Tanith of Gold 05
It was already mid-morning by the time Michael arrived at the harbour with his guards. He located the ship he sought very quickly as it was quite conspicuous, being an old-fashioned galley with two large lateen sails. Its rakish lines made it look much like a corsair's ship which were built for speed. Unusually there was high quarterdeck with several cabins. The entire ship was glistening black and there was a hive of activity about it as men scrubbed, cleaned and polished. There was something studied about the activity and Rowan noticed that as soon as he appeared on the quayside with his men, a man high up on the mast began to whistle a merry tune. Every man on the boat continued to work but Charles realised that he was being scrutinised. He stopped within a polite distance and instructed his men to stand easy and wait for him, calling out loudly in Arabic, “Captain, a port inspection if you please.” Two sailors smoothly slid a gangway down to the quayside and motioned him to board.
The meeting with Mustaq
It was already mid-morning by the time Michael arrived at the harbour with his guards. He located the ship he sought very quickly as it was quite conspicuous, being an old-fashioned galley with two large lateen sails. Its rakish lines made it look much like a corsair's ship which were built for speed. Unusually there was high quarterdeck with several cabins. The entire ship was glistening black and there was a hive of activity about it as men scrubbed, cleaned and polished. There was something studied about the activity and Rowan noticed that as soon as he appeared on the quayside with his men, a man high up on the mast began to whistle a merry tune. Every man on the boat continued to work but Charles realised that he was being scrutinised. He stopped within a polite distance and instructed his men to stand easy and wait for him, calling out loudly in Arabic, “Captain, a port inspection if you please.” Two sailors smoothly slid a gangway down to the quayside and motioned him to board.
Michael hesitated. There was no need to fear anything here but he felt a sense of premonition. The morning sun beat on his exposed neck, the smell of new pitch on the planks was sharp and he could hear the gulls screaming above with awful clarity. The moment past swiftly and he stepped confidently onto the deck. The man guiding him made a sharp noise and indicated that he should remove his shoes. Rowan was accustomed to many different rituals and customs but the necessity to be barefoot on a ship was new to him. He excused himself and complied. The black deck was very hot under his feet so he followed his guide with alacrity towards the main cabin. The door opened as they arrived up the stairs and was filled by a towering figure. Rowan found himself gazing up at a vast expanse of chest clothed in plain linen. Peering down at him was a glittering pair of brown eyes and a swarthy face almost hidden in a black beard. The vast man retreated into the cabin and beckoned him inside.
The cabin was dark to his eyes so he made a slight bow to the large man, “Mustaq?”
“No, alas, I am here.” The voice was high-pitched and amused, speaking fluent Arabic. “Do not be distressed - a simple mistake to make. That was my captain, Yousuf.” Peering through the gloom Rowan detected a pale form lying on a divan. “I am sorry - I have such a headache - but let us have more light.” A lantern was lit from a candle and Rowan saw the speaker. He was of medium height, corpulent, very pale and shaved completely bald. He was wearing a loin cloth and perspiring profusely. “I do apologise for my lack of dress. I am suffering from a recurrent fever. Please seat yourself.” He motioned to a plush chair and waved forward a servant who brought two goblets of wine on a brass tray. In the dim recesses of the cabin Rowan could see a few shadowy figures standing in wait. One of them came forward to wipe his master's forehead with a damp cloth.
Michael took a sip of the wine, “Mustaq, the Emperor sends his greetings and bids you prepare for a swift voyage to Narbonne, taking two passengers and returning with three.”
“Ah, the blunt way of the German lord. In Alexandria we would have reached that point of conversation after an hour of pleasantries. But then King Frederick is a man in a hurry. I must compliment you on your standard of Arabic.” Michael realised with a start that Mustaq had replied in fluent Greek. He smiled and began to enjoy this man's company. They did indeed slip into a light and playful interchange of ideas during which Michael realised that his opinions and loyalties were being tested by a subtle and very intelligent mind.
“Good!” Mustaq clapped his hands towards the corner of the room and a servant brought him his robe. “Come, I have something to show you.” He groaned as he stood and winced when the stark sunlight of midday poured through the door. He called for Yousuf and the gigantic captain appeared silently. “Let Yousuf take you down below. We will expect you and your second passenger at first light tomorrow. ”
Yousuf led the way down a small companionway onto the deck where they was a sheltered area out of sight. He reached down with a massive hand and flipped up an old sail. Michael gasped for there were four bodies lying there, neatly packed together. They wore the same clothing as the two Assassins lying dead in the castle.
“We heard they were looking for you so we put them out of action,” Yousuf said laconically. “We will weigh them down with rocks and take them out to sea tomorrow.”
