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Chapter 30
Spies
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And—which is more—you'll be a Man, my son!
—Rudyard Kipling
The boat moved like a dark ghost over the calm sea as Brandt and the Welsh archers rowed it quietly towards the beach. This was a small falukah they had found within the boundaries of the city harbor; fishermen all along the eastern seaboard used boats very similar to this one. They were now several leagues south of the city of Tyre, and well away from the bulk of Salah Ed Din’s army. They had sailed just after dark, and an overcast sky helped conceal them. The Welsh had brought their bows just in case the landing, or the departure, went badly.
They approached the rocky outcropping and the low surf, which they could hear rather than see. Everyone scrutinized the dark coast line with great care. On a low-voiced command from Talon, the rowers back-paddled and brought the boat to a stop, to rock gently in the water. The archers reached for their bows and made ready. No one wanted to hear a challenge. The night was very quiet; the only sound was the hiss of small waves breaking. Beyond the beach was a low sand bank covered with boulders and rocks. Just behind the coast were sharply defined, rocky cliffs, thought to be an effective defense, which would not present a problem for one such as Yosef.
Talon strained his eyes to see into the dark, searching for any movement, then whispered to the rowers to start again. The boat moved slowly towards an even darker mass of rocks that Talon had seen just to the right. Here he could put Yosef on shore without getting him wet, and more importantly, without leaving a trail of footprints as he walked inland.
Yosef stood in the front of the boat, watching for an opening. He was clad only in a thick cloth tunic carrying only his sword and the bow slung over his shoulder. He whispered instructions to guide them into a narrow channel where the water surged gently in and out. He checked the bow on his back, tapped his quiver to ensure it was secured to his belt and then with a wave he was gone; leaping off the boat, which rocked from his passing. They saw his dark figure skipping over the wet rocks, to vanish into the darkness beyond as though he had never been there.
Talon whispered for the rowers to back the small boat out to sea. They pulled away, then rowed in place, struggling to hold their position against the surging tide while everyone strained their ears, listening for anything untoward. All they could hear was the hiss and crash of the surf, nothing of any suspicious nature to alarm them.
Finally, Talon growled an order and the rowers settled into a steady rhythm, and before long they were a good half league out at sea, where Talon thought it safe enough to raise the sail. The light wind bellied the long, triangular lateen and the boat began to move faster through the sea in a northerly direction, heading for the safety of Tyre. The men relaxed as their small craft sped over the water. Talon murmured a small prayer for Yosef. He and his companions would be returning the following night, and every other night for several days if Yosef did not show up on the first. The only signal for a pick up would be the light from a very small lantern that Yosef would place in a prominent position near the cliff and the small beach.
*****
Yosef skipped across the rocks with care and in almost total silence, like a shadow passing with the wind. Soon he had left the rocks behind, along with the sound of the sea. He easily scaled the low cliffs to crouch in the absolute silence of the scrub oaks and dense bushes at the top. He wanted to find a good place to stay until daylight, when he could examine the army of the Sultan.
Dawn came with a dim light growing slowly in the grey east. Rain clouds had moved in, covering the entire sky. A wind began to pick up and sough through the upper branches of the trees. Yosef glanced up, thinking that while rain was good, as it would cover his movements, it might make his return to the boat more hazardous.
He put that thought firmly aside and concentrated on reaching the road, which ran parallel to the coastline. His route lay to the north, and while the road was really no more than a deeply rutted track, it was the main highway to the interior, well traveled by men, horses and wagons.
While he stood in the cover of the trees not far from the road, he noticed some early risers plodding along the dusty track, then he saw a small detachment of riders cantering along the way. He retreated further back.
Once the cavalry patrol had passed, he approached the road with the view to using it, but then he became aware of another, larger body of men coming from the north. That was the direction of the army. Were they leaving? He glanced to the south and took a sharp intake of breath. There, not two leagues away, anchored in a small bay, were several ships. He paused, still well out of sight of the road, and counted the vessels.
Their presence changed everything, and gave his mission sudden, added urgency. What was the Sultan planning? Yosef faded back into the cover of the trees and made sure he would not be visible from the road. As the east brightened and sunrise briefly stained the clouds apricot and lavender, he could see a large body of spearmen and archers on the move. Without doubt they came from the host laying siege to Tyre. The armed men made directly for the harbor at the east end of the bay.
Yosef decided to investigate further. Turning south parallel to the road, which he no longer dared use, and wary of patrols that might be scouring the woods and coast, he moved with the utmost caution until he was lying in some shrubs overlooking the bay from the north. From here he had a clear view of the ships and could observe the activity surrounding them without detection.
By the time the sun was high in the sky, the area of the bay and the five large ships were bustling with activity. Many small boats were plying the space between the vessels and the shore. Most boats that left the shore were packed with armed men, and Yosef could see more soldiers lining the banks around the bay, waiting their turn to be ferried out to the ships.
