by Peter Darman
Grand Duke Roger, a superstitious individual who looked for divine signs everywhere, took Luca’s warning at face value and despatched his ships to Egypt to purchase grain. That land, once the granary for the Roman Empire, was now under the control of a fierce people called Mamelukes: Muslim slave warriors who overthrew their masters to rule in their stead. But as long as one had gold, they were quite prepared to trade with Christians. Roger convinced Count Michael and the city fathers of Artake to invest in his expedition to purchase food, the good faith he and the Catalan Company had built up working in his favour. The ships returned with holds filled with grain, which was stored in the city granaries. Christmas came and went, and in early January the city square was filled with citizens, soldiers and Almogavars to celebrate the Feast of Epiphany.
Luca knew she was an unbeliever, but he brought Ayna along nevertheless, the Muslim woman fascinated by the rich robes of the bishop and priests who officiated at the ceremony that celebrated the Catholic rite celebrating Jesus being the Son of God. It focused on this revelation to the Three Wise Men, and happily it coincided with the Orthodox rite of Theophany, which was essentially the same celebration but focused primarily on the manifestation of Jesus’ divinity at his baptism in the River Jordan. He noticed Ayna was shivering despite the thick, fur-lined cloak he had wrapped her in, and became aware his ears were numb. He thought nothing of it, until the next morning.
During the night, the temperature had plummeted and over the subsequent days continued to drop. A keen easterly wind brought snow, light flurries at first but then an unending stream of large white flakes falling day and night that lasted for days. And when the snow stopped falling a merciless iron frost gripped the land. All training and weapons drills ceased. The wall was abandoned and Grand Duke Roger issued just one order to the Catalan Company and its dependents: stay alive.
Wrapped in furs, Luca and Ayna had already stockpiled firewood and insulated their hut by packing straw bales around the outside. A fire was kept burning at all times, which required access to the woodshed a short distance from the hut’s entrance. So, every day any snowfall between the hut and the shed was cleared and firewood used up during the evening replaced. Even so, as the great freeze continued, the interior of the hut was never warm.
The whole land was enveloped by silence. Game lay down in the fields and died and small birds quickly succumbed to the weather. Fish froze in the rivers and even at the edge of the sea, which also froze. All tracks and roads became impassable on account of being blocked by snow and ice, which meant it was impossible to transport food to villages on the peninsula. Fruit, nut and olive trees died, the winter wheat crop was destroyed, and when the churches tried to raise the spirits of the despondent and freezing citizens of Artake by ringing church bells, they fractured due to the extreme cold.
‘I’m cold.’
When she had first arrived, Ayna had slept on the mud floor, but that did not last for long. After a while she slept in the single bed. Luca slept on the floor, on the wooden boards he had placed to cover the frozen dirt, with straw beneath the boards for insulation.
‘I’m cold as well,’ he complained, the interior of the hut cast in a yellow light from the flickering flames of the fire.
‘Then come here for warmth.’
His teeth had been chattering and his fingers had gone numb, but her invitation was like a fire being ignited in his belly. He needed no second prompting, joining her under the thick blanket and each wrapping their arms around the other. They eagerly sought each other’s mouths, their tongues becoming one like two snakes performing a mating ritual. Their hands worked like skilled tailors, deftly removing the other’s garments until they were both naked. The outside world may have been dying a slow, freezing death, but their bed was like a hot cauldron of desire. Luca found her breasts, his manhood aching as it became a pillar of stone. She moaned with delight when his fingers found her inner thigh, slipping into her body with ease so aroused was she. She groaned with pleasure when she opened her legs to allow him to enter her, gasping as he experienced a sensation he had never tasted before.
