by Peter Darman
‘Do not stand on ceremony,’ beamed Bayezid, ‘satisfy your appetites.’
Luca and Jordi were sitting on couches in the castle’s dining hall, which overlooked the empty harbour and the town. Evening was encroaching and the hall was lit with candles to illuminate the interior. Luca hoped the Turkish hostages were being treated as well as he and the others were. Around him was a dazzling display of dishes, some of which he was enjoying for the first time. He had never heard of melon dolma before, which at first sight appeared strange and unappetising. It comprised a hollowed-out melon filled with lamb, spices, rice, almonds, pistachios and currants and cooked in an oven. The result was wholly delicious.
Luca and the others gorged themselves on that and mutancana – a stew of lamb, apricot, shallots, red grapes, honey and almonds – and bird soup, which was made by boiling thrushes in a pan and afterwards roasting them in another pan with oil and onions. Finally, they were marinated with flour and served with cinnamon and black pepper. There was also rye bread stuffed with beef and a mouth-watering chicken stew called mahmudiye.
Luca had been surprised to discover the castle was not crowded with civilians, the governor having ordered their evacuation to nearby islands until the Catalan ships had arrived and unloaded their human cargoes. Hence the absence of ships in the harbour. The soldiers of the garrison were well-armed with bows and spears, though took no interest in the hostages after they had first been searched for hidden weapons. Guards were placed outside their sleeping quarters to ensure none wandered around the castle during the hours of darkness. But otherwise they were not interfered with in any way.
‘More wine for our guests.’
Bayezid clicked his fingers to prompt slaves to refill the hostages’ silver cups.
‘Tell me again why you are called the Black Sheep,’ Bayezid said to Luca.
A slightly inebriated Luca retold his story. Of how he had become friends with Jordi, how his flock possessing a black sheep had provoked an altercation with Fabrizio Carafa, how he and Jordi were sentenced to die and were subsequently rescued by Sancho Rey, and how his parents were murdered before his eyes on the orders of Giovanni Carafa. The action prompted his attempt to kill the Italian count, which earned him his nickname among the Almogavars. Bayezid smiled and nodded, shovelling stuffed rye bread into his mouth. He pointed at Luca and Jordi.
‘Do you know why violence and war follow you both like loyal dogs?’
They shook their heads. Bayezid belched.
‘It is because you have no meat on your bones. When I first saw you both and the other hostages, I thought you would expire on the spot. I have seen beggars with more meat on them.’
He picked up an apricot from one of the many bowls in front of him and handed it to a slave to be cut into slices. The guards behind the governor watched the slave closely to ensure he tried nothing untoward with the blade. Luca thought it amusing because the slave was also fat and had clearly benefited from his master’s seemingly limitless food supplies.
‘Skinny individuals are invariably mean-spirited and restless,’ opined Bayezid, ‘whereas corpulence leads to contentment and an easy-going manner.’
The slave finished his work and proffered a plate on which the apricot slices were arranged in a neat circle. Bayezid took a slice.
‘You will stay in Anaia permanently?’
His question was directed at Jordi, though Sancho’s son had no insight into the long-term strategy of the Catalan Company.
‘For the winter, lord, certainly,’ he answered. ‘After that, perhaps.’
‘You know there is no future for the Romans in Anatolia,’ said Bayezid. ‘Their empire is like a diseased tree. Rotten to the core. This land and all who live in it belong to Allah.’
Luca was emboldened by the wine.
‘We defeated every Turkish army we encountered, lord.’
Bayezid ate another slice of apricot.
‘You are like a pack of ravenous wolves, devouring everything in its path. But when the pack moves on the land returns to normal. And when you have departed, how long do you think the city of Philadelphia will be able to hold out?’
‘The Roman emperor has an army,’ said Jordi, his cheeks flushed by too much wine.
Bayezid smiled. ‘It will not leave its position to the east of Constantinople, not while Osman Bey stands like a lion ready to pounce against the Roman emperor’s capital.’
‘Perhaps we will march north in the spring and crush this Osman Bey’s army,’ boasted Luca.
