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He's all and he is more.	By : DarklingWillow Category: M through R > The Old Guard Views: 776 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Old Guard movie (or comics), and I do not make any profit from this writing.

Chapter List
- 9
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- 11
Chapter 9.

            It took them another four days to get to the shore of the sea, and there Yusuf finally dared to make a decent camp for them, although he insisted that they keep watch during the night. The following day they met some fishermen who told them of an oasis with fresh water just a little way inland. Yusuf made a deal with the fishermen to bring them more fresh water, if they were willing to let Nicolò and Yusuf have a few fish from their catch.
            At the oasis they watered their horses, and Yusuf stripped out of his tunic to wash himself with fresh water and a cloth. Nicolò did the same after a bit of urging from Yusuf. When the sun began to sink towards the Western horizon they returned to the shore and met with the fishermen again, who traded them two fat fish for the water from their extra waterskin, and then left them for the night.
            The elder of the fishermen did pull Yusuf aside to have a hushed conversation with him, and Yusuf assured the man that he and Nicolò would be fine there for the night. They put their tent up and Yusuf started a fire to cook the fish over.

            They had nearly finished their meal when Yusuf looked up and said,
            “The old man said that we would be safer at their village. Maybe it’s not a bad idea to go there and see if we can trade some of the things we have, and possibly get rid of the horses. The saddles and the horses are too conspicuous. If we’re lucky, we might be able to sell them for a camel.”
            Nicolò nodded his head and put his empty bowl down.
            “Do you think we’ll be safer at the village? That they won’t sell us into the hands of the Saracen army when they realize that I’m a Frank?” Nicolò asked and Yusuf sucked his teeth.
            “That’s what I worried about, but the old man said that the army has gone North. And he said that sometimes they get traders coming through their village. We could see if the traders will take us on for security. Might get us to where we want to go,” Yusuf answered and shrugged his shoulders, not looking up at Nicolò.
            “And where do we want to go?” Nicolò asked, leaning forwards to look Yusuf in the face.
            “I don’t know,” Yusuf admitted, and felt his heart thudding in his chest. “I thought we could go West, away from the fighting and the war. Head home. But I don’t know if that is a good idea now. What if we run into either army? I would be executed as a deserter by my own people, and you would be executed as an enemy. And I can’t take you home to my wife. It’s better she thinks I died in the war.”
            “What’s East of here?” Nicolò asked and nodded his head inland.
            “The Lands below the Winds,” Yusuf answered and looked up to watch the growing darkness coming out of the East. “The spice traders, the silk traders, the tea traders all go there, and bring back the most exotic things. I don’t think anyone would care who we are there.”
            “Then shouldn’t we go that way?” Nicolò asked and smiled a sad smile at Yusuf. “I can’t take you home to Genova either. I’m a priest in my homeland and would be expected to take up my orders again when I return. And I can’t take you back to the Frank encampments, because you would be executed as an enemy, and I would probably be executed as well for travelling with you. And you’re right. It is better that my family believe I have died in the war. My father would never allow me to bring such shame on the family, and live.”
            Yusuf looked up with alarm and dropped his bowl to the ground as he exclaimed,
            “Your father would kill you for going home?”
            Nicolò gave a small laugh and shook his head as he answered,
            “No, not for going home. But he would not want me to come home before Jerusalem is won, and the war over. So, if I did go home, before the war is over, and bring back an Arab, he would surely kill me.”
            “Because your father sent you here to fight a war in his name,” Yusuf said, even more confused, and Nicolò blinked at him in confusion.
            “What do you mean?” he asked, and Yusuf frowned.
            “You said that you came here to fight a war in your father’s name. That you set aside your holy orders because you wanted to be a warrior and fight in your father’s name,” Yusuf tried to clarify, and he saw the meaning of his words dawn on Nicolò’s face. The Genovese started to laugh and waved his hand in front of him in a dismissive gesture.
            “Oh, no, no, not my father. That’s how we refer to God. He is Our Father, the Holy Father, Father of all of mankind. That’s in whose name we fight the war. But my father, the man whose son I am, is Caio di Genova. He has nothing to do with me coming here to fight the war,” Nicolò explained, and Yusuf frowned and shook his head.
            “That sounds complicated,” he muttered, and tilted his head a little to the side. “We never speak of Allah that way. That’s too familiar.”