Their lovemaking was both tender and raw, both of them young and energetic, eager to taste the delights of the other’s body. They did not notice the passing of the hours as they locked their bodies together and writhed on top of the bed. For Luca, her olive-skinned body was a marvel to behold and he could not fulfil his appetite to caress and taste every inch of it. She likewise did things to his manhood that took his breath away, moaning loudly when she took him to a place of utter fulfilment. It was just as well they were not in close proximity to other huts as her moans and cries became louder and more piercing as the night wore on. They only interrupted their insatiable desire for each other to throw more tinder on the fire to ensure it did not go out, thereafter resuming their carnal appetites.
That winter, harsh as it was, was for Luca the most enjoyable he had ever experienced. Each day, he reported for duty in Artake, forming a party with Sancho, Jordi and two other Almogavars, which along with others, assisted the authorities in clearing paths of snow and ice and collecting frozen bodies. The ground resembled concrete so burying them was out of the question. So, they were stacked outside cemeteries until they could be interred.
‘This cold is the worst I have ever experienced,’ complained Jordi, grabbing the stiff legs of the corpse, Luca the shoulders.
‘It will be worse in spring.’
They removed the body from the handcart and manhandled it to the stack of frozen dead piled against the cemetery wall. A priest wrapped in an enormous bearskin cloak was saying prayers as the stack grew higher.
‘How so?’ asked a shivering Jordi, his skin pinched by the cold.
‘When the snows melt there will be floods, which will kill any seeds in the ground, which will result in a food shortage. Many who escape being frozen to death will die from starvation.’
‘But not us,’ grinned Jordi, ‘not with the grain that the grand duke purchased in Egypt. How is Ayna?’
Luca gave him a mischievous grin. ‘There are no words, my friend, no words at all.’
‘You lucky bastard.’
They walked back to the cart and hoisted another corpse to the wall, this one very slight and fragile. It was an old lady, her expression one of peace and calm. Luca wondered where her family was; if she had one. Perhaps they too were dead. Ordinarily, such a thought would have depressed him. But such was his perpetual state of ecstasy he felt nothing. He had duties and he would carry them out. Jordi, on the other hand, was morose, made worse by the extreme weather conditions.
‘I envy you, my friend. You have found a woman who makes you happy.’
They laid the old lady on the pile, stood back and bowed their heads. They did not know her but thought it was fitting a person who had lived to old age should be shown some respect.
‘My father is determined to marry me to Count Michael’s daughter,’ complained Jordi.
‘But not until after our campaign against the Muslims,’ Luca reminded him, ‘so you don’t have to worry for a few months yet.’
‘You mean take comfort like a condemned man who had been given a temporary reprieve?’
Luca said nothing.
‘He is still executed in the end.’
Luca slapped him on the back. ‘Perhaps the count’s daughter is beautiful.’
Jordi sighed. ‘And perhaps she is fat and ugly. Not like Ayna.’
He had already convinced himself that the count’s daughter was a bad match, and because he had no idea what she looked like, the more he pondered the coming marriage, the more grotesque she became in his mind.
He suddenly turned to Luca. ‘Ayna is Muslim. How does that affect things?’
Luca considered his question. He had given their religious differences little thought, and in truth questions of faith had not got in the way of him enjoying carnal delights with her. He believed in God and tried to live a good life, but he had never understood the L
atin prayers of his local priest in Rometta and could not forget that the same priest had sanctioned his execution when he had been unjustly accused. Ayna might be a Muslim but she had a gorgeous body and they loved each other. That was enough for him.
‘It doesn’t,’ he answered.
‘Get back to work,’ roared Sancho.
The very young and the very old died in droves, along with those outside the city in the more isolated parts of the peninsula who had failed to heed the warnings of a great freeze. The citizens of the city of Artake fared better, Count Michael convincing the rich to donate food from their personal granaries to alleviate the plight of the poor, an unpopular order that was supported by Artake’s bishop, who realised the count and his soldiers were the only things that stood between the poor taking what they wanted for themselves. Luca was oblivious to the suffering of the population as he was supplied with food from the Almogavars’ own warehouses in the city, had enough firewood to see out the freeze, and was only concerned with sharing a bed with Ayna in the evenings. Life was good and could only get better.
