A Tudor Turk

by Rehan Khan

  ‘Well, whatever it is, it won’t be here,’ said Green-eyes. ‘Now get lost.’

  The tall Ja moved around the hall, stealthily stepping behind and between the exhibits.

  ‘You won’t mind us investigating, will you? It’s very valuable,’ said Odo. ‘Why don’t you just carry on, pretend we’re not even here? Maybe if I like what I see, I’ll join your trade.’

  Will dared not move. The giant swept around the hall, treading lightly for such a tall man.

  Throaty lost patience. ‘This is ridiculous. Get rid of this fellow, or else . . .’ he threatened, drawing his weapon.

  The green-eyed Janissary glared at Odo, who smiled unperturbed, as Ja stole around the hall. Reaching the statue of Alexander, the giant paused, sniffing the air. Odo slunk forwards, as the others watched. Whatever these unsavoury interlopers were looking for was behind the statue. Was it a thing, or a person?

  The two men suddenly reached out and yanked the drapery away, revealing a young woman - the very same, Will saw, who had won the gladiatorial contest by decapitating her opponent. Her name, if he remembered correctly from the chants of the crowd, was Awa. She must have escaped somehow. Wide-eyed with shock, she bolted out from behind the statue, making a run across the hall. The Janissaries blocked her way, as did the Sicarii. Odo and Ja came up behind her. The six of them cut her off, forming a tight circle around her.

  ‘We’ve found what we’re looking for,’ said Odo, beaming widely. ‘We’ll be on our way.’

  The others relaxed. Awa whipped out a knife, pointing it at Odo and Ja.

  ‘Tut tut,’ said Odo. ‘Come along quietly now. Tome is looking forward to having his way with you.’

  The young woman wasn’t going to get out of this situation without help. What could he do, on his own? Will’s legs felt paralysed with fear. Then he remembered the kindness First Officer Said had shown him on board the Al-Qamar. It had made a colossal difference to his life. To hell with it! Will leaped out from where he was concealed and ran - barrelling into the back of the man called Odo. He took him down.

  ‘You!’ screamed Green-eyes.

  Will squinted up at the Janissaries. ‘Hello there.’ He rammed Odo’s face into the ground, hearing a bone crack. Rising, he felt an enormous hand grab the back of his tunic, lifting him clear off the ground. Will kicked out at the giant as he was lifted, but Ja blocked him with his other arm. Awa rolled under Will and plunged her dagger into the rear of Ja’s knee, causing him to stumble and drop Will, who immediately sprang up and kicked the rising Odo in the face. Will then spun with his own sword, aiming the weapon at Ja, when someone caught his arm. It was Green-eyes.

  ‘Oh no, you don’t, sonny,’ said the former Janissary, punching Will in the face as the second Janissary launched himself at Will with his weapon. Will blocked, going down to one knee, before countering. Awa flashed past, her blade slicing Green-eyes on the thigh, before she yanked the Staff from him, darting over to the statue of Alexander and leaping up onto the pedestal where it stood, clinging to him for balance.

  The Sicarii hadn’t entered the fray but stood observing. Odo ran at Will, who ducked at the last minute, causing the slave owner to crash into the giant.

  ‘Stop! Or I’ll break it!’ screamed Awa. She held the staff horizontally. ‘I will snap it in half!’

  Everyone stopped still.

  ‘He,’ said Awa, motioning towards Will, ‘and I get to leave, or else I split this Staff.’

  ‘That’s the Staff of Moses!’ Throaty cried out. ‘You won’t do such a thing. You mustn’t!’

  As Awa stood, waiting for them to make up their minds, Will manoeuvred his way over to where she stood on the podium. They really needed Commander Konjic and the other Janissaries to turn up and make this an even fight.

  Ja sluggishly rose to his full height. A line of blood dripped down his leg, as he dragged himself in her direction.

  ‘Stay back!’ Awa warned him.

  The giant ignored her command.

  ‘You’re dead,’ growled Odo, pointing at Will with his weapon.

  Awa raised the Staff over her head, ready to smash it to pieces.

  ‘Wait!’ shouted Will. He could not let her destroy it. Sultan Murad III would be furious, the Grand Vizier would be livid. Any chance of him returning to England would be over. He would end up incarcerated in an Ottoman dungeon for the rest of his days.

