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assure you, it’s barely begun. So, until then, you can either sit and sulk alone in your jail, or … ”
“Or what?” she asked.
“Or become a member of my crew.”
Felicia, stunned as she was, made no effort to reply. She sat for a time studying him, wondering if he were really mad enough to give her the chance at freedom.
“It’s an honest offer,” Sinbad told her.
The young pirate smiled. “You must be joking. I think I’d rather be dead.”
Sinbad came closer and stood over her, his arm leaning against the porthole. “That option is available also. Hang yourself, if you like — but it would be a waste for us both. I know you to be a good sailor, Felicia. You can give orders and you can take them. Aboard Melissa’s ship you made an excellent lieutenant. My ship needs a second mate, and the job can be yours — that is, if you’re interested in some honest adventure this time. You have my word on a full share of the profits.”
Leaning backward against an empty barrel, Felicia snickered. “What makes you sure you can trust me? I might jump ship. I might accept your offer now and then kill you during the night. I have ways, you know. And I wouldn’t be afraid.”
“I know you wouldn’t,” replied Sinbad with a distasteful frown. There were two sides of Felicia, he knew. One the jilted lover, still looking for revenge upon a world of men that had cheated her; the other a smart, young woman, sensitive and loving on the inside despite a facade of thorns. Sinbad wouldn’t give a copper coin for the first; he was counting only on the second.
“I still want you,” he said at length. “What about it? Maybe you should languish here a while longer, think it over … ”
She sat up straighter, large eyes weary. “Melissa will come after you, you know. And you can count on it. When she finds you, you’ll be sorry you lived this long. She’ll make you squirm, Captain Sinbad. All of you. She’ll let you die slowly, bit by bit … ”
Her words did not frighten Sinbad. “I’ll take my chances,” he answered with a small smile. “Of course, Melissa won’t be too pleased with you either. Not when she learns of your clever little scheme to depose her on Phalus.” Felicia stared, eyes burning. “You wouldn’t tell her!” The mariner grinned. “No? Try me. You see, my little lamb, your fate is unalterably bound with mine and my ship’s.”
“You can rot!” she flared.
Sinbad jingled the keys in front of her face. “All right. And you can stay here. Remember, this is a long voyage and your quarters will feel pretty cramped in a month or two. Let me know if you change your mind.” Then he left her alone, shutting the door and locking it.
Felicia picked up her water mug and hurled it against the door. By Allah, she vowed, she wouldn’t suffer any more of his indignities! By Allah, he’d pay one day! But then, as she looked at the walls around her, she began to tremble. Months; Sinbad had said. Months to be spent here as a prisoner.
With tears in her eyes she bolted to the door and banged on it as hard as she could. “Let me out! Do you hear, Sinbad? Let me out!”
Outside in the corridor Sinbad listened.
“I’ve changed my mind!” she shouted, her fingernails scratching at the pine. “Let me out … please!”
“Then I can trust you?”
“My word, on it, Captain! Only, please, let me feel the wind, the deck under my feet … ”
Under his breath, Sinbad chuckled. Abu, Milo, and the others would certainly call him a fool for freeing such a hellcat merely on her word. Yet Sinbad believed it was the right decision, that Felicia would more than prove her worth as an officer at a time when the Scheherazade would need her most.
*
Crete soon came into full view, and the crew of Sinbad’s ship hailed the sight with loud cheers and thoughts of well-deserved shore leave. The island, once famed for its Minoan civilization, still flourished now, two thousand years after the poet Homer first spoke of it in his tales. Since that time it had become a civilization where Greek, Roman, and Saracen cultures flourished, and which served, under the rule of Byzantium, as a stopover for ships of all flags.
As the Scheherazade made its way to the port of Chandrax, Sinbad stared in awe at the splendor before him. The mountainous terrain swept into the distance as far as the eye could see, rising high into the cloudless sky. Among these peaks lay the secret cave where Zeus himself was born, a fact that Methelese was pleased to point out to Sinbad. And then the Athenian went on to tell of all Crete’s wonders: the architecture of Knossos, the Minoan and Mycenaean civilizations, their arts and culture.
