Reza chuckled. “If you will be kind enough to give us an hour, then you have my word you will find that they are alive and unharmed, Lord.”
Salah Ed Din shook his head, an amused look on his lean features. “Pah! Let them stew until the morning. If they cannot defend me they should learn the penalty by having an uncomfortable night. Go now. Give my salutations to your... Brother.”
“I will, Sire. God protect you, my Lord.” Reza disappeared, and Salah Ed Din went back to bed to lie wondering about what had just happened, and remembering the green-eyed Frank who had ridden and played so well on the field of Chogan. He left the lamp burning; it would be many, many nights before he slept deeply again.
Reza and his companions arrived back at the port of Lattakieh late one afternoon, four days after they had vanished from the army encampment of Salah Ed Din. They then turned south, and on a cape jutting out into the sea, they lit a small fire and waited.
Two hours later, a boat crunched onto the beach below and they were helped aboard.
A relieved Guy greeted them. “Thank God you made it back!” he said as he gripped Reza by the hand and hauled him onto the deck. Reza had given him the gist of what he was going to attempt to do before leaving. Guy had said then that he thought Talon and Reza were both mad.
“I didn’t expect to ever see you again, my friend,” he growled after they had embraced. “Were you successful?”
Reza showed him the sealed parchment down in the cabin, after they set sail to join Henry for the voyage south towards Tyre. Guy was astonished to hear how it had been done. “That was incredibly dangerous, Reza,” he said. “Was it that important?”
“Talon seems to think so, and I believe him. Salah Ed Din had no problem recalling his name. Even called him a ship thief. Ha Ha! Was it this ship he stole?”
“No, it is the one that Henry sails!” Guy gave a bark of laughter. “By God, but you are quite insane, Master Reza. All the same I am very glad that you are back with us.”
“As am I! Now we have to meet up with Jacob, and then it is home for us all. I am missing my wife and little boy.”
They joined Henry’s ship, and after an exchange of greetings they turned south. Four days later they were anchored off the coast of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, south of Tyre, waiting for the caravan to arrive. The signal from shore came two nights after, that and boats were launched to start the process of loading.
Jacob met them on the beach and explained the delay.
“The situation in Acre has deteriorated, Reza,” he told him. “I have left with everything I have. My family is up on the cliff waiting for us to complete this task, and then I am heading north.”
“What is going on in the city?” Reza asked him with concern, “Are all of you leaving?” he meant the Jews.
It was hard to see his expression in the darkness, but Reza could see that Jacob was distraught. “Most of us. There are some die hards who think this will pass, but I don’t think so. Not this time. We will be safer in the county of Tripoli. At least the Duke respects the customs in this part of the world and will give us what refuge he can. Bad times are coming, Reza.”
“If you and your family wish to come with us, we will welcome you,” Reza told him. “I know that Talon would say as much.”
“I thank you for your kind offer, Reza. You have been good to me. Who knows? One day, perhaps, but we have relatives in Tripoli, so that is where we are going.”
“Will you be safe on the road?”
“We are traveling at night to avoid marauding Franks. Salah Ed Din has decreed that our people should not be harmed by his people. They will honor that command, I think.”
“What has been going on in the city?” Reza asked.
“Joscelin of Antioch paid us a visit, which was not a pleasant one. The Bishop is helping him with his quest for funds. They made a start on our community before Joscelin had to suddenly depart for Jerusalem. Something has come up. But all the indications are that he will be back, and then our people will be robbed of all we have.”
“Then we should load and depart to allow you to continue with your journey,” Reza stated.
Two hours later they embraced and Jacob said, “Go with God, Reza, and please give my respects to Sir Talon. I shall miss you all.”
Reza watched him climb the narrow pathway towards the top of the cliff. He sensed that the world in this Kingdom was going to change. He was remembering the vast army of Salah Ed Din.
Swift of foot to avenge are we!
He whose hands are clean and pure,
Naught our wrath to dread hath he;
Calm his cloudless days endure.
—Aeschylus
Chapter 35
1187
Capture and Revenge
Talon and Boethius were careful to keep a very low profile when they arrived back in Paphos, for a new kind of person was to be seen lurking about on the streets. Their presence was brought to his attention by Nasuh and Khuzaymah, the two men he had assigned to protect Boethius. Talon guessed that these watchful people belonged to Pantoleon.
“How long have you been aware of them?” he asked, while they were eating late one evening at the villa.
Nasuh glanced at Khuzaymah. “Not very long, Master, only since a ship came here a few weeks ago that people said belonged to the Emperor, but he was not on board. There was instead a man with a very scarred face called Lord Exazenos. He came ashore and stayed at the castle. And there do not seem to be many of his men on the streets; by our count, about four.”
Talon was digesting this information when Khuzaymah mentioned something else. “The rumor is Exazenos has turfed out the original people who lived in the castle and it belongs to him.”
“Four, you say? Do they look competent?” he asked. He didn’t ask how his men knew; they had been trained by him and Reza to be observant, and now their instincts were hard at work.
“We need to stay out of their sight, Master. Even though we do not stand out and are careful not to be seen armed, they might notice us, and then there could be a problem.”