Bayezid looked thoughtful. ‘Perhaps you will, and perhaps you will be as successful next year as you have been this year. But mercenaries fight for pay, Black Sheep, and I know that the emperor’s coffers are empty. Do you think we do not have spies in the enemy’s lands? Next year fresh recruits will arrive from Egypt and Syria, transported by ships that will dock in the harbour below, as well as other ports. They come as fighters and settlers, and not just Muslims.’
Luca was surprised. ‘That’s right, Black Sheep. We also welcome Christians and Jews, for we do not persecute other faiths as the Romans do. One more reason why we will ultimately triumph.’
He clapped his hands. ‘But let us not talk of war and politics. It is so depressing.’
Two women walked forward, both tall and attractive, dressed in figure-hugging robes and smelling of perfume.
‘A gift for each of you,’ beamed Bayezid. ‘Two Jewish slaves to warm your beds until your families arrive.’
Luca was embarrassed but Jordi was intoxicated, his eyes opening wide at the beauty in front of him, her eyes cast down.
‘I thank you for your generosity, lord,’ said Luca, ‘but I am promised to another and will not break my vow to her.’
Bayezid adopted a sly expression. ‘She will never know, Black Sheep.’
‘I would know, lord,’ replied Luca.
Bayezid sighed and waved the female slave earmarked for him away. But Jordi was bewitched by the vision of feminine grace before him and gladly accepted the governor’s offer. He did not care if she was Jewish, was a slave and perhaps had been a whore during her time in Muslim captivity. He was a lustful young man and he wanted her in his bed. As quickly as possible. The woman sat on his couch and he sidled up to her, offering her a grape. She opened her mouth seductively so he could place it on her tongue. Luca went back to stuffing his face and drinking wine, smiling at the good fortune showered on his friend.
Musicians and jugglers entered the chamber to entertain the governor and his guests but Jordi hardly noticed them, his eyes focused on the beauty who was accepting his advances.
‘Her name is Chana,’ said Bayezid.
In Hebrew her name meant ‘grace’, though how she found herself a slave in the Aydin Emirate only the pirates who had brought her to Bayezid’s port for sale knew. She had been spotted by the governor’s chief steward who had purchased her for a tidy sum, the pirate captain assuring him she was still a virgin. The steward doubted that but he had to admit there was something about her. Buxom and beautiful with full lips, she had all the attributes of female attractiveness. But her large hazel eyes suggested intelligence and even cunning.
Jordi was playing with her long, thick black hair that fell in ringlets to the middle of her back. They spoke little to each other as he did not speak Hebrew and she did not understand Italian or Catalan. Bayezid, in contrast, was fluent in both Italian and Greek, as well as his mother tongue, a consequence of years spent dealing with Genoese, Venetians and also Romans. But then, the pair would not require their tongues for what Jordi had in mind when they got to his bedroom, not for talking, anyway. When Jordi made his excuses to Bayezid and took his leave with Chana, Luca wished his friend well and continued drinking, eventually being assisted back to his own bedroom by two guards in a semi-conscious state.
Luca did not see Jordi for two days. While his friend was locked away with his slave, he wandered the battlements and spent hours staring at the turquoise waters of the Aegean.
He always looked north, the direction from where the fleet carrying Ayna would come from. Each day he also saw Melek, who acted as a go-between during the strange truce between the Catalan Company and the Turks. Melek assured Bayezid that his son and the other Turkish hostages were being well treated, and in turn the governor stated the Christians in his care were having an agreeable time. It was no lie. Every day Luca was treated to a massage at the hands of a skilled masseuse, before entering the bathhouse to be washed and sweated, afterwards the dirt scraped from his skin by a slave. His hair was cut, his toe and fingernails trimmed, and the cares of the world expunged from his mind. He and the others were treated to archery lessons in the courtyard, falconry demonstrations and an abundance of food and drink from the kitchens. Then, on the fourth day, the alarm bell was sounded and the insouciant atmosphere that had hung over the castle vanished.
