Night Pilgrims

by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

  “But need you do it again? Bondame Margrethe yearns for you. You could—” He stopped. “No, you couldn’t. Not with Lalagia and Sorer Imogen in the same chamber. And if you were to meet clandestinely, everyone in the company—everyone in Baruta—would know of it.”

  “Truly,” Sandjer’min said, pausing thoughtfully before going to their chamber door. “Having a guide would lessen the distress in the company.”

  “Sieur Horembaud might get resentful if he thinks you have usurped his authority in choosing a guide,” Ruthier reminded him.

  “He might, but he all but challenged me to do it.” Sandjer’min nodded to Ruthier and went out into the heat of the day; with no one about to watch him, he crossed the market-square in front of the inn with long, surprisingly rapid strides, the sun leaching him of energy as he went. He would shortly have to replace his native earth in the soles of his boots with fresh, he thought, and went through the monastery gate.

  A tired monk who sat next to the hospice door asked Sandjer’min what his business was, and having been told, he said that Gulema Pendibe was in the scriptorium, and gave directions to find it. “Do not speak while walking the halls; this is the monks’ meditation time. They commune with God.”

  “Yes, Frater. I will take notice.” He inclined his head and went along to the scriptorium, where he found a tall, lean African bent over a wide sheet of papyrus, making marks on it with a stick of charcoal. Sandjer’min paused just over the threshold, saying, “I am seeking Gulema Pendibe? Are you he?”

  “I am,” he said in heavily accented Coptic. “Are you the serving-man Ruthier’s master?”

  “Yes. Rakoczy, Sidi Sandjer’min. I am from the Carpathian Mountains at the edge of the Kingdom of Hungary,” he said to be polite, knowing that Pendibe had no way to comprehend this information. He put his right hand over his heart and offered a little bow; he realized that Pendibe was head-and-shoulders taller than he, and hoped this advantage in height would not annoy Sieur Horembaud. “I gather Ruthier told you that our company of pilgrims stands in need of a guide and translator? Our leader, Sieur Horembaud du Langnor, wishes to visit the Chapel of the Holy Grail, as do several of our numbers.”

  Pendibe smiled, his large white teeth luminous as pearls in his dark face. “As many pilgrims of the Roman Church wish to do. So your man told me, when he informed me that you have served the pilgrims as a translator.”

  “He indicated that you might be willing to undertake that task, taking us into the mountains in safety,” Sandjer’min said.

  Pendibe considered this, and after a short silence, he said, “I was planning to set out on my own in a few days, but I would rather travel with companions. Inundation or not, a man alone is a target, isn’t he?”

  “That has been my experience many times, even when my serving-man is with me,” Sandjer’min agreed, thinking back to the Year of Yellow Snow and the Polish marshes. “Perhaps we should sit down?”

  “There are upholstered benches at the other end of the room,” said Pendibe, and led the way to a large window shuttered against the sunlight. “Do be seated, Sidi.”

  Sandjer’min did as Pendibe bade him. “You have traveled the route before, you say? How many times?”

  “I have made the full journey nine times. When I reach my home, it will be ten times.” He sat on the bench at right angles to the one occupied by Sandjer’min. “I miss my family when I am away from them.”

  “As do many of the pilgrims,” said Sandjer’min, and added, “Ten times tells me you must have been quite young the first time.”

  “I was. Not quite fifteen when we started out. I was astonished at all I saw, yet I learned quickly.”

  “How far have you gone beyond Baruta?” Sandjer’min inquired, showing his interest by leaning slightly forward on his bench.

  “I have been to Nuri, and once to the Third Cataract, but no farther. Perhaps, one day, I will see the monuments at Edfu, but that must be later, when my children are a bit older. As it is, I spend two-thirds of the year journeying.” Pendibe looked at Sandjer’min. “And you? Have you ever traveled into Ethiopia?”

  “No,” said Sandjer’min. “This will be my first time.”

  “Have you heard about the country at all?” For the first time there was a note of doubt in his voice.

