“About what, Sir Guy?”
“The last time we met…it was not under the best of circumstances and you were constantly facing eastward. For one so young you were a tortured soul. You do not seem to be so much now. Has your time away taken some of the edge off that need to go back to the eastern parts that you seemed so sick for?”
Talon said nothing for a few long moments as he considered the question. Finally he turned to Sir Guy and said, “Sir, you are right, I have been away for well over two years now, almost three. I still have a quest to fulfill, but I have had no word of my friends. I had hoped for tidings to reach me, perhaps in Acre, but events have moved swiftly, and now I find myself heading off in another direction altogether, and I fear that I have become entangled in this life that you more or less chose for me. One day I shall have to go east, if for nothing else than to discover what happened to them and put my soul at rest, as it is still tortured and will never know peace until I do.”
Sir Guy nodded. “You do not wear your thoughts on your sleeve, Talon, but I suspected as much. Perform this task for me and you will come to realize that that chapter of your life is over and that you can do great things in this world. The Templars have need of one such as you. I have waited for this time to come and I am sure that I am right.”
“I shall serve you, Sir Guy with my, our ship, and to the best of my ability. But there will come a day when I ask for release, and then I beg you to grant it.”
Sir Guy put his hand on Talon’s shoulder and looked him in the eyes. Talon’s pain must have been visible to him, for he said in a quiet tone, “The Templars have taken you in, Talon. You have to spend time with the Order as that is the expectation, and I too expect it. The Order gave you succor when you needed it on two occasions now. You could be languishing in a jail or worse but for the Order, so now there is a debt to be repaid.” His tone was firm but not unkind. “In due course, and God willing that it be possible, I shall do all in my power to allow it…when the time comes, Talon. Not yet, however.”
*****
A little later Sir Guy introduced his guest, Alexios Kalothesos, who nodded with a disinterested glance at Talon. He spent his time on deck with Sir Guy, talking quietly in a secluded corner. But after several days he approached Talon, who was alone on the top deck. Talon liked to be here with his thoughts, but he also learned much as he watched that grizzled navigator Henry guide the ship through the mysterious seas. Alexios presented a curt bow, then asked a question.
“Sir Guy said that you speak our language, Sir. Is that true?” he asked in Greek.
Talon reacted with surprise. “I did not understand all that you said, Sir, but some of it is familiar. I was taught some Greek when younger.” His response had been halting and he stumbled over some words, but Alexios appeared to comprehend.
“Your Greek is of the street kind. But we can at least communicate. Sir Guy has asked me to teach you our ways because he says that you are a quick learner and would be willing to learn.”
“Sir Guy is right, Sir. I do want to learn and I am very interested in the kingdom where we might be going.”
Talon regarded Alexios with interest. He wore a tunic of heavy, richly embroidered material, the hem of which came to mid calf. The cuffs of the sleeves came down to below his elbows but he wore an under shirt of expensive looking material which enclosed his forearms. Talon assumed it to be silk or very fine woven cotton. His short boots were of the finest chamois leather, as was his belt that supported a short but business-like sword of a kind Talon was not familiar with. His short black hair was oiled and worn in tight ringlets. His beard and mustache were well trimmed. Talon’s nose caught the scent of some perfume. The man also wore a long cloak and a tall, strange looking hat that seemed to serve little purpose for keeping the weather at bay but did give Alexios the appearance of being taller than he was. Talon stood a good inch higher, so he often found that he was addressing the hat rather than the man, and he found himself looking down upon him when they talked, which seemed to disconcert the Greek.
“It is an empire,” Alexios corrected, looking past him to the horizon. “And I think it will be hard to teach a Frank our ways, as you are such barbarians. You are good fighters but have no manners and are not what one might call civilized. Acre is an appalling place with no baths or any substance, and the food is disgusting.”
