Thanking his dead uncle Phillip for teaching him the use of more than the blade of a sword, Talon placed his sword point on the neck of the prone man, ready to push it in.
He was interrupted by a commanding shout. It came from Abbas, who strode forward, pushing aside the onlookers, with an alarmed expression on his face.
“Stop! I order you, Suleiman, to stop, and you…” he pointed at the cluster of men standing watching, “get these sorry louts out of the way and make sure their wounds are dressed. It is clear they cannot look after themselves.”
Men ran to pick up the two downed warriors from the dust. Both were dazed and bloody and had to be half carried.
Talon was still standing in the middle of the crowd of onlookers, his bloody sword in his hand, breathing deeply, when Panhsj walked up and carefully took it from him. Talon then dropped the shield on the ground with a low clang and waited. He was angry, but knew he could not do nor say anything at this moment, so he held his tongue. Abbas, in the meantime, was standing with his arms crossed, regarding him with narrowed eyes.
“Those are two of my very own bodyguards you have wounded, Suleiman. But it was a good fight and you did much better than I expected. Indeed, Panhsj, I think we have a warrior in our midst, do you not think so?”
“My lord, he did well,” Panhsj said shortly, but his eyes gleamed and Talon saw how he was containing his rage.
Abbas nodded, then said, “There is nothing like the threat of real danger to find out what a man is made of, Suleiman. You have done well… now mount up, we are going riding. I want to look over my estates with you and Malek. Panhsj will be coming too.”
* * * * *
Their mounts were made ready and they rode out into the country heading west towards the distant lake. Talon kept quiet, while Malek and Abbas looked over the cultivated fields and discussed the drainage and irrigation problems. He drew some comfort from the feel of his horse between his legs, and although his shoulder cut stung, he pushed the recent punishing fight into the back of his mind while he enjoyed seeing the open countryside. Panhsj rode nearby; he did not speak. Talon was left to his own thoughts.
He wondered at the implications of his enforced servitude. It could have been much worse—he was thankful that it wasn’t—but his and Max’s positions were now definitely that of slaves, not guests. The plan of getting to Palestine was now an indefinite thing until he could escape or was released, and Panhsj would not hesitate to kill him if he thought for a moment Talon was trying to escape. He decided that he had to make the best of it and leave the rest up to God.
Over the weeks, and then months, that went by with a slow rhythm, he accompanied Abbas often as he rode over the vast estates. His role was more as an armed escort, because he was allowed to bring his bow and sword with him. A small shield hung off the left side of the saddle, while the bow resided in a sheath he had had fashioned, under the flap of the left leg of the saddle. He found that he was being treated with respect by the other soldiers who had sseen how he dealt with the two of their number. These two did not seem to hold any resentment for their wounding and even joked with him on occasion while they were working the horses.
He decided to practice one thing, however, and that was to hone his skill at stealth. It was not long before the guards and others were finding him standing next to them, not having heard a sound. They began to talk about his way of moving about in the dark with nervous shrugs. He was very careful not to be seen nor heard when he did not want to be. To him it was a game with deadly intent, as one day he knew he would need it again.
But he had not reckoned with Panhsj, who, it seemed, still had reservations about him. One day when they were riding together some distance behind Abbas and Malek, who were discussing the crops, Panhsj edged his horse a little closer to Talons and spoke.
“My men, and even Malek and his brother, say that you talk softly, Suleiman, and walk even more softly. We have each seen that you can fight like a demon. There is more to you than meets the eye.”
“I do not intend to harm anyone in the care of our master!” Talon retorted sharply, staring Panhsj in the eye.
“It might be, Kharagi. But there is more, and I wonder just who you might really be. Remember, I am watching,” Panhsj warned as he pulled his horse away.
It had not taken very long for Talon to find that he was accepted again. Malek and his brother Bilal came and ate with him and Max. Khaldun would join them again, and they continued the long conversations Talon had so enjoyed at the beginning of their relationship.
A renewed friendship grew between Talon, Malek, and Bilal, and it included Max now, who was doing quite well with Arabic. Even Panhsj came and joined them on more than one occasion, and Talon was able to learn more about the taciturn black man from the south who grudgingly accepted him in their midst.
Malek told Talon that Panhsj had been captured during one of the periodic wars that sprang up between the Egyptians and Nubians while he was merely a youth. He had been wounded and near death when Abbas and his horsemen came upon him. He had tried to fight them nonetheless. Impressed by his courage, Abbas had held his men off killing him and granted Panhsj his life, but as his slave. It had been a good bargain for both of them, as there was now much mutual respect; Abbas knew that this man would give his life for him.
Malek and Bilal told Talon about a conversation the master had had with them, Panhsj, and the lady of the house.
“Our master is seething with anger and yearning for revenge for the attack, Suleiman,” Bilal told him.
“But he is a wise man and will not rush in where fools will fall on their swords,” Malek added, with a glance at his brother.
Talon shifted his position and prepared to listen. They were taking him into their confidence, and he appreciated the renewed trust.
“The master is very grateful to you for what you did, Suleiman, do not think otherwise,” Bilal said, as he touched Talon on the arm.