Luca dashed to the battlements. He peered to the north and saw a host of two-masted ships with lateen sails – Grand Duke Roger’s galleys. The ramparts began to fill with soldiers, though their demeanour was more one of curiosity rather than preparing for battle. Luca felt a surge of excitement course through him, as did the other hostages now on the stone walkway behind the battlements. He searched for Jordi in vain and smiled. Clearly his friend was determined to extract the last moments of pleasure from his liaison with the alluring Chana. The alarm bell ceased ringing and the majority of the soldiers were ordered back to their duties, leaving the normal complement of sentries to patrol the walls. Luca stayed on the ramparts and watched the fleet of ships inch its way towards the port. There was a gentle breeze and the sea was as flat as a tabletop, and when the dromons neared the harbour their crews dipped their oars in the water and began rowing. The sails were furled and the ships were rowed into the harbour, berthing at the stone quays that had been built by the Romans several centuries before. Luca could not stop smiling when he saw the decks crowded with people – women, children and infants. He knew one among them was Ayna. Dear, sweet Ayna. A mischievous leer spread across his face. He would be indulging in carnal pleasures before the day was out.
He was to be sadly disappointed.
He had envisaged running across the mole and into the harbour to sweep Ayna into his arms, but technicalities dashed his plans.
There was a flurry of couriers between the town and the castle, with a flustered Melek acting as a coordinator. Now the Catalan ships had docked, Bayezid wanted to know when the company’s civilians were leaving his town. Grand Duke Roger replied regretfully it would be another day before the carts for their transport he had ordered to be sent from Anaia would arrive at Ephesus Neopolis. Bayezid said this would mean the company would have to pay for lodging them in his town for a night. Grand Duke Roger agreed. Luca saw the throng of civilians on the quays and on the dockside and searched in vain for Ayna. Dark thoughts she may have died of disease or at the hands of an angry mob filled his mind. He desperately wanted to leave the castle but protocol dictated otherwise. Then he was summoned to the great hall and his sense of foreboding increased.
He found Bayezid sitting on what to all intents and purposes was a throne, guards flanking the ornate wooden chair, maroon banners with black circles in the centre hanging from the walls. Standing beside the seated governor was a thin man wearing a white turban with a stooping posture. In front of him stood Jordi and Chana.
‘Ah, Black Sheep, welcome,’ enthused Bayezid. ‘Your friend has returned from his self-imposed exile in his bedroom.’
Luca strode over to stand beside Jordi, who looked totally exhausted, dark rings around his eyes from lack of sleep. The alluring Chana, who looked remarkably fresh, gave him a smile.
‘Your friend wishes to steal some of my property,’ said Bayezid sternly.
‘My lord,’ protested Jordi, to be stopped by a raised hand from the governor.
‘Your friend wishes to take the delightful Chana with him when he leaves my castle,’ Bayezid said to Luca. ‘Some might say he is taking advantage of my generosity. What do you say, Black Sheep?’
‘I am sure Jordi meant no offence, lord,’ replied Luca.
Bayezid nodded earnestly.
‘That may be, but she,’ he pointed at Chana, ‘is my property. I did not gift her to him, I only loaned her out for a short period.’
Bayezid’s words may have been severe but the glint in his eye suggested to Luca he was in a mischievous mood. He looked at the stooping figure beside him.
‘This is Alton, one of my scholars who is fluent in many languages, including Hebrew, Chana’s tongue. Even though she is a slave, I want to hear what she has to say on leaving Ephesus Neopolis. I have spent a considerable amount of money on her clothes and general wellbeing, which I intend to recoup.’
‘I will purchase her from you, lord,’ said Jordi.
Bayezid laughed. ‘Forgive me. You may be a great warrior, but it is common knowledge the Catalan Company has little money, aside from what it steals. With what would you purchase such a valuable slave?’
‘The princess’ reward, you still have your share?’ Luca whispered to Jordi.
His friend’s weary expression was broken by a smile. He plucked the pouch from his belt. He had carried it for so long he had forgotten it contained a king’s ransom.
