by Rehan Khan
‘Perfect,’ said Will, spinning his beast around and galloping back to Awa and the Commander. He had been gone for much longer than ten minutes and Gurkan was already there, having had no luck with his scouting expedition.
‘I’ve found a farmhouse,’ he said breathlessly. ‘Let’s get the Commander up on your horse, Gurkan. Mine is exhausted.’
At the farmhouse gate, they trotted through as silently as possible, keeping the horses off the shingle track to avoid making any noise. Will steered them towards the barn. Along the way, they passed two cows. A couple of goats were tied within a pen, lying on the ground, nestled into one another. Fortunately, no dogs barked, warning of their presence.
They reached the barn, bringing the horses in before hobbling them. Will fetched some hay for the beasts and a pail of water from a well. They all drank, apart from Konjic. Gurkan and Awa got the Commander settled on the ground as comfortably as possible. They raised his head slightly and set about trying to find the right utensils. Will lit a lamp and placed it close to the Commander. He then fetched another bucket of water and some cloth he’d found. Awa discovered a set of tongs and Gurkan started up a small fire in a pit. Konjic’s breathing had slowed to dangerous levels and his face was a mask of agony. Sweat poured from his forehead.
Awa drew a dagger with a fine tip to it, wiped it down with a wet cloth and heated it over the fire. Will sliced open the tunic top Konjic was wearing, so they had a clear view of the wound. The bolt was lodged under the skin, only the shaft showing.
‘It’s deep,’ Will said, dousing the area of the wound with water.
‘Can you get it out?’ Gurkan asked, his voice quivering.
‘Yes, but it’s going to be painful. And we don’t have a needle and thread to close it up,’ said Will.
‘The only other way to seal the wound will be to burn the flesh around it, so it closes in on itself. Very nasty,’ said Awa, washing her hands. ‘Gurkan, try again to find a needle and thread. Go to the farmhouse if you have to.’
Silently he nodded, got up and was heading for the big barn door, when it opened. Will was immediately up on his feet, sword drawn. There was a gasp from the door.
‘You ain’t killed the poor fellow in our barn, ’ave yer?’ It was a woman’s voice.
‘No,’ said Will, replacing his sword in its scabbard and striding past Gurkan. ‘Please, we mean no harm. This is our friend, he’s been badly injured and we’re trying to save his life.’
The woman stepped through the doorway, moving cautiously. She had mousy brown hair, tied back in a bun, and wore a long, patterned dress. She peeped over at Konjic, then stared at Awa for an awfully long time, as the Songhai woman went back to dabbing the Commander’s head with a wet cloth. Finally, she took in Gurkan. They must have been an odd sight, in their foreign attire, in the middle of the English countryside, with a dying man on the ground.
‘What do you need?’ asked the woman.
‘A needle and thread, if you please,’ said Will.
The woman scrutinised Awa one more time. ‘All right, I’ll be back. Make sure your mate don’t die on us.’ She hoisted up her skirt, then hurried out of the barn.
‘Help or trouble?’ said Gurkan.
‘Help, I hope,’ said Will, as he returned to Awa’s side, leaving Gurkan to stand guard.
Within a few minutes the woman had returned with her sewing kit and a man whose skin colour was as black as Awa’s. When Awa saw him, her hand went to her mouth. The man also stopped in his tracks.
‘My husband, John Moor,’ the woman explained.
‘Moor?’ Will looked at the man carefully. ‘Are you from Morocco?’ he asked in Arabic.
The man froze. ‘Who are you?’ he replied in Arabic.
Will took a deep breath. He must try to reach out to this fellow, or they were going to be turned in once more. He decided to continue in Arabic. ‘My name is Will Ryde. I grew up in Marrakesh, apprentice to Hakim Abdullah, famous quartermaster of the Bayt Ben Yousef. This is Gurkan from Konja in Turkey and this is Awa of the Songhai nation. We are visiting from Istanbul with our master Mehmet Konjic.’ Will motioned to the Commander.
Konjic jerked in pain, whimpering.
‘Talk later, dear, this gentleman needs our help,’ said the woman.
