It lasted about an hour, during which Dmitri brought some wine. Talon was sure the plump official was going to spit it out it was so bad, but he swallowed it with a pained expression on his pursed wet mouth. His scribe did not take more than a sip before putting the stained leather cup back down with a grimace and did not touch it again.
A fee was suggested as a tax, which was met with horrified exclamations from both Giorgios and Dmitri, who waved their hands in the air in despairing motions, then translated for Talon as though he could not understand a word of Greek, and Talon added his own lamentations of poverty and pleas for reduction, but not in Greek. Giorgios began to wail in a high-pitched tone and begged the official to reconsider. He batted his eyes at the man and almost pursed a kiss as he pleaded for leniency.
Talon was about to explode with laughter at the performance, but he knew this was no laughing matter. A wrong step and they would do no trade here. He brought himself under control and forced his expression to look aggrieved along with the other two. They bargained for another half an hour, during which the price went down from exorbitant to just about reasonable amid much sighing and wringing of hands. It soon became clear to Talon that there were two masters of negotiation in the cabin, and Giorgios was probably the better man. His respect for him went up a couple of notches. As soon as the gold had been passed over in a small leather sack the official and his scribe placed a seal on the document and add another small lead stamp to the already weighty paper. The officials then quickly departed the noxious smelling cabin with its bad wine and dangerous looking crew, their duty done.
They were bundled down into the waiting boat along with their gleaming soldiers and Giorgios called out oily compliments as they rowed away. When they were well out of earshot Giorgios turned to Talon and said, “We seem to be free to trade, even if we have been shorn of some hair.” His voice had gone back to normal and his expression was all business. Talon almost gaped at him.
Dmitri was not so restrained. He grabbed at Nigel and in front of the entire crew did a small jig, dragging the perplexed man about with him and laughing with excitement.
“You know of course what did it?” he told the others.
“Tell me when you two have finished,” Talon said in a dry tone. Nigel extricated himself with a look of disgust. “Dmitri, let go of me, you horrible creature!” he exclaimed.
“Why, the shitty wine of course! And that stinky cabin of yours, Sir Talon. We did very well in there—as I am sure you could tell.” Dmitri held his sides and roared with laughter.
“Other than paying a bribe which was barely reasonable I am not entirely sure what you mean.”
“We paid much less than we would have if we had been one of those large fat merchantmen, Sir Talon,” Dmitri said as he caught his breath. “Giorgios pared him back to the bone. I am willing to bet that he still does not know how it was done and will be scratching his head for the rest of the time we are here.”
“Well done, Giorgios. I will tell Makarios of this when we get back,” Talon said.
“God willing.” Giorgios crossed himself and then suggested that they go ashore and find where the agent might be.
They were rowed over to the wharf and found themselves once again on dry land. It swayed a bit for Talon as he regained his land legs. Giorgios and Max appeared to be in the same condition; but Giorgios quickly set off, with a glance at Talon and Max to see that they were keeping up.
The buildings around the harbor were of much the same style as in Constantinople but not as grand, being more functional and less elegant. The lime painted walls and the tiles still made for a colorful backdrop to the calm blue waters of the harbor. Giorgios led the way past clusters of work gangs and slaves, past the shops and beggars, to climb a street that led up the low hill upon which stood the temple. He told Talon that it was known as an acropolis and was an ancient temple dedicated to the sun god Helios from the times before Christianity came to these parts.
They walked up the short steep street toward the house of the agent Isaias. Small boys ran about playing a raucous game of tag and old men sat on stools outside their houses sunning themselves and gossiping. They grew silent as the newcomers walked by and started up again as they moved on—the new subject certainly being the visitors.
Giorgios brought them to a low archway and banged on the wooden door. They waited in the silence that ensued. Eventually they heard a step and a woman’s shrill voice asked who it was.
“It is I, Giorgios. I wish to speak to Isaias. Is he here?”
There was a muttered exclamation, the sound of retreating footsteps, and again silence. Then they heard someone heavy approaching.
“Is that really you, Giorgios?” called a man’s voice.
“It is, and I have business to discuss. Open the door, man! We’re tired and want some wine to ease our thirst.”
The door was unlatched and a very portly man with tight, curly grey hair peered out at them. He blinked in the harsh sunlight but then he spied Giorgios and opened his arms to embrace him.
“Where have you been, my friend? I had given you up for lost,” he said in a throaty rumble. “We have heard such tales from the city! Come in! Come in!” He beckoned to the others. “Anna!” he bellowed, “Bring wine and food. We have important visitors!” His jowls wobbled when he talked, his chin almost disappearing into the fat of his neck. His little button eyes, however, were alert as he examined Giorgios’ companions.
Giorgios introduced Talon and Max, making it clear that Talon was in charge and that there was business to conduct.
“You are still our agent, are you not?” he queried Isaias, who now sat in front of them at the table in the garden. The stool he sat on was far too small for a man of his size.
“Of course, of course, and let me tell you there is much to discuss.” Isaias’ small eyes gleamed.
