Tanith of Gold 09
On the ship Mustaq, who had roused himself before dawn, was standing on the deck next to his vast, impassive captain. A stickler for timing, Mustaq, for the hundredth time muttered, “By The Prophet, what keeps them now! We will miss the tide, the sun is already high.” Yousouf merely grunted non-commitedly every time he said that, until Mustaq's eye began to twitch. Within minutes of Frederick's arrival, however, his bad humour disappeared. The King was apologetic and by blandly announcing the new status of the passengers and privately giving Mustaq a wink imparted a world of meaning such that Mustaq could hardly contain a ribald chuckle. He personally escorted the young couple to his most private passenger cabin where they stowed their bags and he returned to talk to the King who was engaging the sailors in a quick debate about the merits of their ship design, with its unusually large body and traditional lateen sails
The voyage begins
On the ship Mustaq, who had roused himself before dawn, was standing on the deck next to his vast, impassive captain. A stickler for timing, Mustaq, for the hundredth time muttered, “By The Prophet, what keeps them now! We will miss the tide, the sun is already high.” Yousouf merely grunted non-commitedly every time he said that, until Mustaq's eye began to twitch. Within minutes of Frederick's arrival, however, his bad humour disappeared. The King was apologetic and by blandly announcing the new status of the passengers and privately giving Mustaq a wink imparted a world of meaning such that Mustaq could hardly contain a ribald chuckle. He personally escorted the young couple to his most private passenger cabin where they stowed their bags and he returned to talk to the King who was engaging the sailors in a quick debate about the merits of their ship design, with its unusually large body and traditional lateen sails.
Walking with Mustaq to the rails of the ship, Frederick engaged in a low conversation with him. Mustaq appeared surprised and then nodded and motioned the King towards a low hatchway. He then climbed up to Michael's cabin.
“Your Lord has returned to his castle because he received an urgent message. But he tells me you have the destination and instructions?”
Michael, who had been experiencing great difficulty in focusing on the present, recollected himself and dug into his tunic pockets. “Yes, there they are. I will leave you with the instructions.” His eyes were so glazed that Mustaq bowed and said. “I can see that you have been working very hard, Sir. I shall leave you to rest. At midday I will send a slave with food.” Mustaq, although he was a eunuch, felt a twinge of sympathy for the young besotted man and a passing thought of gratitude that he had never been swayed by such desires.
The ship set sail on its two week voyage under a clear sky. The practiced sailors moved quietly about their tasks. As soon as the ship was set on its course Yousouf barked an order and the men began martial drills on the deck.
Tanith and Michael had flung themselves on the bed and passed into deep sleep. But the sound of clashing steel woke Tanith. She was instantly awake, a terrified girl, hidden in a cellar, listening to dying screams outside. The instant passed and she moved to the cabin doorway sure-footed and with a drawn sword. Immediately relaxing she leaned against the warm wood of the railing and watched the men below. They had warmed to their task and most had stripped to the waist and breeches. They were practising with naked steel and worked with fierce concentration to avoid being hurt. Gradually all the men became aware they were being watched. The impassive Yousouf, who had been standing to one side, beckoned at her to join and there was suddenly a slim sword in his hand.
Feeling self-conscious Tanith descended the stairs but she felt the thrill of combat suffusing her limbs and making her head throb as blood began to course through her veins. She raised her rather old-fashioned sword to meet his, feeling very small in front of his vast body. He met her sword and bowed in the European fashion. Suddenly he whipped his sword round and gave her a stinging blow with the flat of the sword on her rump. His eyes remained inscrutable above his bushy black beard. Years of being derided as a woman flashed through her heart and only supreme discipline stopped her from storming at him. He was goading or testing her and all the men had stopped to watch. They had obviously heard of her prowess and they wanted to see for themselves how good this woman was. Heady with recklessness Tanith said calmly, “Captain, you are challenging me. Allow me a moment.”
