A Tudor Turk

by Rehan Khan

  ‘It’s both of them,’ he said in a low voice.

  The men were heading north, back towards the docks. Were they going to return to the gladiatorial games? If so, how odd. They weren’t carrying anything.

  ‘Should we check their lodging? Maybe the Staff is inside?’ suggested Gurkan.

  ‘Something so valuable?’ Will replied. ‘They wouldn’t have left it in such as shabby billet, where anyone can take it. They would’ve hidden it in a secure location, till they were ready to trade. Besides, by the time we check the place out, we’ll have lost their trail. We know where they are staying and can always return if need be.’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Gurkan.

  They slipped out of their hiding position and followed the thieves. The men were now bearing towards the seashore - although there was nothing there but the Citadel of Qaitbay, built some hundred years earlier to keep the Ottomans out of the city.

  The streets widened and a strong sea breeze cut in from the north, blowing Will’s hair back and making his trousers flap like flags.

  ‘They must be heading for the citadel,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you run back and notify the Commander? I’ll follow them and stay outside till you return.’

  ‘We both know I’m the faster runner, so your suggestion makes sense,’ said Gurkan with a smile, before shaking Will’s hand and adding more seriously, ‘Be careful, my friend.’ Then he sprinted off, disappearing into the deepening dusk.

  The wind rustled around Will as he pressed on, keeping low and edging along the side of the street, though the lack of buildings left him exposed. The citadel was sparsely guarded. Since the Ottoman takeover, the conquerors preferred to keep permanent warships patrolling in the bay, rather than fully occupying the citadel with troops. Lamps lit up its main entrance. Will watched the thieves swerve to the right of the structure. They hid as a guard passed in front of them and then sneaked in behind him. The thieves were inside the citadel.

  Will lingered behind one of the stone blocks on a patch of land running up to the main gates. He was tempted to enter but thought better of it. Commander Konjic would want him to remain till reinforcements arrived. As far as Will could see, there was only one road in and out of the citadel, and he was on it, so there was no way the thieves were going to get away from him this time. Unless, of course, they were going to board a vessel . . .

  ‘Oh damn it, don’t get on a boat!’ he muttered. If there was a boat waiting for them on the other side of the citadel, it would all be over. He had no choice but to emerge from his hiding place and jog down the path to the spot where the thieves had entered. There was a second guard doing his rounds. Will watched him and then slipped in behind his back, stealing though the same entrance as the thieves had done.

  Inside, he saw wide hallways with ornate arches, lamps hanging at every turn, lighting the way. Ahead of him, two shadowy forms darted up a flight of stairs. Will checked behind: all clear. He followed, hugging the side walls and treading softly. He emerged on the first floor, scanning the hallway. Empty. No, there was movement at the far end. Someone came out under an archway. Will crept along, feet nimble, remaining in the shadows. When he turned the corner, he entered a vestibule which opened into an enormous hall, with an atrium rising up two levels. The chamber was lined with coats of arms, chainmail, scimitars, lances, war hammers, hatchets, bows, javelins, axes, and an assortment of knives and daggers. Around the walls were paintings and tapestries. This was some kind of quartermaster’s museum. The weapons and equipment on display were old: an exhibition of grandeur from the past. Hakim Abdullah would be thrilled to see it.

  The two thieves stood in an open space in the centre and before them were two men wearing black, with hoods and close-fitting trousers. Were these the Sicarii Konjic had mentioned? They looked impressively dangerous, as their reputation implied. The transaction was about to take place, and Will was alone and outnumbered. Reinforcements were not going to arrive in time.

  He wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs, knowing he had to make a decision - but it must be the right one. Everything depended on it.

  21

  UNWANTED ATTENTION

  COLD STEEL DUG INTO HER flesh as Tome marched her back to the dormitory, the stolen dagger shifting inside her cummerbund. Odo and Ja were occupied, collecting money. Now was the time to make a run for it. As much as she wanted to take all the women with her, Awa knew her chances were higher if she fled alone.

  The Spaniard had his back to her when she drew the dagger. He immediately sensed the danger and spun away from her, raising his hands in submission.

