A dawn of Paradise

 “You have taken it very well that I have killed your master.” Balian stated with his sword dug into the sand by the other man's head.

“I am in no place to deny my master paradise. And he underestimated you, it was fair.”

“Yes, I suppose that's a good way to see things.” The Frenchman hesitated a moment. “What do you expect right now?”

“I...that you'll either finish what Mummad al-Fais started or take me with you someplace.”

“Take me to Jerusalem.” The other man stood up, brushed himself off and bowed his head.

As the Saracen walked to the horse his master had rode in on, he held out a hand to the steed and it licked his palm. “Very well.” He said, without looking at Balian.

“One thing first.” Balian insisted. “What is your name?”

“My name is Imad.” Was the simple reply.

The pair rode off toward Jerusalem without another word.

Although they had rode at an easy pace, almost neck and neck while on the road to the Holy City, Balian pulled his horse just barely ahead of the other as they approached the city itself. They entered the city without hesitation or argument. Imad pulled a cloak or a veil over his face almost as soon as they were within the walls. Several streets into the city they came to a bazaar, a market for spices and root vegetables, as well as pottery or glassware. Balian did not stop until he came to a water trough. They dismounted to splash their faces and water their steeds.

'You asked its permission.” Balian stated firmly. Imad looked up, clearly startled. “I AM Godfrey's son, the Baron of Ibelin. But in France I was a blacksmith, I know horses. You held out your hand to see if his steed would accept you, without trying to buy that acceptance with a carrot or anything.”

“True, but I think I should give them something now.” Balian nodded his affirmation. Within a minute Imad had pulled a couple of broken carrot pieces from his satchel and handed one to each horse.

“I was not raised with...Godfrey was a stranger to me until a short time ago.” Balian said, speaking very softly, but plainly. “You should go; be about your business, be with those you care for.”

“Forgive me but are you jesting with me?” Imad whispered.

“No, why would I...I do not understand.”

“Sir, I cannot leave you. God has brought us together where by anything I know, we would not have met. I will not turn away from the path he has so clearly placed beneath my feet. I do not know what to expect from you, but I am not permitted to leave your side. I will not leave until I have paid my debt.”

“You speak as if I had saved your life.”

“Sir, please...I promise I will explain...if I ever learn to understand myself. I honestly feel I will live a life truly worth living, more worth my time if that's possible...if I go with you. And I will NOT dishonor my family by leaving you here.”

“Imad, I am on my way to Gethsemane. I do not think they would welcome you.”

“I can wait just outside the mound itself, with the reins of the horses wrapped around my wrists.”

“I'm not going to dissuade you from this, am I?” Imad shook his head slowly. “Alright. But my name is Balian, please don't call me anything else.”

“Very well...Balian.”

EDITORS NOTES: Imad and Balian are the same people as they are shown or represented in any other story I have writen based on Kingdom of Heaven. But there is not the same understanding between them. Content inspired by stories I wrote in the style of a my favorite vinette; Miri's Final Honor. The story itself was created and developed from conversations in my mind's eye with Drinian or Imad. Balian thinks Imad's brief name is a reflection of how little he is regarded by his people. Which seems to be supported by his timidity and soft speech. The revelation that the man simply dropped the suffix that would raise him so high...will be worth the wait this time.