  “I have heard it is mountainous, with plateaus, numerous peaks, some jagged, all very green, many valleys at different elevations, and one deep, broad canyon—the lowland region is called Abyssinia, I understand; Ethiopia is the north side of the canyon, particularly the plateaus. There are cities and towns on most of the trade routes, all the way to the sea in the east.” Sandjer’min offered Pendibe an encouraging half-smile. “The people are mostly Coptic Christians, although there are many pagans in isolated places, and some Jews as well. There are profusions of animals, many birds, and at the northeast end of the canyon, there are volcanos and unwholesome lakes of sulphur-water.”

  “You’ve studied my country?” Pendibe asked. “How?”

  “In the last few years, yes, I have studied the lands lying south of Egypt. I was staying at the Monastery of the Visitation in Sese’metkra, and had an opportunity to peruse their accounts and maps.” Sandjer’min got up. “But studying is not the same as seeing. With one of your maps”—he nodded in the direction of the papyrus on the table—“I might be able to find the way beyond the division of the White and Blue Nile, but I am no guide in your homeland, only an informed traveler.”

  “Do any of the other pilgrims know as much as you do about Ethiopia?” Pendibe’s attitude relaxed a little.

  “I doubt it. Frater Anteus knows more than he admits, I believe, and Jiochim Menines, who has lived in Egypt for some years, probably has learned something from the returning pilgrims he has seen in Alexandria. Sieur Horembaud—”

  “He is the leader you spoke of?”

  “Yes. He listens to Frater Anteus, and occasionally to me in matters of travel; we need someone who knows what lies ahead, not who has studied what lies ahead,” said Sandjer’min, giving slight emphasis to knows.

  Pendibe put the tips of the fingers of his right hand together to show he comprehended Sandjer’min’s remark. “Most foresightful.”

  “I hope so,” said Sandjer’min. “Most of the pilgrims have no understanding of the demands that could be made upon us on our climb into the mountains. The desert has been beyond their expectations; Ethiopia is still more a dream to them than a place.”

  “As is often the case in an unknown land,” Pendibe said, continuing as if from idle curiosity, “This Sieur Horembaud: do you have any impression as to why he is on this pilgrimage?”

  “As I understand it, he is a knight who unknowingly killed a number of Christians, and has been given a penance to visit the Chapel of the Holy Grail before he will be allowed to lead troops in battle. He is a valiant fighter, and a man of position. He has estates in English territory in France—” He broke off, then said, “I will make an agreement with you, Gulema Pendibe. If you are willing to guide this company of pilgrims, I will be glad to provide you with maps and other information of the countries from which the pilgrims come. You may find such information useful if you continue to guide pilgrims.”

  “Isn’t that disloyal?” Pendibe spoke cautiously, as if he expected an angry response. “How can you reveal so much and not betray them all?”

  “It might be treacherous if their lands were not so very far away. As it is, the greater your understanding of the origins of the Roman Christians you guide, the fewer instances of confusion you and those you guide will have. They are not likely to tell you very much on their own, though you are a Christian.”

  Pendibe seemed much struck by Sandjer’min’s answer. “A good point, Sidi.” He pulled at his lower lip.

  “I would appreciate your instruction.” Sandjer’min walked slowly down the scriptorium, his demeanor calm.

  “As I would yours,” said Pendibe. “Shall I plan to visit the Waterbird Inn after the
foreigners’ quarter is once again awake?”

  “That would be fine; I’ll tell Sieur Horembaud that you may be the very man he is seeking.” Sandjer’min hesitated, then added, “You may want to know that the company is being followed, and has been since we left the Nile to cross the Nubian Desert.”

  “Followed?” Pendibe managed not to reveal his alarm. “How do you mean?”

  “There are two, and occasionally three men keeping far enough behind us not to be readily seen. So far they have only followed us, but I cannot tell if they pose any threat to us; I can only say that they have done nothing to warrant such an assumption yet.”

  “What does your leader say?” Pendibe asked, a frown gathering on his brow.

  “Nothing. I am not sure he’s aware of the followers, but if he is, he has put them from his mind.” Sandjer’min waited for another question; when one did not come, he continued. “Our numbers are reduced from what they were when my serving-man and I joined the company at Sese’metkra. The followers may be hoping there will be fewer of us soon, and may then take us captive, which I have come to believe is their plan.”

  “Then you are wise to be cautious,” Pendibe said with careful approval. “Many robbers deal in more than abandoned goods.”

  “I have surmised that.”

