Now he was getting ready for the task ahead. He’d dressed himself in tough leather breeches and a woollen smock since the wind was rising again and the sea might be rough. He’d packed a small bundle of extra clothes and taken from beneath his mattress what little money he’d saved over the years. He would have to ask his mother for food.
That was going to be the hardest part. He assumed that his parents had no idea of his plans but they would have to be told now. He could hardly bear to think of how they would take the news.
‘Luke?’ It was his mother’s voice from downstairs. It sounded unsteady.
It had to be done now.
Luke descended the staircase and found both his parents waiting for him.
Luke tried: ‘Mother, Father, I should tell you-’ he began, but his father cut him short.
‘Luke,’ said Joseph quietly. ‘We know where you’re going.’
Luke looked at these two people who’d given him all of their love and asked for so little in return. These people whose love he was repaying by running away. They suddenly looked old and vulnerable.
‘Do you love her, Luke?’ Rachel asked.
He looked into those brown eyes searching his face to understand. ‘Yes, I love her.’
‘But she’s …’
‘Yes, Mother, I know who she is. But she’s also someone who needs my help. If she stays here, she will be taken to the Turks. I have to help her.’
His mother nodded slowly, knowing that, whatever she said, he would go. She went over to the table and began to wrap some food in a napkin, a tear staining a fold in the white cloth. Joseph watched his wife for a moment, then cleared his throat and came over to stand in front of his son, putting his hands on Luke’s shoulders.
‘There are some things I need to say to you, Luke,’ he said quietly. ‘First of all, you will need money and I’ll give you what I have.’
Luke began to protest. ‘I-’
‘No,’ his father interrupted. ‘You will take it. If not for you, then for her.’ Joseph went over to the table and picked up a small leather bag of coins, which he put into Luke’s bundle. Then he led Luke over to the box against the wall and unlocked it. He brought out the sword.
‘I was to give this to you on your sixteenth birthday, but you gave it to yourself instead and I took it back. I want you to take it now. Through the years I’ve done my best to teach you how to use it and you’ve learnt well. Now you must use it to defend yourself. And Anna.’
Luke took the sword. He walked over to the candle and lifted the dragon-head pommel to its light. There was no object in the world he thought more precious than this sword. It had been Siward’s, given to him by the Emperor Alexios, and had been all that he’d taken when he’d fled the burning city of Constantinople.
He turned. ‘Thank you, Father. I …’
Joseph shook his head. ‘We don’t have much time, Luke. Let me talk. You are taking Anna back to Mistra. That is good. I was going to take you there one day, to find something.’
‘The treasure?’
Joseph dipped his head.
‘So it wasn’t myth.’
‘No, and it may not be treasure, it may be something else. I don’t know.’ He paused again. ‘There are things I haven’t told you, things I was going to tell you when you were older.’
Luke waited, watching his father closely. The sadness that was never far from his eyes was deeper now, his brows creased beneath its weight.
‘Your grandfather, my father, was called Siward, as were all Akolouthoi before him. Have you never wondered why I don’t bear that name? Or you?’
Luke had wondered. Now he would know. He’d stopped breathing.
‘Have you never wondered how he died?’
‘You told me. He died from the plague.’
‘He didn’t. Your grandfather left Monemvasia just after you were born. It was said that he went to Mistra, took the treasure and went abroad.’
Luke felt numb. ‘He stole it?’
Joseph nodded. ‘So it is said.’
‘And that’s why you changed your name?’
Joseph sat down. ‘I was forced to by the others. It was the agreement. We’d not talk of the past if I erased it from my name. I did it for you, so that you could grow up without the shame.’ He paused. ‘That’s why the treasure became myth.’
Luke was slowly nodding his head. A veil had been lifted. Now he understood the sadness that never left his father’s eyes, the things that were said and unsaid between the older Varangians.
‘I believed the myth.’
‘And you were right to.’
‘So you think it’s still in Mistra?’
