Believe or Die

by M. J. Harris

  “Trouble Lord?” inquired Wil.

  De Rood smiled mirthlessly and pulled the hood of his djellabah up over his head.

  “Not yet Wil, not just yet,” he said coldly and galloped off. Wil noticed that he had glared venomously in the direction of Ehud when he said this.

  Amongst his numerous scribe-like talents, Simon was also skilled in the art of map-making. From deep within his cavernous satchels, he began producing a series of detailed depictions of the area through which they now travelled. Occasionally, guides would appear, report to De Rood, and then vanish again in a cloud of sand. The Wolf would then call Simon to him, unroll a map, and bid the clerk to add or alter something. Wil got the distinct impression that De Rood did not need the map to navigate the wilderness and was instead using the chart to plan something.

  Progress was leisurely and marches were dictated by the location of the next source of water. Because all were well used to the heat, and their speed was being regulated, fatigue was not a problem. Slowly they drew nearer to the northern coast, nearer to Tangier. Ehud was getting increasingly jumpy. Had he been aware of the thoughtful looks the Wolf had been casting in his direction, he would have been even more so. But the nervousness was contagious. Wil was also twitchy as were De Rood’s bodyguards, but in their case it was due to the unmistakable sensation of being watched. Yet despite the party passing through some prime ambush sites, nothing untoward occurred. For his part, De Rood seemed sublimely unconcerned. The apprehension within Wil grew day by day until it felt like an icy hand was gripping his innards. At camp on the fifth night, he could bear it no longer and approached the Wolf who was taking his ease and perusing a map. De Rood looked up as Pitkin drew near.

  “Come sit you Wil. Sit and tell me what concerns you.”

  “Lord, correct me if I am wrong, but are we not in hostile lands?”

  “Indeed we are. It teams with all manner of vicious tribes and evil brigands.”

  “Then why have we not been attacked?”

  “Patience Wil. Matters are conducted differently out here. Soon we will be rejoined by Van Ryer. After that, things will soon become clearer.”

  Pitkin frowned, bowed and went to leave. De Rood held up his hand and bade him sit again.

  “Ehud’s merchandise is of very great value Wil. When combined with my’baggage’, this will be a very valuable caravan indeed, possibly the greatest to have crossed these lands for hundreds of years. The possible prospect of gaining such instant wealth does strange things to men and we must be watchful. I believe there is great treachery afoot and that we now tread an even more perilous path than we first anticipated.”

  “Who is it you mistrust Lord?”

  “Oh, as to that, Allah will be my guide and my advisor. All men either betray themselves or become revered by their deeds. Thus all will shortly be revealed. If it is of any comfort to you, I believe you to be true and would bid you to look to your weapons. Stay close to me over the next few days. Say nothing but observe everything and before long, all will become clear.”

  Van Ryer rejoined them at the next camp leading half a dozen camels and a mixed bunch of bodyguards and animal handlers.

  “Our task proceeds apace my friends,” said the Wolf. “Captains, let us treat ourselves to a decent meal. Bring all the guards in and bid them celebrate and relax. They have done well but more work lies ahead; let us all feast together while we may.”

  “My Lord, who stands watch if all the guards are brought in?” protested Wil.

  Van Ryer and his companions were already opening panniers and ‘discovering’ numerous hidden bottles. So much then for their conversion to Islam!

  “Tonight my messengers will stand guard,” explained De Rood. “Fear not Wil, none can get past them, remember they have lived all their lives in this harsh land.”

  At length, all the bodyguards and both the Captains were enjoying a lively, raucous feast. Except that Wil was not feeling jovial in the slightest. He sat despondently between Jacob and Simon and gnawed on a goat bone. As things began to die down, Wil became restless and began to rise.

  “Going somewhere Captain?” inquired De Rood.

  “To check on the pickets Lord.”

  ‘No need. Resume your seat.”

  “But … !”

  “But me no ‘buts’ sit! You also Simon.”

  “I have not yet made my daily inventory Lord.”

  “Nor shall you this night. Sit!”

  “Will the Lord allow this humble servant to go for a piss?” asked Jacob sarcastically.

  “Only if you stay within the light of the fire. Beyond its aura a Djinn may get you.”

  “A Saadian Djinn perhaps?”

  “Who knows my friend.”

