PREPOSTEROUS & UNFORGIVABLE 

Shock gripped everyone in the audience.

The men playing the musical instruments were not spared. They stopped their sounds and the whole tent became deathly silent for a while.

Sayyid was standing by the side, close to the stage waiting for the patrons to call for him to serve them more drinks. Preferably wine and more so Lebanese wine. Anything else could not do him much good in the bonus department.

He saw something unexpected and very shocking. This had never happened in all his time in this belly dancing tavern.

A recent patron and newcomer to the tavern rushed out, forcefully going ahead to hug the queen of belly dancing from Damascus. The one and only Queen Samira.

This was preposterous and unforgivable. Blasphemy to the art of belly dancing and an insult to Samira's honor and virtue as an Arab woman.

'No, no, no! This can't be happening here and not to our special guest Samira.' Sayyid could not take it anymore. He was deeply enraged by the action of this gentleman. Without waiting for any order from Darius or the men at the entrance to come and disentangle queen Samira from the brute.

He rushed over in long strides, fists clenched; face contorted with fury.

Sayyid focused all his energy and fury into his right fist, delivering it to the back of this uncivilized European defiling the queen of belly dancing.

Bam!

Sayyid's blow landed on the back of Ambrose Henri. Painfully shaking him from the bliss of being in contact with this awesome belly dancing beauty. It was painful and hurt him a lot.

'Ouch.' Sayyid cried out, the force of his blow twisted his wrist. Sending pain through his hand. Immediately he withdrew his hand and stepped back. Holding his painful right wrist, feeling to see if it was broken.

"What the hell!" Ambrose Henri shouted having felt the painful punch in his upper back.

Just as he thought of letting go of queen Samira to see which fool was stupid enough to spoil his bliss. Several men who were playing the musical instruments joined the fray. Shouting at him so many words, that he could not make sense of most of them.

Straightway, they started punching and kicking him from all angles while the others forcefully dragged Samira from his arms.

"Help!" queen Samira came to her wits and shouted out. By then the men had surrounded Ambrose Henri. Lashing out with all the anger of having their entertainment cut short and the jealousy of him doing what none of them ever dared to do.

The struggle to free Samira from Ambrose Henri's grip. Tore part of the long skirt, exposing her smooth and compact backside clad in a pink panty and the back of her thighs.

"Nooo! Leave me alone." Ambrose Henri cried out in pain. All the blows and kicks were falling on him and he was ignorant of what warranted this severe punishment.

Seeing that they were not willing to let him alone. He was not prepared to fight but he could not let them beat him like this. Seeing the way, he was assaulted, it looked like these people wanted him dead.

In a short, few seconds after Samira was pried from his arms. Ambrose Henri was punched, kicked, and gripped violently from one man to the next. Not giving him room to defend himself. Being drunk, he staggered about as he tried to create distance between himself and his assailants.

Regrettably, Ambrose Henri was not in his best state physically or emotionally to take them on, and he was swamped on all sides. This is when he remembered that he did not come alone, he had a Knight Templar brother with him in this belly dancing tavern.

"Jean Pierre, please save me from these thugs. Don't let me die here!" He shouted while craning his head to see his Order brother behind the mob.

Jean Pierre was now his last hope.

"Help, help!" He continued shouting under the heavy assault.

**

Jean Pierre was following the dance of queen Samira keenly from the moment she appeared behind the curtains. It was fantastic but also very deadly to men with weak minds.

Seeing the way his comrade in arms Ambrose Henri was behaving. Jean Pierre was sure this former Parisian had already been corrupted by the dance and his sense of judgment was messed up by the wine.

There's no doubt. That is the state he is in, he cannot finish the secret mission that brought him here. It was up to Jean Pierre to complete the mission, but he did not know anything apart from escorting Ambrose Henri.

He had tried so much to not be influenced by the wine. He was sipping it slowly and in small sips which was the opposite of what Ambrose Henri was doing.

There's no denying the beauty, creativity, and power in the dance performed by the belly dancers, particularly this last ongoing dance by Samira. The presumed queen of belly dancing from Damascus. Jean Pierre, held on to his beliefs as a Knight Templar and more tightly on to his vows of chastity.