            Nicolò did not respond. Instead, he rose and took their bowls and carried them down to the water’s edge and rinsed them. When he returned, he went to their tent and brought back his blanket, wrapped it around himself and sat down next to Yusuf.
            “You should go sleep,” Yusuf said and pointed at the tent. “I have the first watch.”
            “That’s what I’m going to do,” Nicolò answered and curled up next to Yusuf, and then lay down with his head on Yusuf’s thigh. “I’m going to sleep right here.”

            Yusuf did not object.
They had not put the tent up since they had escaped from that small port town, but instead they had taken turns sleeping on the ground with nothing but a blanket around themselves, while the other sat watch. Although this was the first time Nicolò had laid his head on Yusuf’s thigh. Yusuf smiled a little and looked down at the Genovese.
            It felt comforting, the weight of his head on Yusuf’s thigh. And the peace on his face as he fell asleep made Yusuf’s heart calm.
            Yusuf could not deny that he was most certainly falling in love with this man. He no longer cared about their opposing faiths, or their differing cultures. He no longer thought of him as a dirty animal, or a stinky Frank. He had become just Nicolò.
His Nicolò.
            Yusuf lifted his hand and gently stroked the long caramel coloured hair from Nicolò’s face and smiled.
            “Sleep well,” he whispered and Nicolò nodded against his thigh.

            Nicolò had only been asleep for a short while when a camel appeared on the dune above them, and the old fisherman came walking down to their little camp.
            Yusuf did not stand, but his hand wrapped around the hilt of his dagger, just to be safe.
            “Peace be upon you,” the old man said in Arabic and put his hand on his chest as he bowed his head.
            “And peace be upon you,” Yusuf answered, placing his hand over his heart, and nodding a bow back. “I apologize for not standing, he is asleep,” Yusuf added and pointed at Nicolò.
            “I can see that,” the old man said and pointed at the fire, and when Yusuf nodded his head, the old man sat down across from him. “He is dear to you?”
            Yusuf swallowed thickly and glanced down at Nicolò before he looked up into the old man’s eyes and studied the old man intently. Then he dared to nod his head.
            “We…” he tried, then tilted his head to the side as he thought for a moment, then tried again. “We owe each other a life debt. It’s difficult to explain. We cannot go back to the war. Our lives are forfeit there. On both sides.”
            The old man nodded and hummed softly under his breath but said nothing. He just looked steadily at Yusuf, until Yusuf found himself compelled to continue.
            “Yes, he is dear to me. And I think I am dear to him as well. At least he has not tried to abandon me, yet.”
            “And your wife?” the old man asked, and Yusuf felt a cold chill run down his back.
            “It is better that she thinks I died in the war,” Yusuf answered, expecting to feel ashamed of himself, but instead he felt calm and more assured in his feelings for Nicolò.
            The old man nodded his head and looked down at Nicolò for a few moments. Then he looked back up at Yusuf and smiled a little.
            “I have been sent to collect you. My wife gave me an earful for leaving you two out here by yourselves. We have food at the village, and rugs for you to sleep on. We can shelter you for a few days, and then when the traders come through, we can see if we cannot persuade them to take you on. It would be safest for you both, I think, to go with the traders,” he said and rose stiffly to his feet.
            Yusuf stared up at the man for a long moment, but when he smiled again, Yusuf bent down and whispered to his companion,
            “Nicolò, wake up. Nicolò, wake up, we have to go.”
            Nicolò woke, and blinked his eyes at the old man, but when Yusuf explained quickly, he got up and went over to the tent to take it down again.

            It only took them a short time to pack their things, douse the fire and pull the horses up onto the road again. Then they followed the old man on his camel to a small village a short distance from the shore.
            When they arrived the elders of the village were gathered around the small square, and a few women could be seen peeking out of the doors of their claywalled houses. The old man got off his camel and spoke quickly with the elders, but Yusuf could tell that this man was their leader. What he said was followed without question.
            A couple of younger men joined the group and when the old man pointed at Yusuf and Nicolò the younger men came over and took their horses. The old man on the other hand waved them to follow him and led them to the largest house in the middle of the village. There an older woman greeted them at the door and invited them inside.
            Two younger women were busy laying out food for them, and in another room, they could hear children whispering excitedly, and little brown faces peeked out from behind the curtain.

