At one point I count almost two hundred men at work. There would have been more except for the eighty odd archers, sailors, and men at arms being kept on the ships under the command of one of the most responsible of the archers, Randolph from London. They’re there in case the Algerians return.
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Time passes quickly and less than two weeks after we arrive our Cyprus quarters are beginning to take shape and be defensible. The slate roof and the wood joining are almost complete; we now have a strong wooden door on the entrance to our little citadel and a strong wooden gate across the entrance to the compound. There are also wooden shutters on the archer slits to keep the mild chills of the Cyprus winters from coming into the old house.
I least I think winters shouldn’t be too bad; yesterday when I was in the market shopping Aaron told me winters here are quite mild although sometimes they can be a bit wet.
Last night, for the first time, William, Father Thomas, and young George are able to sleep in the loft of our citadel and pull the ladder up after them. The two Bobs and I, and all the rest of the original archers, at least all those not sleeping on our three ships, are able to bar the new door and sleep in the hall in front of the little fireplace. The fireplace of course, is not being used because of the summer heat.
It is a particularly smelly night because of the slop bucket - the stomachs of some of the men, including me, having been turned by bad fish that somehow found its way into the soup prepared by Thomas the cook and his assistants.
The rest of our men and the new recruits sleep in the compound outside of our little citadel. At the moment they are sleeping rough or under a couple of old cog sails. The refugees and freed slaves who are still with us sleep as best they can outside the walls. They help the masons and work on the walls and in the cook house in exchange for their food. Some of the more ambitious of them have even built little lean-to shelters for themselves of various materials.
“Yoram.”
“Yes, Father Thomas.”
“Please go to the cookhouse tent and ask Thomas the cook to bring a big breakfast to the house for George. Bread, cheese, and at least one chicken or duck egg and preferably two or three. And bring meat if Thomas cook has any and it’s finished boiling.”
“Also please have someone bring up a bucket of water and a ladle and ask Thomas cook to bring something for me and William. And empty the damn slop bucket; we can smell it all the way up here.”
Life is getting normal with all the comforts of home. If we stay much longer I am going to talk to Lord William about buying some string beds in the market. Sleeping on the stone floor is hurting my hip.
This morning Lord William and Father Thomas make a decision and I’m not sure I like it because I’m sure to be seasick the entire time – William and I are to take the two galleys to Latika, and then if necessary on to Acre, to see if any more people are willing to pay for passage to Cyprus.
Father Thomas, on the other hand, will stay here with young George and the English archers and some of our newly recruited men at arms. They’ll continue improving our new quarters.
There is still much work to be done to turn this place into a proper fortress where we can shelter from our enemies – we’ve barely started work on the second defensive wall and the moat William wants to run around the whole place to create a much larger outer compound. And we also need a barracks for the men and a proper cookhouse. We also need to raise the current curtain wall by installing battlements and archer slits so we can better defend ourselves if we are attacked. And most of all we need to dig a well in the little courtyard so we can’t be driven out by thirst.
It’s quite surprising that we can find no trace of a well. Could it be a bad omen?
Chapter Six
“YORAM’S TALE CONTINUES”
Father Thomas and little George are waving from the Limassol dock as our two galleys row out on the morning tide. Both galleys have their sails up to catch the morning breeze off the mountains.
William and I are sailing for the Holy Land with a full complement of sailors, archers, and men at arms at the oars – more than eighty men on each galley including almost all of the experienced archers and men at arms we recruited in Cyprus. William and I are together on one of the galleys with Harold as our pilot and the sergeant of our sailors; Randolph is the sergeant captain of the other galley with a pilot and sailor sergeant from among the men we recruited in Latika.
We are also carrying a passenger – the merchant who had traveled with us from Latika and helped us find our new home. His name is Reuben, by the way, and I know all about him. He’s from Damascus as I am and we are sharing a rowing seat and a rain skin for warmth on the lower rowing deck.
Reuben’s family specializes in grains and oils and he’d even heard of the man who taught me to do sums and scriven years ago. It’s a small world and we talk all the way. It helps make the voyage more bearable.
It is surprisingly chilly on the water and I promptly get seasick and have to stick my head out an oar hole and barf, and so do Reuven and William and a lot of the men.
The good news, at least I think it is good news, is that William has decided that we should row all the way and not use our sails once Cyprus is behind us. He wants to know how fast we can move between Cyprus and the Holy Land when the wind is not with us.
It’s just as well that we are hurrying; the constant barfing weakens my legs and arms.
Thirty six hours later the harbor at Latika finally comes into view, and not a moment too soon as far as I’m concerned; rowing constantly is a real agony and everyone except William rows, even me and Reuben and Harold. I have so many blisters on my hands that my blisters have blisters.
But I don’t dare complain and neither does Reuben – everyone has blisters except the slaves we freed whose hands are already callused and William because the captain of a galley never rows, according to Harold, except in the most extreme emergencies.
