by D. N. Carter
“Stewart…it is so very good to see you again. I hope this does not get you into trouble? Please do not leave in the morrow before I have said goodbye properly,” Alisha said.
“I shall not…I promise,” Stewart replied, his face covered in dirt and dust from his long journey. Alisha leaned up on tip toes and gently kissed his cheek.
“Thank you. And if you have had any word from Paul, I would be most interested to hear…and the beard suits you,” she said softly then turned to open her chambers’ door.
“Sorry, Alisha, but I have not. Not since I last saw him…that was when Paul greatly offended Gerard too. Something you now have in common,” Stewart replied with a smile.
“I hope you will explain further when rested?” Alisha said softly, and then looked at her open hand, the small linen strip still furled up in her palm. She gently closed her hand and opened the door.
Stewart sighed and relaxed his shoulders as Alisha closed the door behind her without any further words. Roger saw the look in Stewart’s eyes.
“Come, young Templar. You do not need to sit guard here for she will be quite safe and secure…and you clearly need some refreshment and sleep after your long journey,” Roger said and ushered Stewart away from the door.
Alisha walked around the large room. She stood at the end of the bed and stared at where Raja had lain just a few hours earlier. Everything was happening so fast. She thought back on how she had kneed Gerard and half chuckled to herself in disbelief, then anxious feelings began to overwhelm her. What had possessed her to knee him in the groin like that? Would he accept an apology from her? Why was he so hostile to her and so anti Muslim? She was no threat to him in any form. For her father’s sake, Stewart’s and Nicholas’s, she would insist on meeting him in the morning and offer her apology. She sat on the bed shaking her head. Quickly she checked she still had her dagger and sighed with relief it was still tucked inside her waistband. She then looked at the small linen scroll with Paul’s poem on and slowly began to read it. It brought her a sense of comfort and she held it to her chest and wondered how he was at that moment.
La Rochelle, Chapel of Sainte-Marie, summer of 1178
Paul sat patiently inside the bright chapel enjoying the peace and quiet. Niccolas was late for their daily lesson but it was not the first time he had been so. A small lark bird fluttered in through the broken pain of stained glass that he and Taqi had spied through on the night of Stewart’s initiation ceremony. His father had still not answered any of his questions regarding that evening. He smiled as he remembered that night and wondered how Taqi and Stewart were getting on now. He ran his finger down the healed scar on his face. His thoughts drifted to Alisha. What was she up to and how was she? His heart skipped a beat and he leaned his head back and looked up at the high vaulted ceiling covered in bright coloured frescos he had not noticed before. He closed his eyes and tried to picture Alisha in his mind. Her soft flawless skin, her big beautiful wide eyes. Her lips and the touch of her hand as she held his. He sighed. He felt as if he had a massive part of himself missing. ‘Can she sense me thinking of her now?’ he wondered.
“Day dreaming again are we?” Niccolas suddenly boomed out as he did his usual trick of kicking the main entrance door open, causing Paul to jump, startled. He was carrying a large leather satchel and several bound parchment scrolls.
“Niccolas!” Paul said as he stood up fast. He walked down the aisle towards him as the door again flung open and a large man followed him in carrying more satchels and bound parchments. Paul froze on the spot as he stared at the man. He was tall and just as wide, had jet black hair pulled back into a pony tail, wore dark robes and what looked like laminar body armour that hung in little strips. He carried two swords, their scabbards unusual and covered in gold and silver patterns, and he wore strange shoes. As the man approached, his face became visible from behind the huge bundle he was holding up. Paul jerked his head back in surprise momentarily and took a second look. The man looked back at Paul direct; his eyes a very dark brown, almost black and slanted. Paul had never seen a face like this before.
“It is rude to stare, young Paul!” Niccolas said loudly as the tall man walked past him.
Paul watched bemused as the stranger followed Niccolas into his side room. Quickly he shook his head and rushed after them. As he entered the small room, the strange looking man stood with his back to him still holding all the parchments and satchels. He exuded a massive presence in the room that was tangible. Slowly Paul eased himself around the side of the room where he could look at the man side on. Paul had seen several oriental types down at the docks over the years, but they had all been slight in stature and demeanour; this man was unlike any person he had ever seen. As Niccolas opened the trap door cover to his study, the man became aware of Paul staring at him. Slowly he turned his gaze towards him. His eyes slanted even more as he squinted, his face fierce looking. Paul quickly feigned a nervous smile as Niccolas started his usual ritual of lighting the small candles and descended out of sight. The stranger did not move, his stare fixed upon Paul.
“Hi…I am Paul,” Paul said sheepishly and gave a wave then shook his head feeling silly as the man stood perfectly still and just stared at him.
“Are you coming down or not?” Niccolas called out from below.
Only then did the man look the other way and awkwardly started to squeeze himself down through the hatch way, only just managing to step down and through the entrance. Paul followed him cautiously but intrigued.