            “Pay them no mind,” the old man said as he sat down and pointed Nicolò and Yusuf to enjoy the meal set before them. “They are curious little creatures.”
            “Your children?” Yusuf asked, after he had thanked for the meal and told Nicolò what to say and how to eat the food.
            “Grand children,” the old man said with a bright smile. “Their fathers have gone to fight in the war, so I took my daughters in law in, along with the children. I have always been satisfied with only one wife. That’s all I needed.” The old man gave the old woman a bright smile, and Yusuf could hear the children in the other room giggling brightly.
            “They should be sleeping, the silly things,” the woman said, and Yusuf laughed softly.
            “When grandfather brings home strangers he found on the seashore, things like sleep are easily forgotten,” he said to the old man, who laughed even brighter.
            The three women made their way into the other room to gather the children and settle them down for the night.

            “Why have you come to help us, grandfather?” Yusuf asked, taking a chance at using the familiar address, hoping that it would infer the degree of respect he felt for the man, and be a show of trust on his behalf as well.
            The old man smiled and bowed his head a little.
            “I came to help you because I was sent,” he answered cryptically, then waved his hands at the food. “Please, eat, eat, so you can sleep with full stomachs. I am sure that you have both eaten little on your journey.”
            Yusuf agreed that they had indeed had little food and been forced to ration it very carefully. Yusuf told Nicolò to enjoy the food, and then filled Nicolò in as well as he could in Latin, on what the old man had said so far.
            Once the meal was over, the women returned to clear the dishes, and the youngest brought them tea to drink. Yusuf could still see the oldest two of the children laying on the floor of the other room, peeking under the curtain that covered the doorway. If the women noticed they did not try to correct the children.

            They settled down to enjoy their tea, and the old man lit himself a pipe, then settled back on a cushion against the wall. He looked Yusuf and Nicolò over for a moment, and then nodded his head.
            “I was sent to help you, as I said,” he started, and smiled a little when Yusuf turned to Nicolò and translated into Latin for him. “There is a woman here in the village, who is touched by the angels. She sees things and knows things. She sent me to get you, because she saw that you were not safe on the road. She said that we should shelter you here at the village until the traders come through, and then help you negotiate with the traders. She said that you two are blessed and need to be protected. That you have been touched.”

            Nicolò looked at Yusuf and asked him to explain what that meant.
            Yusuf frowned a little as he tried to find the right words to explain the old man’s words.
            “To be touched by the angels means that you have powers. That you are not like normal people. Some say that people who are touched can have visions. That they can know the plans of the gods,” Yusuf explained, then turned to the old man again. “But that is heresy. That’s remnants of the old ways, of the people of the ancient times. That’s not what Allah teaches us.”
            “And we would not be here still, if it was not for the knowledge of the old ways,” the old man said with a cryptic smile and rose to his feet. “Come, I will take you to her. You will see.”

            They got up and followed the man out of the house, across the square and down another small street, until they came to a small house. A middle-aged man sat on a chair outside the house, smoking a pipe, and inside Yusuf could hear women singing.
            The old man and the man at the door exchanged a few words in their vernacular, and then the middle-aged man stood and entered the house to speak with the women. A moment later he returned and held open the thick rug that covered the doorway.
            The old man pointed Nicolò and Yusuf to a bucket with water next to the door and together they all took off their shoes and washed their hands and their faces, and their feet, before they entered the small house.

            The room they entered was small but empty of furnishings. The floor was lain with rugs from wall to wall, and in the middle of the room there was a low, round table, filled with incense and an oil lamp. And by the far wall, there sat a woman of uncertain age, her eyes distant, and her face had a dreamy look on it. She had a headscarf over her head, but her hair was visible beneath it as it flowed down her back to the floor.
            The old man pointed Nicolò and Yusuf to kneel across from the woman by the table. He held out a small offering dish to them, and Yusuf quickly pulled a piece of silver from his pouch and placed it on the dish. The old man bowed his head, then turned to the woman and bowed his head again before placing the small dish on the table in front of her.
            An older woman stepped through a curtained doorway to the side and approached the younger woman, speaking to her softly. She helped the younger woman to her knees, and then the younger woman reached out and waved her hands at Nicolò and Yusuf to come closer.

