บท 5: THE LETTER

Call upon your Lord with humility and in private. Verily, He does not love transgressors.

Quran - Surah Al-A'raf 7:55

A man of medium height, with an olive complexion, walked along the road leading to the dock of Jaffa. It was a hot day, the air was dry despite the winds blowing in from the sea. He was sweating profusely but he did not budge a bit.

To most people who worked on the dock, he was known to them as Abu Bin Zayyid. His job was ferrying merchants and people from ships to the dock, and from the dock to ships. Just like many other boatmen at the dock.

On busy days such as today, the port was crowded and the majority of the ships were not able to dock at once. The passengers and goods on board these ships were requiring his service.

He was dressed in a long white Islamic dress for men reaching to the ankles; it was long-sleeved, and sticking to his lean body due to the sweat, on his head he wore a brown turban, and on his feet, he wore intricately patterned slippers, with straps for tying around his calves to prevent them from falling off.

Abu Bin Zayyid gazed absent-mindedly on the way ahead. He was deep in thought as he walked on the dirty, cracked road leading to the dock of Jaffa.

These last few months had been riddled with bad luck for him.

It started with the news of a serious drought in his hometown of Masyaf in northwestern Syria, then news of the death of his mentor Yakub at the hands of the Knight Templar one month ago in a skirmish outside Chastel Blanc.

Followed by the dreadful letter from his order this early morning.

Abu bin Zayyid was a member of the elusive and ancient organization known as the Assassin Order or Brotherhood since his early teen when he learned that his great grandfather who emigrated from Persia to Syria, had come from the area known as Alamut.

His grandfather happened to be one of the elders of this secretive organization. Their roots could be traced to the mythical organization known as the Hidden Ones, a force meant to root the world of evil and men who abuse power. Their origins could be traced to ancient Egypt.

Having learned of his origin, he was inducted into the Order by his mentor Yakub. For ten grueling years, Abu mastered the art of fighting, camouflaging, poisoning, and killing in the swiftest and most efficient way possible to become an official Hidden One.

Two years ago, he was posted as an undercover agent in Jaffa to collect information for the Assassins' Order about the Knights Templar Order and where necessary kill the appointed enemy figures.

This morning, he received information from the Assassin branch in Masyaf, that he was under suspension for three months without pay, after this period he could journey to the headquarters for his final hearing and judgment which most likely could be his extermination with extreme prejudice.

His only hope lay in him obtaining some credible information of value to the Assassin's order or successfully assassinating a high-ranking member of the Knights Templars so that his failings could be overlooked.

"O Allah the most Gracious and Merciful, let this be the day when my fortune turns for the best," Abu prayed silently as he reached his boat and loosened it so that he can go in search of passengers from the recently arrived ships that could need his services.

"Wait wait wait!!" He heard someone shouting as he was about to row away.

Turning his head around, he saw a four horse-drawn carriage coming to a brisk stop, the voice came from the rider of the carriage who was gesturing for him to stop and turn back to him.

The rider was dressed in clothes of a butler for a Templar official, probably a servant of the Count of Jaffa. On top of that, the horses drawing the carriage, were the foreign Percheron breed favored by knights originating from France and the Gaul region.

This was a sturdy breed favoured by Knights Templar wearing heavy armour or for pulling heavy carriages.

Abu Bin Zayyid turned his boat and rowed back to the dock to pick up this butler.

Allah had answered his prayer and he knew he could fetch a handsome fee from ferrying this butler back and forth to whatever ship he desired.

"Hello, boatman, how much to ferry me to that ship over there?" Asked the butler as he stepped into his boat and gestured to a ship that had just arrived in the port and was far from the dock.

"Good sir, worry not, my price is the most favorable here. It will only be 2 silver coins." Abu replied to the butler.

"Boatman, you are robbing me, the usual price is 1 silver coin whether it is an English penny or French denier. Don't take me for an ignorant person." The butler told Abu as he tried to negotiate the price.

"Good sir, on a normal day, 1 silver coin could do, alas it is scorching hot on land and sea so the price has risen," Abu defended his original fee.

"Can't accept that price, you Arabs think us Knight Templars grow money on trees in our backyard." The butler protested.

Abu Bin Zayyid thought of turning away this butler but when he reflected on his recent bad luck and how he needed some money as well as change his fate, he decided to amend the terms.