“You are right to do so,” Talon agreed.
“This man Pantoleon has got other spies everywhere,” Boethius murmured with a look at the door. “Some of my acquaintances have been arrested for sedition.” He looked very nervous.
“So Pantoleon has really penetrated this city. He intends to make it his own, and all of its citizens bound to him through fear,” Talon remarked thoughtfully. He, too, glanced at the door. He searched his memory for anything untoward that might have occurred here in Boethius’s house. The only person who could possibly be suspect was the steward, but when he mentioned him to Boethius the merchant shook his head dismissively. “He has been with us for a generation, Talon. I don’t think he could possibly be a traitor.”
Talon let it rest at that for the time being, but resolved to have one of his men keep an eye open for any untoward behavior by the steward henceforth.
Talon and his men set about discovering the whereabouts of the newcomers and learning their habits. It turned out that the men were indeed watchful and appeared to be keeping an eye on the local population, but they were fond of their comforts.
In the evenings they could be found in one of the harbor wine houses and rarely left before midnight, when they appeared to be comfortably full. Having tracked them back to their villa, which was on the south side of the harbor, Talon felt satisfied that he and his men could deal with these newcomers should the need arise. In the meantime, he and his men would keep their own presence to a minimum.
They settled down to a routine whereby Talon assisted Boethius to find the right people to add to his tiny cell of spies in the city. It was not easy, because Boethius needed to keep his own presence a secret, while recruiting disaffected people around him. Famagusta had been easy by comparison, as Dimitri had brought men with him he could use and trust. Eventually Boethius declared that he had two men who were former servants of his who were in need of work
and had been badly abused on former visits by Isaac and his army of thugs. They agreed willingly to work with him, and the slow process of training them began.
Two weeks later a pigeon arrived that changed all that. Jannat and Irene were working with the birds, now that Talon and Rostam were away. Boethius brought the message.
“Pantoleon is sailing, first to Limassol and then on to Paphos! Our contact says that he wants to consolidate his hold on this city. Beware!” Boethius informed Talon, who stared at the missive. The source was very likely Diocles, so the message was probably accurate. He mulled over the pending situation.
“We cannot leave, not by sea anyway,” Boethius said, looking pale and very uneasy. His first instinct was to flee, and with good reason.
“We could leave by land, but it would be a long ride; and besides, I would like to see what he does when he gets here,” Talon said. “We’ll just keep ourselves out of sight and see what happens.”
Boethius reluctantly agreed but was clearly unhappy.
A week later a ship nosed into the harbor and docked alongside the quay. Passengers, in the form of smart-looking soldiers and crew, came and went, then the ship was pushed to anchor in the harbor pool. Talon noticed Nigel prominent among the crew. Pantoleon’s arrival was much earlier than they had anticipated, which worried Talon.
At least the arrival of the chief spy for the emperor was less obtrusive than those visits of the emperor, who came and went with much fanfare, and usually left at least one merchant destitute.
Standing on the quayside as close to the harbor pool as he could without been obvious, Talon studied the ship anchored inside the storm wall. Another week had passed, and the ship captained by Nigel had been in harbor for all this time without incident.
Nasuh, who had been posing as a fisherman, was able to get much closer to the ships and had told him of a small contingent of men who had left the ship and ridden off to the castle, where they’d remained. One matched the description of Pantoleon.
Dimitri had thought that Pantoleon might have his treasure on board, so Boethius’s men were watching carefully to see any unloading took place.
There was not much activity on board. Talon gave up and walked back to the villa.
However, later that night one of the men that Boethius had posted to watch the ship came hurrying to the villa and told them the ship was being moved. Dropping everything, Talon and Nasuh raced over to the harbor and settled down to watch. The vessel was once again tied up at the wharf, and by the light of a few torches men were unloading heavy-looking boxes, which were loaded onto donkeys and led off into the darkness under heavy guard. Talon imagined he knew where they were going. It looked to him as though Pantoleon was taking up residence in the city of Paphos. Surprisingly, the work only went on for about an hour, then the men returned to the ship. It hardly seemed enough time to account for the sort of wealth that created an empire—or usurped one.
Back in the villa, Talon said to Boethius, “I am sure the emperor does not know anything about Pantoleon’s movements to establish himself here. I wonder if we can cause some disaffection?”
“You mean... send a message to our friends in Famagusta?” Boethius asked. “Oh yes, I like the sound of that!”
The next morning a pigeon winged its way towards the castle on the ridge.
In Paphos the townspeople reacted with apprehension to the presence of the emperor’s senior spy, especially as arrests grew in number. Hence there were fewer people on the streets, and the wine shops were empty at dusk, a sure sign of unease. Still, Pantoleon stayed in the castle for the most part, and Talon didn’t get a glimpse of him for several days.