It didn’t take him long to realize that the vessels were to be used for an attack from the sea. They were equipped small mangonels, as well as frameworks that looked like copper tanks. At first he could not figure out what these were, then he realized that these were Greek Fire cauldrons!
The Sultan was preparing a force to be reckoned with, and surprise would be the key unless Yosef could get back this very night with a warning. He glanced up at the grey clouds gathering above and wondered. He was quite sure that Talon would be at the beach to greet him, no matter the weather, so he laid low and watched while he waited for dusk and his return to the pick up point. The activity carried on all day well into the late afternoon, as the army prepared to take to the sea. From his perch, Yosef estimated numbers of men and observed what manner of weapons they took with them aboard the ships.
A light rain began to fall as the sun set, and Yosef set out for the cliffs. The wind picked up and the sea became agitated, with small white crests. This worried Yosef, for the jagged rocks of the rendezvous could make matchwood of the boat if Talon misjudged the landing.
Yosef knew exactly where he had been dropped off. It remained for Talon to find it again in the dark and rain; no easy task. Yosef was hunkered under the scant cover of the stunted trees, when his ears pricked up. He had heard a sound that was alien to his surroundings. Voices!
Men were walking along the cliff edge, and soon they would be walking right past his new hiding place! Yosef eased an arrow out of his quiver. Then he pulled back even deeper into the shadows. This might be just a few men who had decided to take a walk, or it could be worse. A patrol in this area was the last thing he needed.
Yosef hoped not to have to use his bow, especially in the rain. Furtively he
took the string out of his pouch and strung the bow, then eased a couple more arrows out of the quiver by his side.
The men who approached his hiding place were grumbling about the wet; the rain had increased considerably with the oncoming night.
“I want to make a fire,” one of them said. “I am cold and wet and tired.”
“We are supposed to be looking for infidel ships, not sitting around a fire warming our asses!” another stated. “Mind you, there is not much chance of that in this weather, God be praised.”
“The Christians are bottled up in the city, and it’s very unlikely that they will be sailing about in the dark, either. Suit yourselves,” growled the former speaker. “I’ve had enough of being miserable. We can sit it out up here by the trees on the edge of the cliff until dawn and then go back, but I want to warm up.”
“All right, but make sure it isn’t visible from the bay,” the leader said.
The first speaker set about looking for some dry kindling. The other two stood and talked while staring out to sea. The fire maker blundered about in the gloom under the trees. He came very close to the crouching Yosef, who caught the smell of onions on the man’s breath, but Yosef had learned from Talon and Reza how to make himself utterly inconspicuous day or night, and this he achieved. The man poked around and finally went off with a small bundle of twigs and branches, totally unaware of how close he had come to having his throat slit.
Before very long, the three men had laid aside their spears and shields and were sitting cross-legged around a small, discreet fire that would only be visible from the sea. They began to relax and paid little attention to their surroundings, which allowed Yosef to glide by and ease himself down the cliff and onto the rocks directly below their camp.
Glancing up, he cursed silently as he noticed the glow of the fire above. It was like a beacon. Talon, if he could make it in this ever worsening weather, would home in on the fire like a moth to a flame, and there would be little Yosef could do about it, other than to be ready on the rocks when they landed. He crept along the sharp, black rocks in the pouring rain, keeping the fire in line with the landing site, then wedged himself into a crevice which allowed him some relief from the chill wind, and waited. He shivered. He was soaked to the skin.
*****
The visibility was poor when Talon and his very wet crew arrived in the general area of their rendezvous. He peered intently at the darker outline of the coast, searching for any sign of a signal from Yosef, praying that his companion was alive and well. They were hugging the coastline, but were acutely aware of the danger of coming too close and becoming snagged on some rocky outcrop. The surf on the shore was not the quiet wash it had been the night before, but a booming sound that warned them of the peril they risked should they make a mistake. The choppy waves were tossing their small boat about like a cork, and they were also shipping water.
“There!” Talon pointed towards the cliff’s edge. “I see a light. Lower the sail, lads; we will have to row the rest of the way,” he said in a hoarse voice.
The sail came down. Brandt and Caradog took up oars and bent their backs to the task. Dewi went forward with his bow, armed and ready for problems should they arise. Both he and Talon were peering intently at the dark, looming coastline. Caradog passed back several urgent whispers of warning from Dewi as they came too close to spume-covered rocks. Although it was painful for him to stand, Talon steered them, standing up in the thwarts of the boat, observing the black dangers slip by, then snapping his eyes forward again.
He was perplexed as to why there was a fire on the cliff. Yosef had carried a candle and tiny lantern with him. It would have been very dim and difficult to see from the sea, but a fire! What was the boy thinking?
They were now in the lee of the cliffs, and the rocks were uncomfortably close. The boom of the surf drowned out almost every other sound now as Dewi and Talon desperately searched for the channel. Then Dewi called back in a low tone, “There is someone on the rocks ahead, Lord. I think it is him!”
