“We had heard this in Alexandria, shortly before we set out on this pilgrimage,” said Frater Anteus. “The Sultan was afraid that the Khan’s armies would be set against his own as the Khan sets his eyes on Christendom.”
“And Islam.” Sandjer’min winced inwardly at the memory of Jenghiz Khan’s troops in their fight against T’en Chi-Yu’s soldiers, more than a decade ago. He coughed, and said, “I have been at the Monastery of the Visitation for a few years, and know only what I have been told by merchants and other travelers, but from these various accounts”—which included reports from the captains of his ships, and the factors in the ports they served—“I believe Jenghiz Khan is striking north of Egypt, at Samothrace and the Romanian region, and Hungary.” A similar path to the one Attila and his armies had followed nine hundred years earlier. “He can move his army with great rapidity. At this time of year, his men can cover more than twenty-eight leagues in a day.”
Pater Venformir crossed himself. “Then our homes could be in danger from them at least as much as Egypt is.”
Frater Anteus muttered a prayer while Sieur Horembaud laughed. “Twenty-eight leagues in a day? Why not say thirty, or fifty? That is a tale, not a report, made to frighten those without faith.”
“It is what I have been told, by those who have seen for themselves,” Sandjer’min said, a bit stiffly; he was tempted to describe what he had witnessed of the Mongols a little more than a decade ago, but knew it would be folly.
“If half of that is their speed, then God protect the Russias,” said Sieur Horembaud.
“Is it possible that they would attack Russia and the Holy Land at the same time? Are there enough men in the Khan’s army to do that?” Pater Venformir asked Sandjer’min. “One of my sons has gone for a soldier, and my wife was so deeply troubled by it that she passed into the sin of melancholy and died.”
Sandjer’min nodded. “If things continue as they are, it is more likely that your son will see the men of Jenghiz Khan before Egypt does.”
Pater Venformir crossed himself. “God between him and danger,” he said.
“Why should such misfortune come to Christendom?” Sieur Horembaud demanded.
“That is for God to know,” said Pater Venformir in quelling accents.
“It is the battle of Armageddon that is coming,” said Frater Anteus. “The battle at the end of the world.”
“Christ have mercy on us,” said Sieur Horembaud with an anticipatory grin. “Now that is a battle worth fighting.”
From a way off a long, eerie wail cut through the darkness, a sound taken up by others of its kind.
“Demons,” whispered Frater Anteus.
Sandjer’min shook his head. “No,” he corrected. “Wolves.”
* * *
Text of a letter from Basilios Vlamis, Eclipse Trading factor at Constantinople, to Paolus Bencord, Eclipse Trading factor at Ragusa, written in Byzantine Greek on vellum, carried by the Eclipse Trading ship Sagittarius, never delivered: the ship went down after a skirmish with pirates and was looted by villagers.
To the factor Paolus Bencord, Eclipse Trading factor at Ragusa, the greetings of your fellow–Eclipse Trading factor at Constantinople, Basilios Vlamis, on this, the 19th day of August in the 1225th year of Salvation,
My good comrade in trade,
I have recently received a number of warnings about increased pirate activities in the Cyclades Islands, and I wish to warn you of them so that you may order more arms for all such ships that set out from Ragusa may be prepared, and escorted as needed to keep the crew and cargo safe. In the last three months we have lost six ships to pirates, and that is the highest number we have recorded in nearly a century. It is a most lamentable development. We are not the only ones complaining about this: two other companies I know have had similar trouble, and they are asking all ships’ captains to report any incidents of pirates, whether or not they are attacked. Last month, a Genovese galley, the Saunt Michele il Vittorio, limped into port here, sails in tatters, half their oarsmen injured or dead. She listed heavily to larboard, and showed all signs of a dreadful fight. You are in a region where pirates hold their distance, but once into the Aegean Sea, the pirates have the advantage, as this incident shows. The Doge of Genova has ordered escorts for all the ships leaving Genova until the pirates are brought under control.
