“Look, you!” he called out to his men. “You in particular, Gabros. This is the man who can throw thunderbolts at people? Show us what you can do, Sir Talon,” he jeered. Gabros looked nervous, but when nothing happened he grinned.
“You are right, Master,” he said to Pantoleon. “This is no magician.” He spat at Talon and turned his back.
“Your timing is impeccable, Sir Talon. We were just about to leave for Famagusta, and now we have a cargo that will please the Emperor, I have no doubt about that. The rat walked right into the trap!”
Talon wondered if his threat was still fresh in the emperor’s mind. Isaac would be subjected to a horrible revenge if Pantoleon had his way, Reza would see to that.
“By the way, it was not hard to intimidate the steward of that pitiful merchant friend of yours. They are all the same: gold talks, and so does fear.” Pantoleon chuckled. “It won’t be long before every one of them is either working for me, or... is dead. The merchant will be taken care of when I get back from Famagusta. His daughter, I hear, is young and ripe. She will of course go to the emperor, once I am done with her father.”
Feeling a freezing sensation down his back for Boethius, Talon glared at Pantoleon. “I hope I see you in hell.”
This earned him another blow to the face with the flat of Pantoleon’s hand that sent him stumbling backwards. The guards caught him and held him upright.
“Then hell it is, but I intend to make sure you proceed me, and that it is a very long and painful journey for you!” Pantoleon smirked. It came out as a ghastly grimace. Talon found himself staring into the insane eyes of a gargoyle. “I’ll keep your odd looking sword to remind me of you.” He tossed it to one of the men. “Take it below,” he ordered.
“You did well, Gabros,” he told his lieutenant. “Go ashore and guard the castle with your men, while I take a short voyage to present my prize to the emperor. I shall be back within a week. Nigel, we are leaving now! We have what we came for. Take the ship out to sea.”
Only then did Talon become aware of Nigel, who had been standing on the afterdeck watching the events taking place in the waist. Talon glanced up at his erstwhile ship’s captain, locked eyes with him and shook his head in disgust. Nigel turned away and began to issue orders for the ship to cast off.
Gabros jumped ashore and strode down the pier with four of his men, while the crew of the ship scurried about preparing for sea. No one seemed to have remarked the two sails just a league from shore, heading for the harbor entrance.
On deck there was much activity. Nigel called for the sails to be dropped on both masts, and soon they bellied and caught the rising wind. The ship surged forward and he gave orders for the rowers to stand down. It was then that he and Pantoleon noticed the two ships heading almost directly towards them. They were going to pass one another very closely, so Nigel stood next to the steersmen to make sure that there was no mistake. He didn’t want a collision.
They were about a quarter of a league out from the harbor horns when the lead ship passed them on their port side. Then it was that Nigel saw Guy standing on the vessel with another man. Almost at the same time, Guy saw Nigel and pointed. He seized the arm of his companion, pointed again and bellowed something.
Pantoleon, who was standing next to Nigel, stared over the water. “That’sss that captain who got away, issn’t it?” he demanded.
“Yes, Lord. His name is Guy, and—” he turned to scrutinize the other ship—“by God Almighty, that other ship is captained by Henry, another man belonging to Sir Talon! What are they doing coming into this harbor as bold as you please?”
“They are coming to pick up their leader, I don’t doubt,” Pantoleon laughed, struck by the absurdity of the timing. “Well, they are too late!”
Pantoleon reached out and hauled Talon, whose arms were now bound, and shoved him towards the side nearest to the approaching galleys.
“Your leader isss my prisoner!” he shouted across the space between the ships. “You will attack our ship at hisss peril!” He braced Talon up, so that there was no mistaking him.
He was answered by a roar from Guy that carried across the water. “Talon! Dear God, how? We see you! Harm him and you will pay a dreadful price, you bastard! Nigel! You will answer for your crimes, as will that piece of offal standing next to you!”
“Follow us and sink him!” Talon yelled at the top of his voice. “Sink us!” Talon shouted again, before Pantoleon knocked him to the deck.