  The following morning the caravan set off once again. At noon they halted at a rocky outcrop from which a small spring bubbled. Animals and men drank; water bags were refilled.

  “We must be watchful now my friends,” advised the Wolf. “Soon we will be within the range of Portuguese patrols. Is that not so, Master Ehud?”

  The merchant frowned at the ground and said nothing. The Wolf continued.

  “Ah, but I am forgetting! How stupid of me! Tangier is no longer your destination is it?”

  Ehud’s jaw dropped. De Rood’s cold eyes drilled into him.

  “No, you are bound for Cuerta, you are heading for Spanish territory are you not? Pray then tell me, enlighten me, what caused you to have this change of mind?”

  “I did,” said Van Ryer off to one side.

  De rood dropped his head to his chest and chuckled humourlessly. He shook himself as if to remove stiffness and turned to see his former bodyguards drawing their weapons and siding with Van Ryer.

  “So then, this is the way of it eh? I see, oh yes, I see now.”

  Wil’s hand flew to his sword but a dozen blades and barrels levelled upon him. Reluctantly he let his hand drop and glared at De Rood.

  “You may see Lord but not I! What treachery is this?”

  “It is very simple Wil. The good Captain here wants it all. He and my illustrious ‘Bodyguard’ mean to have both mine and Heer Ehud’s merchandise for themselves.”

  Jacob and Simon were prodded forcefully to stand alongside De Rood and Wil. The Wolf chuckled again, pushed well back the hood of his djellabah, and sat down heavily, resignedly, on a nearby rock.

  “So then Van Ryer, will you kill us all now?”

  “Nein De Rood, not I. Nothing so uncouth for one such as ‘The Wolf’. I have learned much from you, including an appreciation of irony and subtlety. I have no intention of killing you! See!”

  Two of Van Ryer’s followers brought forth a pair of camels and Ehud and his sons hurriedly mounted and beat the animals northwards towards Cuerta. Van Ryer watched them go then turned back to his captives.

  “Within hours that merchant will have reached one of the Spanish outposts. By dusk, I would estimate, their cavalry will be seeking you out. Think of it De Rood, some lowly Dago officer will have the honour to capture ‘The Wolf’!”

  “Think you I will be found and taken so easily?”

  “You will be unarmed and afoot. And I do mean ‘afoot’ for I shall take your shoes and this is a hard land for those so bereft. You will not go far.”

  “Why play such games? Kill us now and be done with it!” sighed Jacob.

  “Ah but you see, this way, when I am living in De Rood’s luxurious abode and counting all his money, I can think of you four chained to the oars of a Spanish galley. I find that a very pleasant notion.”

  “What did Ehud get out of it?” asked Wil.

  “His life and his brats. A couple of my men will follow them to ensure he obeys his instructions.”

  “‘Your’ men?” laughed De Rood. Van Ryer shrugged and waved some accomplices forward to disarm and unshoe De Rood and his companions. The Wolf seemed strangely indifferent to the proceedings and put up no resistance. Wil and the others were puzzled by this uncharacteristic ambiv
alence. Van Ryer grinned at them. Then he removed The Wolf’s cloak from his very back and mounted his fine stallion.

  “You do not object De Rood? You will have no further use for these things. And now I bid you good day mein heers. I must back to the Sultan, via Meknes of course, and advise him of your terrible deaths.”

  “We may yet escape the Dons,” said Wil.

  “Unlikely, but even if you did, the Berbers will get you, in which case you will wish you were indeed a galley slave. Hideous things those Berber womenfolk do to captured men.”

  Van Ryer, his accomplices, and the protesting, booty-laden camels departed. Wil looked around at the bleak, barren wasteland and could draw not the slightest grain of comfort or inspiration from it. Jacob cursed and began hurling rocks into the spring. Simon held his head in his hands and sobbed almost silently. De Rood looked across at the little Jew.

  “Come now Master Simon. What depresses you so?”

  Wil and Jacob both turned and stared at the Wolf. Had the man lost his mind?

  “I couldn’t help but think for a moment of that Portuguese ship that was to have taken us away from this,” sighed Simon.

  “Take heart my friend. You may even yet take passage on that vessel,” grinned De Rood cryptically.

  “How so?” demanded Wil and Jacob in unison.