  Awa paused. She was bluffing, Will realised. Ja must have known it as well, for he took another bloody step towards her, grimacing with pain, then collapsed.

  ‘Damn it,’ said Awa, throwing the Staff like a javelin, high into the air, before leaping off the pedestal, landing in a crouched position.

  Everyone stared up as the Staff sailed high over them. Ja made a grab for Awa, but she rolled under his outstretched hand, only to have Odo block her way. The squat man rammed his weight into her, causing her to lose her balance and slip on the blood pool left by Ja. Will’s gaze flicked from the Staff to the young woman – and he chose. He sprang at Odo from behind and brought his sword down hard, driving the other man to his knees. Awa jumped up and stabbed Odo in the shoulder, causing him to drop his weapon.

  ‘Don’t ever come after me again,’ she hissed.

  It was then that Will, panting, realised the Sicarii and Janissaries had left the hall – and the Staff had gone with them.

  ‘Come on,’ he urged Awa. ‘Let’s get after them.’

  Awa had her dagger poised to thrust into Odo’s neck. The man gasped out: ‘Hard times don’t last for ever, hard people do. You’d better do it to make sure.’

  Awa’s hand trembled . . . but then she plunged her weapon into his thigh, ripping the blade back towards her. Odo grabbed his leg, screaming, as Awa did the same to the other leg. Cursing, he toppled to one side, in agony.

  Will considered the young woman. ‘My name’s Will,’ he said.

  ‘I’m Awa.’

  ‘We need to go, I have to get the Staff back.’

  As Will and Awa hastened out of the hall, they heard Odo shouting after them, his voice fading.

  ‘I will find you, Awa. I will follow you to the ends of the earth, and I will find you!’

  23

  INVITATION TO RIDE

  AWA WAS NOT SURE WHY she was following Will. True, he had helped her out of a tight spot, but she had reciprocated by throwing the Staff, helping them escape. Was it truly the Staff of Moses, that had belonged to the great Hebrew prophet? A quiver ran down her spine at the thought of having held the same piece of wood which Moses had used to marshal the Israelites, and by which God had parted the waters of the Red Sea.

  Will had run into trouble - two guards, waiting at the exit.

  ‘Halt!’ ordered one with a spear in his hand.

  In the distance, Awa could see the Sicarii and the Janissaries. Having somehow eluded the sentries, they were sprinting down the coast road.

  ‘We don’t have time for this,’ muttered Will. ‘Sorry!’ And he ran straight at the guards, rolling under the sword swipe of the first and striking him on the back of his head with the flat of his own weapon, sending the man sprawling. Will kicked the other guard in the stomach. He doubled over as Will jerked away his spear and hit him on the chin with the hilt of his weapon. The guard wobbled, and then he smacked the ground.

  ‘Come on, Awa,’ said Will.

  She followed, desperate to put distance between herself and Odo. Otherwise why was she going with this young fellow? Could he be trusted? Pelting out of the grounds of the citadel, the pair rejoined the coastal road, this time heading away from town. The paved roadway soon ended, and they were slower over shingle laid on sand. Up ahead, the four men got into a waiting carriage and sped away. The chase was over.

  ‘Damn it!’ said Will, sliding to a halt and trying to catch his breath.

  Awa mopped her brow, glad of a rest. He really was concerned about the Staff, she saw, as though it meant something to him personally. Why? Who was he?

 
‘Will,’ she said, ‘thank you for saving me back there, but I need to be on my way now.’

  ‘Wait! Why the hurry?’ Will asked, loath to see her go.

  ‘Whatever you’re involved in is no concern of mine. The only thing on my mind is to survive this night and to live another day, and maybe one more,’ she said, turning to leave.

  ‘Whoa! Just hang on. If they catch you, it will be bad news for you. Why not stay with me - we can protect you.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘The Ottoman Janissaries.’

  Awa shook her head. ‘Like those Janissaries you are chasing?’

  ‘No, not like them. They were Janissaries once, but now they’re common thieves and mercenaries.’

  The sound of a large carriage drawn by two horses made Awa jump; she whipped out her dagger.

  ‘Kostas? Yes!’ Will shouted.