“He does not stand in the sultan’s favor for nothing, but he has to be very careful. He is trying to work out how best to plan a reprisal. But he is worried, I can tell. He told us that even here in the middle of his own lands he now cannot be sure that his family is safe, especially if he has to leave.”
“Who is this enemy who wishes him such harm?” Talon enquired.
“His name is Bahir Ibn Hakeem; remember I spoke of him when we went riding out on the Fayoum that first day, you and I. He is a dangerous man who is as powerful in Cairo as our master, which is why our master chooses to move carefully,” Malek informed him.
“That is also why you see more guards on the walls and gates, day and night,” Bilal remarked with a belch. “Hmmm, that sweet cake is one of the best,” he murmured to himself as he reached for another.
Talon nodded agreement. “I have noticed the guards, but I have to tell you, my friends, that the walls are as full of holes as a fisherman’s net.”
“How so?” Malek demanded, looking irritated.
Talon did not want to give away his ability to move stealthily but he said nonetheless, “I am not an expert in the art of defense, but you have to admit that it would not take much for a determined force to swarm over these walls, should they really wish to do us harm.”
Both men and Khaldun stared at him in a long silence. Finally, Khaldun nodded his head so emphatically that his loose turban threatened to fall off.
“I think he is right. These walls are made of mud and are not high; they need repairs. Should our men be slow one night, and the enemy were to attack, we would be in trouble,” he cackled knowingly. He peered at Talon through the wrinkles of his old eyes. “You see much, Suleiman,” he stated enigmatically.
“We need to discuss this with our master,” Bilal said with another glance at Talon.
The result of this discussion brought much activity around the walls; they were strengthened by workers brought in for that purpose.
Abbas, while he did not want to acknowledge openly from where or whom
he had taken advice, still displayed a certain curiosity about Talon. One day he asked Talon to demonstrate his skills with the bow that Malek had purchased for him some months before. Talon explained that he had learned from the Seljuk Turks how to shoot arrows from horseback and asked for straw dummies to be set up at the end of the polo field.
He was confident that he could shoot a man-sized target from about sixty paces while cantering on horseback. Rakhsh was by now well used to the leg aids from Talon, so it was an easy matter to put four arrows into two widely spaced targets, and so quickly that there were murmurs of amazement from the watching syce and warriors.
His demonstration over, he rode towards Abbas. He could see the man was looking very thoughtful. Abbas called Panhsj over and the two spoke in low tones for a minute or two, often glancing Talon’s way. Then Abbas signaled him to come over. Talon dismounted and went on one knee in front of the master, who gruffly told him to stand.
“I am very impressed with what you have done, Suleiman. You have shown me a new weapon for my cavalry. I want you to train some of my best riders to do as you have done.”
Talon looked at Abbas and then at Panhsj, whose stern visage gave nothing away. Things were changing fast.
Talon was given a group of horsemen from Abbas’s personal guards, and now he spent most of the afternoons working with them on the polo field. They were good horsemen and it did not take long before he had them maneuvering as a unit. Their bows were lighter than his, but they were highly competitive amongst themselves. They soon managed to gallop past a row of well-spaced straw figures and place an arrow in each from a distance of about forty paces, and this after only a couple of weeks of hard training. Abbas pronounced that he was pleased with the effort after watching a demonstration.
To rejoice in the bonding that the teamwork had brought upon them, that evening Abbas himself joined the polo game and evidently highly enjoyed it; he scored a couple of goals against Bilal’s team, of which Talon was a member, and this put him in a good mood.
In the city where the colors run dry,
Or in the country where the farmers grow rye.
In the city where there are fees,
Or in the country where beauty is free.
In the city where there are loud crowds,
Or in the country where you can watch clouds.
— Haley McRae
Chapter 11
Al Qahirah
(Cairo)
The message arrived late one evening, almost three months after Abbas had returned to the Fayoum. He sent for Malek almost immediately. Malek walked into the main room of the house and bowed low, then he waited in respectful silence while Abbas continued to read the missive.
Finally Abbas looked up and said, “I am being recalled to Al Qahirah by the Sultan. You should know that the father of our Sultan, Najm Ad-Dīn Ayyūb, has died. He had a fall some months ago and never fully recovered.” Abbas gave a wry smile and continued, “The Sultan also says that I have spent enough time with my family, that he needs me back with him, as there is the possibility of another campaign taking place soon.
“I will leave in the morning with half my men; but you, Malek, will stay and manage my lands. Your brother Bilal will bring my wife and children along with him within two days. I do not feel that I can leave them here while I am gone. It is too isolated, and the risk of my enemy striking at them again is too high. They shall come to Al Qahirah and live in my house there, until I know what is to happen. Make preparations for their departure as soon as possible.”
Malek bowed low. “My lord, what of Suleiman and the kharagi, Max? Do they stay here, or go with you or the family?”
Abbas lifted his head. “Suleiman goes with Bilal. They will accompany my wife. He is to continue to instruct the children. The other man will stay here and work for you; be sure that he is put to good use.”
“Yes, my lord. May Allah give you safe passage. Are you riding all the way there?”