  Pendibe nodded. “In this region, there are men who follow foreigners—pilgrims for the most part—crossing the Nubian Desert, men who wait for the unprepared to be overcome by the heat, or to get fatally lost, and then, as they die, take any living animals and the pilgrim’s chests and other belongings. It may be that you have those scavengers keeping pace with you. Slavers would be more distrustful, and of greater numbers.”

  “I thought it might be something like that for many days. You have shown me a vulnerability in our company. Hazards like that, that are unknown to us, leave us exposed to dangers. If you undertake to guide us, I will thank you, and provide payment for any service beyond guiding that you may perform for Sieur Horembaud’s company.” Sandjer’min saw the doubt in Pendibe’s face. “What troubles you?”

  “I … I have no wish to refuse you, but there must be limits on where we go.” Pendibe took a short time to think. “I will see you as far as Lalibela. If you wish to go farther, you will need to find another guide if you don’t return the way you came.”

  “Your family is in Lalibela?”

  “Not far from it,” said Pendibe; Sandjer’min sensed that Pendibe was being deliberately evasive. “When you return, you may well be going north to Axum when most travelers are going south and west, and that may make finding a guide more difficult, assuming you’ll need one.” He lapsed into silence again, his frown deepening. “I will speak with this Sieur Horembaud, and then decide what I should do,” he said.

  “That is satisfactory,” said Sandjer’min, “at least to me. I’ll inform Sieur Horembaud that you will speak to him this afternoon.” He came back to where Pendibe was sitting. “Until then, you have my thanks for hearing me out.” He put his right hand over his heart and nodded once.

  “I hope Sieur Horembaud is willing to engage me.” Pendibe rose. “Your serving-man has done me a good turn. I will remember him for it.”

  “I’ll tell him.” Without waiting for another exchange of pleasantries, Sandjer’min turned and left the scriptorium, and dropped a ducat in the donation tray beside the hospice door before he went across the forecourt to the outer gate; he thanked the novice who opened the gate for him, and went on toward the market-square where sacks of grain and rolled hay were sold. After arranging for grain and hay for the next leg of the pilgrims’ journey, Sandjer’min returned to the Waterbird Inn, arriving just as the pilgrims were beginning to stir; he saw Olu’we and Carlus emerge from their chambers, and a few paces on, Lalagia coming out of the kitchen, a covered bowl in her hands. Something for Sorer Imogen to eat, he decided. As Sandjer’min reached his own room, he noticed Methodus Temi coming in the side-door. The blacksmith nodded and went on toward the room Cristofo d’Urbineau shared with Micheu de Saunte-Foi.

  “Did your meeting with Pendibe go well?” Ruthier asked as Sandjer’min came through the door.

  “I think so,” said Sandjer’min. “I’ll know after I talk to Sieur Horembaud.” As he heard his own words, he was troubled by the realization that he would have to present strong reasons for the leader of the pilgrimage to accept his recommendation in order to keep from giving Sieur Horembaud cause to resent his success in finding a guide for the company. “Perhaps, old friend, you will join me when I do.”

  * * *

  Text of a letter from the tenth Aba’yam for the Monastery of the Visitation at Sese’metkra, to Venerable Demetrios at the Coptic Church of the Archangel Rafaele in Alexandria, written in Coptic on papyrus and carried by Dinat, the monastery’s courier, delivered twenty-nine days after it was written.

  To the most Venerable Demetrios at the Church of the Archangel Rafaele in the city of Alexandria, the most respectful greetings of Aba’yam at the Monastery of the Visitation at Sese’metkra, on this, the 9th day of July, in the year of Our Lord, 1225.

  Blessed Demetrios,

  To answer your inquiry, yes, the Inundation has come earlier than usual, and the waters are rising rapidly. Two fields on the south side of this place were partially washed away when the Nile broached its banks, four days ago. There have been make-shift repairs, but for now we must rely on the Mercy of God to spare us any greater losses. I would advise any village on the river to reinforce as much of their waterside supports as they can, or risk having a more destructive Inundation than we have seen in many years.