And then it got slightly warmer, the snows melted and the land flooded.
Because Luca’s hut was in the hills immediately above Artake, it was immune from the violent torrents of water flowing downhill. Despite the thaw, the ground was still frozen, which meant melting snow or rain could not seep into the earth but rather ran off the surface into lakes, streams and rivers. Small streams, previously ice bound, became impassable torrents. Normally livestock would be at risk from floodwaters, but as they had already died of exposure during the great freeze, it was one less thing for farmers to worry about. The isthmus became a waterlogged marsh, cutting off the mainland from the peninsula, which meant no enemy raiders would be able to cross it.
The sea around the peninsula was no longer frozen, which meant Grand Duke Roger’s ships and those of Count Michael could once again set sail for Egypt to purchase grain to feed the Almogavars and the population of Artake. And fishing boats once again dotted the sea around the peninsula. Ships arrived from Constantinople to report the city had also been snowbound, though had escaped relatively unscathed.
Luca grinned at Ayna and rubbed his hands. The pair of sea bass cooking on a grill over the fire looked mouth-watering. Caught that morning, it was the first fish they had eaten since before Christmas.
‘Luca, Luca, are you there?’
He heard Jordi’s voice and left his love to walk outside, to find his friend in an agitated state. Utter relief was etched on Jordi’s face. He grabbed Luca’s arms.
‘She’s dead, praise be.’
‘Who?’
‘The count’s daughter. She succumbed to the cold in Constantinople a month ago.’
Jordi hugged his friend. ‘I am saved.’
Luca laughed. ‘Come inside and share our meal. We must celebrate your stroke of luck.’
Jordi slapped him on the back and entered the hut. Luca wondered if the count had more than one daughter.
Chapter 10
‘What are you going to do about Ayna?’
Carla’s question surprised him. Her face was still attractive but it needed filling out. Wholesome food would do that, but the hard winter and the subsequent food shortages had obviously taken their toll on her body. And not only hers. All the Almogavars had grown leaner, even more gaunt, during the winter, but at least the majority had survived. Now it was April, the sun was shining, the land was no longer flooded and life was at last returning to Anatolia.
He had finished his training for the day and had visited the Almogavar bakery to pick up his issue of bread, freshly baked that morning. He was well known in the city now, not only for the fame resulting in saving Princess Maria’s life, but also for his part in convincing Grand Duke Roger and Count Michael to purchase Egyptian grain, or so the rumour had it. Whatever the truth, the Black Sheep was a welcome sight for many citizens of Artake, who stopped and thanked him when he passed them by. He had paid a courtesy visit to Carla on account of not having seen her in an age. She, her husband and son lived in a spacious two-storey house near the mansion of Count Michael, who had allocated soldiers to stand sentry outside the building. The property, owned by the church, was lavishly furnished with tapestries, religious icons and sumptuous furnishings. Carla looked totally out of place amid such grandeur.
Luca, loaf tucked under his arm, accepted her offer of wine served to him in a silver chalice. He raised it to the wife of his commander.
‘Your health, lady.’
‘And Ayna?’ she probed. ‘Is she still your slave?’
He looked horrified. ‘No, lady.’
‘As I suspected. Your lover, then?’
He suppressed a smile and looked away from her, embarrassed.
‘Then you must marry her.’
He nearly choked on his wine. ‘Marry her?’
‘Is Ayna a whore, then?’ she scolded him. ‘Someone to be used and abused like Angel’s harem of whores?’
‘I would never hurt her,’ he insisted.
‘Then you must marry her, Luca, for others will see only a Saracen slave or whore, and soon you and the other men will be leaving Artake.’
He failed to see how that had any relevance to him or Ayna. She rolled her eyes.
‘Oh, Luca, how innocent you are. Do you think a young Saracen woman living alone in a hut will not attract unwanted attention?’