Latika and its port are pretty much as we left them except there are more refugees than ever as a result of the continuing fighting in the interior. The Crusaders and the Saracens, it seems, are going at it tooth and nail in an effort to prove their religion is the only one that is right.
At least, that’s what the priests and bishops say in the churches when they exhort everyone to join the fight and contribute coins and jewelry to support the prayers needed to insure victory.
Apparently not everyone believes the church’s prayers will be successful. Once again a large number of desperate people rush to the dock seeking passage - so many people that William orders only one galley, the one he and I are on, to tie up at the dock. The other stands off about a hundred paces and periodically uses its oars to hold its place against the light wind when it gusts every so often.
The scene on the dock is really is quite distressing. The refugees are so desperate to escape that our men have to draw their swords and stand along the deck of our galley to keep people from pushing their way onboard. Even so, several desperate people succeed in getting past them and jumping down to our deck including a young woman holding a newborn infant. To my surprise, William lets her stay aboard when we throw the men back on the dock.
William is taking no chances. He and a number of our men climb on to the dock carrying swords and the small sailors’ shields galleys typically have hanging all along their railings. Some of the men stand along the edge of the dock to keep people from climbing aboard without paying; others accompany William and me while we try to find paying passengers and fighting men and sailors to add to our company. If anything, the crowd of desperate people is even larger and more anxious than the last time we were here.
I really don’t understand why William wants more sailors and soldiers. They are expensive to feed, you know.
“All archers with their own bows and men at arms with their own swords form a line over by that man,” William thunders to the mob in English, and then French, as he points to one of the archers who has walked a
little ways down the dock and is waving his dirty knitted cap in a circle over his head.
“And everyone with a lot of gold and silver coins who wants to buy a passage to Cyprus form a line by those men over there,” he shouts as he points to Randolph and the group of our archers and men at arms standing around him.
“We’ll take whoever pays the most to Cyprus. Everyone else must stand back and wait to see if any less dear places are available.”
William, with Reuben and I following to act as translators, first walks over to the archers and men at arms forming around Randolph. There are only two archers with their own longbows in the crowd. Both are Englishmen from one of King Richard’s companies who have, so they claim, been left behind because they were away delivering a message when Richard sailed away.
William lets the two archers make their marks to sign into our company along with about a dozen others who claim to be archers and men at arms and have their own regular bows and swords. Except for a couple of men who have the look of veteran sailors and claim to be pilots, he takes only those of the crowd who are carrying their own swords or bows.
Reuben and I translate for him as the rest are turned away including several knights. One of the knights he rejects, apparently a German or Swedish Crusader, becomes quite threatening and promptly stomps over to the front of the much larger line of people who want to buy a passage.
As William finishes with his recruiting and our new recruits are making their marks on the parchment contract he has unrolled, I walk over to him and quietly point out that the German knight who had made the big fuss when he was rejected as a fighting man. He has now stepped in front of the line of people trying to buy passage and is making trouble.
I ask William what he wants me to tell Long Bob to do with the knights and men at arms who want to buy passage and look troublesome.
“Run over and tell Bob I said that he is to take money from knights and sell them passage if they are willing to pay enough - but only if they temporarily surrender their armor, shields, and weapons; and only if they agree to help at the oars along with all the other able-bodied passengers.”
So that’s what I do. I walk over and give Bob Long the message and then walk back. And sure enough, the German Knight draws himself up quite arrogantly and becomes quite belligerent and begins swearing and shouting threats when Bob tells him our conditions. It takes a while for the knight to understand because he speaks very bad French and no Latin.
He is a tall and rather plump and arrogant fellow with a very red face, long hair and a big reddish blond mustache. He must be a Templar for he smells as if he has never washed his clothes or wiped his ass.
At first the knight and Bob cannot understand each other. So they move away from the noisy people standing in line and try to talk to each other privately. That’s when the trouble starts.
Before I can get back there one of the men standing closer to them begins translating - and the German or whatever he is gets more and more excited and threatening. He apparently gets upset when Bob tells him he’ll not only have to pay and help row, he’ll also have to surrender his weapons so we can stow them away during the trip.
Hearing Bob’s requirements seems to tip the knight over the edge. He draws his sword and begins waving it about and raving in a strange guttural language. The people in the crowd around us go silent; and everyone begins backing up and trying to get out of the way as Long Bob’s archers notch their arrows and his men at arms grasp their swords more firmly and lift their shields.
William sees it happening. He quickly finishes his business with our new recruits and sends them off to board the galley tied to the dock. Then he walks down the beach to the knight with his right hand up and open and an inquiring smile on his face as he nods in agreement – until his left hand flashes out from his sleeve and he sinks his dagger into the knight’s eye up to the hilt. Good Lord. He’s done it again.
