting those who were behind its battlements.

  The leading Saracens of Jaffa consulted together and decided to pursue the action, believing that they were invulnerable behind the thick ramparts. They did not understand what had happened but trusted that the cataclysm would not be repeated or, at least, that it would be diminished by the fortification of the city.

  Unfortunately for them, William had foreseen this eventuality. A Commander of the Temple was aboard one of the vessels that had come from Acre. He had mangonels at his disposal and some of the atomic grenades.

  When the first projectile dropped near the mosque, an appalling panic was triggered. The bravest could not hold out against such a trial. All took refuge in the vaulted halls, the cellars and underground passages. So that, when the first Crusaders reached the base of the walls, they were able to set up their ladders without encountering the slightest opposition.

  Shortly afterward, the gates were broken open with blows from battering rams and the Christian forces swarmed into Jaffa.

  Foot soldiers and knights spread through the narrow streets, massacring without pity all those encountered. At last, after years of defeats, they could satisfy the accumulated hatred, avenging their brothers who had given their lives at Arsuf, Pilgrim Castle and Antioch. There was such carnage that blood ran in the gutters like torrential rain. Quickly, many soldiers turned to pillage, entering the houses and appropriating all objects of value, howling:

  “Death! Death to all who live here!

  Men and women, all shall perish

  Who will not part with what they cherish..."

  Some Mamelukes, entrenched in their towers and in the barbican held out for a short time but their courage failed them: the steel-clad knights were not to be vanquished in single combat. Demoralized by the deadly fire from the skies, the last defenders of Jaffa hastened to surrender.

  Shortly, Templars and Hospitalers reached the harbor. They severed the heavy chain that barred entrance to it and the Christian fleet was made fast at the quay. There were swift Byzantine dromonds, vessels with oars and with sails, galleys with rowers made up of Saracen slaves, and cargo vessels for transporting horses. In all, counting the five ships captured in the port, from which the Christian galley slaves were immediately rescued, William had a veritable squadron of thirty vessels.

  When night fell on the city, stillness reigned.

  For a very long time, the Crusaders had not won such an overwhelming victory. Bibars the Sultan, so dreaded and so evil, was dead. His army was in flight, dead or captured. Henceforth, no one could prevent the reconquest of the Holy Land. Which is to say that joy reigned among the rough Christian warriors!

  As might be supposed, the three Tholon brothers celebrated the occasion, each in his own way.

  Garin, the Templar, attended the evening service held in the open air, at which the Grand Masters officiated, then rejoined Guiot and Clement in the snug little house where they had chosen to be quartered.

  A gross, terror-stricken , shopkeeper had installed them in his best room, on sumptuous carpets. Leaning on their elbows, they shamelessly devoured the extravagant feast served by their host and his three wives.

  “God damn!” thundered Red-Beard. “Oh! Sorry, Garin! I haven’t yet come to. When that some-kind-or-other thunder began to boom, I thought for sure the sky was falling on my head. Yes, I did. I didn’t know where I was at. I said a dozen Our Fathers before lifting my nose out of the dirt.”

  “You bet!” agreed his brother Clement. “I went all of a sweat, not a dry hair—I swear it. Worst of all were the flashes of lightning, everything went white. I couldn’t see a thing! Only, afterward, I celebrated. There was one of these damned Saracens on his hands and knees! He ended up as a hunk of spoiled meat on my shield. . . . You know something about all this, Garin?”

  “You heard the words of the Grand Master as well as I,” replied the Templar. “The Archangel Gabriel promised to launch his lightning on the unbelievers: he kept his word. God be praised!”

  “Maybe so,” assented Red-Beard dubiously. “Only, don’t forget the gray balls that were thrown out by the mangonels. I’m pretty sure they did most of this work.”

  “Why not?” Garin answered stiffly. “Do you forget miracles, you man of little faith? The manna in the desert, the increase of the loaves and fishes, the walking on the water? Don’t you suppose the Archangel could have entrusted these spheres to our Grand Master so that he could drive the infidels from the Holy Land?”

  “What a wonderful thing it is to be a scholar,” replied the scythe-swinger. “You’re probably right. . . . All the same, our Lord could have given us His lightning a little sooner. That would have saved more than one brave lad.” “My brothers! The ways of the Lord are unfathomable.”

  “There again you’re right. Me, I’m only trying to understand. The main thing is that we’re all here, comfortably lodged. Well, well! Take a peek at this,” chuckled Guiot.

  "This afternoon I picked up a few trifles. . . .”

  On these words, he began removing a veritable pirate’s treasure from his bag: pieces of gold, collars of precious stones, silver cups and dishes of the same metal.

  “Me, too!” Clement was not about to be outdone. “Things just stuck to my paws. Between the two of us, if we get back to Auxerre someday, we can make ourselves the present of a fine farm.”

  “Vandals!” roared the Templar. “What is come by dishonestly is never enjoyed. What an example you are setting for these wretches!”