Joseph nodded. ‘Possibly. Or he may have taken it somewhere else. For safekeeping.’
‘Why are you so sure?’
‘Because he would never have stolen it, Luke. I knew him.’
‘But why did he leave then?’
Joseph shrugged. ‘I don’t know. All I know is that he left behind the sword that you now have. He did that for a reason.’
They were both silent for a while and the only sound in the room was the wind outside. Then Joseph rose.
‘Now you must go. Take the sword and go to Mistra with Anna. We’ll join you there when this Archon has fled and I’m released from my oath.’
Luke moved forward to hug the big man, the sword still in his hand. Rachel joined them and for many minutes father, mother and son stood in the little room, locked in silent embrace.
At last Joseph pulled away. ‘You must go, Luke,’ he said again, picking up the bundle to give to him. But Rachel clung on for a moment longer, pressing herself to her son’s chest and warming his smock with her tears. At last she let him go.
‘Take care, Luke,’ she said, and kissed him.
When Luke finally left the house with his sword and bundle, Nikolas was already waiting for him in the street outside. There were still a few hours of light left in the day but they couldn’t waste any more time; they hurried to the city gate.
Once there, they realised that time was even scarcer, for there was a long queue of people waiting to go to their homes outside the city. Everybody was being stopped and there was a company of soldiers marching down the mesi odos to continue the search of houses beyond the city walls.
Luke cursed and looked at the head of the line. Luckily, he knew one of the soldiers. They walked to the front of the queue, ignoring the grumblings behind them.
‘Michael,’ Luke shouted loudly at the guard, ‘you were here the other night when I had to take Nikolas to the old Jew? Well, he’s got it worse this time. Let us through.’
The people at the front of the line backed away and the guard hurriedly waved them on. Then they were out of the city and the road to the bridge stretched away down the hill, the houses of the Jewish quarter climbing to their right. Luke gave his sword and bundle to Nikolas while his friend handed him his cloak.
‘He gave you his sword,’ said Nikolas with a low whistle.
‘Yes,’ said Luke. ‘I hope I don’t have to use it tonight.’
When Nikolas had left, Luke set off down the main road, past the cemetery and the warehouses to the Monastery of St Lazarus at the bottom of the hill. He turned right and skirted its wall until he reached the rocky ground beneath the Goulas. Looking around to check that he wasn’t being followed, he picked his way over the rocks, hugging the bottom of the cliff, until he came to the cave. He gave a low whistle and looked up to see Anna parting the laurel bush above.
‘Ready?’ he called, as quietly as he could.
The next moment Anna had thrown a small bundle down to him and climbed out of the cave. Her toes had barely touched the ground before she was in Luke’s arms.
He looked down at her uncertainly. ‘Are you angry with me?’
She kissed him hard on his lips. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘I’m not angry with you. I love you.’
Luke lifted her chin so that they could see each other’s eyes. ‘Anna, last
night was enough. When we get to Mistra, you’ll never have to see me again.’
She began to say something but he put a finger to her lips. ‘Shhh. Later. Now, take this.’
Luke gave her Nikolas’s cloak and she put it over her shoulders, fastening the clasp at her neck. They set off across the rocks, Luke holding her hand.
‘Where’s Nikolas?’ she asked. The smell of fish was all around her.
‘I sent him to the Jew Barnabus,’ replied Luke. ‘He’ll give you something for seasickness. The wind’s getting up again.’
Anna looked up at the sky. The wind was rising and the sky was darkening, with black clouds blowing in from the mainland. Two dogs appeared in front of them, scavenging on the rocks, and began to bark. Luke threw a stone, hitting one, and with a yelp it skulked away. Far out at sea Anna could see a fishing boat, its sail billowing as it was hauled down. The boat’s lantern came and went behind the waves.
‘Is it safe to go out in this weather?’
Luke stopped and looked out to sea. Then he turned to her and squeezed her hand. ‘It’s a strong boat, Anna,’ he said. ‘Besides, we don’t have any choice. They’re searching the whole island tonight.’