To answer your question of your letter sent last April, no, there have been no messages from Santo Germanno to this office, not from Egypt or anywhere else. As far as I know, he is still in Egypt, well up the Nile, and has not sent any of his factors news of a change. I can send a letter to Alexandria again, and ask if there has been any news of him. It seems to me that there are many explanations for his silence, including the understanding that he might not have been silent, but that something has happened to his messages. There may be more fighting in Egypt, and that could account for his long stillness. I agree there is reason for concern, but I would not recommend sending men into Egypt to search for him. If another year should pass with no information on him, then it might be advisable to send two or three groups of trained men to find him, but it was just over a decade ago that he returned from China and India after a long absence and only occasional messages reaching us through Bondamma Clemens. If the other factors wish to institute such a search now, I will not protest, but I believe our employer would not approve of such action. He travels widely, and does not require us to search for him.
With the Mongols advancing again, we in Constantinople are seeing an increase in refugees from the northeast. The belief is that the Mongols want the grasslands of Crimea for their herds of horses, but some say they will press farther than that: into Polovtsy and Pereslavl and Kiev. There is talk of deploying some of the mercenary Legions to the eastern edges of Byzantine land, but little has been done so far. If the refugees continue to come, then it will be essential that we do something, but until that happens, we shall trust that soldiers and money will keep them away.
The Storm Cloud is still missing, and none of the Captains who have stopped here have seen her in over three months, which does not bode well. In answer to your questions, the Zephyrus has been reported sunk off the western coast of Sardinia. The crew for the most part escaped, and half the oarsmen, but the cargo was lost, and the ship itself. The report is that there was a sudden gale and it drove the ship onto an underwater reef where it broke apart. As to the Semiramis, she is laid up at Tunis with damage to her hull. The repairs are expected to be complete by September; she should be able to make for Venezia before the winter storms begin, assuming Captain Morellus can assemble a crew in time, including men to fight off pirates.
Speaking of pirates, the Sultan in Egypt is raising his customs fees again, at least for Christian vessels, and we must be prepared to meet those additional charges of markets we have traded with for well over a century. I believe Grofek Rakoczy will not begrudge us the money for those charges, for he rarely haggles over such things, but he does expect us to be prudent in how we deal with the officers of the Sultan when we must pay. Remember what happened to Captain van Hooten who refused to pay the extra: it is not worth losing an eye over money. Rakoczy has often told us that he does not expect us to put ourselves in greater danger than our professions demand. I found it difficult to understand that when I was younger, but now that I have reached thirty-five, I am in complete agreement with our employer. Age does lend us discretion if we permit it. Be advised by me and instruct all those negotiating with the Sultan’s customs officials, to be willing to accept terms that are not as reasonable as they once were, for the benefit of us all.
God and the Hagios protect you and yours,
Basilios Vlamis
Eclipse Trading factor
Constantinople
5
As they neared the bridge over the turbulent Atbara they were forced to go in single-file, their lanthorns casting shafts of light onto the striated rock face on their left, still warm from the day’s sun, as the road narrowed
and the way steepened; across the river there was a rising, broad plateau that looked increasingly inviting to the travelers. As vexing as the need for crossing had seemed at first, now it was obvious why it would be ineluctable. It was not yet midnight, and so far they had made good progress since breaking camp at sundown. In the last furlong before the bridge the road widened again, broad enough to permit those using the bridge to dismount, reload, and change order of crossing without endangering themselves. The bridge was fronted by a level platform large enough to accommodate up to four animals and ten men, and it was becoming crowded; it angled downward from the eastern side of the river, the platform at the western end being almost four cloth-yards lower than the one on the eastern; not a tremendous drop but enough to be daunting for some travelers.
Sieur Horembaud pulled in his copper-dun mare and motioned to Pater Venformir and Sandjer’min to come up to him. “Pater Venformir,” he said, “as we agreed, you shall go first, and ten of your company and twenty animals, then six of mine and twelve animals, another ten of yours and ten animals, and another six of mine and twelve animals. Then the remainder of your pilgrims with the last of your animals, and the last of mine: pilgrims and animals. You shall appoint someone to lead each of your groups; I will do the same with mine.”
“We’ll all dismount,” said Pater Venformir. “As I hope your company will.”
