Chapter 41: The Unseen Line of Battle
October 1178 — Jacob's Ford, Kingdom of Jerusalem
The air on the high ridge overlooking the Jordan River was growing cooler. Autumn came differently here than in the hills of Jerusalem—sharper in the evening, tinged with cedar sap and the rising musk of the river valley. Far below, where dust plumes once marked caravans and goats, a stone citadel now clawed its way out of the earth.
Ethan—King Baldwin IV—stood with one hand on the weathered limestone ledge of a half-finished wall, the other clenched over the hilt of a ceremonial sword. He wore his silver mask as always now, not just for ceremony but for necessity. Beneath it, the lines of leprosy had slowed but not vanished. The itching and pain came less often thanks to Gerard's treatments and what he called a "blessed sign." But Ethan knew better—it was mold, not miracles, working beneath the skin.
Behind him, the rhythmic clank and thud of pulley lifts echoed against the half-built towers.
"Another load up!" came the shout from below.
A lattice of scaffolding, hoists, and track rails ran up the fortress's inner wall. Suspended on thick ropes and driven by an ingenious counterweight system—designed after Ethan sketched out basic principles of modern pulleys—a massive block of quarried stone rose like a ship's anchor into the sky.
Odo of St. Amand stood beside him, arms folded across his chest, his white Templar mantle stained with dust. He watched the machinery with thin-lipped approval.
"This," Odo said, "would have taken twice the labor and thrice the time."
Ethan nodded. "And we still have five years to go. Maybe four, if we can keep the pulley cranes functioning through winter."
Odo squinted toward the rising inner tower. "Five years. Saladin won't wait five years."
"No," Ethan agreed. "But he won't know that we don't need five years."
The Fortress and the River