His dark eyes flicked to engage Talon’s then drifted off to the horizon as though just looking at Talon was a chore. Talon observed the bejeweled rings on the Greek’s fingers, which failed to hide the swordsman’s callouses.
“I agree that Acre is not a grand city, as I too like a bath from time to time. And I am not so stupid that I cannot learn the basic manners to which you allude, Sir,” he remarked politely, but with an edge to his voice.
Alexios brought his focus back to Talon and looked him up and down. His lean dark features expressed disapproval of Talon’s rough attire, even though Talon was better dressed than his companions, who were at present wearing a compilation of patched rags.
“There might be time to teach you the better forms of phrase and how to address your betters. Sir Guy tells me that you are not like other Franks, that you speak Arabic,” he said, raising one eyebrow.
“I speak the Arabic and some Latin, but I have not used that for a long time,” Talon responded.
Alexios immediately switched to Arabic, speaking very rapidly. “Do you really comprehend the language or merely a few words?”
“Do you want me to tell you a dirty joke to prove I can speak it well?” Talon asked in the same language, wanting to provoke a response.
Alexios’ lips twitched in the ghost of a smile. He then gave Talon a keener look as though reappraising him. “While I do speak your Frankish language I do not find it very refined, so I prefer to speak either Arabic or my own. We can leave Latin to those two seasick monks you have brought with you,” he rejoined in Arabic.
“If you are willing to teach me more Greek I am willing to be your student,” Talon said. “I would know more of your laws and medicine, for instance.”
“Our Roman laws are far more advanced than your primitive Feudal laws, and better chosen than those of the Arabs, who have no universal laws for the people of all ranks, as we do. Nor do we confuse our governing and criminal laws with our religious laws.”
“We Franks use Feudal and Church law separately,” Talon said defensively, remembering his talks with Bartholomew in faraway Languedoc. He was becoming mildly irritated but he was determined to extract as much as he could from Alexios despite the man’s supercilious behavior.
“Humph,” Alexios almost snorted. “Both are very tribal and quite unsuitable for a great administration such as ours. We will discuss this when you know more Greek. We should begin as soon as possible. Do you know the game of Chess?”
“Yes, I know the game,” Talon responded cautiously.
Alexios’ eyes betrayed his interest. Then he recovered his aplomb and said with a tinge of skepticism in his voice. “Then we shall play as we speak. We shall see how good you become at either one.” He sighed as though the whole thing was a massive imposition upon his precious time and he would rather be doing something else.
Talon held his peace.
*****
A week later they sighted a coastline and after a brief consultation with Sir Guy, Henry decided to land and take on fresh water and supplies. The edge of a storm had pushed them closer to the south coast of the empire of Byzantium and much further east than they had wanted. Sir Guy informed them that they were near a potentially hostile land, which meant they would have to sail due west, following the coast line until they sighted some place that looked like a safe haven.
Dmitri was now one of the appointed steersmen under Henry’s supervision. Talon was glad that Henry had found him, as Dmitri provided an independent voice on the subject of the empire. The Greek was very grateful to both Talon and Henry for having first saved him from slavery and then from the w
asteland of Acre’s back streets. He sported a jagged badly repaired scar that ran from his forehead splitting his right eyebrow to finish at his cheekbone. It made him look most villainous, but he had a cheerful nature and liked to talk about his life in Byzantium. He stated that he knew the coast from Syria to Constantinople, so he had become their unofficial pilot. Now he pointed out the high cliff on the western side of the huge crescent bay rimmed with dazzling white sands.
“That looks familiar to me, Sir Talon. That castle is still in our hands. It is Roman.”
Not for the last time Talon would hear that the people of Byzantium thought of themselves as Roman, although they spoke Greek.
They were moving into the bay with the aid of the rowers, and Dmitri stated with some conviction that he knew of this place, which was a Byzantine stronghold on the south coast of the empire.