“Get to work, you oaf!” Pantoleon snarled at Nigel. “Lay on more sail!” The forward ship was already beginning to turn, even as he watched. “They are going to give chase!” Nigel exclaimed, sounding worried.
“Then do as I ssay and put on more sail!” Pantoleon roared.
He looked down at Talon, who was lying on the deck bleeding from yet another cut to his face.
“Take him below and put him in the hold,” Pantoleon ordered his men, who checked that Talon’s arms and wrists were tight behind him. They then hustled Talon down the companionway at the aft of the vessel, along a short corridor and down another ladder to the lower deck, where he was thrust roughly into a dark hold which stank of old wood and filthy water.
He fell onto his knees in a half-hand of brackish water and took a deep breath of foul air that set him coughing. The ship rocked on a stronger wave and, losing his balance, he felt to his side, striking his shoulder hard against something with as sharp edge. The sudden pain was briefly agonizing, even after all the blows he had taken already. It was hard to move about in the rocking dark with his hands bound behind him, but he braced his knees wide apart and turned to grope at the low shape behind him, to find that he was kneeling next to a small chest of wood with a padlock. Moving cautiously through the sloshing bilge water, he discovered that there were about ten of these small boxes in the hold with him. So that was what Pantoleon had been unloading. Little good the knowledge would do him now, he thought ruefully.
Above him he heard the shouted orders and thump of bare feet, and then knocks and thumps as the rowers on the deck just above his head continued increased the pace of their work. The rhythmic beat of a drum hammered above his head. Talon’s eyes gradually became accustomed to the gloom and he stared around him seeking something, anything that would help him to cut his bonds. He had to get off the ship before it was too far out to sea.
On Guy’s ship there was pandemonium. “Is it really Talon on that ship!” Guy shouted sounding dazed.
Reza had seen and his heart had sunk. How in God’s name had Talon managed to be captured? At the back of his mind he suspected some form of treachery but when he heard Talon he knew what he had to do. “Turn this ship now! Turn it now!” he yelled at Guy who had hastened to comply, but he asked, “What about Talon?”
“Do as I ask! Talon will understand, of that I am sure. You heard him. We have to stop that man no matter what. Talon is putting his trust in us although I do not know how we will accomplish this.”
Reza thought of Rav’an and how she would react to the dreadful news if they failed. “We cannot fail!” he told himself with his teeth clenched. He slapped Guy on the arm. ‘Wake up Guy!” he shouted.
Guys looked dazed and shaken. He kept muttering “God damn, God damn!”
“We must not fail, Guy! This is not an opportunity that comes around more than once and Talon knows it. We can take that ship and bring him back and I pray to God that we can save him, but we must first catch that ship. Can we do it?” Reza demanded.
“I will certainly try. We cannot let that man take Talon back to his blood soaked dungeons with him. And I owe Nigel for the last time,” Guy growled regaining his self control. He had been badly shaken to see his leader in the hands of that monster. He shouted orders to his men to hurry. Many had already seen Talon on the deck of the other ship so they needed no persuasion. They ran to tighten the sails and lend help to the rowers.
The ship almost spun on its keel as his rowers and the crew brought it about in
a welter of foam and agitated water. Then the oarsmen labored to drive it forward from a standstill, the water all around them churned into a froth by the long oars.
They had just gone about when Henry’s ship came by. “Are you going after him?” Henry shouted over to them, as his own ship began the same complicated maneuver.
“Yes! Henry they have Talon as a prisoner! Follow us as fast as you can. It could take two of us to stop him,” Guy shouted back.
“What! Jesu!” Henry swore. “Are you sure of that?” he called back. He had not seen the exchange between the ships.
“Yes, we are sure. We saw him, but he has ordered us to take that ship.” Guy bellowed back.
Henry nodded unhappily. Then he shouted “Beware, my men tell me he has Greek Fire. ”
“We have the Scorpions!” Reza shouted. “If we keep our distance he can’t touch us and we can sink him.”
“Hurry!” was all Henry called back. He then focussed on the difficult task of bringing his heavily laden ship about. Guy was captaining the lighter galley, so it was not long before they were racing after Pantoleon’s ship, leaving Henry to gather speed as fast as he could.