  The carriage skidded to a halt beside them, and an older man alighted. He was dressed in a kaftan over a tunic, with a sash around his waist; on it was tied a scabbard for a sword. The man was of average height, but appeared taller due to his powerful presence. He surveyed the scene, before turning to Will, then Awa, examining her. She saw concern in the way he observed her, and it made her want to stay.

  ‘We need to get after them,’ said Will, pointing towards the fast-disappearing Sicarii transport.

  ‘And this young lady is?’ said the older man.

  ‘She helped me,’ Will said. ‘I would be dead otherwise. Her name is Awa, and she can fight - I mean really fight.’

  ‘Well then, Awa, please join us,’ the man said, before climbing back into the carriage.

  Awa gripped the hilt of her dagger, gazing back at the citadel. How long did she have till they came after her? How long could she survive by herself? Whoever Will and these people were, they had resources and were organised. If by joining them in their quest it meant that she lived another day, it was one more chance she had of returning to the Songhai nation.

  ‘By yourself you are but one woman, together we are a unit,’ Will urged.

  She nodded, then sheathed the dagger and got into the carriage. Will came in after her, shutting the door, and the vehicle began to move.

  It was then Awa realised there were four others in the carriage, sitting on the bench opposite to her.

  ‘We have a lady in our presence,’ said the one on the right, who seemed like a Turk.

  ‘Awa, this is Gurkan,’ said Will. The Turk possessed a charming smile and he used it to good effect. It made her blush.

  ‘This is Mikael and Ismail, up on top is Kostas. And most importantly, may I introduce you to Commander Mehmed Konjic,’ said Will, indicating the man next to him. ‘Everyone, this is Awa.’

  ‘Commander?’ asked Awa.

  Konjic gave Will a hard look. Perhaps he had spoken too much.

  ‘Awa overheard more than I did back there. She knows who we are,’ said Will.

  The carriage surged along the shingle and sand track, the sea to the right, the citadel a distant blur behind them.

  ‘May I enquire what you learned from the conversation you listened to, Awa?’ Konjic asked.

  If she informed them of everything she had overheard, would they still need her? Awa wondered. Perhaps it was better to be cagey with the truth, only reveal some of it now. No. Though she had only just met this crew, there was something about them which made her feel comfortable, even safe.

  Instead of replying directly, she asked: ‘Are you all Janissaries?’

  They all nodded.

  ‘Serving Sultan Murad III,’ said Konjic.

  The carriage jolted, sending her flying into the arms of Gurkan.

  ‘Sorry!’ came the voice of Kostas from above. ‘Stray goat on the road.’

  The Turk helped her back to her seat; both she and Gurkan were bright red.

  ‘Best hold on,’ he said rather sheepishly.

  The carriage continued at a breakneck pace, smooth and straight this time, picking up speed on the open road. Awa cleared her throat.

  ‘The Sicarii are taking the Staff of Moses to Venice, where they will be selling it to a group called the Knights of the Fire Cross.’

  As she spoke, the carriage skidded to a halt. Kostas jumped nimbly down from his seat, landing on shingle. ‘Everybody out!’ he called.

  They had stopped before an enclosed section of the seafront, at the end of which was a pier, with a vessel moored by its side. The gates to the section were guarded by a row of warriors dressed in dark robes, armed with swords, lances and spears. Awa could see the two Sicarii and the two ex-Janissaries hurrying on foot towards the pier. One of the Sicarii held the Staff. They were going to get away, unless . . .

  ‘Remember, a person who shows courage is a person who has mastered fear, not banished it,’ said Konjic as he led the Janissaries forward. ‘Gurkan, Kostas, you are the fastest runners, we will create space for you. Draw your weapons.’

  Awa watched them depart. ‘What about me?’ she called after Konjic.

  ‘This is not your fight,’ the Commander called back, without turning round.

  Will gave her a reassuring nod and Gurkan smiled, making Awa’s heartbeat speed up. She had never experienced such a thing before and longed to embrace it.

  ‘Attack!’ yelled Konjic, leading the charge, with Will, Mikael and Ismail alongside him. Gurkan and Kostas tucked in behind them.