John nodded. ‘Let’s take a look, Meg,’ he said, approaching.
‘Is the blade ready, Awa?’ asked Will, as he wiped away the bloodstains around the wound.
‘Yes. It’s red hot, so be careful.’
Will took the blade, pointed the tip at the wound. He would need to open the wound up further, before using the tongs to pull the head of the bolt out.
‘Wait!’ said John. ‘Have you done this before?’
‘No, only seen it,’ Will replied.
‘Give it to me then. I was in the army, seen plenty of flesh wounds. The bolt looks like it’s touching the shoulder-bone. Nasty. Let’s hope it hasn’t lodged itself in there, or else it will be a sow’s supper getting it out.’
John Moor calmly leaned over the wound, swabbing away the blood, before he took a flat piece of wood and placed it between Konjic’s teeth. ‘That’s to make sure he doesn’t bite his tongue off,’ he told Awa. He cracked his fingers, took the dagger and set to work, saying, ‘Hold him down, because this is going to hurt.’
Will gripped the Commander’s right arm, Meg his left; meanwhile Gurkan held down his legs, and Awa kept his head straight and pushed back against the ground.
When John Moor applied the blade to the wound, Commander Konjic did as expected.
He screamed.
36
THE MEANING OF HOME
THE COCK CROWED, HERALDING DAWN. The shaft and arrowhead had been removed by the nimble-fingered John Moor, who had cleaned up then stitched the Commander’s wound shut. Konjic had thrashed about at first, but grew tired and fell asleep. His fever raged. Awa, Gurkan and Will took turns to cool him down with a wet rag. Thanks to his strong constitution, by sunrise his fever had abated and he sank into a settled sleep. John Moor returned at first light and said they should rest now, for although Konjic would likely wake in the afternoon with a very painful left side, he was going to live.
The dawn sky was a metallic grey and Awa knew there would be no sun today. She pondered the situation with John Moor. Perhaps the English should have called him John the Moor, as it was more apt. He spoke Arabic, but what faith did he profess to? There were Christians here, but also pagans, with their rituals.
Sitting on the ground in a circle away from the Commander, Awa, Will and Gurkan huddled close to one another. Decisions needed to be made, yet the gravity of those decisions filled Awa with trepidation, for whatever they decided would send her life in a new direction once more
‘The Commander will pull through,’ said Will, ‘but he’s going to be out of action for some time. Meanwhile, the Staff is on the move. We have to do something fast, before it disappears completely.’
‘Konjic cannot return to Istanbul empty-handed. It will not bode well for him . . . or us,’ Awa added.
‘But we have no way of taking back the property of the Sultan,’ said Gurkan.
Gurkan was right. They were poorly equipped, the senior members of the crew were dead, their Commander incapacitated - and what’s more, they had no idea where the Staff was being taken. Their foreign appearance didn’t help either.
‘You never told me you could speak Arabic,’ Awa said to Will.
He grinned. ‘It never came up in conversation.’
‘Can you read it?’
‘Of course.’
‘So I won’t need to translate my journal for you, Will Ryde.’
‘What journal?’ Gurkan enquired, looking from one to another.
‘Awa is writing an account of her journey, like the great travellers of the past,’ Will said.
‘Am I mentioned?’ said Gurkan.
Now it was Awa’s turn to smile. ‘I haven’t come to that part yet.’
�
��Don’t forget to describe my swordsmanship and athleticism, along with my handsome appearance and cultured personality. I’m sure your readers will want to know about the mighty warrior who saved you single-handedly from the scandalous inn.’ Gurkan preened himself.
‘I seem to recall being responsible for that myself,’ Awa replied.
‘Well yes, I suppose we all played our parts, large or small as they may be,’ Gurkan conceded.
Awa stared at him incredulously, before he burst out laughing.
Clearing his throat, Will interjected, ‘Come on - focus. We need to decide what happens next. Time is against us.’
‘We have no local knowledge,’ said Awa.
‘But John Moor does,’ said Will.
‘Can we trust him?’ Gurkan asked, serious again.
‘He saved the Commander’s life when he could have turned us in,’ Will pointed out.
