Fate | Baldwin IV

Acre

On Tuesday, after spending the first night of our journey out in the open where we had set up the camp and convincing the king that I was well enough to continue in the morning, we arrived in the city of Acre by midday. Much like Tyre, it was a place of vibrant contrasts with its unique blend of East and West. Scents of saltwater, exotic spices and citrus hung heavily in the air, one could barely escape it in the marketplace. Ships bobbed in the harbor, their sails furled, while stevedores and merchants hurriedly went on with their duties along the docks, shouting orders in a medley of languages. Arabic phrases rolled off the tongues of men in Frankish garb, conversing fluently with their Muslim counterparts. If I were blindfolded, I would've thought all were Arabs.

And then there were the pilgrims, garbed in simple robes, their faces sunken with exhaustion after traveling for weeks perhaps, finally stumbling off the ships while local guides shepherded them toward shelter. There in the harbor, they mixed with the traders from the East with dark eyes and tan skin; and men-at-arms whose wary gazes swept the crowd. Above the clamor, it was all one big hub of culture.

As our caravan passed through the main thoroughfare, eyes turned toward us. Some stared openly, their expressions filled with awe or curiosity at the sight of the royal banner fluttering in the breeze. A few children darted between the adults, wide-eyed and barefoot, whispering among themselves as they followed in the caravan's wake.

Two Hospitaller knights among the crowd caught my eyes, their black cloaks adorned with the white cross of the Order, as they moved quietly through the crowd. They paused and locked eyes with the king for a moment. Then they bowed their heads quietly before disappearing just as swiftly into the sea of people.

From my seat within the litter, I felt both humbled and overwhelmed by the stares. These people, I thought, saw us not as fellow humans but as higher beings, a symbol of authority. I was still yet to get used to that.

As we neared the central square, a cluster of small children gathered around the caravan. Their faces were streaked with dust, their clothes patched and worn, yet their eyes shone with excitement. To my surprise, Baldwin slowed his horse and reached into the pouch at his side. With an almost casual air, he tossed a handful of coins to the children one by one, the silver glinting in the sunlight as it scattered across the ground.

The children erupted into cheers, scrambling to collect the coins with hands outstretched. I glanced up at Baldwin, startled by the unexpected gesture. Meanwhile his expression remained calm, almost indifferent. He caught my gaze and raised a brow as if to say, Did you think me incapable of such things?

I smiled despite the veil covering half of my face. I knew he could tell anyway.

"You surprise me," I murmured, almost to myself.

"I like to do that," he replied lightly before urging his horse forward once more. I watched him ride ahead, still smiling.

By late afternoon, we reached a fortified building situated near the city's north wall. Its towering stone structure dominated the area, which was much taller and imposing than any other building in the city. I didn't know what it was for or to whom it belonged, or why we were even stopping there for that matter.

The courtyard inside stretched wide, bordered on all sides by sturdy columns. Trees on both sides decorated the entrance, welcoming us to this wealthy residence. To the north, a well stood surrounded by shallow pools that shimmered under the fading sunlight, and to the south was another well and a deeper pool. A beautiful scene it was, but it left me even more curious...who was the lord of Acre?

Then, after we entered the courtyard, the sounds of footsteps echoed across the stone. A group of Hospitallers appeared from one of the arcades, their cloaks swaying as they approached. Among them, I recognized the two knights from earlier, who now stood at the back. They bowed in greeting before forming a line with their hands clasped before them, ready to take orders. Then, a figure of an old man appeared behind them and walked past the line of knights in black, his posture commanding. He was a tall man with a presence that immediately drew attention. His balding head bore a crown of white hair, and a long, silver-streaked beard framed his face. He wore a simple black habit adorned only with the white cross of the fellow Hospitallers. How strange, I thought, perhaps the man of the house was ill.