  “You have forgotten my messengers I find,” replied the Wolf.

  “I thought they had deserted you,” exclaimed Wil.

  “So does Van Ryer. Indeed, he paid them handsomely to do just that.”

  Jacob shaded his eyes and peered at the horizon.

  “I do not see them,” he commented.

  “You will.”

  “Before the Spanish or the Berbers get us?” demanded Jacob.

  “Insh Allah,” shrugged De Rood who then casually lay back and made himself comfortable on the rocks.

  Less than an hour later, De Rood’s messengers appeared out of the shimmering wilderness driving a host of heavily loaded camels before them. The Wolf chuckled and sprang to his feet. He greeted his riders with arms outstretched and they responded likewise adding their own peculiar war cries into the bargain.

  “Is it done my children?” asked De Rood in Arabic.

  “It is done!” they cried enthusiastically.

  “Splendid! Come my friends!” said the Wolf to Wil and the others as he caught a tossed bundle and unravelled it at their feet. “Find yourselves a pair of shoes that fits and you Wil, arm yourself with whatever you choose. Quickly now, we must make haste.”

  “Aye, the Spanish … ” began Wil.

  “The Spanish are not coming Wil. My messengers saw to it that Ehud, his sons and their watchers fell short of their goal. The Portuguese though are a little too close for comfort.”

  “Where are we bound then Lord? To seek out Van Ryer?”

  “No need. Others have done that for us.”

  “Others? But who Lord? Your messengers all appear to be here!”

  “Indeed they are.”

  “I do not understand,” frowned Simon. “Are those not our camels and are they not laden with your merchandise? Yet did not Van Ryer take all?”

  “You duped the lot of us!” realised Jacob suddenly. “That was why you wouldn’t let anybody but your riders stand guard the other night. Your boys somehow switched the beasts for others and likewise the cargo.”

  De Rood smiled.

  “A camel is a camel to our eyes, only a Moor can tell the difference between them.”

  “Then what was on the backs of the beasts that Van Ryer took? What pray tell was in those panniers?”

  “Rocks mainly.”

  “So he got away with nothing?” gaped Simon.

  “He took your horse and your sword!” observed Wil. “You prized both.”

  “Indeed I did. Yet it was necessary that he took them. I particularly wanted him to be on my horse and wearing my cloak when he committed his treachery.”

  “But why? And how could you know he wouldn’t kill us out of hand? What would all your scheming have left you then?” demanded Wil. De Rood considered for moment then said,

  “Van Ryer was always a cruel man with a strange taste in amusement. The notion of me chained to the oars of a galley appealed to him. I gambled he would let us live to satisfy this amusement.”

  “And the horse and cloak? Another gamble?”

  “Ah, no gamble there. He always coveted both. I knew he could not resist cutting such a dash. After all, were they not the trademark of ‘The Wolf’?”

  “Many Berbers and others have tried to kill you because of those distinct ‘trademarks’.”

  “Just so. And now they have succeeded. One of my messengers ‘betrayed’ my movements, or rather those of Van Ryer dressed as me, to the ‘Reguibat’.”

  “So the Blue Men killed him thinking it was you?”

  “Exactly. The Berbers will even now be celebrating my demise and soon that lunatic Yusef will be mourning my passing. Like hell he will! But now we must hasten before the Blue Men begin wondering why the Wolf had a caravan of rocks.”

  “But hasten where? Surely not Tangier or Cuerta? And you certainly cannot go back to Meknes if you wish to be thought dead.”

  “All that is true, which is why we go to Mdiq.”

  “Mdiq?” chorused the others.

  “What in the name of all that is Holy is at Mdiq?” wailed Simon.

  “Why Master Simon, your ship lies there. Did I not promise you a voyage?”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The party made good time to the little coastal village with De Rood’s messengers vigilantly keeping watch for any possible threat. As they finally crested a rocky rise separating the interior from the coast they suddenly came across an exhilarating vista. There, bobbing gently in the turquoise waters of a shallow bay, lay a Portuguese merchant ship. Next to it however was moored a sleek, dark and predatory xebec. This latter was clearly well manned and heavily armed. It was most definitely not a vessel built with peaceful intent in mind. The Wolf’s companions reined up and exchanged nervous glances but De Rood shouted instructions to his riders who promptly fired a volley into the air and hallooed loudly. After but a moments hesitation, an answering crackle of shots, accompanied by the crash of cymbals came by way of reply from the crew of the xebec. Clearly, De Rood and his party were expected. They led the reluctant camels down onto the beach where they found an encampment of sorts. A hundred or more Corsairs shouted greetings, albeit mainly of a lewd nature, while a dozen or so Portuguese mariners huddled off to one side repeatedly crossing themselves and kissing rosaries.