“That might prove a little difficult in some instances, as I know you are aware. I am certain that Sorer Imogen will have to be led across on an ass, just to make sure she can be made to stay in place, and not risk herself and all the rest of us in a foolhardy act.” Sieur Horembaud could not conceal his annoyance with this prospect.
Sandjer’min considered the recommendation. “Yes. I agree that would be best,” he said.
“And Bondame Margrethe may lead the ass, and Lalagia attend to her. You, Sandjer’min, can lead their animals for them. On foot.” Sieur Horembaud offered Sandjer’min his least sincere smile. “You’ll agree to that, won’t you.”
“Of course,” said Sandjer’min imperturbably.
Pater Venformir studied Sieur Horembaud for a moment, then said, “It all seems providential, that we should be brought here together, and this bridge is like the ladder revealed to Jacob, but for worldly, not holy, safety. Those cables are stout and in good repair.”
Pendibe rode up to the group. “Are you planning to make camp on the far side, or just gather in preparation for moving on?”
“What would be the point of stopping unless we’re near dawn?” Sieur Horembaud asked, getting ready to hold forth.
“If we are going to camp, you should appoint someone to be in charge of it, and to supervise its set-up,” Pendibe went on.
Sandjer’min translated his Coptic for Sieur Horembaud and Pater Venformir. “It will be decided by how long it takes to get across the river; if the night is largely over, then we camp, otherwise we move on,” was the decision Sandjer’min passed on to Pendibe. “I think it would be best to build a fire on the far side, whether or not we go on tonight.”
After a flurry of discussion in three languages, the fire was agreed upon, and as the pilgrims continued to come up behind them, Sandjer’min made another, cautious suggestion. “Might it not be best to have the guides—yours, Pater Venformir, and Sieur Horembaud’s—cross ahead of the rest of us, then you two leaders can choose which is to lead the pilgrims, and who is to follow at the last. The guides will know better than we what will be needed once we’re across.” As he repeated this proposition in Coptic, he saw Pendibe nod.
Tsega added in Amharic, “Watch the planks; not all are in good condition.” Pendibe translated this into Coptic for Sandjer’min, who translated it into Anglo-French and Church Latin for the Europeans.
“How do you think we should go across, Pendibe?” Sieur Horembaud asked before Pater Venformir could inquire further of Tsega.
“I would recommend that after whichever leader crosses at the head of the companies, through which two or three servants or slaves cross immediately behind him, to help build the fire and attend to simple cooking; they can also lead over some of the pack-asses, with enough food for a small meal before we continue on our way toward the Monastery of the Redeemer. The animals will need to rest after crossing the bridge, and so will a few of the pilgrims.” Pendibe waited without impatience while Sandjer’min translated, then continued, “Both groups will want time to get their animals ready for travel again once we’re all across. Some of them may be restless after the crossing and will need water and a handful of figs to ease them while they become used to solid ground once more.”
“There is much in what you say,” Sieur Horembaud grumbled. “I’ll go last; it is fitting that if you go first, I should be last. I’ll have Olu’we go across behind you, Pater Venformir, along with Almeric. Both of them are reliable and do not dread bridges, or they haven’t done so that I know of. That way, both pilgrims and servants will know it can be crossed without mishap. You may choose one of your servants to cross with them.”
“This is a wise notion,” said Sandjer’min to Sieur Horembaud, hoping to soften his increasing resentment. “Ruthier and I will see that they have the ass carrying food to lead across with them.”
“Very good,” said Sieur Horembaud with obvious indifference. “Tell the others. Including Olu’we and Almeric.”
Pendibe went to look for Pater Venformir’s guides: Teklile Brehane—who spoke Ge’es and Coptic and a little Arabic, but no other tongues—and Tsega, whose language was Amharic but who knew some Arabic, some Ge’es, and a little Egyptian Coptic, along with a smattering of Oromigna and a few words of Greek—to tell them what had been decided. He saw them a short distance back in the line, and went toward them, swinging his lanthorn.
