Greek Fire

by James Boschert

  Henry was calm enough, although Talon’s stomach lurched as their smaller ship heeled when the wind caught the sails and they picked up speed to chase after the other vessel. Talon breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the galley passed through the gap without much difficulty, and then they were passing through themselves. Guy shouted for the oarsmen to cease work and pull in the oars.

  Once again the menacing roar of the waves crashing to either side of them deafened Talon’s ears, and the water receding from the black and deadly teeth of the rocks was terrifying; but Henry, with the aid of the two steersmen, guided them through without incident.

  Talon released his death-like grip on the rail and took a deep breath of relief. He looked back at the devil’s cauldron of foam and spume and thanked God for the second time that day for his deliverance.

  It was early evening and the wind was almost behind them. The grey cloud cover obscured the little light that was left of the short day. Instinctively Talon glanced up at the mast to see if there was any sign from the lookout of any ships other than their own, but the man only had his gaze directed to the south, searching. Talon turned his face northward toward a darkening horizon and a choppy sea and hoped that they could make good time before the flotilla arrived. He muttered a short prayer for his companions, who were in all probability now trapped in Abydos.

  Guy and Henry shouted commands and the crew hauled on the sheets to lay on full sail in order to follow the Greek dromon, which was now on a northerly course, tossing the waters aside as it raced for Constantinople. The Falcon surged forward and spray flew high in the air at its bows as it slipped its constraints and sped after the other ship.

  __________

  Treacherous time has put me in prison

  where I’ve chirped away like a bird in a snare.

  How pure and fine my inspiration

  is and was and will be there.

  Todros Abulafia

  Chapter 23

  Doubtful Haven

  Senator Spartenos stood at the large open window of his reception room and gazed out through the rain at the Grand Fleet on the other side of the Golden Horn. It was late evening and lamps were being lit everywhere in the city and in the harbor below. He could see very few ships at sea and those were hastening to the safety of port. Just behind him were Captain Caravello, Choumnos, and the eunuch, Basileios. The squalls soaked the dry hills of Constantinople, obscuring the view of the town of Galata on the northern side of the Golden Horn as the rain intensified. Gusts of wind rattled the shutters of the house and the splatter of rain muted the words of their conversation. Winter was just around the corner and the autumn storms were taking their toll on shipping and roof tiles on the south side of the peninsula. Here on the relatively protected North side the wind was not as strong, but it was still chilly and wet; the room was being warmed by a brazier standing in one corner.

  Caravello had arrived wet but smiling; his ship had sailed into the port of Prosphorion, from where he had made his way almost immediately to the villa. He had just completed his report on the capture of the naval vessels near Rhodes and the forthcoming attack on Abydos by the Arab fleet.

  Spartenos was pleased. “It seems that you arrived just in time to beat the storm. Where do you think the fleet is now, and how many ships are there with it?” he asked.

  “I estimated perhaps sixty ships, but it was hard to tell, and they did not encourage me to come too close. The two Byzantine navy vessels were locked into a harbor when I left. I sailed off immediately they had trapped the two ships, senator. My job was done as far as I was concerned. The apparatus you loaded onto my ship is still under wraps on deck, but I have the crew for it ready to work it. They are in chains below deck until I leave.”

  “Have you not learned how to use it yet?”

  Caravello shifted his feet and his wide bearded face looked uncomfortable. “Er, not exactly, Sir. One of my men was...a bit rough with one of the crew trained for the operation, and that man died. The others are not very sure how to proceed. It is a very difficult device to prepare, they tell me.”

  The senator flushed with anger. “You idiot! They are stalling you! Do I have to send Psellos down there to persuade them? I am sure they will remember well enough if he is there to oversee the process.”

  Choumnos, standing behind Caravello, fidgeted. He did not like to hear Psellos being singled out for tasks that he could do well enough himself. The rivalry between the two had intensified since he had been wounded, and now he smarted every time the senator mentioned his rival’s name. He suspected that Psellos was up to something.

  Caravello shook his head. “No, Senator, I can deal with it.”

  “Good. Now we have other things to concern us. I think it would be a good thing if you returned to your ship and waited for orders. You have done well, and I shall make sure that you are rewarded.”