“Yes. That is the best, as I would need too many boats for all my men. However, Bilal should take a boat. Make sure Bilal does not find himself in trouble again.”
Malek kept his face wooden, but it was clear he was hurt. If Abbas noticed this, he gave no sign. Malek knew that the family was too important for him to be concerned about his own feelings on the subject.
But then Abbas seemed to relent. “I put my trust in Bilal, Malek, and don’t forget that Suleiman seems to be a capable soldier too. Also my trust is in you to maintain and protect my property while we are gone.”
Malek bowed deeply and said, “My lord, I shall be worthy of that trust, Insha’Allah.”
Talon was informed along with the rest of the estate personnel by Malek, who took him aside afterwards and told him, “Suleiman, you and my brother are entrusted with the care of the master’s family, and that is not a light thing he has done. Your companion, Max, is to stay here and work for me. Do not be concerned for him. Although he is an infidel, a kharagi, he will be safe here, and I will use him to help me run the estate.
“You will be taking a boat when you get to the great river, and it is at this point that I fear trouble might occur. Be alert for anything along the way.”
Talon nodded. “It will be as you command, Malek. I shall watch Bilal’s back for him, as well as the children and my Lady. Thank you for your words regarding my companion. I am grateful.”
He hurried off to find Max and discuss the situation.
“So you must leave us?” Max asked him. They were in his bare little room and he was sitting on his pallet with his shirt off, rubbing his shoulder where there was still a livid scar. He turned his arm about as though easing the stiffness from the healing wound. Max did not sound at all happy at the prospect.
“Abbas is clever. He has separated us, knowing that I will not flee without you. He still does not trust me, despite me giving my word,” Talon said. He was somewhat aggrieved.
“You cannot blame him, Talon. Would you not seek to escape if I were not here, despite your given word? He knows not whom to trust. He has many enemies and does not want his own people churning up the water as well,” Max said.
“Perhaps you are right,” Talon conceded reluctantly, and then he looked around at the room, avoiding Max’s eyes. “Well, Max, my old friend, at least you will be safe here and have time to heal. Malek is a good man. He will give you work to do and perhaps you can become friends while helping him.”
“I shall be glad of it, Talon. I too sense he is a good man. But when do you think you will be able to come back?” Max asked, concern in his voice. Talon looked frankly at his friend: Max’s face had lost its former gauntness, his light hair and beard were now well trimmed, his ribs were no longer stark; he seemed to be putting on weight. Soon he would be fit to do heavier work and that would help time pass. Max, being unable to read, was bored.
“I cannot tell, Max. It could be a few months, it could be longer; God willing, not too long. What you must do is to get well and fit and stay on the good side of Malek until I can return. Do not get too fat lying about in this little corner of heaven.” He joked to hide his sense of loss. “When I come back it will be to take you with me and to go to our original destination.” He said this last very quietly as he did not know if they might be overheard, but they were talking French in any case. They continued to talk till it was late, neither happy at the prospect of being separated.
“You have grown in many ways since I first met you, Talon. You are as good a warrior as any I have seen, and as reliable a man as any I have met. The Templars could do with you when the time comes, so take good care of yourself. Protect the children and my Lady Khalidah as you intend, but come back for me before too long so that we can go on to Jerusalem. Go with God,” Max said with feeling.
They embraced hard and Talon went off to his bed.
The preparations for departure went on late into the night as the warriors looked to their baggage, horses and arms, and the servants set about frantically pa
cking for their lord. Finally it quieted, as people took to their beds to get what sleep was left before dawn.
Before he went to his own rest, Talon walked quietly onto the platform set into the wall over the gates and looked out of the compound. He nodded to the sentry nearby, who had barely heard him coming. Other than the usual greeting of “Salaam Aliekom,” they did not talk. Talon was too immersed in his own thoughts to want company, and the sentry, sensing this, gave him space.
It seemed quiet out there. He hoped that it would stay that way. Whoever wanted to strike at Abbas had an opportunity within the next few days to do so. He went to bed excited by the prospect of being on the move towards Al Qahirah, but at the same time depressed that he would be leaving Max for an unknown period of time. For the first time in weeks, his thoughts dared to move even further east than the Kingdom of Jerusalem.
For the thousandth time, he thought of Rav’an and Reza and wondered if they were still alive. He wished the emptiness that was ever with him would recede, but as long as he did not know their fates he could never know real peace. His cousin Aicelina, with a woman’s intuition, had known so very well how Talon felt. He sent a small prayer across the sea separating them to his family and hoped that the Church had drawn in its teeth.
It was a short night.
The servants were up well before dawn and the compound was bustling with last minute preparations for the departure of the master and his troops. Talon was working with the horses when Panhsj walked up to him.
“I come to say safe journey, Suleiman, for when you depart in two days, but also to warn you against any attempt to escape. I shall find you should this happen,” he said with quiet menace.
Talon turned from brushing the neck of his horse and looked Panhsj in the eye for a long moment, then said, “You seem to forget too easily, Panhsj. I gave my word, and I fully intend to keep it. Besides, the master’s family is important to me and I shall protect them…with my life if need be. Now…do you not have to leave?” he asked pointedly.
Assassination in Al Qahira Page 16