Then a note came via one of the gardeners, who seemed nervous as he delivered it, that there was more activity going on down at the harbor. Talon didn’t think to ask the man where he had obtained the information, he simply reacted. Deeming it safe to move about, because as far as he knew Pantoleon had not left the castle, he decided to investigate and made his way towards the harbor dressed as a fisherman. He carried a basket on his shoulder and wore a filthy sack over his shoulders with a hood of the same material, looking as though he was on his way home from a hard day on the water. He went with Nasuh, separated by about fifty paces, which was their usual precaution. Nasuh was watching his back.
Talon had more than one reason to check on Pantoleon’s ship. There was something on the foredeck of the ship that he wanted to investigate. He shuffled the length of the quay until he was almost opposite the still tied-up vessel, and there his suspicions were confirmed. From the ship at the quayside came a smell that was all too familiar to Talon. Pantoleon possessed Greek Fire! He stared at the covered devices on either side of the ship forward of the main mast, then scrutinized the rest of the deck. There were heavily armed men standing about.
Perhaps they were waiting until nightfall to continue with the unloading, he thought, as he slouched by. Talon turned away, then noticed something out to sea, a sail. As it turned out, it was two sails. He wondered if it might be Reza coming back to Paphos and hoped the journey had been successful. However, should it be his ships, there was going to be a problem with Pantoleon being in the city at the same time. Two ships arriving would not go unnoticed, and that was the last thing he needed right now. He also noticed a group of soldiers walking along the quay. It was time to leave; he could slip by the patrol easily enough, he assumed.
Someone must have thought he was paying too much attention to the ship as he walked back towards Nasuh, because a man looked up from giving orders on its deck, pointed at him and then shouted something. A group of armed sailors hurriedly left the ship and began to row towards the quayside. He was considering whether to make a run for it or continue acting inconspicuous when the patrol began to run towards him, their spears at the ready, and blocked his path. The men from the ship came up from behind, and he was surrounded.
The guards rounded up three other men who had been loitering on the pathway gawking at the galley. All three loudly declared their innocence and indignation at being accosted in this manner. Alongside them Talon whined, “Sirs, I am just a fisherman going home. Let me be, I beg of you.”
“We’ll see about that,” growled one of the men from the boat. “We need workers this night, and you look strong enough.” His men seized Talon and the others and held them, and the man off the boat snatched back Talon’s hood.
“Why, what have we here?” he exclaimed, as he saw Talon’s light hair and green eyes. Then he realized Talon carried a sword. “Hold him!” he cried, reaching for Talon’s belt. “By God, he’s armed!”
Talon spun within the grip of the two men and kicked out. One staggered back and fell, clutching his knee with a howl, while the other was tossed onto the ground to lie gasping on his back. Talon’s sword flashed and he was on guard, facing the sailors. They were startled enough by his sudden and violent move—most of their victims were defenseless—to give him time to put his back to the low stone wall behind him, searching desperately for a means of escape. He was too far form the quay’s edge to leap for the water.
The soldiers were quick to recover. Within moments he was surrounded by a row of men pointing long sharp spears at him. The man who had accosted him stared at him from behind the hedge of spears. “So you are a ‘poor fisherman’, eh? Drop the sword and give yourself up.”
Cursing himself for his stupidity and carelessness, Talon looked around and saw there was no way out; he would never make it over the wall without getting a spear in the back, and there were far too many of them to fight. He stared hard at the man for a long moment before he laid his sword on the ground.
“Tell me your name!” the man shouted, but Talon was not looking at him. He had seen Nasuh, sliding into cover behind a pile of lobster baskets. The boy had the good sense not to come to Talon’s aid, as that would have meant a useless death. Talon was seized and marched, not into town, as he’d expected, but onto the ship, where his arms were wrenched behind him and tightly t
ied. Then he was forced into the waist of the vessel while the man who had shouted at him went below.
Before very long, to Talon’s great surprise Pantoleon stepped up onto the deck and stood in front of him. For a long moment the scarred face assessed him, and then recognition began slowly to dawn. “It is you!” He breathed in a low tone, almost to himself, staring hard at his prisoner. “You are Talon, the Templar. By God, I have you!” he smiled then, and Talon went cold.
Pantoleon stepped forward and smashed his fist into Talon’s face. “My spies informed me that you were here in Paphos. Did you really think that I didn’t have my finger on the very life pulse of this town? This miserable town is a village compared to what I used to control! But I intend to make it mine. The island will be docile enough for what comes next. This is just a taste of what I have in mind for what you did to my family,” he snarled. “First, however, I shall present you to the emperor. I have been looking for a coup of this kind.”
Talon remained silent. He had a sick feeling in his gut. He shook his head and felt dizzy, wondering if his cheek bone had been broken. The place where Pantoleon had struck was beginning to swell rapidly.
“What? Nothing to say?” Pantoleon snarled.
“You are a fiend, and your father was a traitor. What else is there to say?” Talon replied.
This earned him a blow to the stomach that doubled him over with a gasp. But Talon, out of the corner of his good eye, had noticed the tops of two masts beyond the harbor entrance, between the horns of the sea breakers protecting the inner harbor. He wondered again who it might be and hoped fervently that it was his people coming back from Tyre.
“So you are the much vaunted Magician they are all talking about,” Pantoleon sneered, and struck him again across the mouth with the back of his hand.
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