‘But why go back into the town? Can’t we take a boat from somewhere outside?’
Luke shook his head. ‘There’s nowhere else to launch it; the island is all rocks. It’s either the jetty at the sea gate or the wharves at the bridge to the mainland and we daren’t go there. They’re crawling with Mamonas men. The portello is the only way off the island.’
They moved on and soon reached the monastery wall and then the road. Anna pulled the hood over her head as they began the walk up to the city. The way was busy since it was the hour when people finished work, and no one paid any attention to the tall figure and his smaller companion who held their cloaks close to them against the wind.
At the cemetery gates, Nikolas was waiting for them and grinned when he saw Anna. ‘Does it smell too badly?’ he asked, peering into the hood.
‘Just don’t expect to marry, Nikolas,’ she replied.
The three of them crept behind the wall and knelt around the two bundles.
‘We need to make just one bundle,’ said Luke. He brought out the little crossbow. ‘You can’t take this, Anna.’
‘No, I must take it,’ said Anna quietly. ‘You gave it to me. Now, show me how to use it again.’
Luke looked at her for a moment and then smiled. He showed her how to load it using the single stirrup. He was about to remove the bolt when she stopped him.
‘Leave it in.’ She slipped it beneath her cloak.
Nikolas stood. ‘See you both later,’ he said, ‘at the church.’
Luke and Anna moved off towards the gate, pulling the cloaks around them and looking for a group to fall in with. As predicted, people entering the city were being waved through and Luke saw that they were given barely a glance. Then, when they were nearly at the city gate, and too late to turn back, Luke nearly collided with an officer who was leading his men out.
‘Watch where you’re going, oaf,’ shouted the man.
Damian.
Luke’s hood was almost entirely covering his face. Anna had walked on, head down, and was passing the troop of soldiers Damian had been leading through the gate. Luke saw one of them laugh and nudge his companion as the smell of fish reached their nostrils.
He dared not turn around.
He could feel Damian’s presence behind him, could sense that he’d stopped and was watching him. His heart was beating to a tempo that made him giddy and the hand that was keeping his sword rigid beneath the cloak was suddenly clammy with sweat. He moved it from pommel to hilt, ready to draw.
But there was no shout, no restraining hand on his arm. Luke walked on, every footstep a marathon, and eventually caught up with Anna. The soldiers had left the city.
He smiled at her. ‘That was close.’
They moved off together along the mesi odos, turning down a narrow side street that wound its way to the church where they’d agreed to meet the others. When they got there, Matthew was standing at the door and he ushered them in quickly. Arcadius and Nikolas grinned when they saw them. Beside them stood a large box with its lid removed. Inside was a tangle of nets.
‘When do you usually leave?’ Luke asked his friends.
Arcadius looked out though a church window. Two saints stood either side of it, their garments holed where the fresco’s paint had fallen away. The church was in need of a patron.
‘We could let it get darker, and it’ll help if the rain comes back,’ he answered. ‘We should leave within the hour.’
Luke went over to Anna. ‘I’m going out to check our route. I want you to stay here and keep these fools quiet.’ Then he looked round his friends. ‘You’d better hide the box for now and do some praying. That’s what churches are for.’
Outside the church, he looked around the little square. It was true that he wanted to check their route to the portello but he also wanted to make sure that they hadn’t been followed. The encounter with Damian was still fresh in his mind.
And there was something else as well. He wanted to see the city for what might be the last time. Something deep inside told him that he might not return to Monemvasia.
As he wandered through the darkening maze of cobbled alleys, he thought that this was as much a city of sounds as of buildings. The voices of life — the cry of a baby born, the cry as another was made — rolled through these narrow, chamfered streets like a gentle wind, insinuating itself through window and chimney and connecting all these people one to another. He loved this island city for all its smells and petty squabbles, for all its grudges and long, long vendettas. He loved its walls, its jumble of houses, its churches and squares, all echoing to the vast and limitless rhythm of the encircling sea.