Alexios confirmed what Dmitri had said. “It is called Kalon Oros, or ‘Beautiful Mountain’ in Greek,” he explained to Talon as they drew near to the tiny fortified town. “Those mountains over to the north are called the Taurus Mountains, and that is where the Sultanate of Rum has begun to encroach upon our empire.” He spoke with an edge to his voice.
“Is not ‘Rum’ the Arab word for the Romans?” Talon asked.
“Yes, it is, and alas, that region is no longer a part of the Byzantine Empire,” Alexios told him. “However, it has yet to be decided whether the Turks remain or whether we can drive them back over the mountains into Persia.”
They were standing on the side away from the two steersmen, who were taking their orders from Henry as he guided the ship carefully towards the landing beach, which was tucked into the curve of the large isthmus on the western side of the huge crescent bay. As usual, the three sailors worked together. Guy was in the bows watching for shoals and sand banks while Nigel was in the waist ready to haul the sails down at Henry’s command.
Talon noticed a long, high wall near the beach, while on the top of the cliffs now towering hundreds of feet above the ship stood a small castle. They anchored, and while Sir Guy stayed on board, not wanting to bring attention to himself, Henry and Talon went ashore with Alexios to find where they might obtain fresh water and even some provisions, to be paid for with gold coin. Alexios was received with polite ceremony by a young officer and his guard who had noticed him as he came along the landing place; when he indicated that he could not stay but wanted to continue his journey, the officer ensured that they left with some fresh fish, caged chickens, some goats and even some green vegetables to sustain them on their way and reluctantly bade him farewell.
Talon was struck by the elaborate ceremony that seemed to be part of their meeting even in this remote corner of the empire. It reminded him of his time in Persia. He observed that the officer appeared to be very disappointed that they could not stay.
He remarked upon this to Alexios as they stood on the deck of the ship watching the beach recede.
“We are a nation of ceremonies, Sir Talon,” Alexios responded. “At the palace, as you will find out, every minute of the day is organized by protocol, and by the eunuchs who are masters of the game. It can sometimes be very tiring. That man over there,” he pointed with his chin at the officer still standing on the quayside, “might have done something that got him him here as punishment. There is nothing for him to do outside the dreary routine of his command, and he might be there for years before some administrator in Constantinople remembers to replace him.”
Talon looked at him. Alexios had changed his demeanor towards him over the weeks they had been at sea, and although he was still very reserved and somewhat distant, he did not condescend to him in the irritating manner he had at the beginning of their relationship. In fact, Talon now enjoyed the games of chess they played—even winning the odd game or two, much to the Greek’s annoyance.
Alexios, once he discovered that Talon had a talent for languages, spent a considerable amount of time with him providing very intense instruction on the elaborate Attic Greek.
*****
Setting sail again they headed towards the long point of the isthmus, the furthest end of which resembled a snake lying in the water with its head well out to sea. As they rounded the head of the snake, keeping a prudent distance from the rocks, Talon stared up at the walls of the castle high above them and wondered how long it had been there. Sir Guy crossed the deck and stood by him, also looking up at the walls and the small figures standing watching them from the battlements.
“What ghosts prowl its walls at night who have watched ships like this sailing by for how many hundreds of years,” he murmured.
Talon looked at him. “Is this land really so old, Sir?” he asked.
“As time goes it probably is not, but this land has known great empires for a very long time. Today it is the empire of the Greeks, and although we do not share their philosophy of the Holy Trinity they are still people with whom we must deal. I would not doubt that the Persians, then the Romans, and before them the Greeks, and now again the Greeks have stood guard on those battlements and watched ships of our kind and others sail by for eons.”
“How long has this empire been here, Sir Guy?”
“Nearly a thousand years. It was here when we in our own lands were still heathen.”
“They are Christian though, are they not?”
“Yes, but therein lies the issue. Although we both face a greater peril from the Islamic world, the Roman church which we serve and the Patriarch of Constantinople cannot agree upon even the most common thread of Christian theology.”
