the-secret-crusade-oliver-bowden

robes, adjusted his cowl, waited until the scholars were passing and
slipped in among them. As he did so, he felt a hand tugging at his sleeve
and looked down to see a grubby child staring at him with quizzical
eyes. He snarled and, terrified, the boy darted away.
Just in time: they had reached the gates, where the guards parted to
allow the scholars through, and Altaïr came upon the square.
There were rough stone walls on all sides. Along the far end was a
raised platform and on it a series of stakes. Empty, for now, but not for
much longer. Jerusalem’s regent, Majd Addin was walking out on to the
stage. At his appearance there was a surge, and a shout went up from the
entrance as the guards lost control and citizens came pouring in. Altaïr
was carried forward on the wave, now much closer to the rostrum and to
the feared Majd Addin, who was already stalking the stage, waiting for
the square to fill. He wore a white turban and a long, ornately
embroidered gown. He moved as though he was angry. As though his
temper was just moments from escaping his body.
It was.
‘Silence! I demand silence,’ he roared.
With the show about to start, there was a final surge and Altair was
carried forward once more. He saw guards stationed by the steps on
either side of the platform, two at each end. In front of the platform he
saw more, to prevent the crowd scrambling on to the scaffold. Craning
his neck, he spotted others around the periphery of the square. At least
the latter would find it difficult to move through the crowd, but that still
gave just seconds for the kill and to fend off the nearest guards – the four
at either end of the platform at the very least. Maybe those standing
guard on the ground as well.