  “My Lord!” whispered Pitkin, “Do you not fear treachery?”

  “Not this time Wil. Yonder comes the Master of that pirate vessel.”

  De Rood and the pirate hailed each other as the latter approached and the Wolf said quietly, “This is my old friend Serkan. He is a killer and a merciless Corsair, yet in his own way, he is an honourable man.”

  De Rood and the pirate exchanged hugs. The messengers and the other Corsairs did likewise. Everybody seemed to know everyone else. In very short order, a chain of men were ferrying panniers from the camels to the merchant ship while De Rood and Serkan puffed on a hookah in amiable and companionable discourse. The loading was soon done with all but a handful of camels now free of their burdens. These De Rood had brought forward, made to kneel and their bags removed. Serkan stood up and brushed himself down, then, with his murderous crew craning their necks to observe, he drew a dagger and slit open part of the baggage. A collective and appreciative sucking in of air issued from the pirates. Serkan beamed at the Wolf and picked up a handful of the coins and jewellery that lay before him. Then he raised a quizzical eye in the direction of the other bags as yet unopened.

  “Your suspicion does you credit old friend,” laughed De Rood. “Please, examine the rest.”

  Serkan did exactly that. Each load seemed to exceed the previous in wealth. The pirate loudly bellowed his approval and envelope
d De Rood in a crushing bear hug again. Then, with only the barest of orders, the treasure was gathered up and rushed aboard the xebec. While this was ongoing, De Rood went over to his messengers and embraced each one before pointing at the area where the cowering Portuguese were slumped upon some boxes. The messengers howled approval and rushed over to that location. The mariners leaped to their feet but it was the boxes that were of issue, not their souls. Within minutes these crates were secure on the camels and, with a final volley of shots, the riders disappeared back into the interior.

  Serkan came plodding back through the gentle surf and gestured to the Portuguese who immediately started crossing themselves again. De Rood walked over to them and, he being unable to speak their language, asked if they spoke any Arabic. ‘No’ was the apparent meaning behind the negative shrugs and head shaking. Dutch? No. English? No. Spanish? Yes, it appeared that the Master did. The Wolf slipped effortlessly into that tongue.

  “Well Master Mariner. If you wish to live, you will board your vessel and follow my instructions. You will convey myself, my comrades and my freight to a place of my choosing, which I will disclose directly. Do this, and you will not only live, but be well paid into the bargain. If however you fail to do as you are bid … well …” and he nodded in the direction of Serkan who was chivvying the last of his crew aboard with the flat of a scimitar. The Portuguese crew immediately became compliance personified.

  Wil looked back over the side of the ship at the Moroccan coast. A tumult of emotions were coursing through him, but two over-ruled all others: doubt and confusion. He looked at the crew, terrified men all, even the Master whose hands grasped the wheel so hard his knuckles showed white through his tanned, weather-beaten skin. Every now and then, his nautical experience would automatically cause him to ease his grip and correct the ship’s course. Then the Portuguese captain would glance sternwards and the knuckles would whiten again. Wil followed his nervous eyes to settle on the xebec gliding smoothly and menacingly off their beam. De Rood had said that the Corsairs would ‘escort’ them through the straits of Gibralter and north towards Biscay. Wil frowned. What was to stop the pirates taking everything? Why indeed hadn’t they done so already? Why weren’t they all dead by now? What hold did De Rood have over the Corsairs. Question after question circled around Pitkin’s fevered brain. He leaned over the rail and sank his head onto his arms with a groan. He understood nothing of what had transpired and dared not even think about what lay in store. The Wolf appeared from forward where he had been in animated conversation with Jacob and Simon. Over De Rood’s shoulder, Wil could see the two Jews fiercely gesticulating and declaiming in what he assumed was Hebrew, but might just as easily have been the language of Cathay for all he knew.