‘He still might,’ Gurkan responded.
‘He does not seem like the sort who would betray a trust,’ Awa said.
‘He does not know what we’re involved in though, does he?’ Gurkan reminded her. ‘Our task is to return the Staff of Moses from England to Turkey. His loyalties may be with these people.’
Will grimaced. Gurkan quickly backtracked, saying, ‘Sorry, Will. What I mean is that in order to live here safely he needs to demonstrate that he is loyal to the English way of life, even though he may still have an affinity with his homeland.’
‘The Earl of Rothminster is not acting on behalf of the Queen, is he?’ said Will. ‘Bringing the Staff to England does not serve the interest of the Crown. On the contrary, Murad will be furious.’
‘The Commander wanted us to find the East Mediterranean Company. He said they would protect us, get us home,’ Gurkan said.
‘Home’ meant different things to different people, Awa thought. What did it mean to Will Ryde?
The barn door opened and they all jumped up, drawing weapons.
‘My, you lot are itching for a fight,’ said Meg, walking in with a tray of steaming soup bowls. John behind her carried a platter with chunks of bread. ‘We thought you might need some breakfast to keep your strength up.’
The food was delicious, and just what they needed. They ate heartily, after which John went back to the farmhouse to brew fennel seed tea for them. When he poured it from the kettle, the aniseed aroma was a comfort, as was the taste.
‘Now, I hate to bring this up, but . . .’ John exchanged a look with his wife before continuing. ‘Now Meg and I, we live a clean life, not messing with anyone’s business, nor causing harm to others. On this little farm which we built with our own hands, we keep ourselves to ourselves. If you’re involved in trouble, we don’t want that trouble finding us. Do you take my meaning?’
‘We do, sir,’ said Will.
‘Which is why we need you to move on, as soon as your master is fit to travel,’ said John.
‘We aren’t planning on staying. We have urgent business to attend to, which might mean we need to be on our way today,’ Will explained.
Meg motioned to Konjic. ‘He’s in no fit state to travel, young man.’
‘Can you keep him here for a while, let him recover?’ Awa asked. ‘We will come back as soon as we can.’
‘What could be so important that you’d leave your master when he’s in such a condition?’ John wanted to know.
‘It’s for his safety,’ Will replied. ‘There’s . . . Look, something was stolen which belongs to our master’s master, who told him to find it and return with it - or else he must not return at all.’
‘Return to where?’ John asked.
Will exhaled. ‘Istanbul.’
Meg clutched her husband’s arm. ‘The Turks! A bloodthirsty demonic land full of fire-breathing dragons, oh aye.’
‘What?’ Gurkan snapped.
Will held up his hand. ‘I assure you,’ he said gently, becoming used by now to defending the country, ‘having lived in Istanbul, I can tell you it is no such thing. It is a jewel of place, like a city brought down to earth from heaven itself.’
‘Well I never . . .’ marvelled Meg, her voice trailing off.
Gurkan was nodding his head. Awa was yet to experience the city for herself, but she had heard plenty of stories from others. Konjic and his team were testament to the advanced, enlightened civilisation the Turks had developed.
‘And what was stolen?’ John wanted to know.
‘It’s an artefact belonging to the Palace. It has tremendous value and is . . . well, one of its kind. I’m very sorry but I can’t say any more,’ said Will.
John seemed to accept that explanation. ‘One last question, if you please: who took it?’
‘An English Earl,’ Gurkan answered.
‘Which one? There be loads of ’em,’ Meg said forthrightly.
‘Rothminster.’ Will supplied the name.
‘Oh, he’s the fellow who lives over in Leeds Castle,’ said John.
Will’s shoulders slumped. ‘That’s the other end of the country!’
‘I said Leeds Castle. I didn’t say Leeds,’ John replied, with a rare smile. ‘Leeds Castle is in Maidstone, about half a day’s ride away.’
It may have been close, but gaining entry to a castle was, in Awa’s estimation, an enormous challenge. She had heard about moats and reinforcements. Siege-engines brought in to break fortifications. Their little band of three had no such resources. What’s more, they were up against a formidable opponent, whose tentacles had reached into the palace of the most powerful man in the world.
