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Yusuf had been traveling with the frank for weeks now and they had reached a sort of truce and, one could even say, a tentative friendship.
Nicolò was a walking contradiction. He had come to Yusuf’s country to kill his people and yet he took the time to help every traveler who needed their help on the road.
He sought to take the first watch so Yusuf could rest for his Fajr prayer, but he still shunned Yusuf’s touch and that was bothering Yusuf more than he could say.
The final straw came when they were making camp and Nicolò tripped. Yusuf instinctively reached out to keep him from falling and the damn crusader flinched so hard he threw himself on the ground.
Suddenly, all the moments when he tried to reach out to Nicolò only to have him shy away bubbled over and anger took hold of him “You think you are so much better than me, don’t you? That I am so far beneath you? What? You can’t bear the touch of the filthy infidel!”
“Yusuf, it’s not…” Nicolò tried to speak, but Yusuf’s anger was boiling.
“But you’re the one who is nothing but a murderer!” He yelled at Nicolò, who flinched back as if struck.
Yusuf was so lost in his anger that he failed to hear the bandits until they were upon them.
Six to two were still good odds, when the two of them were battle hardened warriors.
He made quick dispatch of two and was fighting a third when Nicolò pushed him aside taking the blow that was meant for him.
“That’s it! No one gets to kill him, but me!” He quickly dispatched the remaining two and focused on praying for Nicolò to come back.
He would never forgive himself if his last words were spoken in anger.
“Come on, Nicolò…” He begged the man, who suddenly gasped back to life.
His relief was overtaken by his confusion. “Why would you take a blow meant for me? I would have healed…”
“Because you are worth so much more than me…”
This man had to be the most impossible person he had ever met!
First he couldn’t bear his touch, then he took a death blow meant for him, and then he said something like that!
Trying to sort his thoughts he said “Come. We need to get out of here and there is a stream close by where we can get this blood off of you.”
As they rode to their new location, all Yusuf could think about were Nicolò’s words, saying he was worth more than him.
If that was the case, then why the aversion to his touch?
Sooner than he expected they were near the stream and found a new place to set up camp. “Go and wash. I’ll keep watch.”
He scanned the grounds as he heard Nicolò undressing and couldn’t help but turn to get a glimpse. He might not love the man, but one would have to be mad or blind to deny his beauty.
But what caught his attention were not the well-toned muscles or the length of pale skin, but the pattern of old whip marks across his back.
Some looked so old that they had to have been done to him as a young child.
Suddenly things started to make sense. The reason Nicolò claimed Yusuf’s worth, but still shied away from his touch.
Nicolò froze when he caught Yusuf looking, but Yusuf couldn’t keep himself from asking “Where did you get those?”
The silence went on for so long, as Nicolò finished dressing and started walking back to camp, that Yusuf thought he would not get an answer.
“It was punishment for my sins.”
“What sins could warrant such a punishment?” Yusuf asked as they made themselves comfortable.
Nicolò looked at him in a heartbroken way. “Please…I do not want you to leave me…”
“If I haven’t left you after you killed me countless times, what makes you think I would leave after you tell me? What could you have done that is worse than coming to my land to kill my people?”
“I’m afraid that is just the latest sin on a long list, my friend… I was born damned, Yusuf, and not even God wanted me. That is why he has not let me die in penance for my sins.”
“What do you mean?”
“They said that if we fought for the Holy Land, all our sins would be forgiven, but mine were too great. As such, God has denied me his forgiveness and embrace.”
“Nicolò…”
“I am a murderer, Yusuf.” Nicolò said, wrapping his arms around his legs “I killed my own mother coming into this world and my father never forgave me for it. He used to hit me… Used to say I should have never been born and that I would burn in hell for taking my mother’s life.”
“Was he the one who did that to you?” All Yusuf could think about was how could a father do that to his own child?
Nicolò looked away from him and, avoiding the question, he said “I feared he would kill me in one of his drunken rages, so I fled to the monastery. I could read and write, so they took me in even though I had no money. The abbot was a kind men, but he was old and he did not see everything… When he died…” Nicolò took a shuddering breath. “When he died, brother Giacomo took over. And he was not so kind.”
“What did he do?” Yusuf asked fighting the urge to hug the man.
“He said he could see the way I looked at brother Luca and that such lustful thoughts were sinful… He…” Nicolò turned helplessly towards him. “He said he had to drive those thoughts out of me… Yusuf… Please understand… I do not shy away from you in disgust, but because I am not worthy of your touch… I do not know how to receive your kindness… I am the one who is beneath you!”
Moving slowly, so Nicolò could see it coming, he leaned over and grasped his hands. “You are worth more than you think. You have more kindness in your little finger than most people have in their whole bodies.”
Nicolò started shaking his head “No! I came to the Holy Land to clean my sins but only ended up committing more and I can only hope that one day you can forgive me.”
“You may have done terrible things, but you are a good man Nicolò di Genova. You have just been led astray.” Yusuf squeezed Nicolò’s hands “And you are not damned. Your father’s grief blinded him to the gift his wife left him. But I see you.”