These women were absolutely beautiful, and the dances they danced evoked his most primal emotions. But he told himself that this was not for him, he died to the world and took on the Cross of Christ.

He was a servant of Christ. All his fleshly desires and emotions, he had sacrificed them at the cross.

While Jean Pierre was still thinking about barricading his soul from these heathen influences. The music stopped abruptly in the midst of the show. He was able to tell that it was not yet the end because the tempo was still building up for the climax.

Jean Pierre, was perplexed about what was going on. He took his eyes away from the metallic cup holding the wine. He turned his eyes to the stage and he saw a strange sight.

Ambrose Henri forces himself on queen Samira, with an enraged group of men rushing to part them. Had he not seen what was happening himself as well as the fearful look on Samira's face, he could not believe it that his comrade in arms had done such a despicable deed.

'Fool, you are in a foreign place and you are already behaving in such an unpardonable manner.' He lashed at Ambrose Henri in his mind.

'Commander Gallo Francis could skin you alive if I told him that you behaved in such an immoral and disgraceful manner.

'Wait a moment! How will I be able to defend my being here as well? It is not as if I was part of this secret mission. I just nagged Ambrose Henri to bring me along with him.

Oh my, am in deep trouble. Why could I not be patient and remain in the accommodation with my fellow Knight Templar brothers? Now deep in this mud with Ambrose Henri.'

The group of men began assaulting Ambrose Henri viciously from all sides. Their blows and kicks were filled with anger and deep hatred. Ambrose Henri tried to defend himself from them but they were more than he could defend against. For every blow to the face he defended against, he got several kicks and blows on his backs, legs and stomach. When he tried to distance himself to get some breathing room, they could push him back into the center.

Jean Pierre wanted to rush in and intervene. Nonetheless, he looked around to see the overall situation before deciding. In the Holy Wars, they had been told to not make emotional decisions but first observe the whole battlefield, analyze it and then come up with a tactical or strategic action to grant one's group victory or safeguard it from defeat.

He saw Darius the boss of this belly dancing tavern mobilizing some men who looked like his personal guards from the other end. He pointed in a particular direction, these men rushed there and came back bearing thick and evil-looking wooden clubs.

With them armed. Darius put his hand in his pocket and withdrew a well-decorated sheath with the handle of a stylish knife poking from it. Darius unsheathed the knife, which appeared to be a short curved and an extremely sharp knife. He pointed the knife at Ambrose Henri who was now staggering about from in between the mob assaulting him. Darius had told them to follow him. With Darius in the lead, it was a group of seven men armed with wooden clubs and a knife rushing toward Ambrose Henri.

It seemed Darius was extremely pissed to have an infidel mess up with his esteemed belly queen from Damascus. What had been done was an insult to his establishment and he was ready to murder this European infidel to settle this score. It was also going to serve as a warning to others to not mess about with his establishment.

Oh my God, Ambrose is finished if I don't stop these men from approaching him. Already, Ambrose was in a bad state but he could not die outright since none of his assailants had weapons. All that could change if Jean Pierre let Darius and his guards lay their hands on him.

Confronting the boss of the belly dancing tavern and his six-armed guards was not an easy matter. Jean's involvement could worsen things for both of them. He hesitated a bit on whether to stop them or wait and see if they could be considerate with handling Ambrose.

Secondly, their stay and mission in Jerusalem were meant to stay a secret, if he joined it, it could be a matter of time before they knew which group they belonged to. Raised questions on what brought them to Jerusalem when the Templars had been defeated and displaced from the city.

Yet, the way Darius held that short curved knife was full of murderous intent. He held it with ease and well-practiced familiarity, Jean Pierre was sure Darius must have killed several men with it.

A warrior could identify another warrior and his favorite weapon at a glance.

"Jean Pierre, please save me from these thugs. Don't let me die here!" Jean Pierre heard this desperate plea from Ambrose Henri. He knew he could not hesitate to step in anymore.

Fuck the consequences. There was no way he was going to let his fellow Knight Templar brother die before his eyes despite his stupidity and lack of self-control.

"God grant me strength and valor to fight these men and save my brother," Jean prayed as he rushed into the fight.