Tanith of Gold 10

El Pescatore arrives

Michael found himself watching all this martial activity with a restless fascination. Tanith would awake at dawn and, after her morning ablutions and prayers, exercise with slow languid movements. She was always naked in their cabin and he would often scoop her over to the bed to continue their prolonged and seemingly endless lovemaking. But when the first clash of steel sounded she was ready, sword in hand, and he knew that when she leaped down the steps to confront Yousouf she was sometimes still swollen with passion.

Michael's agile mind probed for a reason why he should be feeling restless. He had always been a scholar although he had a good physique and had been trained in all the weapons, as was any man. He watched Tanith closely as she loved the heavy sword so effortlessly in a spinning weaving motion, deadly yet fascinating. Something in all the motion tugged at him relentlessly. He was in that restless frame of mind when he walked over to the side of the ship, past a group of men who were on watch. He has often seen them, swarthy and bearded, dressed in tunics with broad belts, they were from Thessaloníki . They were supposed to be on watch but had turned to watch Tanith instead. She was shining with sweat which made her scanty clothing cling to her. One of the men said in his obscure Greek dialect, “I would like to see that cunt spread in front of me.” Another replied swiftly, “Well I know who fucks who,” with a nod towards 

Michael, which could have been seen as a nod of greeting.

Michael had moved two steps before the balloon of anger engulfed him. Afterwards he remembered almost nothing except the sensation of expanding, lifting and throwing with glimpses of bearded faces, wild eyes staring at him, and the beat of rage in his veins. He passed into a deep swoon and felt briefly the hot wooden planks under his cheek before the blackness stole over him.

He awoke to the normal sounds of the creaking ship and the wind cracking the sails. It was after dark and in the steady amber light of Tanith's prayer candle he saw her sitting upright in her prayer position. The light played over her golden hair and shoulders and she looked so unutterably lovely that he watched her for a while. She turned to him and he saw with concern that tears were coursing down her cheeks.

“Oh, you are awake.” she murmured as she enveloped him in her arms. “I thought you were dying. I was praying to my Lord and my Lady that you will live.” She sobbed while he held her wordlessly.

“What happened to me? I can't remember anything except some men insulting you ..”

She gave a gasp of wonder, “My love, you can't remember? I heard a roar that paralysed me and I looked up to where you were and with Sight I saw an enormous ball of blue light throwing men around as if they were bales of straw. Then the light suddenly was gone and you fell to the deck. A Thessolonian sprang up from the deck with a spear and was about to kill you. I couldn't move, I failed you,” another tear dropped onto his chest. “But Youssouf ....Youssouf .... was suddenly there next to you. He had been next to me ... and then he was with you. He took the spear from the man as if he was a child and broke the spear over his knee like a twig. Then he carried you here and said one word in Persian, 'Pray'” She sobbed again, “I have been praying so hard.”

Michaelwas overcome with tenderness. His whole body was in pain, as if he had been stretched and wrung but he pulled her closer. “I do not know who I am, my love. I know that if I lose you I will die.”

“You are a great lord of Light,” she whispered. “We have been companions before - I feel it in my heart. We have found each other again .... for a time.” Their whispers dwindled as they fell into a deep sleep.

Michael woke early. The ship was pitching steeply over massive swells but the sky was clear when he looked through the small window. His body felt vibrant and lithe. He felt conscious of a new strength but there was a strange quality to his perception. The cabin walls seemed brighter in colour and shifted in perspective and yet were solid when he touched them. The slumbering form of his lover seemed to glimmer with a soft gold light and when he traced his fingers along her buttocks and back he could see ripples of energy swirling out from his fingertips. Tanith had just opened her eyes and smiled at him when there was a soft and urgent knock at the door.

“My Lord and Lady please arise! My master wishes to see you at once.”

They hurriedly dressed and found Mustaq himself waiting just outside. He looked worried and gestured up at the sky. They gasped, because although the wind was fairly still the sky was black and lowering. The sun had just appeared over the horizon

“A fine morning, “ Mustaq said ironically. “Storms we can handle, but this is why I roused you so early.” He pointed out to sea. Alarmingly close there were three ships with black sails, gaining on them fast.. “This ship is fast but they are very fast. And, “ he narrowed his eyes, “By the Prophet, I think it is that dog, El Pescatore!” He snapped at the sailor next to him, “Bring me my glass and rouse the captain, quickly!” He turned to them, “He was seen at first light, travelled fast at night. If it is he, then he picks the desperate scum of the world as his crew , who make my men look like soft merchants. He will decide on a whim whether you are his friend or foe. What does he want with us?”

When she heard his name, Tanith felt a terrible knot of fear twist in her gut. She gripped Rowan's hand. “He is the man my grandfather and I were fleeing.” In her mind she pictured him clearly. Tall and slender, impeccably dressed as a Venetian noble, imperious and arrogant, one eye flashing blue and the other eye impossibly dark. Nobody knew whether he could see out of his dark eye, it seemed to have no pupil, but when that eye turned on people they felt a shiver of horror. And yet he he had courtly gestures and wonderful manners which would be upturned in a moment. When thwarted he raged in a vortex of destruction which left everyone damaged. “What if he is still chasing me!”

“We can fight him.” Mustaq said fiercely, and shouted down to Yousouf, “Alarm drill - prepare for enemy!” The ship burst into action as a massive cymbal was beaten by a guard. In minutes the fully armed men appeared and immediately fell into rank and stood silently. Rowan, who had been watching tensely, admired the precision. But he felt weak and unfocused and totally unprepared for combat. Mustaq held up his telescope which glinted in the morning light.

“Yes, it is the Count of Malta, El Pescatore himself, “ they heard him mutter. “Those are his flags. But, what is this? Can it be?” He thrust the telescope at Rowan, “What do you see on the main mast of the leading ship?”

Rowan strained his eye and braced himself against the rail. With the high seas and spray it was difficult to see but in a clear moment he saw plainly the proud flag of the King.

“Thank God!” he said.

“And praise be to Allah,” said Mustaq, “If I was seeing aright, then the King will join us shortly.”

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