Greek Fire

by James Boschert

  Leather workers plied their craft close to smiths banging away at curved metal pieces of armor. There was even one who offered to sharpen a man’s sword to the point he could shave with it. One such craftsman waved a thin blade in the air and demonstrated as he shaved a small strip of his forearm and then held onto his crotch and boasted that a man with a sharp sword never did without a lady. Because he spoke in street Greek only Dmitri fully understood him, and Talon barely. Dmitri asked the man if the inn was still in operation, to which the man replied yes. It was further up the hill; they still had some way to go.

  Talon wondered, “Dmitri, if this is only one of the busy streets of this great city, where is the bazaar and what treasures does it hold?”

  “Bazaar, Talon?” Dmitri looked confused. “Constantinople does not have one of those rabbit warrens. All our trading is done on streets like this one. There are many special streets, for instance on the other side of this hill there are the tannery streets that used to be run by those scummy Venetians. Thank the Lord I heard they are all in jail now. Then there are the Jewish streets where gold, silver and the like are worked. The streets of the silk merchants are farther the east of here. Caravans come to Constantinople from many countries. They camp outside the western walls.”

  Talon filed the information away, as he thought he might need to take advantage of the Jewish bankers some time. Dmitri finally stopped outside a stout wooden gateway that was the entrance to a large rambling house. There was a man well past his prime posing as a guard outside who demanded their business.

  Talon was glad now that he had spent so much time with Alexios learning the language. This was street Greek, but he could just follow the conversation.

  “We are visitors who will be needing rooms. Is this place still an inn?” Dmitri asked

  “Go inside to see the innkeeper,” the guard said, and opened one of the gates. “Only one allowed in until we know if you are going to be guests.”

  Dmitri was the obvious choice so he went inside while the others stood watching the pedestrian traffic go by.

  It was hard not to notice a two storied house just a few hundred paces up the street. Men were coming and going, some clearly in their cups, while others lounged outside seated on crude benches. But what caught the attention were the women who stood on the balcony overlooking the street. They were for the most part young and dressed in light, revealing tunics. As they were some distance away what they were saying to one another was indistinct.

  “What is that place over there?” the monk Jonathan asked, looking interested.

  “I would guess it is a brothel,” Claude said, watching with amusement as Jonathan crossed himself and looked outraged.

  “I can sense that this is a place of great sin. I sense that God is not paying attention, may he forgive me for saying so,” Jonathan whispered to Brother Martin. He wiped his dripping nose with his already filthy sleeve. He then fingered his beads as he peered about him with a disapproving look at the people on the street.

  Talon rolled his eyes at Sir Guy but said nothing. Max grinned at Claude.

  They heard a shout from the street outside the brothel and some drunken men began to roll about in the gutter punching one another. Others pulled them apart and the two men fell against the wall of the house. They soon settled down over some cups of wine their companions thrust into their hands.

  “We must pray to God that he guide us, Brother,” Martin said in a soothing tone when he noticed Jonathan flinch. “I am sure that there are holy places we can visit while here. I hear there are many relics of the saints in this city.” The young monk did not seem to be in the least bit intimidated by his surroundings; instead he seemed excited and eager to see more of it.

  Talon smiled to himself.“This must be one of the supply streets for the harbor,” he remarked to Max.

  “Everything is either going to the harbor or leaving it along this street. Look at those carts! They are huge!” He pointed to one that was laboring up the hill pulled by six oxen. The drover walked alongside the beasts cracking a long whip, shouting for passage and urging the straining animals to pull. As the monstrous wagon creaked by, its iron wheels grinding on the stone road, they could see large bales of cloth and many clay pots with wax sealed tops. The drover walked right by the two monks and gave them a cheerful salute, then spat in the roadway as he moved off.

  It was not long before Dmitri appeared with a pleased look on his face. “I have found rooms for everyone, but the two Brothers will have to sleep in the same room,” he announced cheerfully.