  We have taken your notice to heart and from now until you or your successor lifts the ban on succoring those who are not Christians, we will turn away all travelers who seek our hospitality but those who worship Christ. It is apparent that there are many worshipers of Allah coming into the south with the purpose of suborning those faithful to Christ, and for His Glory, we must stand against the swelling forces of Islam, or lose our communicants and energumens to the underlings of the Sultan. To that end, we have encouraged our congregation to undertake the rapture of spirit that the energumens pursue, embracing the angelic possession and zeal that are proof against all malign persuasion that Islam may offer for any falling-away from the only true faith.

  It is my sad duty to inform you that my predecessor, who had withdrawn to a hermit’s cave in the hills behind this village, was found dead three days ago, apparently from the bite of a venomous serpent, for there was a bite on his hand, and his lower arm was swollen and discolored, as was his hand and fingers. His face was also affected, being bloated. We have said Mass for the repose of his soul each day since his body was discovered by one of our novices, whose task it was to take food to him. I spoke to him a few days before his death, and discussed the new policy toward non-Christians, which much distressed him. He reminded me what a benefit the foreigner Rakoczy, Sidi Sandjer’min, had been while he and his servant stayed here, but I told him your order was firm, and I regret to say, we parted with hard words.

  I have instituted a new policy that I hope will meet with your approval: I have let it be known that we will accept young men from the district as novices who might otherwise be seized by the Sultan’s men to be soldiers in his army. I have, for the time being, suspended the test for monastic vocation, for I see it as God’s work to keep Christians away from the Sultan, and not even Malik-al-Kamil would require a young man in Orders to go to war on the Sultan’s behalf. May God preserve us all from the machinations of Satan and its embodiment, the servants of Mohammed.

  Rest assured, I will promote Christian zeal for as long as I am Aba’yam, as I did when I was Tsura’gar, a simple monk devoted to our faith and our cause.

  Obediently,

  Aba’yam

  the Monastery of the Visitation

  Sese’metkra

  PART III

  BONDAME MARGRETHE DE LA POELE OF RUTLAND

  Text of a letter from Reg
imus di Marcellus dei Ruschelinus, Seneschal of the Knights of the Rose, the Neapolis chapter, to Janarius Conradin da Rimini, Treasurer of the Knights of the Rose, the Tyre chapter, written in coded Church Latin on vellum and delivered by Templar courier thirty-nine days after it was written.

  To my most honorable colleague, Janarius Conradin da Rimini, Treasurer of the Tyre chapter of the Knights of the Rose, the respectful greetings of Regimus di Marcellus dei Ruschenlinus, Seneschal of the Neapolis chapter of the Knights of the Rose, on this, the 22nd day of July, in the 1225th Year of Grace,

  Most worthy cousin,

  I hope this finds you in God’s favor in that most ruthless climate, and that the members of our Order are persevering in their missions. In regard to expanding your chapter: Cardinal della Rovere has recently been granted audience with the Pontiff, and will receive authorization for a chapter in Egypt before the end of the year, at which time some of your knights will be sent to Alexandria to establish a Rosine church near one of the Roman churches near the Christian district of the city. As the time nears, I will inform you of what the Pope intends to achieve with the expansion of your Order, and define those missions that will be given you. Presently in that regard, there is one of your chapter’s number who will need to be notified that he is no longer assigned to remove Vidame Perrin Bonnefiles from his pilgrimage; the Vidame’s uncle, Bishop Godeswain de Saunt-Felicien, has presented a defense of the Vidame’s actions that the Archbishop has accepted on behalf of the Pope. Your man is relieved of his task. Vidame Bonnefiles is no longer under suspicion of heresy, nor is he considered to have pilfered funds from the rents owed to the Church; the obligation to complete the pilgrimage is lifted from him, as are your man’s instructions to kill him before they reach Ethiopia and the Chapel of the Holy Grail.

  I realize that it will take time for new orders to reach Micheu de Saunte-Foi, and so I urge you to dispatch a courier to follow the company of pilgrims as rapidly as possible. With the Vidame exonerated of all irreligious activities, his death would be a sin for your Order. It would not be appropriate to kill the Vidame now that the charge of heresy has been lifted from Bonnefiles. Micheu de Saunte-Foi is dedicated to his work, and must have sufficient proof that his orders are rescinded before he sets his duty aside, so I would advise you to send a bona fides copy of this letter along with the message from you with the courier, so that Micheu de Saunte-Foi will have confirmation of the order.