“That is what will happen to any man who tries to threaten or delay the English company and its ships from carrying out their duties,” William says loudly as he grasps the handle of the knife in both hands and uses it to lower the flailing knight to the ground despite his death spasms and trembling limbs.
“Tell them what I just said,” William orders me and Reuben as he gestures toward the people around us. The crowd is very silent as we take turns bellowing out William’s words in a number of languages. And very appreciative I should think. They want to get out of here.
“Get his sword and see if he has a purse and anything of value,” William quietly orders me.
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My leather bag is once again heavy with coins by the time we finish loading our paying customers on our two galleys. They include two French knights and three men at arms who have the required amount of coins. They agree to our terms and their swords and armor are soon in the pile at the very front of our galley. They themselves are sitting far from their weapons on rowing benches in the rear of the galley near the two rudder men who do the steering.
In addition to the passengers and coins, William is carrying a parchment letter Reuben asks him to carry to Aaron before he bids us a friendly farewell - and promptly disappears into the mass of people gathered to watch us leave.
We get underway and once again we leave a crowd lamenting and crying on the shore as the rowing drum begins to beat and our oars dig into the water. The good news is that we should make Cyprus faster than it took us to reach Latika - this time we’re using our sails and we have two men at each oar instead of just one of our archers or soldiers. Our fighting men and the rest of our passengers are sitting at rest in the center of the galley between the oarsmen.
The girl with the infant is cowering in the corner next to the rudder men. She looks forlorn and desolate so I give her part of my loaf and a piece of cheese, and then cover her with a leather rain hide to help keep out the rain and cold. After we get under way I realize she might be thirsty and bring her a ladle of water.
Chapter Seven
“PIRATES AND PRIZES”
Cyprus is just coming into sight in the distance when there is a shout from the front of the galley – something about seeing ships in the haze ahead of us.
Everyone stands to look forward and few seconds later we can see a galley coming along side of some kind of trading cog and preparing to board it. They are pirates for sure and the cog is their prey.
Lord William and the sergeants begin shouting orders and there is a lot of activity and quite a bit of confusion as our passengers are ordered to man the oars and our fighting men prepare themselves by stringing their bows, grabbing one of the small ship’s shields hanging along the rail of the deck, and unsheathing their swords. The weapons and armor of the knights and men at arms among our passengers are quickly passed back to them from the front of the galley where they are being stored.
While that is happening two of the rowing benches are hastily cleared of rowers so sailors can take the rowers’ places. They do so and promptly begin to carefully coil the anchor lines and the anchors and prongs we will be using as grappling irons.
I know all about what the sailors are to do because they practiced it twice a day both on the way to Latika and on the way back to Cyprus.
From where I’m standing I can see the men and passengers of our other galley making the same preparations - and I can look down at the terrified face of the girl with the infant at her breast cowering under the rain hide.
After a few moments of confusion while we get organized, both galleys begin rowing rapidly and surging towards the beleaguered cog and the galley that is now lashed to it. Some of the archers and fighting men sit down on the rowing benches to temporarily help the passengers and former slaves pull harder.
Our other galley, the one commanded by one of our company’s sergeants, Randolph, the archer from London, starts forward a few seconds after we do but soon pulls up even with us – probably in response to its rapidly beating drum and the loud exhortations to its rowers that we
can hear drifting over the water to us from Randolph and from Harold the red-haired former slave who is the sergeant of his sailors.
Of course they are hurrying; they are obviously determined not be seen as being late to the fight.
Our galleys sit low in the water and the afternoon sun is to the west and behind us. Perhaps that’s why the pirates don’t see us until we get close upon them. As we get closer I can see the surprised looks on the pirates’ faces as they begin to jump from the cog to re-board their galley and escape. It looks to me to be the Algerian we saw at Limassol before we left for the Holy Land. But what do I know? I’m not a sea man.
Our rowing passengers don’t know what to do as we close on the Algerian and its victim. But many of our men do because we practiced it repeatedly on our voyage from Cyprus. The rowers on the upper set of oars that will be closest to the enemy galley when we grapple her are pulled out of the way and their places taken by our archers and soldiers.
There is no time for niceties; in some cases, the rowing passengers on the upper bank of oars are literally pulled out of their seats and thrown to the other side as our fighting men rush to take their places on the rowing benches. Sitting there on the rowing benches means they’ll be able to stand up at the last minute along the rail and fight as we come alongside the pirate.
Our new men and some of the fighting men traveling as passengers quickly pick up on what our experienced men are preparing to do. They push in to join them in response to the orders being shouted at them by William and the sergeants. And they do so amidst the screams and cries and loudly shouted prayers from many of our paying passengers. It is controlled chaos.
The Archer: Historical Fiction: exciting novel about Marines and Naval Warfare of medieval England set in feudal times with knights,Templars, and crusaders during Richard the lionhearted's reign Page 6