They sipped a very acceptable red wine and nibbled at olives in oil with some dried salted fish and large chunks of fresh bread. There was goat’s cheese and some hard sausage slices to go with it.
“You have come at a very good time,” Isaias told them. “Since the Venetians were taken out there has only been the occasional Genoese ship. Trade has almost dried up!” he lamented.
“When was the last time one of them came by?” Giorgios asked.
“Only a week ago, but he only came by to resupply and then left. It was a galley, not a cargo ship.”
Talon and Max looked at one another, but Giorgios was suddenly very interested in finding out what was needed.
“Ours is also a galley, so we do not have a very large cargo, but we have spices and silk, oil and olives in our cargo. Will they sell?”
Isaias hesitated as though calculating. “Yes, they will sell. There is no doubt about that. All are needed here on the island.”
“What is your fee?” Giorgios asked.
Within a moment the two men were haggling over the fee. Talon glanced at Max. He shrugged and smiled. It appeared that these two men enjoyed the art of negotiations, but by now Talon was reasonably sure just who would come away with the better deal, so he sat back and began to enjoy the food.
*****
Isaias had asked for fifteen percent, which made Giorgios throw up his hands and roll his eyes. “That is daylight robbery and you know it, Isaias. Where do you think I was born?” he exclaimed. “We had to pay the fee to the custom’s official which nearly beggared us, and now you want to take what little profit is left for yourself?” He turned to Talon.
“When can we sail, Sir? The price here is too high.”
Playing the game with him Talon made to rise.
“Wait…wait. I have to see the cargo first in any case. So why do not we do that, and then we can come to an agreement?” Isaias reached over the table and punched Giorgios on the arm gently. “You were always so impatient, my friend,” he admonished with an ingratiating laugh. He gulped his wine and told his buxom wife Anna that they were leaving. He was clearly anxious to see th
e ship and its cargo.
They hurriedly finished their drinks and followed him out of the garden and down the street to the harbor. Isaias waddled along the quayside and shouted for a boat into which they all piled. The boat had a distinct tilt to the side where Isaias was seated.
They all clambered aboard ship, helping a wheezing Isaias onto the deck where he had to stand for a few moments to catch his breath. Almost as though they had never stopped, he and Giorgios fell into a deep discussion as they walked about, pointing to various bales that were on deck, and then they disappeared below to do the same thing. Isaias needed help down the narrow gangway to the lower deck.
Talon and Max retreated to the upper deck where they found Nigel and Guy squatting on the floor eating. “We will need to resupply before we take to the sea again, Talon,” Nigel said.
“If we can unload some of our cargo we will do that, Nigel. The crew can go ashore when we get permission to dock at the quayside.”
“Is he interested in our stuff?” Guy nodded in the direction of the two Greeks who had just emerged from the lower deck. Talon’s ears pricked up as he caught the gist of their conversation. They were back to discussing the fee.
“My master over there will not pay more than eight percent of the profits, and we all know that you will make separate deals with your customers, so there is a handy margin in that for you. We still have to pay thirty solidi at the port of Constantinople whether the ship is empty or not.” Giorgios knew perfectly well that the tax would be ten solidi, but Isaias did not.
They now stood too close to one another for Talon to hear properly, but they appeared to come to an agreement of sorts.
They did not say anything more as Giorgios came up the steps with Isaias in tow and stood in front of Talon. Giorgios looked serious and Talon’s heart sank. He glanced at Isaias, but that man’s fleshy face was inscrutable.
“What is it, Giorgios? You do not look happy.”
“We have a problem, Sir Talon.”
“Well what is it, man? Speak up.”
“Isaias wants the whole cargo, Sir.” They gawped at him.
“So, what is the problem with that?” Talon managed to croak.
“I told him that we had to go on to Cyprus with some of it to trade.”
Talon wondered if this was another ploy on Giorgios’ part. He glanced over at Isaias, who was now rubbing his hands together as though washing them. He appeared to be agitated.
“Its like this, Sir,” Isaias interjected. I have empty warehouses and customers begging for these goods. They are in short supply and I could sell everything you have.”
“We have been asked to bring salt back with us to Constantinople,” Talon said. “It is in short supply at present and worth much. I suppose we could go without the grain, but we need to take salt back with us.”
Isaias looked thoughtful. “Salt is important here too, but there is some of it in storage. It came from Alexandria, good salt, better than you will find in Cyprus. I could obtain gold for half your cargo and the rest in salt?”
For the briefest moment Talon wondered if the salt had come from the Al Fayoum in Egypt, then he took Giorgios by the arm and walked him to the far end of the deck.
“Is it as he says, Giorgios? Can he pay us in salt and gold?” he asked in a low voice.
Giorgios almost beamed. “Oh yes, Sir. Isaias is a reasonably honest trader, well, as traders go, which is why we use him, and he is certain he can sell our cargo very quickly. I am sure he is salivating at the prospect of making a killing. There are no other ships in harbor with our kind of cargo. He can get a good price for the silk and the oil, which will offset the salt, Sir Talon. However, we need your decision. It is your ship.”