"Let's do like this good sir, for 2 silver coins, I take you to the ship you pointed out, wait for you, and bring you back with whatever luggage you need to be brought back." Abu communicated his new terms.

'By the way, you may not grow money in your backyards, but we all know how you fleece those poor and misguided pilgrims of their life's savings to the last coin'. Abu added inside his head.

"Ok, we have a deal boatman," the butler communicated while nodding his head.

"That's the ship over there, one with the words Ambrosia Hand, on the hull. Take me there!" The butler commanded.

***

Yosef stood on the main deck of the Ambrosia Hand and patiently waited for when this ship could find a suitable spot to anchor in the port of Jaffa.

Unfortunately, the port area was swamped with many vessels both small and large from the region and beyond.

Looking at the flags, he could spot the Vatican flag, French flag, Spanish, Portuguese, and many other obscure flags he was not familiar with. It looked like it was going to be a busy day at the port and it will take them a while to disembark at the dock.

The sun was scorching hot, he saw no need of standing exposed on the main deck so he communicated to Chief mate Musa.

"Am heading inside to seek shelter from this terrible sun, have someone watch over my chest please."

"No problem Sir Knight, I will personally see to it, that no one touches your luggage," Chief mate Musa assured him.

With the safety of his luggage assured, Yosef walked a few meters to the forecastle to seek shelter from the sun in a cool environment. The door to the forecastle was already open, he walked inside and climbed in the nearest hammock he came across.

Resting inside the hammock, he felt the slight swinging motion of the ship as it was hit by small-sized waves in the port. It put him at ease. He wondered what it could have felt like had he spent the entirety of his voyage sleeping in the hammock.

Probably he could be seasick, he could only imagine how the person in a hammock could be tossed when the ship was in a terrible storm like the previous one.

Yosef decided to close his eyes and get some little sleep before the captain gave him the go-ahead to disembark. Looking at how crowded the port was, it was going to take a while.

Before he could close his eyes properly, he was awoken by the noise of heavy footsteps running over the wooden floorboards, making them creak with each step they took.

Inwardly he cursed for the disturbance and opened his eyes to see what the commotion was.

Standing next to his hammock was the sailor Dollo of Romania with a smartly dressed gentleman in a black pressed butler suit.

He looked a mature man with grey hair, which was well oiled and parted in the middle as was the fashion in certain European courts. A slight scent from the fragrance of the oil used in the hair reached Yosef' sharp nose; it had a hint of coconut oil with some foreign substance he was not familiar with.

This prompted him to observe the gentleman properly.

His face was a mature one, probably in his sixties or early seventies but with an energetic build, most likely he was a warrior who retired to serving his master or master's child. The forehead was narrow and arched with a small set of blue eyes, almost squinting depicting an individual of extreme focus or concentration.

The nose was small and slightly hooked downwards, topped up with small lips and a pointy chin devoid of beards. The skin was appearing reddish from being sunburnt, sweat flowing on the temples as he slightly panted from trying to keep up with the brisk pace Dollo had used to bring him into the room.

Yosef decided to speak up first and know what had prompted them to disturb his tranquility. "Dollo, what is the rush?"

"Sir Knight, the Captain asked me to bring this gentleman to you, it is urgent," Dollo said while looking at his feet and not daring to look Yosef in the eyes.

"Thank you Dollo!" Yosef replied to Dollo.

"Hello mister, am Knight Yosef Gideon from Cyprus, who do I have the pleasure of addressing?" He asked the gentleman.

"Your humble servant here goes by the name of Philipe Richard, retired Templar warrior and butler to Master of County, Balian of Ibelin." The butler Philipe introduced himself while slightly bowing.

Yosef had not come into contact with many aristocratic servants, but he was sure this old man Philipe was one of them. "Nice to meet Philipe Richard, how can I be of help to you?"

"I was tasked by Master Balian to deliver this letter to you and also transport you and your luggage to his residence," Philip said while withdrawing a letter from his suit's breast pocket and courteously presenting it to Yosef.

"Thank you." Yosef appreciated his delivery of the letter.

Holding the letter. It was in a light brown envelope that was stamped and wax sealed. Looking at the seal, it depicts a man riding a horse with the name of Balian etched on it, definitely, it was legitimate as few people were brave or foolish enough to impersonate a servant of a Master of County or less forge his official stamp.

"Well, let me see what Count Balian has to say," Yosef said as he broke the wax seal on the letter.