  “That will be just fine for them. They can console one another in the dark about how sinful this place is,” Claude muttered to Max.

  Jonathan must have heard because he shot Claude a venomous look but said nothing.

  “We must pay for the first few days in advance,” Dmitri stated.

  “Very well,” Sir Guy replied. He had come prepared so he placed several silver coins in Dmitri’s outstretched hand. Dimitri disappeared again, then after some minutes came back and waved them in.

  They all trooped into a cool, long, low beamed room where it was cooler than outside. hey were greeted by a small rotund man with an ingratiating smile, who wiped his hands on a large stained apron and bowed. Dmitri identified him as the innkeeper. He beamed at them and spoke some words of welcome, which Dmitri translated.

  “He says that he is very happy to have us as guests and that if you need food he can provide that in the garden out at the back.”

  Talon glanced down the corridor and could see a pleasant garden with a table and stools set for a meal. Servants were bustling about serving people. It was almost noon so the midday meal was in progress. A mouth-watering smell of roast chicken, herbs and garlic emanated from the kitchens somewhere down the corridor. He was hungry, but he decided that he wanted a bath more than a meal right now.

  “He also said that there are public baths nearby which will cost a small coin for anyone who is interested. The maid servants can take care of laundry on the premises,” Dmitri said.

  Talon glanced at Max and Sir Guy. “I am very interested in having a bath before anything else, Dmitri,” he said.

  Sir Guy nodded agreement and so did Max. “Claude will come with us,” Sir Guy said firmly.

  Max grinned at Claude, who looked uncomfortable but did not refuse.

  “The innkeeper will have servants show the others to their rooms if they do not wish to join us,” Dmitri said.

  The two monks were looking uncertain as to what was going on so Sir Guy explained for them. “We have rooms and the servant over there will take you to them. After this we are going for a bath. Do you want to come?”

  Jonathan looked dismayed and crossed himself. “It is a sinful thing to do. I shall indeed not indulge in that Godless activity. Sir Guy, I must bring myself to say it, but should you be going to the bath?”

  “There are people who say it is Godly to take a bath from time to time in order to wash away the dust of one’s travel, Brother. While we have not walked the dusty road all this way from Acre I am still quite sure I need to clean myself, and the sooner the better. Brother Martin, will you be coming with us?”

  Brother Martin looked uncertain but a nudge from Jonathan, who was glaring at him, made his mind up for him.

  “I shall keep my Brother company and pray to our Lord to thank him for our safe arrival while we await your return; then perhaps we can eat?” There was entreaty in his voice, and he declined the offer with some reluctance.

  They deposited their baggage and then Sir Guy, Talon, Max, and Claude left for the baths.

  Dmitri hastened back to the ship to escort Henry and his companions to another inn nearby before joining them in the baths.

  *****

  Talon was smiling to himself as he surfaced in the lukewarm water of the large pool. The other four men were seated on the side of the pool relaxing and talking. There were few other clients about at this time of the day. He suspected the bathh
ouse would fill up in the evening. It was different from the bathhouses he had become used to in Egypt, but its function was the same and very welcome after the long voyage. Dips in the sea had been enjoyable but to be clean was even better.

  He waded over to stand in the water facing his companions. They were all naked and he observed that between them they could boast many a battle scar. He noticed too that Claude had relaxed and showed signs of enjoying himself now that his earlier fears about bathing had proved groundless.

  “What were they doing to you in that back alcove, Dmitri? You sounded as though they were torturing you,” Max demanded.

  Dmitri laughed.

  “You should have the oil and massage treatment, my friends. They cover you in oil, the olive oil you understand, and then they massage you and then they scrape it all off with a blade. It is such a delight to be back!” He almost crowed.

  “What part was it that made you squeal?” Max asked unkindly, “The scraping with a knife or the massage?”

  Dmitri just grinned. “You just wait, Max, you’ll try it one day. I promise that you will like it.”