“What are we doing?” Rostam asked him. Henry turned to the boy and paused, looking down at him before he reluctantly told him the news.
“You must be brave, young lad. Your father is a prisoner on that ship, and we must try our utmost to save him.”
He reached out a hand to steady Rostam. The boy’s face had gone white. “Be strong, lad. We and your uncle will not let that scum get away, and we will do all we can with God’s help to get your father back. On that ship over there is your father’s and my lady Theodora’s mortal enemy, and we are going after him. If we succeed, we will be doing this island a huge favor!” Henry tried not to show his own distress.
Rostam nodded, his head down. “Yes, I will be strong, but we must catch them,” he said. His tone was cold, and Henry looked at the boy. God help his enemies if he grows to be a man, he thought to himself.
With oars rising and falling at a frantic pace, Guy and his leading men shouted encouragement. The burly oarsmen lifted, pushed forward and dropped the oars, then strained back, repeating the process as fast as they were physically able. Crewmen squirted water into their gaping mouths from skins and doused them with seawater as they sweated and gasped within the confines of the lower deck.
“Tell the men below that I shall intercede with Talon to double their wages if we succeed in catching up with him,” Reza said to Guy.
“You have no need to encourage them, Reza. It is Lord Talon whom they are after. But Nigel is not going to make it easy, Reza. Look!” Guy pointed, and Reza saw another small sail belly and fill on the vessel ahead of them. Guy turned and shouted a command, and men ran to do his bidding. A large flat sail was hauled up on the main mast; it took the wind and they all felt the answering surge from their own ship.
“We’re gaining!” Reza called, barely controlling the excitement in his voice.
He ran down to the lower deck, below the rowers, and began to make certain preparations. In a short while he came back up on deck and hastened to the prow of their ship, carrying a wax paper bundle.
“You! Help him,” Guy shouted to some sailors clustered in the waist. They ran to help, although with trepidation. They had seen these Scorpions in operation and were afraid of them. Reza had tested them at sea on their way to Tyre.
With Reza showing them what to they removed the canvas coverings of the large wooden cross bows. Checked the thick ropes that were the strings for the bow, then the trigger mechanism for smooth operation.
Then they moved the Scorpion so that its front end protruded out of an opening that had been specially cut in the bows. The huge bow was drawn back with the aid of a small ratchet and the string locked onto the trigger mechanism. The men stood back to allow Reza room. They now had both Scorpions prepared for action.
The sea spray was beginning to fly into the air, sending drops over them as the bows ploughed into the waves, and he fretted. “Bring me some oil cloth covering, and be quick about it!” he ordered one of the sailors. “And tell Guy to stand off sixty paces. We must not get too close, or they will destroy us with that damned Greek Fire!”
Almost as though he had heard them, they noticed some activity at the bows of the other ship. Men stripped the covers off the Greek Fire apparatus on the port side of the ship they were following. They all watched with fascinated dread as the men on Nigel’s vessel made preparations for using the deadly equipment. All knew of its reputation, and a few who had sailed with Talon when he himself had used the fearful stuff against pirates made the sign of the cross. A wisp of smoke came from a fire under the tank, heating the contents.
Even though he was in an agony of worry about Talon, Guy grunted with satisfaction as he noticed that despite his best efforts Nigel could not get as much out of his ship as could he. Then Reza signaled that he was ready, so Guy held his course and looked back to where Henry was coming up behind. Henry had all sails on and his oars were rising and falling with great speed. Despite that, it was clear to Guy that Henry could not help at this point. He waved to Reza. “Go ahead!” he called.
A small curl of smoke from the Scorpion in the bows on the starboard side was followed by a loud twang, and a huge arrow streaked away from the ship and sped in a low curve towards the Nigel’s ship. It left behind it a thin trail of smoke. The arrow was well centered, but too high. It hissed between the two masts of the fleeing ship and plunged into the sea, almost a quarter of a league beyond.