Quickly she reached down and removed her tunic, to a collective intake of breath from the men. Some of the more devout averted their heads. But she was wearing a pair of breeches much like the men and a tight halter wound round her breasts. She felt free and unencumbered, the sun warm on her shoulders. She was proud of her strong arms and lithe torso and bowed again to Yousouf. This time she swung her sword as she was rising up and caught him sharply on the buttocks. Yousouf grunted and there was a murmer of appreciation from the men. Swifter than thought his blade answered her and she had to spring backward. And so the challenge began, the blades touching and slithering as the master swordsmen moved lightly round each other. Tanith moved without thought, weaving her body in stretches and lunges. Yousouf did not move his body much but his responses matched hers and he seemed tireless. Tanith was beginning to tire, sweat was dripping freely, and she was wondering how this was going to end when her reckless spirit thought of a stratagem. As she feinted to the left, her left hand whipped off her halter. The movement and the cloth distracted Yousouf and in that moment she stepped close and pressed her sword-tip under his chin. At the same moment she felt a sting on her shoulder and realised that he had reached over her and was pressing the tip of his sword into the top of her shoulder, ready to plunge through soft tissue to her heart. There was a timeless moment of silence before she felt a soft cloak being pulled round her shoulders.
“Bravo, young lady.” Mustaq was next to her. “Thank you, Yousouf, I think you have exercised our paying and illustrious passenger enough for today.”
Tanith found herself being ushered up the steps. Yousouf barked an order and the men began exercising again. The velvet cloak felt cool and smooth around her shoulders and against her breasts. The blood was still beating in her ears. She towered over the small, bald man next to her but he held her arm with authority and led her to his cabin. It was dark and she stumbled before he led her to a low couch. Mustaq clapped his hands and almost invisible servants brought a goblet of cool water which she gulped without ceremony. Then they brought dried fruit, sweetmeats and a flat bread, with another goblet of pressed grapes.
Mustaq sat next to her and surveyed her with great interest. “Young lady, I have never seen anyone like you before. A warrior maiden. Well,” he said with a chuckle, “no longer a maiden, forgive me, but a warrior no less.” His voice was high, but very soothing. He prompted her to tell her life story and Tanith found herself telling him everything about herself, things she had not told anybody. Her grandfather had been kind but prone to silence. She had not yet learned to talk to Michael and her other friends had only seen part of her. In front of this gentle eunuch she felt nor reserve, even telling him of her training with the Persian priestesses when her grandfather was away on his long journeys.
She hardly noticed that he had switched to a faultless Norman French which suited her best. “And now, Young Princess, tell me why you are married so quickly - was it arranged by the King?” For the first time she faltered because she could not answer. What had seemed so natural the previous night suddenly seemed strange. She was married to a stranger. She felt an overwhelming urge to see Michael because she could no longer visualise his face. She excused herself suddenly but with impeccable manners, Mustaq escorted her to her own cabin on the other side of the upper deck. She let herself in quietly and lay down beside Michael, still dressed in her velvet cloak. She turned to face him, gazed at his face for moments of ineffable joy before she lay her head on his shoulder, fitted against his body, and drifted off into a delicious sleep, reassured again by the warmth of his body.
The succeeding days developed a pattern for the passengers. Everyone rose with the sun except the large night-watch contingent who found dark places in the crew's quarters to catch up their sleep. Michael recovered his poise but followed his new bride with his eyes wherever she was. In the morning the men exercised and practised their deadly arts. Michael realised that Yousouf had assembled one of the deadliest body of fighting men he had ever seen. Weapons of choice were diverse, ranging from the curved Kukri to old-fashioned halberks, but all were wielded with deadly efficiency. He noticed at once that all the men treated Tanith with utmost respect. She was referred to as “The Gold Princess” Every morning Yousouf claimed her for a training session. They fought furiously with different weapons.
One morning Tanith up-ended one of the deck hatch covers and practised her knife throwing. Soon there was a rapt audience of hardened men as she unerringly, with both hands simultaneously, threw her knives with deadly accuracy. She challenged Yousouf to a contest. The huge man made the knives look like darts as he held them delicately. He threw with only one hand and with a little practise he was matching Tanith in accuracy but not her blinding speed. Yousouf barked a few commands and the practice that morning became a display of throwing weapons. More hardwood hatch covers were propped up and a miscellany of weapons appeared. There were a variety of bows and a few crossbows, as well as every type of throwing weapon. Yousouf declared that any man who lost a weapon overboard would have to dive in the sea to retrieve it. As many men could not swim this was a serious threat which aided concentration.