2 – 4
Niccolas rapidly cleared the main stone table of items and quickly lit two lanthorns. The stranger looked around the vaulted study in silence. Niccolas gestured for him to place the scrolls and satchels on the table. In silence he did and just stood back as Niccolas opened the scrolls and looked at them intently. Suddenly Paul heard someone coming down the steps behind him fast. Niccolas and the stranger did not look as Philip practically jumped off the last step.
“Good day, my son,” Philip said with a large smile on his face and patted Paul on his arm as he past him. He walked around to the opposite side of the table as Niccolas was still leaning over the parchments. “I came as soon as I received word,” he said and looked up at the stranger, who stood perfectly still. Philip smiled at him and nodded, acknowledging his presence. The stranger gave a slight nod back. Paul looked on bemused and tried to move nearer to the table to see what all the urgent fuss was about. His jaw dropped in surprise as he saw the parchments stretched open. Upon them was a large map, a map that appeared almost identical to the one he had seen so many times in his dreams. He moved nearer slowly. Philip looked at him and immediately saw the look of surprise on his face. “You look as though you have seen a spirit…are you okay, my son?” he asked.
Paul pulled the parchment map around to see it properly from his angle. He could not understand or read the strange symbols all over the map, but he recognised all the land masses drawn out from his dreams. He looked around at the stranger, who just stared back as if emotionless.
“Father…I have seen these before,” Paul answered quietly and looked back at the maps.
“You could not have,” Niccolas stated as he studied the maps closely.
“I have. I know these maps,” Paul retorted.
“Could they be fake?” Philip asked. “No offence,” he quickly said, raising his hand to the stranger.
“No…These are genuine…and here look. He knew of both you and I, knew exactly how to find us and has papers and a signed warrant from King William himself from the Kingdom of Alba…here look,” Niccolas explained and quickly opened a scroll. It had the seal and Royal Warrant of King William. Paul looked at it closely. It had a red lion on a yellow flag with fleur de lys symbols on two red surmount borders.
“Oh my Lord…if only Theodoric had lived to see these,” Philip said as he looked over several more maps. “These are so detailed. Magnificent.”
“You…you are the navigator…no?” the stranger as
ked, his voice clipped and blunt.
“Erm…that is a name I have not been called in a very long time, but you could say that I am,” Philip answered, still studying the maps.
“So…you are the map buyer, no?” the stranger asked, again his voice clipped but even sterner.
Paul looked at his father, puzzled, then at the stranger. ‘Who was Theodoric, why did he call my father the navigator and who is this strange man?’ he thought.
“You speak French well…,” Niccolas remarked.
“I speak many…French, English, Spanish, High Dutch, Italian, Chinese… whatever,” the stranger replied very matter of factly, still standing motionless with his arms folded.
“Modest too,” Paul whispered to himself as the stranger slightly turned his head and looked directly at him sternly. In the flickering light cast by the two lanthorns, the stranger looked other worldly and Paul could not keep his eyes off of him.
“How do you know if these details about these lands far to the west are genuine and correct?” Philip asked pointing to the outlines of land far off to the west of Ireland. He then looked up at the composite map on the wall Niccolas had spent years compiling. The strangers eyes followed his and fell upon the map too.
“I have walked across it…that is how I know…and your map there is not that far off,” the stranger replied.
“Walked across it…,” Niccolas said, looking at the stranger suspiciously.
The stranger saw the look and immediately walked forwards nearer to the desk.
“Here…look and learn!” the stranger said as he prodded the larger map with his forefinger hard on an island off the coast of China. “Here…this is where I am…how you say, made…born! Nipon…some call Japan. From here I sail here,” he prodded the map on the north eastern coast of China. “From here, my journey took me here, then here, then here. Across this part to these lands,” the stranger said studying the looks on Philip’s and Niccolas’s faces. From here, I take a year to walk across to here, then up across here. You know the Norse sailors go here, yes?” the stranger stated then asked.
“Yes, we know. We have much of their work. And you have actually been this way?” Philip said as he studied the map intently.
“So this proves what our Arabic friends say. Our world is indeed a sphere,” Niccolas said, rubbing his chin.
“Of course. The Arabs have learnt much from the east. You are only now catching up, yes?” the stranger remarked as he stood bolt upright again and folded his arms.
“So how come you have sought us out?” Philip asked.
“In Alba I was told to find you. Look…are the recommendations not valid? They said you would have interest of my maps and knowledge and could help me return to my homeland,” the stranger said, pointing to the warrant scrolls. “I was told I should say to you…I understand the mystery of the Egyptian wife, ‘Scota’, for your help and show you my family colours,” the stranger said then pulled open and down the front of his tunic to reveal a black and yellow cord necklace worn around his neck.
Philip looked at Niccolas and raised an eyebrow of understanding. He stood up straight from the table and walked around to the stranger. Paul’s mind was racing now. Maps that had images upon them he recognised from his dreams; a strange man that talks of a great journey around the entire sphere of the world and connections his father has with people in Alba.
“Father. Forgive my interruption…but are we talking about Alba of northern Britain, land of the Scots?” he asked, puzzled, as the stranger looked at him coldly.
“’Tis, my son,” Philip replied as he smiled, looking at the stranger.
“You mean Albanachs?” the stranger said bluntly.