  Caravello, realizing that he was being dismissed, stood up and made his way out of the room.

  Senator Spartenos resumed his seat opposite Basileios then beckoned Choumnos over.

  “Now we know the fleet will be at Abydos very soon and a messenger will be here in less than a week. That will draw off a great part of the fleet, and our ally will make sure that those most sympathetic to our cause remain here, while those most loyal to the emperor are sent to deal with the threat. I want you to go around to all the locations where the Cilicians are hiding and warn them to be ready for the signal to move into place. Assess each group and make sure they are sharp and ready. I do not want a slipshod job done of securing the harbors.”

  Choumnos drew himself up and saluted. “I shall take care of this immediately, Sir.”

  The senator knew that he could trust Choumnos so he turned his attention back to his guest.

  “Does the prince know where he must be once the fleet is on its way?”

  Basileios took a sip of mulled wine. “Yes, all is in readiness. I still have grave reservations about using the Arabs, even for a diversion. We should have simply had a coup within the fleet.”

  The senator sighed at this display of nerves and said slowly as though to a simple person, “Basileios, my dear friend. The Prince is confident that his Cilicians can deal with any eventuality within the city, but he could not fully trust the navy. The High Admiral is a very loyal servant of the emperor and his men outnumber our supporters in the navy. They have to be neutralized, and it is highly likely that both fleets will destroy each other in the confines of the Hellespont in the engagement. The fire the Arabs now have will even the odds enough to keep our fleet very busy and out of the way.

  “Our emissaries in the court of the Sultan were assured that all they want is a change of leadership and that their northern flank will be protected. Do not you see? With Manuel here we will be losing more battles with the Turks, and then we will not even have an empire. With his brother in charge and his nephew next in line there is a strong chance that we can crush the Turks between us and restore our lands in the east.”

  “What about the Varangians?” Basileios persisted. “They are dedicated to preserving the life of the emperor. Do you really think they will just roll over and accept a change in the palace?”

  “They will be among the first to be taken care of. There are detachments of Cilicians waiting near the Grand Palace and the Blachernae palace. As soon as the signal goes up they will surround and disarm the Varangians and execute as many of the officers as time permits. The rest will go to the galleys, as their loyalty will be in question.”

  “Do we have enough men in the city to accomplish all of this?”

  “I think so. We have been smuggling them into the city for months now. The ships provided by the Vice Admiral have more than done their job. Not only that, but the men of Antioch were very disillusioned with the emperor after the death of their leader Baldwin, and many are ready to change sides. They will come over, of that I am sure. Manuel does not even begin to understand how close to a mutiny his army is today because of
the failure at Myriokephalon.”

  The senator paused to take a sip of wine and waved the servant in to stoke the brazier and place some more wood on the fire. The room warmed up noticeably.

  “Prince Andronikos is ensconced close to the Purple Tower in readiness to seize the palace, so now all we have to do is to wait. He came into the city in an ox driven cart through the Charisius! Imagine that! No one suspected a thing. I am sure that Manuel would appreciate the irony of his nephew arriving in such style. But if he captures him then it will be the end of the prince. Manuel has pardoned him once too often for treachery and rebellion.”

  He smiled at his guest. “Fear not, Basileios, my friend. We will be avenged for the disgrace at the hands of the Turks, and I shall derive great satisfaction in putting Manuel...and his son...to death myself. It is time for a real emperor.” He did not add that the death of his own son added to the driving force behind him. He kept that well under control.

  *****

  One of the first things that Talon did once they were sailing north was to go below and visit Aarif in the storeroom, taking Guy with him. Below decks the crewmen were settling down to rest for the night, the oars were stacked in neat lines in readiness to put out at a moment’s notice, and food had been handed out. As they came below everyone acknowledged Talon as he went by with smiles and “God Bless, Sir.” They were happy to have survived the ordeal and to be sailing north to the city and some well earned rest. But he was also aware of the respect they demonstrated as he went by. They would halt what they were doing and knuckle their foreheads in salute, only resuming their activities after he had passed by.

  “You have a good, loyal crew here, Sir Talon,” Guy remarked. “They know who you are now and their respect is high, especially after the incident with the Arab fleet and the ship we captured.”