“Shall we start working on the order of crossing? Shouldn’t we line up the two companies into the order we have agreed upon? The path is narrow enough that jostling could be risky, could it not?” Sandjer’min asked with a deferential ducking of his head; he wanted to give Sieur Horembaud no more opportunities to take umbrage at his comments. “The sooner we have organized that, the sooner we’ll all be across.”
“No doubt,” said Sieur Horembaud, and called out, “Frater Anteus!”
“Sieur Horembaud?” the monk asked as he sidled through the tightening crowd. “How may I assist you?”
“You may make note of what I tell you, then inform our company of where each of them will walk. Have them all dismount and prepare to lead their animal over the river; the servants and slaves will lead two animals each, and there will be one or two pilgrims and such who will want to lead their own mounts, like Sandjer’min intends to do. We will have no argument about this. Temi and one or two others will lead the extra animals. Ruthier is good with horses; use him. He’ll go behind Sandjer’min.” He spoke decisively, as if he had come to these conclusions on his own. “Pater Venformir will tell you who in his company will make assignments.”
“I will speak to him when I have received your instruction,” said Frater Anteus; he was pale and Sandjer’min suspected he was ill or frightened.
“Then let us make our assignments. It will be best to have the women go with the first group of six—at the end of it. Sandjer’min will cross behind them; it puts him just ahead of the first group of servants, but he will not protest the order. The women may need his help.” He shot Sandjer’min a look that dared contradiction. “So it would be best, I believe, to have Vidame Bonnefiles go first in the first group, don’t you see the advantage?” From his expression, Frater Anteus knew better than to question him.
“I will inform them directly,” Frater Anteus pledged.
“Why don’t I go and explain this to the Bondame?” Sandjer’min said, tired of being so relentlessly bated. “The sooner we have our line of crossing in place, the sooner we may begin. The women will need a little more time than the rest to organize themselves to cross if all three of them are to be safe. Frater Anteus need not concern hims
elf with Sorer Imogen: the Bondame and Lalagia will see to her care.”
“Very sensible of you, Sandjer’min,” Sieur Horembaud approved without enthusiasm. “Be about it now.” He pointed at the line of pilgrims, servants, and animals slowing to a halt behind them.
Sandjer’min went back along the line of pilgrims; he could see the three women on their mounts about mid-way down the line, and he increased his already rapid stride to reach them quickly.
“Oh. Thank goodness,” said Margrethe as she caught sight of him approaching. She lifted her lanthorn to make out his face. “I hoped you’d come.”
“I have information for you,” he said, moving more slowly for the last dozen paces so that he would not alarm Sorer Imogen, who huddled on her ass, hands wrapped around her rosary and the raised pommel at once.
“We are going to move up a few places in line,” Sandjer’min told Margrethe. “When we cross, you and Lalagia will lead the ass and tend to Sorer Imogen so that she will not become upset while on the bridge. I will come after you as soon as you are at the mid-span, so that if there are difficulties, I will be with you shortly to do what I can for her.” He was aware of her dismay at this plan; he took her hand and said, “You know better than anyone that she requires careful attendance, and I will be as near as the bridge allows. It will be better if she can be kept … inattentive of the water below. You will know how best to accomplish that.”
Lalagia answered for her. “Then I should lead the ass, and the Bondame walk near the ass; Sorer Imogen trusts her more than she trusts me, and I have led asses and camels since I was a child.” She glanced over at Margrethe for endorsement.
“She’s right,” said Margrethe, carefully letting go of his hand. “It should be borne in mind that she becomes troubled when she fails to recognize those around her.” She faltered. “How steady is the bridge?”
“Pendibe has described it to me: it is anchored in four iron pillars, two on each side of the river; they are thick as tree-trunks and sunk deeply into the rocks. The bridge itself is made of thick, hempen rope, with heavy netting under the planks of the bridge-road, which have bored holes at the edges, and those holes are used to anchor the planks to the under-webbing with thick cords, to keep the planks in place, and to provide a more secure footing. He says the planking shifts little, and the sway doesn’t cause trouble for those crossing, as the sides are chest-high for most travelers. We will have lanthorns at both ends of the bridge after the first crossing and until the last.”
Night Pilgrims Page 37