“They are one and the same…I shall explain later, Paul. Now, my son, I need you to rush home and get the house ready for we have a very well travelled and well respected guest staying with us this night,” Philip said as he started to usher Paul towards the spiral stairs. “Now do not worry, I shall indeed be helping this man and acquiring his maps so you can view them all later…now hurry,” he finished and gently pushed him onto the lowest step. Paul raised his hands in protest but Philip simply smiled and gestured he leave.
Reluctantly Paul started to ascend the stairs as Philip approached the stranger.
“Sire, I understand your last words. It would be a great honour to have you stay with us whilst we arrange passage for you. And we will of course pay you handsomely for these maps for they are indeed truly invaluable,” Philip explained and outstretched his hand for the stranger. The stranger hesitated for a moment as Niccolas likewise nodded, smiling in agreement.
“I am indebted to you both. Thank you,” the stranger said, his voice lower and softer as his whole body seemed to relax. He shook Philip’s hand and politely bowed his head slightly as he closed his eyes briefly and sighed. Relief was clear upon the stranger’s face.
Port of La Rochelle, France, Melissae Inn, spring 1191
“Nipon, Japanese…I have not heard of these places,” Gabirol exclaimed puzzled.
“My friend…not many have. It is an island nation off the coast of China. We have had dealings with them for hundreds of years via the Orient and silk trades from China,” the old man replied in answer.
“And he claims to have traversed the whole world…as a sphere. Is this true?” asked Peter the stonemason.
“As you shall hear, indeed it was true. But know this…travel west across the oceans is not new. Our cousins in the north have been doing so for many years. History eventually catches up and what you may think is heretical or nonsense now will in time prove to be accurate and true,” the old man explained.
“I am puzzled at the comment about the Egyptian wife named Scota…can you explain this?” Simon asked as Sarah buried her head in her hands, frustrated. The old man laughed at this.
“Of course. You are all aware of the Celts of Ireland and Scotland. Well, go and ask a Scot what he calls himself and he will say he is an Albanach, or more simply a Gaidal. As for the Scota part…let me simply explain that they have their own Arthurian literature which differs markedly from the romances and tales presently being proffered. They view Arthurus, King Arthur that is, by treating him as the villain, and Mordred, the son of the king of the Picts, as a hero. But it goes back further than that with the origin myth of the Scots, claiming their ancestry can be traced from the Greek prince Gathelus and his Egyptian wife Scota. In fairness, they mainly adopted this so it allowed them to argue superiority over the English, who claimed their descent from the Trojans, who had been defeated by the Greeks,” the old man explained.
“So what relevance does that have to this oriental character and his cryptic word of repeating the phrase to Philip and Niccolas. Is it some sort of secret code then?” Simon asked, still perplexed.
“Lord give me strength,” Sarah said through gritted teeth.
“What? Come on, it is a simple question,” Simon shot back.
“Simple enough indeed,” the old man said and smiled disarmingly as Sarah shook her head. “Philip, Firgany and their other friend had stayed a while in Alba during their many travels. They helped write down much about the history of their lands and myths. They likewise left a message that should anyone come after them and require help, to simply mention the Egyptian bride named ‘Scota’…so in essence it was a form of a code word to confirm and validate any Royal Warrants, for in truth, anyone could have forged or stolen them, and besides, the people whom this stranger belonged to had other connections that directly linked to our good friends the Templars themselves,” the old man detailed.
“Really? Pray tell how so,” the Templar asked quickly.
“Let me explain that Japan has a history that dates back thousands of years. The early culture was known as ‘Jomon’, which meant ‘cord pattern’…that’s because the people made pottery decorated with rope-like designs. The rope patterns are familiar and in some cases identical to our Templar ropes and knots no less. Especially the yellow and b
lack cords. Our stranger friend had travelled all the way from northern Japan from amongst a people called the ‘Ainu’, who were the first inhabitants of the northernmost islands of Japan called ‘Hokkaido’. But the majority in Japan nowadays came from a later group known as ‘Yayoi’, who were mostly farmers and whom most still look like. Small in stature and oriental looking. But our stranger was much taller and with a whiter complexion,” the old man detailed as Gabirol wrote more notes.
“I had heard that some of our brothers had travelled as far west as the Norsemen claimed. I have also heard of lands further east than the oriental lands. I have also heard of their great wisdom, knowledge and skills, especially in making swords and weapons for war, but I find it hard to hear that this strange man walked across from east to west and then here,” the Templar stated.
“It may sound difficult to believe, but that is what happened. All this stranger wished to do was to return home to his family,” the old man replied quietly. “I can tell you that during the course of the stranger’s stay at Philip’s house, which, if you have not already worked out, was in fact this very place we now find ourselves sat in, he imparted a lot of information and detail for Philip’s maps,” the old man revealed as Sarah sat up straight, puzzled.
“Yes, I knew that all along,” the Mareschal farrier said from his seat part hidden at the far end of the table next to a main support beam.
“He speaks!” Simon joked.
“I wish to hear this entire tale so I only speak when I have something to contribute,” the farrier replied.