  ‘I wouldn’t do that,’ Tome instructed.

  ‘I just want my freedom,’ Awa said steadfastly. ‘Let me go and I won’t hurt you.’

  ‘It’s not so easy. Odo needs to make money from you.’

  ‘What will he do with me? Tell me the truth!’

  Tome lowered his hands and inspected her thoughtfully. ‘You will either die in the ring, having made him rich, or if you survive, he will eventually sell you to a house of pleasure.’

  ‘So either way I lose.’

  He took a step towards her. ‘Come on, end this nonsense. Hand me the knife.’

  She backed away, stood up tall and firm, imagining herself in the ring once more. Tome stopped when he saw the look on her face.

  ‘I don’t want to hurt you,’ she said, ‘but I will if I have to. Now show me the way out.’

  Tome shrugged. ‘All right. In some ways, I daresay you deserve it. Come with me.’

  He led her down a passageway. There wasn’t much light, only a dim lamp placed at either end of the corridor. They came to a sharp turn, which the Spaniard took quickly, momentarily disappearing from view. As Awa turned the same corner, he barrelled into her, knocking her back, sending the dagger flying from her hand. She landed on the ground, sprawling on her back. Tome straddled her and grabbed her throat.

  ‘Yes, you deserve this,’ he said, a lewd smile crossing his face.

  Awa gritted her teeth. Viciously, she rammed her knee into his groin. He curled up with pain, his grip loosening. She then gouged his face with her fingers, and watched blood trickle down the side of his right eye. He slipped off her. Awa was up. In a fury, she seized his head and banged it on the ground, over and over again. She snatched up her dagger and thought about stabbing him, but hesitated: that was when he grabbed her ankle. She swiped with her knife, slashing him across the face, and he fell back, holding his chin. She could have opened up his windpipe but showed mercy instead. She left him there.

  The narrow passageway behind her led to a small door. She opened it, and a light breeze enveloped her. Yes! Awa ran out, to find the seafront on one side, the arena behind her. Before her was a storage area, packed with empty crates and containers - a loading zone for ships. Some vessels were moored up to her left. She needed to get on a ship, but these ones were too close to the arena; they would find her easily. A small cluster of men noticed her, still wearing her flimsy garments.

  ‘Hey, sweetheart,’ someone called out.

  Ignoring the men, she sprinted off to the left, knowing she had to find proper clothing - quickly. The bay curved like a crescent moon and she observed structures up ahead. The road running along the coast was largely empty, but she did pass various individuals who stopped and stared at her. The night air felt good around her, the salt tang coming off the sea making her feel alive. But Odo and Ja would soon be on her trail. They had tracked her across a desert, so a city would be easy. The sooner she left Alexandria the better.

  Tents were pitched by the side of the coast road. Awa could tell they belonged to Bedouins, passing through the city. Behind the tents, a line of clothing had been hung out to dry. Amongst them were a long tunic and matching pantaloons. Once she was sure no one was looking, she stripped off the vulgar costume and wriggled into the damp clothing. She kept the belt she had been wearing and was securing the dagger within it when she heard a voice.

  ‘Sister!’
r />   She turned to see a Bedouin woman, holding up the costume she had worn, looking at it with a puzzled expression. Awa placed her hand upon her heart, smiled and sped away, hoping the woman would forgive her for stealing her clothing and replacing it with such bawdy items.

  Heading up towards the promontory, she saw a large building ahead and ran towards it. On the way she passed through a fish market. Though closed at this time, the smell lingered powerfully in the air. In a few hours, it would most likely be full of fishermen selling their previous day’s catch. She turned, checking behind her. Silence. No one was following - for now. Slowing her pace, she studied the structure she was heading towards: it turned out to be some kind of citadel. Most likely it would be guarded, so not the right place to hide. Then she thought again. If she could sneak in and conceal herself, there would be supplies she could take and it was unlikely the guards were going to let the likes of Odo and Ja in. There were also some vessels behind the citadel and at least one of them had lamps lit. Maybe it would be her transport out of this place.