‘I have money, lord.’
He walked forward to hand the governor the pouch but was intercepted by a burly guard who blocked his way. Bayezid waved the soldier away and held out his hand. Jordi gave him the pouch, Bayezid opened it and his eyes lit up.
‘I underestimated you, young Catalan. There is enough here to secure the purchase of Chana.’
Jordi beamed with delight.
‘However,’ cautioned Bayezid, ‘I wish to know if she desires to leave me, who has been like a father to her in her time of distress. Alton, ask her if she desires to leave the comfort and security of Ephesus Neopolis and become the courtesan of this young Catalan warrior.’
Alton translated the governor’s words into Hebrew. Chana, her eyes full of sorrow, looked directly at Bayezid when she replied. Alton spoke her answer to the governor as she did so.
‘My lord, you have been both kind and generous since you rescued me from the pirates who snatched me away from my home and family. At Ephesus Neopolis I have found peace and affection and I know you have taken a keen interest in my welfare.’
This was music to Bayezid’s ears, who clasped his hands together, his eyes misting with emotion as she spoke with a quivering voice.
‘You are a kind and generous lord, but I beg you allow me to leave Ephesus Neopolis as I believe I can find happiness with Jordi, son of Sancho Rey. And it is because you are both magnanimous and pious that I know you will receive my request with a generous heart.’
Chana wiped a tear from her cheek, her large brown eyes full of pleading. She was a seductress and just as she had used her body to besot Jordi, so she now used what was obviously her keen intellect to seduce the governor with her words and emotion. He too succumbed to her charms.
‘There comes a time when a father must let his children fly the nest,’ he said, caressing the pouch of money. ‘I therefore give you to Jordi Rey. Go with my love and my blessings.’
When Chana heard his translated words, she rushed forward to fall at Bayezid’s feet, clutching his ankles and babbling incoherently. Bayezid smiled and lifted her up, standing to embrace her.
‘I know it must be difficult to leave me. But go with God, and my blessings.’
A tearful Chana returned to a euphoric Jordi’s arms and the pair, plus Luca, bowed their heads and walked from the hall. As they passed by the doors Chana’s expression changed from being a helpless, distraught slave to a determined woman wearing a smug expression. Whatever Chana was, she was far from helpless.
As well as the money Jordi had paid him, Bayezid Islam received a substantial payment from Grand Duke Roger for the privilege of allowing his ships to dock in the harbour, for the temporary Catalan occupation of Ephesus Neopol
is, and for the lodging of its dependents in the town for a single night.
The next morning, after an agonising wait, Luca and the others, plus the redoubtable Chana, left the castle to walk along the mole, passing the Turkish hostages along the way. There had been a meticulous count before the exchange, and Bayezid had insisted his people be interviewed to ascertain they had been treated fairly. They had, though not plied with the large amounts of food and drink enjoyed by Luca and his fellow hostages.
Though it was now autumn, the day was pleasant enough, with a gentle breeze blowing off the sea and the sun ducking in and out of white clouds sprinkling the sky above. Luca ambled along the narrow mole, a group at the shore end waiting for him and the others. Jordi was more interested in the woman beside him, placing an arm around her shoulders and running his other hand through her lustrous black hair. Luca and the others quickened their steps when they recognised their loved ones waiting for them. He saw Sancho and Carla standing together and beside them the woman who owned his heart. She gave him a beautiful smile as he bounded towards her, she rushing to him and the pair locking themselves in an embrace.
‘I love you,’ he said, tears running down his cheeks.
‘I prayed for your safety and thanked Allah when I was told you were safe and unhurt.’
He buried his face in her hair, never wanting to leave her embrace. Around them others were embracing, laughing and exchanging declarations of love. It was a happy moment, one that Luca wanted to go on forever.
‘It is good to see you again, Luca.’
He reluctantly pulled away from Ayna when he heard Carla’s voice, embracing her warmly and thanking her for taking care of his beloved.
‘You will find her Italian has improved remarkably,’ she told him, her arm still around her son’s shoulders.