            Yusuf took Nicolò’s hand as they crawled closer on their knees, his heart hammering in his throat.
            He was against black magic as the Quran taught him, but at the same time, his mother had taught him about reading the cards, and she had taken all her children to the astrologer to have their stars read when they had come of age. It had always been a subject raised in very quiet tones when Yusuf’s father was not home, how the astrologer had commented on there not seeming to be any end to Yusuf’s lifeline. Yusuf’s father had not approved of his wife’s belief in the supernatural, but she had still managed to instil a certain awe of the hidden world in her children.
And now Yusuf was sitting here, a part of that hidden world, was he not, a person who could not die?

            Once they were kneeling by the edge of the younger woman’s rug, they both settled back on their heels and the younger woman came closer.
            Yusuf could not tell how old she was, because she looked as if she was hardly of age, and yet she looked like she could be old enough to be his mother. She was most certainly touched by the angels. And then Yusuf realized she was blind. Completely blind, her eyes nothing more than pretty dark brown marbles in her face.

            She reached out and touched Nicolò first. She took his hands in hers and ran her palms over his palms, then reached up to touch his face, tracing his jaws, his cheekbones, his nose, his eyes, and his lips with her fingertips. She spoke in hushed tones to the older woman, but Yusuf could not understand their vernacular.
            Then the sage woman turned to him and repeated her actions, touching his hands, and then his face, and spoke to the older woman in her hushed voice. Once she let go of Yusuf the older woman helped her sit back down against the wall, and they conversed for a few moments.
            Yusuf and Nicolò made their way back to sit next to the old fisherman and waited.
            The older woman came to the old man and spoke to him at some length, then he nodded and turned to Nicolò and Yusuf.

            “She says that you are both destined for great things. You will not see it so easily yourselves, and often you will wonder whether what you are doing is right. But a day will come when it will all be revealed to you, and your hope will be rekindled. For now, she says, you should head East. There, in a distant land of mountains, you will find who you are searching for. And, she also says, do not fight the way you feel for each other. Destiny is a path only revealed to us as we follow it, but yours go together,” the old man said and Yusuf bowed his head deeply to him, then turned to the younger woman and bowed again.

            “Thank you, I will heed your words,” he said and bowed to the floor. Then he turned to Nicolò and translated the old man’s words to him. Nicolò looked confused, but Yusuf told him to thank the younger woman and the old man, and then asked Nicolò to trust him.
            Nicolò thanked them both in his Latin and bowed deeply. Then the old man pointed them to the doorway, and they left the small house. They walked in silence to the old man’s house, and there he showed them to a small room to the side of the main room, where their sleep rolls had been placed on the floor, with extra pillows and blankets. Yusuf thanked the old man again, and when the old man let the curtain fall closed behind him Yusuf started to strip out of his trousers.

            “Is it safe?” Nicolò asked, his hands tugging up his tunic and fiddling with the waistband of his trousers.
            “We are safe here,” Yusuf assured him as he folded his trousers and lay them on their packs before he got under his blankets. “These people will not betray us. Not after what they just showed us.”
            Nicolò nodded his head and took off his trousers as well, then crawled under his blanket. They lay in silence for a long while, then Yusuf turned onto his side to face Nicolò and moved under Nicolò’s blanket.
            “I don’t want to hide how I feel about you,” he whispered, and Nicolò nodded in the darkness.
            “I don’t either,” Nicolò answered, and rolled onto his side, pressed his back against Yusuf’s chest and reached behind himself to find Yusuf’s arm.
            Yusuf breathed deeply of the caramel coloured hair as it tickled his nose, then settled in with his arm tight around Nicolò’s chest, and his forehead pressed against the back of Nicolò’s neck.
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He's all and he is more.