One of the monks had finally emerged from the cabin where they had spent the last week in suffering. He looked pale and thin from lack of food and sleep, but there was a deep-set fire in his slightly pale blue eyes that peered out at the world from under his heavy brows and thick, coarse cowl. He was fidgeting with his prayer rosary as he stood staring with absent gaze at the cliffs and the surf pounding the rocks at their feet. Clearly he had overheard the discussion, for he pointed to the land and said, “That land claims to be of the Christian faith, but they are heretics in all manner of ways and God will one day strike them for it.”
Talon looked around to see if Alexios was anywhere near. He was down in the waist of the ship and would not have heard the remark.
“Perhaps we should try to learn from them nonetheless,” Sir Guy said mildly.
“Have a care, Sir Guy. You are a soldier of Rome. The path that Rome has set is the one true way. Theirs is a way both strange and steeped in wickedness.”
“Why are you going to Constantinople, monk?” Talon asked. His voice must have betrayed some of his irritation, for Sir Guy touched his arm.
“They come with me for a special reason,” he murmured. “The gifts for the emperor are from the Church.” Then he addressed himself to the monk.
“How is Brother Martin doing below, Brother Jonathan?” he asked pointedly.
“He will survive this Hellish journey with God’s help, as shall I,” Brother Jonathan snapped. After a glare in Talon’s direction he turned away and made his way with care down the steps to the cabin below.
“How is it that you are saddled with a man like that at your elbow, Sir Guy?” Talon asked.
“God help me, Talon, I sometimes wonder myself at our brothers in the church. The Bishop chose that idiot at the last moment as another, far better qualified, was sick. Brother Martin, now, he is different, mild and interested in what we are about. I suspect that Jonathan is a spy for the Bishop and will hold suspect everything we do. I expect too that all that transpires on this journey will find its way back to the Pope eventually.”
Sir Guy continued, “He speaks a little Greek but no Arabic, so we can converse in that tongue with Alexios while in front of him. You now know that Alexios speaks what is known as Attic Greek, which is spoken by the aristocracy amongst themselves. The Greek we speak is of the streets and is not ‘refined’ as he puts it, but at least he is willing to share this with us. You will find t
hat snobbery is a characteristic of the aristocracy in Constantinople. But when you consider how rude we Franks are by comparison it is difficult to blame them for looking down their noses at us barbarians.” His smile was thin.
“It seems a case of them needing us and we needing them,” Talon remarked.
“Exactly my sentiments, Talon. But you would be surprised at how difficult it is to get agreement on anything that is necessary for our mutual safety from the Greeks…or from Rome.”
Although puzzled by the lack of information, Talon did not press Sir Guy. He knew that in his own time the knight would tell him what he needed to know.
*****
Four days and nights later they saw the coast receding and Henry informed them that their course was now set due north. Still keeping the coastline in sight, they sailed with Henry, Nigel and Guy keeping a sharp eye on the sun by day and the stars at night to reckon their course. Talon was impressed with their seeming confidence even when there was no land in sight.
One morning Alexios came on deck and the customary lesson in Attic Greek began. The steersmen studiously faced forward while Talon and Sir Guy sat with Alexios under an awning.
Later Henry wandered over and asked if they wanted some food. Talon and Sir Guy agreed heartily. A sailor who worked for the ship’s cook came up on deck and presented them with a small basket of biscuits and some chunks of relatively fresh meat floating in a delicious smelling gravy in a wide, shallow dish. A few of the chickens had been killed for the purposes of feeding the men the day before. Talon was becoming tired of stews and biscuits, but they had a few days to go before they landed for fresh provisions, so he took out his spoon and dagger, preparing to eat.
Alexios held up his hand and said, “Wait, Sir Talon, Sir Guy, I think we should do something different today.” He waved for his servant, Joseph.
“Joseph, go and bring up the ‘forks’,” he ordered.
Greek Fire Page 4