‘I do not understand, lady.’
She told him to sit, doing the same and sipping at her wine.
‘At the moment, the Black Sheep is held in high regard among the people of Artake. But how long will it be before some blame a Saracen witch for the harsh winter and the deaths of their loved ones?’
‘That is ridiculous,’ he said dismissively.
‘How quickly you forget your own experience, Luca. Your own people, who you had grown up among, did not raise any objections when you were sentenced to hang. How easier it would be for a mob to burn a foreign witch they blamed for their misfortunes.’
He was speechless and his ebullience evaporated.
‘Fortunately, unlike you I think with my head and not my loins. Ayna will come to live with me while the company is away. As the count insists on stationing guards around my home, the likelihood of Ayna being seized will be remote.’
Luca nodded like a slavering dog.
‘For appearances sake, she will be living here as the betrothed of Luca Baldi, who was called away before the marriage ceremony could be arranged. This will convince any who may show an interest that Ayna has converted to the true religion, since it is inconceivable that a Christian would convert to the Saracen faith.’
He was still nodding, though cared little for religious conversion or indeed marriage. He knew Ayna would be safe and that was all that mattered. It would allow him to concentrate fully on killing the enemy.
‘You are very kind, lady,’ he beamed.
‘Kindness has nothing to do with it, Luca. And when you return, you will marry Ayna. Let us hope there no unwelcome arrivals before then.’
‘I would not worry about the enemy, lady,’ he assured her. ‘After their battering at the wall they will be reluctant to venture near to Artake again, and we will be taking the fight to them once our horsemen arrive.’
She rolled her eyes again. ‘I was not referring to that kind of arrival but something altogether smaller.’
He gave her a quizzical look.
‘I thank God for the extreme cold, which would have inhibited your body’s ability to function fully.’
He laughed, thinking about how he and Ayna had made love for hours at a time during the winter evenings, still blissfully unaware she was referring to Ayna becoming pregnant rather than his sexual athleticism. She regarded him coolly.
‘Still thinking with your loins, Luca?’
‘No, lady,’ he insisted.
He thought Ayna might have been resistant to leaving their home, which he had come to regard with affection during the prec
eding weeks. But she was all too ready to leave the bare, stone hut and exchange it for a comfortable room in a well-appointed house in the city. He would have found living in such grandeur awkward, but she took to it like a duck to water. She and Carla had formed something of a close bond, which made the transition easier, that and the fact Sancho and Jordi would be soon leaving with the Catalan Company. But when Ayna moved into the house, Luca realised he knew absolutely nothing about her family or background. She had never discussed her past life and their lust for each other had made family histories irrelevant. He naively reasoned that if a couple loved each other, nothing else mattered. Nevertheless, his curiosity had been aroused, only to be extinguished when the Catalan horsemen and their Alan allies arrived at the wall.
Arabates was like a bear with a sore head, eager to unleash his horsemen against the enemy and be away from the restraints of law and order. The Alans and the horsemen of Corberan of Navarre had been fed and maintained by the imperial granaries and warehouses in Constantinople, which meant they had survived the harsh winter. But General Mouzalon had kept the Alans on a tight leash and had placed guards around their encampment to ensure they did not loot and plunder the emperor’s territory on the eastern side of the Bosporus, such as it was. Being placed under armed guard offended the gruff Alans greatly, which amused the Almogavar Council immensely.
The handsome Corberan finished his report to the council and looked around the dining room of Sancho’s grandiose house, appreciating the fine fresco on the wall behind him depicting the ascension of Christ into heaven. Luca and Jordi stood beside the seated Sancho, ready to serve those around the table with wine. Luca found such duties tedious, but Sancho thought such menial tasks appropriate to remind his son and the Black Sheep they were still low-ranking Almogavars, despite their fame and also fortune.
‘I don’t trust these Alans,’ grumbled Hector. ‘They deserted the Romans and there is no guarantee they won’t do the same to us.’