Sinbad listened in fascination, recalling his own tutors, who had also reveled in the pre-Hellenic splendors. But more history lessons would have to wait. There was too much work to be done, and when at last the sleepy harbor of Chandrax came into view he left the dazzled Methelese and carried on with preparations for unloading the cargo.
The Scheherazade plowed a steady course through the turquoise waters, the banner of Baghdad flying high and proud atop the mast. Slowly the ship eased past breakers, heading for its berth at the foot of the hilly city. A dozen or so other vessels from various nations stood peacefully at the quays, while hundreds of squawking gulls flew overhead. Hands on hips, Sinbad thanked Allah for his fortune.
“Will ye look at that,” mumbled Milo at the bridge, staring at the harbor. He nudged at Sinbad’s elbow and pointed toward two identical long ships of foreign design berthed well away from the rest. The prows were swan-necked and curled at the tips, each at least twenty-five meters long, with oversized steering paddles near the stem on the starboard side. Although they seemed able to carry cargoes of many tons, the ships drew only about a meter of water. Strange dark banners fluttered from the stocky single masts of each, and although Sinbad couldn’t place them, he was positive he’d seen them before.
While he marveled at these sleek examples of advanced shipbuilding, Felicia quickly provided an answer.
“I think they’re Norse,” she told him. “I’ve seen others like them in the past.”
Sinbad regarded her with a measure of surprise. “Are you sure? Those aren’t Mediterranean vessels, I know, but what would Norsemen be doing here at Crete?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know — but I’m not mistaken. Norse ships have passed through the Pillars of Hercules before, usually to plunder the settlements of Iberia and the Moorish coasts. But these … ” She found herself staring long and hard at the regal flags, the double sets of oar holes lining either side. “But these aren’t the ships of privateers. Look at the carvings. If you ask me, I’d say they were royal.”
Royal? Sinbad snapped his fingers. “I knew I’d seen those banners before! Three years ago, on my way to the kingdom of the Franks. Look! Those are the royal crests of Denmark. King Harald’s ships!”
“King Harald,” Felicia repeated breathlessly. “Then the stories were true — his envoys have come at last.”
“What stories? What envoys?”
The pirate second mate of the Scheherazade smiled bemusedly. “For more than a year now we’ve been hearing rumors of an alliance between Denmark and Byzantium, a trade alliance to be solidified by the marriage of King Harald’s eldest daughter, Princess Thruna, to the new young king of Crete. Such an event could usher in a whole new era of trade between the Christians of Northern Europe and the Eastern Christians of Byzantium. Can you imagine the wealth to be plied upon the sea?” She shook her head sadly, thinking of the lost opportunities for a privateer.
From their close distance Sinbad could see a flurry of activity throughout the city. Church bells were ringing, citizens were thronging the plazas. It looked as though Felicia had been right. Crete was preparing for a grand wedding, and Sinbad hoped he might have a first-hand look at the festivities.
“Take her in easy, Abu,” he called with a grin. “Let’s make a show of it. We’ll select one of Melissa’s stolen treasures for a wedding gift to present to the king himself.”
Abu saluted and beamed. A royal feast was surely waiting, and he hadn’t been to a really good party in years.
The marriage was the talk of the Aegean; from far and wide, dignitaries of many lands had traveled to be here at the celebration. The city of Chandrax was in an absolute tizzy of preparation to entertain the hundreds of foreign nobles who had come from as far away as Constantinople and gathered at the great palace of Crete to await the momentous event.
And what an event it was going to be! The finest wedding of all time, it was already being called, a glorious pageant in which the entire island would bask for decades to come. Harald’s eldest daughter had arrived in true Danish splendor with a retinue to make even the wealthiest of kings flush with envy. Her handmaidens alone numbered seventy-two, tall blond Nordic girls, blue-eyed and proud, as firm and noble as their feared ancestors had been. There were blood relatives from all over the North, also come in fine array, bearing gifts and promises of the united kingdoms to be. There were three hundred guests from the North alone, fully half of these representatives of the Danish royal court at Roskilde.