“That must have at least scared the shit out of them,” Guy muttered to himself, as he watched Reza and his crew hastily prepare another arrow. Pantoleon appeared to want to intimidate his pursuers, because a jet of flame shot out from the bows of his ship; but the fire, dripping flames as it arced out, only traveled about thirty paces before falling into the water. Flames spread across the waves as the terrible stuff burned with a ferocity that not even water could extinguish. There was a moan of fear from the crew on Guy’s ship, men crossed themselves and threw frightened looks back at him.
“They did not reach us and cannot!” he roared at them, trying to reassure them. “We are out of their range.” He sincerely hoped that he was right. He had no idea what the range of Greek fire apparatus was.
They all flinched as another long jet of flame soared out of the tube, this time it reached further than the last but was still only managed about forty paces. He glanced forward to where Reza was crouched over the scorpion. “Dear God, Reza, hurry up! What is taking so long?” he asked the world at large.
On Nigel’s ship Pantoleon was staring back at the closing ship with a scowl of worry. They were still too far out of range. “Go and get the prisoner!” he screamed at his nervous men. “We’ll see if they are prepared to shoot at us when they see who we have. Go!”
Guy’s crew, feeling more confident once they were past the conflagration on the water, jeered and hooted, then watched with intense interest as Reza concentrated on re-arming his weapon. Once again they hauled the ‘bow string’ back and locked it in place. Then he crouched over the scorpion and sighted at his target. He forced himself to take a deep breath. Talon was depending upon his accuracy with a notoriously inaccurate device.
It took well over five minutes of concentration as he sighted on the bows of the other ship, but finally Reza raised his arm to indicate to Guy that he was ready.
“Hold her steady!” Guy roared at his steering men, and Reza turned back to his work. He knocked a tiny wedge from beneath the body of the Scorpion, thus tilting its point slightly downwards. Then he peered along the crude sight, one last check, taking in the motions of both boats, and lit the fuse. He stood back and pulled the release cord.
There was a loud twang and the apparatus jerked violently. A long dark arrow sped over the bows and arced towards the deck of Nigel’s ship. This time the result was spectacular. The arrow struck with a thump that was even heard
by Guy and his crew. It struck just above the water line, below and behind the Greek Fire apparatus.
There it stuck, hissing and sparking, and there was a blinding flash and a sharp report. The front of the enemy ship was enveloped in a cloud of yellowish smoke that hid the impact area. When the smoke began to clear, revealing the extent of the damage, the men on Guy’s ship cheered. There was a gaping hole in the port side of the other vessel that was already taking water. Jagged splinters of the timber, some of them longer than spears, were raining from the sky, many landing close to Guy’s ship, raising hundreds of small spouts of water as they pierced the water.
On the stricken ship men were staggering about, looking dazed.
“Brother, I hope you were nowhere near that hole,” Reza said out loud. “Bring us closer, Guy!” Reza called. “Where is Talon? I want to see that man Pantoleon! He is mine when we board!”
Guy wanted to stand off far enough to make sure that the wind didn’t bring sparks towards them. Reluctantly he gave the order to close with the other ship. He knew they had to get to Talon before their enemy dispatched him as they surely would if their ship went down.
Talon scrambled over barrels and chests as he hunted desperately for something to cut his bonds. He fell about in the darkness, barking his shins and knees and almost knocking himself senseless when he fell into a gap between the small chests and knocked his head on one. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep his balance as the ship heaved up and down and his feet caught on invisible obstructions in the dark. Eventually he fell across a large barrel with a rusty iron hoop that he could use.
The noise of rowers above him working furiously to the drumbeat of the time-keeper took care of any sounds he might have made. There was an air of urgency coming from above, with frantic shouts and increasing speed of the rowers. His own desperation was driving him. Desperately he rubbed the hemp ropes agains the sharp edge of the barrel’s hoop, bracing his legs to exert as much force and friction as he could. Gradually the bonds weakened and the fibers parted; finally the last strand fell off and he was free. Rubbing his wrists and upper arms to get the circulation going again, he paused to think. He drew his small knife from his boot and headed for the locked doorway.
Assassins of Kantara Page 61