The street in front of him was suddenly dark and Luke looked up at the sky to see a cloud bully its way in front of the crescent moon and the first spit of rain hit his brow. They could wait no longer. He turned and ran back through the streets to the church where Nikolas was keeping watch. Inside, the other three were seated in a pew, whispering.
‘We should leave now,’ said Luke.
At the portello, huddled under its arch against the rain, two guards watched Luke round the corner of the steps, followed by Matthew and Nikolas who were carrying the usual box.
‘Going with them tonight, Luke?’ grinned one of the soldiers as they got up to let him pass. ‘You must be mad. It’s blowing a gale out there and it’s getting worse!’
‘Nikko here says it’s the best time to fish,’ laughed Luke as he walked between them, looking behind to make sure that his two friends had enough room to get through. He glanced through the gate.
‘On second thoughts, you might be right.’ He turned. ‘Nikolas, have you seen what it’s like out there?’
The sea was much bigger than Luke had expected it to be, the waves driving up the rocks as if to sweep the city away and the boats moored either side of the long jetty dancing up and down like puppets. Luke looked out to sea to see whether any other craft were out there.
It was empty.
One of the guards had left the gate to stand next to Luke while Matthew and Nikolas hurried down the stone gangway to the jetty.
‘I don’t like the look of that,’ muttered the guard. ‘I should leave it tonight, Luke. Go tomorrow.’
Luke pretended to consider this.
‘Well, let me talk to the others,’ said Luke. ‘I’ll see how keen they are. You’d better get back under that arch.’
The soldier nodded and turned away. Luke watched him disappear through the gate and then hurried down the gangway. He was grinning. This was going to work.
His two friends were waiting for him at the end of the jetty but they hadn’t yet put the box into the boat.
Why weren’t they moving?
Luke called to them but they weren’t looking at him. They were looking behind him and
horror was etched on to their faces. Then one of them pointed.
Luke stopped and looked around.
Coming towards him down the jetty were ten soldiers, Mamonas men. They were holding long halberds pointed before them.
Above them, sitting on a rock, was Damian.
Damian.
For a moment, Luke stood there, stunned and disbelieving, his mind racing. He turned and ran to his friends, then wrenched open the lid of the box and pulled out his sword. Anna was looking up at him, pale and questioning.
‘Damian’s here. But we can still get away.’
He turned to his two friends. Nikolas had grabbed a boathook while Matthew held a fending pole and one of the nets. They looked like gladiators.
‘This is not your fight!’ Luke shouted through the rain, looking from one to the other. ‘Give yourselves up! They won’t harm you!’
Neither of them moved.
‘Luke, we’re Varangians,’ said Matthew. ‘We don’t surrender, you should know that. We’ll hold them off while you get away.’
Flanked by Matthew and Nikolas, Luke waited for the soldiers who were moving quickly towards them down the jetty. It was only wide enough for them to advance three abreast but the guards wore long hauberks of mail, with helmets and aventails, and all of them had swords at their sides. The boys wore woollen smocks and only Luke held a sword. It was an uneven match.
The soldier in their middle, facing Luke, seemed to be in charge and was mumbling something to his companions on either side, who were nodding. Luke didn’t like this. Why were they holding halberds when they had swords? It didn’t make sense.
Then it did.
When the guards were ten paces away, their leader gave a shout and the soldiers either side of him rushed forward, pointing their halberds straight at Luke. Luke stepped back to parry the lunge while Matthew and Nikolas turned to defend him, ready to chop at the long weapons from the sides. But at the last moment, the guards swung the pikes away from Luke, hitting the Varangians in their midriffs and sending them plunging into the sea.
Luke was alone. It was ten against one.
Now the men in front of him dropped their halberds and drew their swords, the sound of steel harsh above the patter of rain on wood. Luke looked at the three blades in the first rank and wondered whether the years of training had readied him for so unequal a fight.
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