The king of Crete for his part greeted them royally and more than matched them in luxury. He had sent for bishops and priests from Constantinople to be in attendance as well as members of his own family from across the Aegean. There came to Crete the feared king of Rhodes, the noble Prince of Corinth, the fine lords and ladies of Thrace and Peloponnesus, Macedonia, Hellas, and the city of Athens itself. Wines and exotic foods and spices were shipped from every court in the East and even the most remote desert kingdoms. The finest chefs of Rome, Alexandria, yes, even Tyre and Jaffa, had been paid extravagant sums to come and plan the banquet, in which upwards of a thousand invited guests would partake.
So it was that Chandrax was a frantic place indeed that day when the Scheherazade reached her rocky shores. And when it was learned that Captain Sinbad of Baghdad had come, local dignitaries lost no time in securing Islam’s most noted mariner his own special invitation to the nuptial banquet, scheduled for the following evening. As the Byzantines were currently at peace with the nations of Araby, Sinbad gratefully accepted, on behalf of Islam and of the Sultan of Baghdad, whose flag he still flew.
All day the happy people of Crete celebrated, consuming wine and food bestowed upon them by their monarch. The bells of the churches, of which there were many, rang out continuously, reverberating across the city and far into the countryside, along the dales and meadows where humble shepherds tended their flocks and prayed for the happiness of the royal couple. Kindhearted peasants held banquets of their own, feasting joyously in the villages on this holiday of holidays. No man or woman worked; no cobbler, no fisherman, no tinker or baker. This was a time to rejoice; never would there come another quite like it.
On the morning of the marriage, blacked-robed priests formed a solemn procession and marched from the plazas of Chandrax to the palace cathedral, blessing the common folk as they passed, singing hymns and asking God to invoke his blessings upon the island and upon the betrothed couple.
While Sinbad, his officers, Methelese, and Clair made ready for the feast at night, the crew lost little time in joining the celebration. Eating, drinking, toasting the local citizenry, they amused themselves fully, for the first time forgetting the ordeals of Phalus and their rigorous voyage. The girls of Crete were lovely, olive-skinned, eyes shaped like almonds, and eager to befriend the strangers from so far away. It did not take very long for new bonds to be formed and, holding hands, the couples enjoyed the carnival together, laughing at the jugglers and clowns, listening to the poets with respectful severity, joining with the ballad singers in merry tunes befitting of the occasion.
Sinbad, meanwhile, carefully chose his gift for the bride. It was a dazzling fleur-de-lis brooch, about the size of a man’s palm, in white gold inlaid with precious stones — dark rubies and translucent emeralds. A perfect piece of exotic jewelry worth a ransom in any land.
“What do you think?” Sinbad asked, displaying it with both hands to the breathless Don Giovanni.
The frog examined it goggle-eyed; he pulled himself away and peered up at his smiling captain. “A gift worthy of any queen,” he said. “Princess Thruna will be most appreciative.”
Sinbad carefully wrapped the brooch in a silk scarf and tucked it away in his trunk for safekeeping. “I hope so,” he sighed, pushing back the thin curtain from his window and gazing from the heights of his room toward the rooftops of the city. Chandrax spread before him in an arc, glistening in the sun. From here he could see the harbor, and the sea calm beneath blue skies.
“This wedding,” he went on thoughtfully, “could be more important than any of us realize. Our world is changing, Giovanni. Expanding, growing with new discoveries, new nations sprouting like wildflowers. Tonight we must all be Araby’s finest emissaries — and show these men of Byzantium and Denmark that we are like them, sharing the same goals, the same desires for trade and peace.”
Don Giovanni listened to his friend and smiled. “Don’t worry, Sinbad. All shall go well. Your presence here is going to have more benefits than you think. Why, the king of Crete was honored to learn of your arrival. Methelese predicts he’ll treat you as royally as he does King Harald himself.”
Sinbad grinned. “I doubt that, but I’ll give as good a performance as I can.” He knitted his fingers as if in prayer. “I only hope nothing goes amiss.”
Don Giovanni, used to Sinbad’s worrying, scoffed. “Of course it will. But tell me, who have you decided will be your companion at the king’s table?”