  “I feel much better from just the bathing,” Max said. Ever since his experiences in Egypt Max had tried to obtain a bath whenever he could, which in Acre had not been easy. Eventually he and Talon had become guests at the Jewish baths, where they had been accepted with wary hospitality.

  “My regret is that we will have to put up with the stink of those monks during the meal,” Sir Guy remarked. Talon stifled a laugh while the other three grinned openly. It was quite unlike Sir Guy to be so blunt.

  “I am almost glad that they did not come, as I do not think there is enough water to wash off their accumulated muck,” Talon said. The others laughed.

  “Did you see the expression on Martin’s face? He would have come if that miserable idiot Jonathan hadn’t pulled him back. I do not mind Martin,” Claude growled. He was not a man of many words but usually came to the point. He drew his hand down his full beard to clear it of excess water. Talon liked Claude for his blunt ways. He wondered what had brought him to the Order but it was not a question anyone asked of another. There were many in the Order who had a very dark past, so the unwritten rule was never to ask.

  “Well, I am well bathed, but I have noticed that Dmitri seems to have enjoyed the massage so I shall be back for one myself,” Talon stated. “In the meantime I am starving.”

  The others agreed.

  Before they left, Dmitri pointed to an archway at the other end of the bathing area. “Do you know where that leads to, Talon?” he asked with mischief in his eyes.

  “No,” Talon said, peering into the somewhat gloomy recesses in the direction indicated.

  “It is noon so they won’t be up as yet, but that is where the women are to be found in the evenings.”

  “Then thank God for small mercies that we did not bring Brother Jonathan with us,” Sir Guy muttered. “We would all be condemned without trial to Hell and damnation for merely being here.”

  Talon laughed, as did Max. Claude looked interested.

  “What sort of women?” he enquired with a guilty glance at Sir Guy.

  “Have you ever seen a beautiful Greek woman, or one from Bulgaria, or Macedonia, or even those blondes from the Slavic tribes?” Dmitri said with a leer, placing his fingers and a thumb to his lips and kissing them.

  “It is time to go and have a meal,” Sir Guy said firmly.

  *****

  Despite the dour attitude of Jonathan the meal was a success. They dined at the inn on the food that was brought to them, as there was no choice in the matter of fare, but Talon could not fault what was placed in front of them.

  The harried, scrawny young waiter brought them a jug of wine and leather cups, then left to obtain food. He promised to find something for them from the kitchens despite their late arrival. Sir Guy made it plain he would reward the man well. True to his word he arrived back after twenty minutes, bearing two large loaves of bread with thick crusts accompanied by pots of plump olives and light olive oil in a wide bowl in which there was crushed garlic. There was a tan colored paste in another wooden bowl that Talon recognized as humus and a large pottery jar of soft white goat’s cheese.

  Talon and Max showed the two monks how to eat this and Martin took to the food immediately. The wine helped and his normally pale young face was soon a little flushed. Jonathan picked at the food as though it were a duty, but the others ate like starving men.

  The humus and olives were speedily consumed and were followed by a dish that the waiter called skioufikta. The roasted lamb was delicious. It had been marinated in butter and aged cheese then roasted with herbs and thyme. With this the waiter produced another mouthwatering side dish called dolmades that consisted of grain and ground meat mixed with chopped vegetables and stuffed into vine leaves, which he explained had been cooked over a slow fire. He followed this with a dish of sour cream pies stuffed with chopped raisins and apples laden with honey. They had not eaten so well for weeks.

  It was clear that the monks and Claude were altogether new to this kind of food. Claude belched happily as he leaned back on the bench while Martin suppressed one with embarrassment as he took another sip of the resinous wine.

  Jonathan finally excused himself and dragged a reluctant Martin off with him. Dmitri gave an elaborate yawn and left as well, but the others stayed at the table. The garden area was empty of other people now, so they had it to themselves. The servant cleared the table and left them alone after Sir Guy had placed several copper coins on the table for him. The reckoning for the meal would come later. The skinny man bowed obsequiously and left them in peace.