  As Awa approached the citadel, she saw a guard patrolling up ahead. She hid, watching him pass, observing when the next guard went through. She timed her run, dashing into the building before the next patrol crossed. Once inside, she quickly realised she had entered the kitchens, for the heat from the furnace still warmed the room. There was no one present, but there was food in abundance. Some bread and a lump of cheese disappeared inside the pockets of her robe. She took a long, refreshing swig from a jug; the drink tasted like pomegranate juice. She left the kitchen and went charging up a flight of stairs to emerge in a wide passageway with high, symmetrical arches running along it, one after the other. It reminded her of the university in Timbuktu, a place of learning. But this was a citadel, built for war, not education.

  A guard at the end of the corridor heard a noise and turned in her direction, but she ducked to the side and bounded up another flight of stairs. She wanted to find a quiet place to stay the night, hidden within the safety of the citadel. Surely Odo and Ja would not think to check in here?

  She roamed until she came to a large hall filled with weapons and equipment from previous wars: a war museum of relics. She had never seen such a thing before, wondered how effective these ancient weapons were.

  Awa eventually found a spot behind a statue of Alexander the Great. A thick velvet cloth was draped around its pedestal and swirled up in a pile behind, creating a safe and roomy hiding place for her. Someone could be standing looking at the statue, and not even know she was hiding only yards away. It also seemed like a comfortable spot to go to sleep in. Before she crawled beneath the covering, Awa thought to herself that if the Macedonian conqueror looked anything like the way this statue depicted him, then he was surely a hero of the ages. She ate the food and was beginning to feel drowsy when she heard voices. Terror seized her. Had they found her? Grasping her dagger, she strained to hear what they were saying.

  ‘They’ll be here soon,’ said a throaty voice.

  ‘You picked a good spot for the trade,’ said the second man.

  ‘It’s the Staff, we should show respect,’ said Throaty.

  What staff? Awa peered through a small gap in the fabric and saw two men, both dressed in black trousers and tunic tops, their faces partially hidden by scarves across their mouths.

  ‘Perhaps we should keep it within the community and not sell it to the Knights of the Fire Cross,’ said Throaty.

  ‘Moses did part the Red Sea and turned the Nile red with it,’ said the second man.

  Moses! The Staff of Moses! Awa caught her breath.

  ‘God was responsible, not Moses,’ said Throaty.

  ‘Yeah, but He chose Moses to use the Staff.’

  Just then, another two men entered the hall; both were of stocky build.

  ‘Salaam,’ said the two newcomers.

  ‘Shalom,’ replied the two men dressed in black.

  ‘You have it?’ asked Throaty.

  ‘Yes, of course, but we weren’t going to wander around Alexandria with it, so we came and hid it in here when we arrived in the city,’ said one of the visitors.

  ‘You what?’ gasped Throaty. ‘You left the Staff of Moses unguarded? Do you know what we’d do to you if you lost it, after all the risks we’ve taken?’

  The man shrugged. ‘The Janissaries can best the Sicarii any day.’

  ‘Oh really?’ snarled Throaty.

  ‘Enough,’ said his companion, and Awa realised they were part of some group called the Sicarii. The newcomers were Janissaries - the royal household guards of the Ottoman Sultan. What on earth were they doing in Alexandria, trading a religious object with the Sicarii? She leaned in, not wanting to miss anything.

  One of the men strode in her direction, so close that she could see he had distinctive green eyes. She shuffled backwards to get away - and it was then that something jabbed her lower back. A long staff had been shoved under the velvet covering. The Janissary then moved the drape aside. Fortunately for Awa, he threw it across her, further covering her up. He reached down and yanked the item from its hiding place She had been sitting with her back against the Staff of Moses!

  ‘Here it is,’ said Green-eyes, holding the rod with great reverence.

  The Sicarii viewed it with caution.

  Throaty reached out, intoning, ‘And thou shalt take this rod in thine hand, wherewith thou shalt do signs.’

  ‘So said God to Moses,’ Green-eyes agreed. ‘But you aren’t Moses. And we want our payment.’ He drew the Staff back, holding it close to his chest.