At this Sinbad frowned. He folded his arms and faced the frog again. “I can’t take Clair without making Felicia angry,” he confided honestly, “nor can I escort Felicia without upsetting Clair.” He sat down at the end of the bed beside his companion. “They’re both expecting to be at my side, although I never promised either one.”
Giovanni nodded with understanding. Both were unusually beautiful, both charming and intelligent. Except for Felicia’s fiery temper, they were an even match.
“What would you do if you were me?” Sinbad asked. The frog thought for a while, tapping a webbed foot against a fold in the blanket, and then he said, “Do as any good diplomat, Sinbad. Bring them both.”
With a broad smile the captain agreed. “Ah, I wish I were as wise as you, my friend. This way I can enjoy the company of both while offending neither.”
“Exactly. But be careful, Sinbad. Twice the pleasure can also lead to twice the trouble.” And on that grim note Don Giovanni hopped away, leaving a suddenly soured Sinbad to his thoughts while he bathed and dressed.
Trumpets heralded the arrival of the guests at the great hall of the castle. Milling crowds of Cretan nobles stood on hand to greet everyone personally. The patriarchs of the island, decked out in their finest robes, formed a long line across the red carpet, bowing graciously before lords, kissing the bejeweled hands of ladies, thanking them one and all for coming and congenially gesturing for them to find their places at the many round tables in the hall.
Musicians played softly upon their lutes and harps, servants by the hundreds bustled back and forth. Slowly the huge room filled. Bathed in the light of crystal chandeliers holding ten thousand candles, and a dozen crackling fireplaces, Greeks and honored aristocrats from Constantinople mingled for the first time with the stout, rough-looking fellows of the North, with their flowing yellow beards. Coarse, lacking the refinements of the ancient Aegean peoples, they entered the hall with swagger and bravado, hailing their hosts while keeping watchful eyes on the abundance of riches.
Upon a large platform at the front of the hall stood a long table apart from the others below. Here the king of Crete and his royal family held personal court for their most special guests. When King Harald himself had entered, amid a barrage of trumpet blasts, his blushing daughter left her husband’s side and led him by the hand to the place of honor. The two kings stood eye to eye, shook hands and kissed, then, while the crowds waited
in silence, smiled and sat. The din rose, all guests took their places, the banquet was ready to begin.
Sinbad had arrived only moments before. All eyes turned at the announcement of his name, and with Felicia and Clair flanking him, he boldly strode to the platform, bowing graciously before both kings. Milo and Methelese found their own places at a table near the kitchen, and looked on uneasily as King Harald himself stood from his place and greeted the mariner.
“So you’re Sinbad of Baghdad,” he thundered, hands on hips, horned helmet imposing upon his large head.
“I am, Your Majesty,” replied Sinbad, his hand sweeping before him. He wore a tan Damascan robe, stitched with gold thread at the sleeves and hem; on his head was a fine turban, covering all his dark hair except for a shock that slanted across his forehead.
“By the gods of old,” roared Harald, “I’ve heard so many stories of you that I expected a far older man!”
Sinbad smiled warmly. “And I, Majesty, have also heard tales of you and your Norsemen. All the cities of the East hold your name in great respect.”
Harald’s ice-blue eyes crinkled, and his chest swelled with pride. “Indeed, good Captain?”
“Indeed, yes. Sire, I venture to say that the name of Harald shall live when all others are long forgotten.”
The king of Denmark, a barbarian until his early manhood when his conversion to Christianity had taken place, laughed heartily. “By Odin!” he bellowed, forgetting himself as he frequently did, “I like this fellow!” He pounded a heavy fist upon the tablecloth, almost spilling an urn of wine. “Give him and his companions chairs closer to me! I think I’m going to enjoy his company.”
The king of Crete jumped to his feet in respect for his father-in-law’s wishes and had the servants move three members of his family to farther places.
“We are honored,” said Clair with a polite curtsy, her low-cut gown hinting at the firm breasts beneath.
“Most honored,” added Felicia, with a spicy and alluring smile.
The Thief of Kalimar; Captain Sinbad; Cinnabar Page 68