  “I suspect that even Jonathan would have to admit that this was a good meal,” Talon remarked.

  “I am sure he will go to the nearest church and pray for forgiveness for having enjoyed himself,” Claude said. “I swear that if we eat like this every day I shall become as fat as a Bishop.”

  “Claude, it will be you who has to go and beg forgiveness if you say things like that; and worse, it will have to be to Brother Jonathan to whom you go for your confession,” Sir Guy admonished him in his dry manner.

  Claude gave a theatrical shudder and rolled his eyes. The others laughed at his lugubrious expression.

  Sir Guy looked around to verify they were alone, then leaned forward over the cleared table.

  “Not all of you know the real reason we came to Constantinople,” he said.

  Talon and Max sat up. Talon stifled a yawn; he yearned for a nap, but it was clear that Sir Guy wanted to discuss things of importance.

  “I am personally enjoined by the king to negotiate not one but two items with the emperor. Neither of them is going to be easy to accomplish, as His Majesty Manuel, although supportive of our presence in Palestine, is nonetheless at odds with the Normans—in one particular: Lord Roger of Sicily’s son William—and we must not forget his difficult relationship with the Lombards and the Venetians.”

  What are these two items, Sir Guy?” Talon asked.

  “The first is for the Templars as well as for the kings of France and Germany and the Holy Roman Empire; the second is closer to home for the King of Jerusalem. I am here to open negotiations for a right of passage past Constantinople for a third crusade.”

  Talon gasped. “I am not very familiar with the way things have gone between the Frankish Kingdom and the emperor, but did not the last crusade that passed through here end in disaster?”

  Max nodded. “It did, Talon, and there were Templars even then trying to assist. The German effort failed, for their emperor fell seriously ill along the route. He was brought back to this city where he was attended to by no lesser man than His Holiness the Emperor Manuel himself. The German army evaporated while the French King Louis took a seaward route and arrived in Palestine, but then he led an assault on Damascus.”

  “That was a debacle and cost us the neutrality of the city. It also brought Nur Ed Din into the game, whom we mig
ht have been able to deny a place in history had we not been forced to attack Damascus by those idiot crusaders,” Sir Guy said somewhat bitterly.

  “Were you both there?” Talon asked.

  “We were all there, your uncle included, Talon. God forgive me, but I do not have kind words for that king. He left us with such a mess to clean up that we are still paying for it today,” Max said.

  “Then why are we supporting another crusade which could end in a similar manner?” Talon asked bluntly.

  “Because that is what we are about, Talon.” There was a mild rebuke in Sir Guy’s voice.

  He continued. “The Templars cannot hold the entire Kingdom of Jerusalem and Tripoli and the northern provinces on our own. It is simple arithmetic. We need fresh soldiers and more people to come and live in Palestine. The losses exceed the births in all the areas; we need farmers, builders, tradesmen and men at arms to maintain our armies or we will be overrun eventually.”

  “I am sorry Sir Guy…I did not mean to be disrespectful,” Talon said, his tone contrite.

  “You ask questions, Talon, and that is a good thing. There is much talk of another crusade from France and the Holy Roman Empire of Germany, and we have been asked to see if the emperor will agree, in principle at least, to an army coming through.”

  “You see, Talon,” Max said, “the last time an army of crusaders came through this area there was havoc wrought across the lands in between, and the Greeks probably remember this with anger and fear.”

  “He will not even countenance an audience with anyone from the western countries at this time, so we Templars, who have gained some respect because we defend the Holy Land, have been asked to open the negotiations and find out if it is at all possible,” Sir Guy added.

  “Why do they not all come to Palestine by sea?” Talon asked. It seemed an obvious solution to him. “Most of the Templar knights come in by sea, why not the crusading armies?”

  “I am sure that many will travel by sea, but to do so means many, many ships and the western countries cannot provide such a fleet. Besides, there is always the likelihood of storms and such like. The Middle Sea is unpredictable. You and Max were shipwrecked, so you know of the hazards.