Tanith of Gold 13

Meeting Michael Scot

The remainder of the voyage was without incident but there was an air of expectation as they drew near the coast of Toulouse. The bustling port of Loudon was reached and it was decided to sail under the banner of the Count of Malta. 

The mayor fussed aboard the ship and ingratiated himself to the Count of Malta. The town had become a free port and was thronging with merchants and opportunists. They had to wait for a berth in the rather cramped harbour guarded by stone turrets.     

The King often dressed as a common sailor, a role he relished. Michael did not have the heart to tell him that people parted in front of him, even in a crowd, such was his air of authority and power.

It was decided that a small party would meet Michael  Scot. The King seemed vague about where they would meet him, saying “The message I received was that we were to go to the market square and he would find us.” King Frederick said that with such a twinkle in his eye and a wry  grin that Michael’s diaphragm twitched with nervousness. 

The King decreed that Michael, Tanith, Yousuf and he would go to meet Michael Scot. The reasoning was that the town was thronging with armed men, gathering for the impending purge of Cathars. Business was proceeding as normal, the markets were thriving but there were bunches of swaggering men and an underlying unease.

Dressed as plainly as possible they set out for the marketplace. Despite her plain tunic and braided hair tucked into a scarf, Tanith was a striking figure and Michael noticed with irritation how many men stopped in their tracks to turn and stare. Tanith seemed oblivious to the attention and the King strode on ahead, closely followed by the vast bulk of Yousouf. Michael brought up the rear, following Tanith through the narrow pathways leading into the town.

Michael was using his new found awareness to probe his surroundings. They had entered a long uphill pathway. The King and Yousouf had already disappeared over the top of the hill. The crowds of people walking to the market were forced into a single file by the narrowness of the path. Michael felt a prickling of alarm when suddenly he saw Tanith stumble in from of him and seem to disappear. She had been snatched into a dark alcove. Before Michael could move to the rescue a large man came blundering out yelling loudly and holding a profusely bleeding ear. Behind him was an irate Tanith prodding him with one of her knives. He turned to protest but her knife flashed down and cut his breeches expertly so that they fell around his ankles. He was propelled forward by Tanith’s boot and another cut on his flabby buttocks. He roared and ran - followed by the jeering whistles and catcalls of the interested crowd. 

“Well done, Madame, “ called a tall man dressed as a monk. “We are tired of Luigi - he is of a simple mind but he is protected by his brothers. I hope you don’t meet them.”

The marketplace was crowded but orderly as there was a large contingent of guards, and any weapon larger than a dagger was booked into a weaponry store with a stamped metal token as proof of ownership. This was an unusual method and Michael made a mental note to discuss it with the King for their future use. The marketplace was a very large cobbled square in the centre of the town with only four entrances and orderly lines of trestle tables packed with the vociferous sellers’ wares. Tanith winced and moved closer to him as they entered the full babel of noise and competition. Although there clear lanes of commerce discuss it with the King for their future use. The marketplace was a very large cobbled squ the jugglers, gymnasts and trinket sellers were allowed to roam and entice. Pickpockets and petty thievery was expected and Michael drew Tanith closer to him, locked arms and he guarded the small purse he had slipped under his breeches 

In the crowd the King was not visible but the massive form of Yousouf towered over the common man so Rowan was able to steer towards them. 

Suddenly the people around them froze as an inhuman bellow sounded above the general hubbub. Such was the fury vibrating in the voice people were stopped in their tracks.

“There she is, the witch! She hurt me with her witch’s sting.” Luigi’s bulbous face was purple with rage and next to him stood two vast , shambling men, each carrying a club in his knotted hand. They looked very menacing and the crowd fell away as if by magic until Rowan and Tanith stood exposed in front of the three brothers. Any accusation of witchcraft was not taken lightly and the crowd instantly became hostile, glaring round at Tanith, who took a deep breath and tensed for fight next to Michael. He looked around desperately for Yousouf but there was no sign of him.

The biggest brother raised his hand with the enormous club and started towards them. But in the second of stillness before violent action takes place a tall but slender monk who had been standing close by stepped in front of the brothers.

In a clear fluting high voice the monk said loudly but without any seeming effort, so that his voice filled the marketplace.

“Luigi, Bernado and Roberto Cellini, the clubs you carry have dealt pain and suffering to innocent lives and dashed out the life from broken bodies. The tree is claiming its life back. The tree will claim you.” 

The tall monk effortlessly took the club from the unresisting Roberto and with impossible strength he speared it down into the ground, through the flagstones. Instantly there was a tall tree before them and for a moment the three faces were discernible in the bark of the tree as it grew and twisted into the sky.

As if he had clicked his fingers in a mesmerism trick the crows of people continued as normal before Michael’s disbelieving eyes. There was instant babel of commerce and Rowan saw people seated at wooden benches around the tree, sheltering in the shade of the massive branches as if it had been there for decades.