‘How long do you think our master Konjic will be out of action for?’ Will asked.
‘It’ll be two days at least, before he’s ready to be moved,’ John replied.
‘We could be there and back in that time,’ mused Gurkan.
‘Sorry to sound like a killjoy, but I hear the castle is impenetrable,’ John added.
‘We don’t have a choice,’ Will said simply.
Meg slipped an ivory hand into the palm of her husband’s ebony one. Awa wondered if the couple had children and, if so, what colour they were.
‘John,’ she asked, ‘why would a Moor settle in an uncivilised place like England?’ Once she said the words, she realised the comment sounded disrespectful and felt embarrassed before the others.
‘For love,’ said John, entwining his fingers with those of his wife. ‘It is true, this nation is not as advanced as where I or you come from, but after I met Meg, I made up my mind to stay.’
‘It was not my intention to sound discourteous,’ said Awa. ‘Forgive me. If you allow me, I would like to ask how you came here. And are there other Africans in this country?’
‘There are a few. In the ten years I’ve lived in England, I have met two others. They in turn have also met a few. How many there are in total I could not say, but there are a handful who go by such names as Blackman, Blacke, or Moor.
‘I myself came to this country after my ship ran aground in the Mediterranean and I was picked up by a merchant vessel, sailing back to these shores. In the Moroccan army, I was a trainee surgeon. When I came here, there was no such work for the likes of me, so I took to sewing. I was already used to stitching up wounds, so now I stitched clothes for fine gentlemen and ladies. It’s how I met my Meg, who was also a seamstress. The Lord of the Manor where she worked was a kindly old gent who had no offspring, so in his will he left his estate to some distant relatives and the people who worked for him. This farm and the small piece of land with it, was given to Meg. It’s where we decided to settle down. We still earn part of our living through sewing.’
‘Do you miss home?’ Awa asked.
‘Home? Home is the place where you find comfort,’ John replied.
Awa gazed at John the Moor and his wife. Here was a lesson for them all. Two very different people, who had made their relationship work and who had created a heaven in this bleak landscape which they called home.
37
LEEDS CASTLE
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BUZZARDS GLIDED OVER LEEDS CASTLE in the early evening dusk. It had taken them just half a day’s journey, as John Moor predicted, for them to arrive at the Earl of Rothminster’s imposing fortress. The land route into the castle was heavily guarded and the only other way in was across the water-filled moat.
Will, Awa and Gurkan surveyed the area from the neighbouring wood, watching the comings and goings of people to and from the castle. The drawbridge was lowered thrice a day, allowing carriages to exit and enter. Stukeley, Rathbone’s bodyguard, marched out at one point, shouting orders at a cowering blacksmith, who hurried back inside the stronghold. Whether the Staff was within was anyone’s guess, and the same applied to the whereabouts of the Earl and Rathbone: Will saw neither.
After two days of reconnaissance, the trio decided the time was right for their attempt to break in. They planned to scale the walls with a grappling hook and rope which they’d purchased. After that they’d improvise, depending on what they found inside. Commander Konjic would not be impressed, but these were forlorn times and desperate measures were required.
* * *
It was just after midnight. Keeping to the shadows, they stole silently out of the wood and across to the moat, on which they placed the raft they had constructed the day before and climbed aboard. They had agreed that the northern tower was the least accessible part of the complex, so it was the likely location of the Staff. Crouching low, with a canvas thrown over them, they paddled towards their destination as the crescent moon glinted overhead. The moat was enormous but eventually the raft bobbed to a gentle stop against the stone walls. Will pulled away the canvas.
‘Keep us steady,’ he whispered.
Gurkan gripped the wall with one hand and the corner of the raft with the other while Awa uncoiled the rope and handed Will the grappling hook to tie onto it. She then helped to steady the raft from the other side as Will stood up, righted himself, then began to swing the rope around, building up momentum before letting it fly upwards. Unfortunately, the first attempt failed. The hook missed the parapet and came plunging down. They ducked, and it splashed into the water, sending a ripple across the moat.