Yosef didn’t wait for the boat to touch shore. He jumped, and landed slightly off balance just next to Dewi, who reached out and seized him by his soaking cloak to steady him. “You right there, Bach?” Dewi enquired, barely able to see.
“We must leave! Now!” Yosef insisted, his tone urgent. “There are sentries up there!”
They all heard him, and both oarsmen immediately back-rowed hard, while Talon sought space enough to turn. They backed out of the tiny inlet and then negotiated the surf, the bows of the boat lifting high before plunging down the other side, the rowers pulling with all their strength to get them beyond the danger. After some harrowing rising and falling, with the big waves boiling by level with the thwarts, they settled into slightly calmer waters and were able to row off into the darkness.
No one said a word while this maneuver was carried out; the sea was demanding all their attention. Still maintaining silence, they arrived about a half league off shore, and on a sharp order from Talon the sail was raised. The small falukah scurried northwards with its soaked passengers. Everyone breathed a thankful sigh of relief.
Talon gripped his companion by the arm and said, “I am very glad you are safe, but did you really need a fire to tell us where you were, Yosef?” His tone implied a certain disapproval.
Yosef chuckled. “No, Lord. I didn’t make the fire. Some sentries, sent to watch out for people just like you, lit it and were warming themselves as you came in. It’s a good thing you saw the fire, though, after all, isn’t it?” he laughed.
The others joined in with the relief all felt. Despite the cold and wet, they were glad to be bringing one of their own safely home.
“So did you find out anything of value?”
“Yes, I am fairly sure I did, Lord. The Sultan is preparing ships to attack from the sea.” He went on to tell them all he had seen, and why he considered an attack imminent.
Talon was silent while he digested this information. He glanced up at the sky. If this weather persisted, it was unlikely that the Sultan would be able to get his troop-laden ships out of the shelter of the bay and out to sea the next day. They therefore had a chance in Tyre to prepare a welcome for the enemy.
“You did very well, Yosef. Let’s get home and find a good fire.” He was also pleased that Yosef had not left any evidence of his visit behind. Bodies were always an inconvenience, but three dead men around a fire on the cliffs would have shouted to the enemy that they had been compromised.
*****
Count Conrad was wakened from a deep slumber by loud voices at the entrance of his chambers. He sat up and tossed the blankets aside, burying the maid who had been his bed companion under the covers while he surged to his feet. A disheveled attendant came into the room, carrying a large candle, which threw shadows about the chamber walls. Conrad could hear the wind moaning outside, and rain was pelting against the shutters, rattling the dried wood.
“What in hell is going on?” the Count roared, rubbing his eyes.
“My Lord, you have a visitor! It is Lord Talon, and he says it is most urgent,” his attendant said anxiously. He moved the candle to light others on the main table in the middle of the room.
“Blast and damnation! It must be well after midnight!” the Count protested. “Oh, very well, let him in.” Behind his bluster the Count knew that Talon would not have come to wake him unless it was serious.
Talon hobbled into the room, and it became immediately apparent that he had been out of doors. His wet cloak dripped water all over the floor, and he was soaked to the skin, as was the shadowy companion at his side. Both looked bedraggled, but this did not detract from the determination in Talon’s eyes, nor the purposeful stance of Yosef. The man’s dark eyes missed nothing, the Count thought ruefully as he noticed Yosef’s eyes slip towards the bed, registering another person.
“Where on earth have you come from, Talon? You look as though you took a dunking in the harbor.”
“God’s gree
tings, Lord. You are nearly right,” Talon said, and offered a grin, swiping his dripping, lank hair aside. “I would not have troubled you, but this is too important to leave for morning.”
“Get mulled wine for these men. Can’t you see they are wet to the bone!” the Count called to his sleepy and aimlessly milling attendants.
“What is going on, Talon?” he asked, dispensing with rank. He reached for a couple of dry blankets lying on the dresser nearby and tossed them to the two wet men. Talon and Yosef shed their sodden cloaks and wrapped the blankets around their shoulders. The Count cast a surreptitious look at the bed, but the girl was motionless under the pile of covers. He gave a mental shrug.
“Last night, we put my man here ashore to try and find out what might be going on in the enemy camp, Lord,” Talon told him.
Conrad gaped. “How in God’s name did you manage that?” he jerked out.
“By boat, to the south of here,” Talon replied shortly. “It is a good thing we did, because he made an interesting discovery. He can tell you in his own words. He speaks enough French.”
Mulled wine arrived, and Conrad indicated that Talon and his man should sit. He took a seat across the table from them and listened with an incredulous look on his face. When Yosef finished, he took a deep swig from his cup and put it down slowly, a thoughtful look on his face.
“You are a man of many talents, Talon, and your man here is to be commended for his bravery in this venture. It is worthy of a knighthood. By God, yes it is! Now, tell me the details and numbers. We must be prepared. Do you think they will come with the dawn?” he demanded.
Storms of Retribution Page 49