Chapter 39: The Lion’s Path
The August wind moved restlessly across the highlands of Galilee, lifting dust from the limestone ridges and rustling the olive groves that dotted the hills. The sun burned low in the western sky, gilding the land in fire-colored light, while the heat of the day clung to the stones beneath Ethan's feet.
He stood on a stony rise northeast of Acre, overlooking a distant bend in the Jordan River. To any other man, it was just a scrubby, uneven stretch of land divided by the winding thread of water and guarded by narrow hills. But to Ethan—now King Baldwin IV—it was a hinge upon which the fate of his kingdom might turn.
Jacob's Ford.
"I don't like the look of those slopes," muttered Balian, shading his eyes. "They'd give an enemy a fine perch to rain fire down on us. But if we take them first..."
He trailed off. He didn't need to say it aloud.
Ethan nodded slowly. "It's a bottleneck. A necessary crossing for any army pushing westward from Damascus. There are other ways through the region, but none so reliable year-round. If we hold this place, we can stall any advance—or draw it toward us."
To his right stood Odo of St Amand, Grand Master of the Templars. The man had a soldier's bearing, his arms folded across his chest beneath the stark white cloak marked with the red cross of his Order. His face was granite, unreadable, his expression sharpened by a blend of suspicion and tactical interest.
"A bold claim," Odo said at last. "Fortifying that ford would invite war. It is too close to Saladin's heartland. Too provocative."
"That's precisely why we must do it," Ethan replied. "Every time we let him dictate the battlefield, we lose ground—or time. But here, we can choose both."
Odo's brow furrowed. "You would bait him? With a castle?"
"I would offer him a prize so tempting he cannot refuse it. But one that will cost him dearly."
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