The wisdom of Mustaq

The tall monk was standing before them, “Michael Scot at your service.” He gave a small bow. His form seemed to shimmer slightly and he was no longer in a monk’s gown but was dressed as a common seaman with an unkempt beard.

Michael remembered his manners, “Michael of Palermo. My wife, Tanith.” He stumbled a little over the words, realising that he had never introduced Tanith in those terms before. He saw her give a small smile as she inclined her head politely.

They were standing in the shade of the tree. Michael noticed with a sense of wonder, that the pathways around the tree were well worn. He glanced up and fancied he saw the distorted face of Luigi far up on the trunk. 

He looked around at Tanith and saw unexpectedly a dog standing close to her. It was large and shaggy with the close-set eyes of a wolf. The dog looked up at him with deep-set brown eyes. Tanith saw him looking and reached down to touch the dog's head.

"This is Hammer. He is joining me again." She looked slightly confused. "Hammer, this is Michael, my husband." She gestured towards Michael,. Michael found himself bowing slightly. Michael Scot did the same and then the two men exchanged bemused grins. Hammer inclined his head towards them and gave them a low, rumbling growl 

The crowd parted and the large form of Yousouf appeared, closely followed by the king. Michael Scot made a deep bow and then, kneeling in front of King Frederick, placed the king’s hand on his forehead.

There was a soft implosion of light and they were instantly on board the ship. Michael smelled all the ship's presence, felt the warm deck under his feet and heard the creaking of wood and the whip of the wind in the furled sails. There was no sense of alarm and everyone went about their business. 

Mustaq saw Hammer and paused for a moment in front of him, gazing into the dog's eyes. Mustaq bowed before him and to everyone's astonishment Hammer stretched to his full height to place his feet on Mustaq's shoulders, stretched his head up and howled once. The crew spun round in alarm, reaching for weapons as the howl was full of the sound of war and blood. Hammer looked round and wagged his tail, gave Mustaq a lick on the cheek and dropped down to stand by Tanith, still wagging his tail. Mustaq chuckled loudly and said to Tanith, "You are truly fortunate to have such a warrior at your side!'

Yousouf started barking orders to his men to prepare their departure. The king and Michael Scot walked into the main cabin, deep in conversation and Michael was left standing next to an unusually silent Tanith.

She squeezed his hand and walked to the cabin. There was a small twitch to her hips when she turned around that told him she would be waiting for him, naked beneath the covers. But before he could leave the railing of the deck where they had been watching the crew, the small form of Mustaq appeared next to him. Rowan felt thwarted and Mustaq caught his glance at Tanith’s voluptuous form entering the cabin.

Mustaq touched his hand, “Sympathies, my young friend. The powers of sex and bodily ecstasy are powerful drugs. We all long to dissolve ourselves in the other. I chose this time to remain free of the drug. But there were times ….” He paused and seemed quite wistful.  “I was once Rajah of a large state and I indulged myself with a harem of more than a hundred very beautiful women. I was young, strong and stupid with lust. My brother ran the state very well and I spent all day pleasuring my current favourites. Naturally my brother grew tired of my excesses and banished me to a country residence. He allowed me only twenty women to care for me and eventually I died of a heart attack in the arms of some of my dear ones.” 

Mustaq paused again. “Such are the ways of the Wheel of Fate that my next life I grew up in a Bengal slum and grew old as a street prostitute. The greatest pleasure was a warm meal. When I could no longer satisfy a man I was taken down to the river and drowned.” 

There was such a wealth of sadness in his tone that Michael blurted out,

“Why …. Why is it like this?”

He felt a obliterating sense of grief. All the suffering of the world blackened his vision and he reeled and would have fallen, weeping to the hard deck.  A gentle but immensely strong arm lifted him. Mustaq touched his forehead and murmured to him,

“Do not become mired in the darkness, because it is always exquisitely balanced with this…”

Indescribable music flooded his conscience. Trumpet, conch shell and flute resounded in his ears and left blissful ripples and he was aware of the pulsing radiant energy within all things. Without thought he was weeping uncontrollably. Mustaq stroked his forehead again and he was left with a blissful memory.

“I fear you have been subjected to too much over a short few days. Unless you have greater strength than most men, your spirit will die.” He guided Michael towards the cabin where they found Tanith asleep, sprawled naked under a satin cover. Hammer had taken his station outside the door. He growled but Michael was beginning to understand the timbre of his growl. He was saying, "I will guard."

“There is your woman and saviour. Make use of her energy.”

Mustaq paused for a moment outside the closed door when he left the cabin and heard enough evidence to convince him that Michael and Tanith were indeed exchanging energy. Smiling quietly to himself he set out to find the King.