  It was then Awa noticed someone else sneaking into the hall - a young man of European origin. In fact, she recognised him because he had been in the audience at the arena. Immediately she took a dislike to him. He must be working for one of the parties, as a back-up in case things got nasty.

  But on which side?

  22

  TOO CROWDED

  WILL HID BEHIND A PODIUM in the great hall. For a moment or two, he gazed around at the displays of equipment, clothing and weapons from various nations and eras. There was a Dogon ceremonial mask, an Indian elephant mask for when the beast rode into battle, a curved Shamshir sword from Persia. There was even a Japanese Katana, he noted. Hakim Abdullah, who had once held one, had described it to Will as the most efficient blade he had ever come across. To the side of the sword was an imposing statue of Alexander the Great, behind which lay a crumpled velvet drape. To his astonishment, he thought he glimpsed movement from within it. Did one of these groups have a hidden assassin? If so, which side?

  ‘This had better be the real Staff,’ said a Sicarii with a throaty voice that reminded Will of a marsh frog.

  ‘You are Jews - can’t you tell?’ jeered the green-eyed Janissary.

  The two Sicarii stared at one another. ‘Yes, we are Israelites, but let’s just say we aren’t as close to the Creator as our mothers would like us to be,’ said the second.

  ‘A common problem,’ said the other Janissary. ‘Now – do you have the money?’

  They were about to make the transaction. He could not let it happen. The danger was, the Sicarii might take the Staff into the West - and the further west they went, the more the Sultan’s influence would diminish. They had to keep the Staff in the East. Will tightened his fists.

  ‘If you’ve deceived us, we won’t hesitate to kill you,’ Throaty was saying.

  Green-eyes shrugged. ‘You know precisely where we’ll be - we’re not looking to hide. We’ve brought you the Staff of Moses, from the Topkapi Palace. The very same captured by Sultan Selim when he defeated the Mamlouks. It left Egypt to go to Istanbul, and now it has returned.’

  ‘Not for long,’ snapped Throaty. ‘This Staff is going to Venice.’

  ‘Where you take the Staff is your business,’ said Green-eyes. ‘Now - payment.’ He held out his hand.

  Venetians! These were the men Commander Konjic had been tipped off about, Will thought. So it was true, the Staff of Moses
was going to be taken to Catholic Italy - by Jewish mercenaries. It was uncanny, the sort of cross-religious dealings which were being carried out. The Protestant English were trying to set up in Turkey, as Catholic Europeans already had done. At the same time the Ottomans, Moroccans and Persians were involved in a three-way dispute with one another, constantly changing sides. Likewise, the European powers were in a permanent state of war.

  Politics, Will thought, were the cause of so much conflict, and religion merely the banner under which men’s ambitions were fulfilled.

  He was about to reveal himself and create some kind of a diversion when he heard heavy footsteps approaching and ducked back into hiding. Marching into the hall were the two rapacious gladiator owners he had seen in the arena, collecting the money: the very tall African and the squat, cruel-looking fellow.

  ‘You!’ said Green-eyes. ‘What the hell do you want? Get out of here, this is none of your business.’

  The Sicarius who was about to hand over a bag of coins, withdrew it, pocketing it safely. ‘What is this, some kind of set-up?’ the throaty Sicarius demanded, glaring suspiciously at the Janissaries.

  ‘Odo is the name, famed tracker and hunter, you may have heard about me.’

  And when the Sicarii and Janissaries looked baffled, he added: ‘Or maybe not. This tall fellow here is Ja.’

  The giant smiled, his white teeth gleaming.

  ‘We don’t care who you are,’ Throaty snapped, and turned to the Janissaries. ‘What do you mean by this? They’re not part of the deal!’

  ‘They’re nothing to do with us,’ said Green-eyes, raising his hands apologetically. ‘I just saw this fellow in the arena this evening when I went to watch one of his gladiators. I’d never met him before.’

  ‘Seems like he knows you,’ Throaty said. The Sicarii were rattled, their hands on their weapons.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ asked Green-eyes.

  ‘Oh, we mislaid something and we’re looking for it,’ Odo replied airily.