Talon went to discuss this development with his companions. Henry, Nigel and Guy joined him and Max at the far end of the after deck.
“It makes good sense to me, Talon,” Henry said, rubbing his beard. “From here it could take us a week or more to get to Cyprus, and here we are with our entire cargo being purchased. Why would we not?”
“A week if we do not run into bad weather, you mean,” Nigel added.
“You get good salt and we go home that much earlier,” Guy said.
“Well, of course you would like to go back to that den of iniquity—isn’t that what the monk called it?” Nigel jeered his friend. “We all know your reasons.”
“Stop your bickering, you two. Why tempt fate, Talon? The season for sailing is fast closing and as long as you feel we have not been cheated, we should do this,” Henry insisted.
“I do not think Giorgios would lead me astray on this.. Very well, we shall trade.” Despite his hesitation he agreed with his friends. The season for storms was fast approaching.
He walked down to join the two Greeks, who were talking to Dmitri in the waist of the ship.
“It is decided. We stay here until the cargo is off the ship and we are paid. See to it Giorgios. Just make sure that we get paid. I will not be leaving without coin owed and the salt.” He gave Isaias a hard look.
Isaias looked apprehensive. “I assure you, Sir, that I shall move with all haste and you will be pleased,” he said as he clambered down into the boat below.
*****
He was true to his word. Somehow he managed to put it about that there was a cargo of silk and spices to be bought, and bids were coming in from as far away as the other end of the island.
Giorgios had warned Talon that salt was a difficult cargo to ship. It did not respond well to damp conditions, therefore they could not store it on the open deck and even the rowing deck presented a problem.
Guy came up with a partial solution. “Get some carpenters to make panels and we can surround the salt blocks with the wooden walls, which will keep most of the water away from them,” he suggested.
The sound of hammering and sawing went on for a couple of days as this task was completed. Meanwhile the crew went ashore and spent a lot of time in the couple of small taverns to be found along the beach. Henry reported some short-lived brawls as drunken sailors got into their cups, but Guy always managed to restore order before any soldiers arrived, by cracking heads and laying out anyone who felt like quarreling with his authority. Talon and Max remained on the ship. They both felt that they needed to be on board in case anything went wrong.
They managed to offload the entire cargo within three days, and then the wagons carrying the salt began to arrive. Talon walked with Max onto the quay to have a look at their next cargo. The salt had come in ingots about two hands spans in diameter and two arm lengths long and they were partially wrapped in sack cloth. Talon had a curious sense of another time when he touched the smooth surface of one of the ingots. There was no need to remind Max of that dreadful evening when they had been betrayed and Montague had bravely fought to the death on another quay in another city. They looked at one another.
“I hope his soul is at peace,” Max murmured.
They walked off together to the more respectable tavern to have a cup of wine with their friends.
___________
Bitter breast-cares have I abided,
Known on my keel many a care’s hold,
And dire sea-surge, and there I oft spent
Narrow nightwatch nigh the ship’s head
While she tossed close to cliffs.
Ezra Pound
Chapter 21
A Fleet at Night
On the morning of the fifth day the ship was still tied alongside the stone quayside when Guy called down, “Another ship has arrived!”
Talon joined the others on the upper deck and watched as a dromon, its sails furled, slipped into the crystal clear waters of the harbor, its oars rising and dipping in unison as the rowers pulled. It looked vaguely familiar. Suddenly Max took his arm in a fierce grip.
“I am sure I know that ship. Is it not the one we were interested in, Talon?”
“I think you are right, Max. Well, well, our friend the Genoese is back with us. I wonde
r where he has been?”
“And what in the Saint’s good name is he doing here?”
“If he has come to trade I am right glad that we were here first,” Talon commented.
The ship glided between the naval vessels and the harbor sea wall. Activity on the dromon was minimal but Talon and Max still watched it, looking for a sign of the captain.
“There he is on the after deck. See him?” Max growled.
Talon glanced at his friend. He was like a hound with the scent of his prey in his nose.
“Max, we did not come here to fight with a Genoese pirate. We are about to load our cargo and leave with what we came for.”
“I know, Talon, but I know too that I shall not sleep well until I have confronted that man.”
“This I am aware of, Max. Let us see.”
In fact the Genoese ship did not stay long at all. The men on the Falcon noticed activity on the naval vessels early the next morning and then the two naval ships departed, closely followed by the Genoese dromon.
*****
Their own departure took place a day later. They were passing a nondescript island to their east in the afternoon when the lookout called down to them. “There is something in the water ahead! Looks like pieces of wood,” he called from on high.
“Where?” Henry shouted up to him.
“Off our port bow, by several points. There is something else there too, perhaps a man?”
This generated much excitement. Nigel ran to the front of the ship with some men prepared to throw ropes. Talon and Max stood near to Henry, peering into the distance, trying to make out the small spot in the sea to which the masthead was pointing.
“There! I see something. Do you see it, Talon?”
“I see it, Max. It looks like some wood beams or spars, and look, there does seem to be someone hanging onto the beams. What could have happened here? There is no evidence of a storm.”
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