the-secret-crusade-oliver-bowden

3
‘His Majesty Salah Al’din has received your message, and thanks you
most graciously for it,’ called the envoy. ‘He has business elsewhere and
has left, with instructions for His Excellency Shihab Al’din to enter into
talks.’
The envoy stood by Shihab’s stallion, cupping a hand to his mouth to
call up to the Master and his generals, who were assembled in the
defensive tower.
A small force had climbed the hill, two hundred men or so and a litter
set down by Nubians, no more than a bodyguard for Shihab, who
remained on horseback. On his face was a serene expression, as though
he were not unduly concerned about the outcome of the talks. He wore
wide white trousers, vest and red twisted sash. Inset into his large,
blinding-white turban was a glittering jewel. That jewel would have an
illustrious name, thought Al Mualim, gazing down upon him from the
top of the tower. It would be called the Star of something or the Rose of
something. The Saracens were so fond of naming their baubles.
‘Do begin,’ called Al Mualim, thinking, Business elsewhere, with a
smile, his mind going back just a few hours to when an Assassin had
come to his chambers, raising him from slumber and calling him to the
throne room.
‘Umar, welcome,’ Al Mualim had said, wrapping his robes around