Chapter 43: Setting the Trap
Early November, 1178 – The Hills Above Jacob's Ford
The wind was dry and cool that morning, carrying the dust and scent of river reeds across the hills overlooking Jacob's Ford. Beneath a makeshift tent set high above the still-unfinished fortress, King Baldwin IV—known among his men as "the Masked King"—stood staring across the eastern ridges.
Ethan squinted behind his silver mask. His right eye was weeping again, a slow irritation from the leprosy's damage, but he ignored it.
Saladin was on the move.
He could feel it—no longer just a possibility, but a storm forming on the horizon. His scouts had reported unusual caravan movements out of Damascus. Not massive army banners or fanfare. Just too many pack animals for standard merchant trains. Too many riders with scars and sharp eyes pretending to be traders.
They were trying to hide it. That meant they were coming—and fast.
"Your Majesty," Balian said, pulling up his horse alongside him. "Reports from the Safed riders confirm the eastern hill passes show churned earth—fresh hoofprints and broken scrub along the trade route. He's coming. Not in force... but fast."
Ethan nodded slowly. "He wants speed over weight. Which means he's gambling on surprise."
Odo of Saint Amand, Grand Master of the Templars, joined them. "How long?"
"Five, maybe six days," Ethan replied. "He's betting that we can't respond in time. That Jacob's Ford is still a vulnerable scar."
He looked back toward the fortress. Scaffolds rose against the sky, surrounded by partially finished curtain walls and squat towers. The main keep's base was complete, but it would be years before the entire structure reached its final height.
That didn't matter.