  The warriors guarding the storage area remained where they were, letting the Janissaries come to them. Swords clashed, metal on metal, sparks flashing bright in the evening air. Awa observed how the warriors held their ground. The Janissaries fought, hard, but they were outnumbered twelve to six. Meanwhile, the Sicarii and the two thieves were going to get away, unless there was something she could do. But what?

  One of the horses neighed behind her. She turned and studied the carriage, then squinted back towards the pier. Could she?

  Awa untied the harness attaching one of the horses to the carriage. She mounted the mare, grabbing a tuft of hair on the mane and stroking her, whispering into her ear: ‘Swift as the wind.’ Then, digging her heels in, she swung the mare in the direction of the narrow gate, urging the animal into a gallop. Seeing her approach, the soldiers were distracted, allowing Will and Mikael to strike their opponents down. Gurkan and Kostas shot through the space.

  ‘Out of the way!’ shouted Awa, charging through the gates, knocking aside one of the guards, avoiding the Janissaries, as her horse galloped towards the pier at full speed.

  ‘Steady now,’ she whispered to the horse.

  The Sicarii had boarded, as had one of the Janissaries, but the other was left behind. Her steed hurtled along the pier, the sea on either side of her, the wind billowing through Awa’s hair. She felt alive. The end of the pier fast approached. She hadn’t worked out what she was going to do - but her mare had. Deciding this was far enough, the horse pulled up short. Awa flipped over its head and onto the pier. The Janissary was only yards away. Readying herself, she took aim and threw her dagger. The blade buried itself into the back of the Janissary, who fell.

  Awa ran past, kicking him in the head, knocking him out. As she stared up at the vessel on the left of the pier, she saw three archers with flaming arrows drawn. They fired at her. She threw herself to the ground, as the arrows whizzed over her, then rolled off the pier and into the sea. More arrows rained down. She dived under the pier and came up for air. There were voices overhead.

  ‘Awa, Awa!’ cried Gurkan.

  ‘Awa!’ echoed Will.

  ‘Down here,’ she shouted, slapped by the waves.

  In the next moment, she saw the smiling face of Gurkan pop his head around one side of the pier and the concerned face of Will from the other.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said.

  A rope was thrown down and they hauled her out of the water. The vessel with the Staff had departed, sailing away into the Mediterranean, but the ex-Janissary she had wounded and knocked unconscious was still lying there, Commander K
onjic standing over him. She gazed back, to see that the warriors who had been guarding the pier had dispersed. Their task was done; they had provided safe passage for the Staff of Moses to leave for Venice.

  24

  STRONG CUP

  THE AROMA OF COFFEE PERMEATED the guesthouse. The Turkish Janissary called Ismail was very particular about the brewing process, but now it was done, he tasted and pronounced himself satisfied.

  ‘You like it?’ he asked Will.

  ‘I do. I used to drink it in Marrakesh when I was apprentice to a quartermaster,’ said Will, savouring the drink.

  ‘Coffee is the lubricant of the soul,’ sighed Ismail.

  The front door opened and a haggard-looking Konjic returned with Kostas, Mikael and Gurkan.

  ‘I could do with a cup of coffee, Ismail,’ said Konjic as he and the others flung themselves into chairs around a dining table.

  ‘Right away, sir.’ Ismail hurriedly placed a freshly filled pot and a set of cups on the table.

  Will pulled up a wooden chair and stared at Konjic expectantly. Far from being discreet, they had created a significant commotion the night before when trying to stop the Sicarii, and it left a whole lot of administration and bureaucracy to deal with it, when it came to the city authorities.

  ‘What happened, sir?’ he asked.

  ‘It took some convincing and the production of the Seal of the Grand Vizier himself, to prevent them from arresting us. After that, it was a matter of telling them a story which avoided any mention of the Staff of Moses. Imagine what the news could do! The Topkapi Palace, home to the most powerful man in the world, broken into? No, that must never be made public. Anyway, we are in the clear. As for our new friend . . . will you ask her to join us, please?’

  ‘I’ll fetch Awa,’ said Gurkan. He bounded up the stairs to collect Awa.

  When Awa came down, she was dressed in men’s clothing; they had given her a white kaftan, trousers, and even a turban, for when she went out. The girl was being hunted by ruthless slave traders who seemed to possess a knack for finding her. Disguising her as a man might help keep them off her trail.