Philippe shouted out a command, and in a blur one of the men kicked dirt over the fire, dousing the flame. He let out a bloodcurdling scream and charged into the brush in the direction the arrow had come from. The other three men melted into the forest.
“Wait!” I shouted. “Robard, don’t shoot! These are friends!”
Robard didn’t answer, and when I turned to explain to Celia what was happening, I was startled by the sight of Maryam holding Celia firmly from behind with one golden dagger at her neck.
Oh no.
“Maryam, wait! Stop. Everyone stop.”
Celia was not moving but cursing rapidly. Maryam ordered her to drop her sword. Celia shouted something back and reluctantly complied.
“Maryam, let her go! For God’s sake, she’s a friend. These people have not harmed me!”
Maryam looked confused, but did not release her grip on Celia. I heard Robard shout, “Tristan, run! I have you covered!”
“No! Robard, stop! Please put down your bow! And watch out! You have a very large, angry Frenchman headed your way.”
“What?” he shouted back.
“Just don’t shoot anyone. I’ll explain everything. Come into the camp!”
Maryam still held Celia, but in the seconds I’d been preoccupied, Martine had advanced toward her, sword at the ready.
“Martine, s’il vous plait. Arrete! ” She ignored me, swinging her sword up. Maryam crouched slightly, then shoved Celia away. She stumbled the few feet between us before falling into my arms.
“No!” I shouted. Martine’s sword flashed down, but the Assassin was ready. She crossed both golden daggers over her head, catching the blade of Martine’s weapon between them. With blinding speed, she twisted them to the side and the sword was ripped loose.
Pushing Celia back to her feet, I ran between them, holding up my hands against the now advancing Maryam.
“Maryam, stop. It’s all right!”
“Tristan! You are alive! Praise Allah! Robard and I are here to rescue you!” she shouted.
“Maryam, I don’t need rescuing! These people are helping me. They found me washed up on the beach. Please! Stop this! Before someone gets hurt or killed. Put your weapons away.”
Maryam’s eyes darted between me, Celia and Martine. She crouched, tense like a coiled spring, and I was torn between enormous joy at finding her alive and extreme worry that something horrible was going to happen. Robard was also in grave danger. There were four Frenchmen in the woods who didn’t know these attackers were not enemies.
“Celia, these are my companions from the boat. They made a mistake and mean you no harm. They incorrectly believed me to be a prisoner. Please! Tell your men to stand down!”
Celia looked from me to Maryam and was still angry at being held at knifepoint.
“If one of my men is injured by your bowman, I will hold you responsible, Templar!” she said. But she shouted out to the men, and the woods went quiet again. After what felt like an eternity the three men returned to the clearing. All but Philippe.
“Robard, if you can hear me, you need to put away your bow! These people found me washed up on the shore this morning. They’ve been helping me. Please! Come into the clearing so we can all discuss this!”
No sound came from the woods. Then from the underbrush, there came a yelp and the sounds of a scuffle. Next, a shouted curse in English, followed by one in French.
The men in the camp were still ready to fight at any second, holding their swords unsheathed.
“Celia, please tell Philippe to stop,” I begged.
“Sorry, Templar,” she replied. “When Philippe is in a rage, there is little I or anyone can do to control him.”
Philippe and Robard emerged from a thicket thirty yards beyond the camp. They were grappling with each other, but I could tell they were both tiring. Robard had his hands around Philippe’s throat, but the big Frenchman clubbed his arms away. He threw a wild punch, but Robard ducked it easily, jumping on Philippe’s back when his momentum carried him around. Philippe tried to flip him off and finally caught Robard by the hair, tossing him forward through the air.
Robard landed hard on his back and lay stunned on the ground. Philippe pulled a small dagger from his belt.
Celia and I both shouted, but Philippe behaved as if he did not hear us. Robard had rolled to his hands and knees, but his back was to the Frenchman. Maryam started toward Robard’s side, shouting, but two of Celia’s men moved threateningly toward her and I put out my arm to stop her, not wanting this to get any worse than it already was.
Philippe was only a few feet from Robard when a golden streak whirled past me, headed directly toward the Frenchman, barking furiously. It was the dog.
Unafraid of Philippe’s great size, she ran full speed at him and leapt into the air, clamping down on his wrist with her jaws.
He shook his wrist, howling in pain, but she would not let go. He dropped the dagger and danced around the clearing shrieking, but could not free his arm. Robard finally rose and shouted a command, and she instantly released her grip. She didn’t retreat though, backing up a few steps and going low to the ground, growling, muscles coiled and teeth bared. The fight had finally gone out of both Robard and Philippe, who stood eyeing each other.
Seizing the moment, I moved between them, holding out my arms.
“Both of you, stop! Enough! There are no enemies here. Robard, I am very glad you are alive, but this has been a mistake. I am not a prisoner.”
Robard was still confused and dazed by his fight with Philippe. He was out of breath, but I wanted him to calm down. There was no need to make enemies when we were outnumbered and in a strange land.
Imagine my surprise, then, when I looked back to find Celia and her companions pointing at the mutt at my feet and laughing hysterically.