Michael looked down at the bodies in the bright sun. Violent death was built into the fabric of everyday life. Desperate bandits lived in the hills of Sicily and all around the coast. Small boats filled with depraved and ruthless men brutalised by war banded together and preyed on whatever helpless person they chanced upon. And yet part of that fabric was highly organised commercial enterprise driven by men of vision and expertise. Many dynastic fortunes were being made and lost with the turn of Fate's dice in the seaways of trade.
The dead faces below him with their sallow complexion and high cheekbones, looked tranquil and he could see no blood. As if answering his thought Yousuf said, “We poisoned them with a casket of wine as a gift. I tested it in front of them - had to rush back for the antidote.” His vast bearded face split as he suddenly roared with laughter, showing his strong white teeth. “Allah (may his name be revered) saved me for another battle. It was a very quick way to go, but not right for a warrior. I would have preferred to take them on, man for man. But the master, Mustaq, likes to do things neatly.”
Michael shuddered again, involuntarily. These men would have had their own stories to tell but instead would be slipped into a wet grave silently, with no one to mourn them. He noticed the same Damascus steel breastplate hidden beneath the tunic of the nearest soldier. Remembering the King's words about its rare workmanship he reached across to unbuckle it. There was a sharp cry of warning and he was brushed away like a fly, landing heavily on the deck.
“Beware the Assassin's tricks ...”.
Yousuf carefully unbuckled the chest-plate himself and holding it up to the light he showed with a knife-point where there were several pin-sharp barbs of metal stained with a dark substance tied along the perimeter of the chest plate. “Beyond the grave they kill with their sting. If you are pricked by this little sting you will die very suddenly and in great pain. They are immune because they are fed this poison while still suckling.” He carefully flicked off the barbs into the sea.
The deck tilted under Michael's feet. He had to warn Tanith - she had one of the breastplates. He bowed to Yousuf and had to stop himself from sprinting the the gangway. She could be writhing in pain and dying right now. Fortunately he had brought his horse. He scarcely remembered afterward the blurred streets and startled faces as he spurred his horse up the steep hill to the castle. Throwing the reins to a servant he sprinted up the stairways and burst into Tanith's room, completely breathless, his heart hammering in his ears in protest.
To his horror she was holding up the armour, seemingly about to strap it round her chest. He yelled and threw himself towards her, desperate to clutch the breastplate away before she poisoned herself. He had hardly registered that she was naked before he found himself flying through the air to crash into the wall with obliterating force. There was a bright flash in his head and then darkness.
He was in a rocking ship and women were weeping. It was dark and his head was exploding in deep rhythms. He was entertaining thoughts that he had died when his senses focused and he realised that there was only one woman weeping and the he was being rocked in strong arms and cushioned against a soft naked breast. Apart from the pain in his head this was pleasant enough to prolong before he opened his eyes. The face of Tanith was above him, her eyes closed but dropping tears and sobs shaking her still. She was chanting a name over and over in a sing-song, “Azura, Azura Mazda” He closed his eyes and gave a deep groan. The rocking abruptly ceased and he felt himself being lowered back onto the bed rather hurriedly and there were soft sounds of padding feet and a robe being pulled on. When he judged it was safe to open his eyes he did so to find a composed, even frosty, Tanith, clothed in a sleeping robe, looking down at him,.
Abruptly he remembered the reason for his impetuous visit and shot up, in alarm despite his searing head pain. “The armour! Where is it? It is poisoned!”
It was her turn to look alarmed and then her face creased in understanding and humour.
“You mean - you came blundering in like this because of the armour?” She still looked stern. “I knew all about their poison - I checked first, of course - there was no poison on that one!” She walked over to the armour and picked it up from the floor. “Look, the armourer has finished it.” She held up the glistening armour which had been skilfully modified to accommodate her breasts. “But,” she said with a glint of amusement and a hint of blush on her cheek, “I think the armourer thought I am bigger than I am..” Michael looked at the armour which looked rather bizarrely top-heavy. Unaccountably they both started laughing and Tanith had such a fit of giggles that she sat down on the bed and they howled with mirth.
“I am sorry about your head - I threw you without thinking.”
“I am also sorry that you threw me, perhaps I should have knocked.”
“So you came running up here to save me?”
“Yes.”
They became silent and uncomfortable together. Michael was acutely aware that his King had obviously chosen Tanith as his own and she was forever unattainable. But why had she been weeping? He could not think and got to his feet with difficulty. There was already an extremely painful lump on his head. “I will go to lie down - we have four hours before our meeting.” He gave her a brief explanation of the ship and the dead Assassins and they arranged to meet at supper, when they would be briefed by the King. As she let him out the door she looked troubled and about to tell him something but his head was spinning and he walked to his room down the passage where he subsided onto his bed. Portia bustled in a few minutes later and soon had a hot poultice on his head. He gratefully sank into a deep sleep.