The Holy Land - 1191 AD

SInce leaving England and coming to the Holy Land, Richard of Warwick's stomach had been subjected to a number of indignities. There had been the rations on the cog that had brought him out of England and to the port of Marseille. Those had been tolerable for the duration as the captain of the vessel had replenished his supplies before leaving. Then Richard had joined the fleet sailing eastwards to the Holy Land, following the army of the Lionheart. For many of the knights and foot-soldiers, this had been their first extended sea voyage. A goodly number of them had been stricken with seasickness and not been able to eat anything but the blandest pap. The Golden Knight had escaped this particular set of travails, but the stench had forced him above decks for the whole journey, regardless of what the weather did.

Once they had reached the Holy Land and commenced the campaign to free Acre from the Saracen, Richard had been hopeful that he would have found something that was to his liking. It had taken him many days for his stomach to grow accustomed to the unfamiliar cuisine of the land. The habit of his companion, John of Chester, to loudly declaim everything that he had eaten to 'be the best ever!', then to insist that Richard try 'but a morsel' had almost ended their friendship. So, Emrys's warnings about Joshua of Asher's cooking had sent peremptory trembles through the Golden Knight's innards. However, he had been pleasantly surprised.

As promised, the meal had begun with small ceramic cups full of hot, sweet mint tea. These had been followed by a spiced stew. Emrys and Joshua had used torn strips of an unleavened bread to scoop portions of the rich pottage out of the communal dish. Richard followed suit, dipping his fingers into a bowl of water to clean them between mouthfuls. Dessert had been a pudding made from rice and dried fruits. The fragrant grains had clumped together, making them easy to consume. Finally, there had been fresh dates and draughts of a hot brew that tasted of chicory. Throughout the meal, Emrys and Joshua had conversed with each other and laughed at jokes that Richard did not understand. However, the Golden Knight had been entertained by two young ladies that had been introduced to him as Joshua's daughters. Being an educated man, Richard had been able to practice his Greek on them and they had responded in kind - although sometimes they forgot themselves and talked in the same strange language that Emrys had used to greet their father.

Finally, however, the meal had ended, the plates had been cleared and all but Emrys, Joshua and Richard dismissed from the table. Now the conversation became more serious.

"We need some way of getting into Damascus," Emrys had begun. "And as you can see, my companion would stand out like a poppy in a field of grain."

Joshua looked Richard of Warwick up and down, appraising his appearance. "Yes," he said at last. "Your young companion is somewhat distinctive. How many months have you been here?" This question was directed at Richard.

"It has been six months since I left Warwick," Richard said. "And it has been four since I arrived in the Holy Land."

Joshua nodded. "You have acquired something of a tanned skin - but it is obvious that you have an unnaturally fair complexion. And as for your hair." He shook his head. "That will never do. It will be immediately obvious to the guards on the gates that you are one of their enemy. You resemble too much the appearances of the Crusaders in the stories told in the marketplace." Richard took a handful of his hair and examined it. The sun had bleached it almost to the point of it being pure white, and had dried it until it had the consistency of fine-spun straw. "Besides," Joshua continued, "the young ladies of Damascus would find you too irresistible! Their men would kill you for tempting their wives to infidelity!" With that, Joshua gave a great guffaw of laughter and nudged Emrys in the ribs.

Emrys suppressed an undignified smirk. "Perhaps. But we still need to get inside Damascus."

Joshua stood up. "Come here, boy. Into the light. Let me see what can be done." Richard stood up and followed his host from the shaded part of the dining room to a spot that was illuminated by the evening sun. Once more, Joshua examined the young knight. "Turn that way. Raise your chin." More instructions followed, leaving Richard feeling less like a person and more like some animated dummy, posed to satisfy the incomprehensible whims of its owner. From somewhere outside the room came the sound of girlish giggling, and Richard felt his cheeks redden. At last, Joshua delivered his verdict. "I believe there is something that can be done. I have some dyes that may be applied to his skin and hair. They will conceal his foreign appearance."

Richard gaped at this, unsure whether to be offended. "Close your mouth, Richard," Emrys instructed him. "Unless you wish to look like a fish that has just heard its mother insulted."

The young knight swallowed his indignation. "Very well. But how does this deception fit into your plans?"

Emrys ignored Richard's question. "And we shall still need to find some way of entering the city. Two travellers such as ourselves would raise suspicions."

"But if you were part of a trading caravan, then you would be less likely to attract the attentions of the guards at Damascus. I am sure that I can make arrangements for you to accompany one. There is a caravan master who I know very well. I am sure that he will allow you to travel with him and ensure that no more than the necessary number of questions are asked."

A sudden thought occurred to Richard. "Isn't Damascus a Muslim city?"

"Of course," Joshua responded. "Otherwise I presume that Emrys would not have come here to seek my advice."

"What if they make me trample upon a cross? What is they make me denounce my faith? What if they - ?"

Joshua took one look at the anguish on the the young man's face and burst into laughter. "You are worried about that? There are many faiths in this land - why do you think that it is called the Holy Land? It is sacred to the Muslims, you Christians and to us."

"Us?" Richard looked puzzled at Joshua, but received no answer.

"Before this, the most trouble was when the followers of Athanasius disputed with those of Origen over a single vowel!" Joshua clapped an arm across the Golden Knight's shoulders. "Just because you follow a different version of the God of Abraham will be of little concern to the people of Damascus. Now, let us see which of my dyes and potions will suit you best, yes?" The older man pulled Richard along beside him, propelling him out of the dining room.

As he passed by Emrys, Richard glared at the scholar. "And you will have to tell me exactly what your plans are and how I am involved with them!"