  Talon nodded in the gloom. “God was on our side this time, Guy. It could very easily have gone the other way and we could all be pulling an oar on one of their galleys.”

  Guy barked a laugh. “Not me, Talon. Not again. Once was enough for me. I thank God he led you to us in Egypt, for we would all have died in less than three months.”

  Talon clumped down to the lower deck where the stores were kept, followed by Guy. They had to stoop almost double because of the low beams overhead, for the decks of the dromon were not spacious. It was dark down here and he heard rats scuttling out of their path as they made their way cautiously toward the dim light from an enclosed oil lamp near the storeroom. There they found Aarif. His turban had slipped and he looked disheveled, very angry, and not a little confused. When he saw Talon he almost shouted at him.

  “Why have you done this to me?” He rattled his chains. “This is humiliating and not what you promised. I am a nobleman, not some common criminal!”

  In the dim light of the lamp Talon could see there were tears of mortification in his dark eyes.

  “Salaam, Aarif. I promised you one thing and one thing only. That I would not send you to join your crew in the not so warm dungeons of Abydos if you told me the truth.”

  “Are we at sea? It feels as though we are.” Aarif said as though to change the subject.

  “Yes, we are at sea, and you are coming with me to Constantinople. You are still my prisoner but that does not mean that I believed you. In fact I did not, but I decided that the Greeks would torture you and they would probably kill you in the process. You have told me all that I needed to know in any case. Now you will remain my prisoner until we can find a way to have your ransom paid.”

  Aarif stared at him. “I underestimated you, Sir Talon,” he said slowly.

  “Many do, and some live to regret it.” He turned to Guy.

  “Guy, you can release the prisoner from his chains and bring him on deck. When we come into port I want him to be held in the second smaller cabin under guard until I can decide what to do with him. He might come to Acre with us. Make sure that there is a double guard on his door all night long. I do not want him wandering about the ship while we are all sleeping.”

  Guy nodded, went to the hatchway and called upon one of the crew from up above to come below and release Aarif.

  As this was going on Talon said to Aarif, “I must have your word that you will not try to escape, nor will you attack any of my crew, nor my person. Should you try to do so, I will have you put in irons again or even kill you.”

  “I understand and give my word. I swear to God on my honor,” Aarif said. Talon decided that the fight had gone out of his prisoner, at least for the moment.

  “Then I shall offer you the limited hospitality of my ship while we are en route to Constantinople. You must be hungry. When we get there you must come below and stay in the cabin with this man,” he indicated Guy. You should compose those letters that we discussed. Your captain and the others of the crew who died will be accorded a decent burial. My sergeant is aware of the Moslem rites and will ensure this. I give my word. I shall in turn do my best to have a letter delivered to your family in Damascus asking for a reasonable ransom.”

  “Why are you doing this when you could have left me to my fate in Abydos?” Aarif asked him.

  “Let us say that I have a debt to repay, and in a small way you are part of that repayment,” Talon told him. His mind flew to the Fayoum in Egypt where his friends lived.

  Guy then reminded Talon that their cargo of salt needed to be examined. The two of them went along the low wooden wall looking for places where water might have found its way in among the salt blocks. On being asked, several of the oarsmen volunteered that indeed water had come in through the oar ports and in several cases down the hatch despite it being shut, and they had gotten a good dousing, but not over much. Guy said that he would examine the cargo the next day with Giorgios and find out what they could.

  They sailed for two days, clearing the mouth of the Hellespont that night as Orion, heralding winter, was clear to be seen amongst the stars. Henry had decided to sail through the night as the storm was well gone, leaving a clear sky by which to navigate. Evidently the captain of the naval galley decided that he could too, as it remained on their starboard side all through the night. In the morning they closed with another warship and their escort paused long enough to pass along the news. Evidently they became alarmed enough to turn about and join them for the final run to the city across the Marmara sea.

  Guy, true to his word, went below with Giorgios, and with some of the crew examined what they could of the cargo. He came back with a mixed report. Some of the bottom ingots had been affected by water and were dissolving, so there was a loss to be expected, but a good percentage was left in reasonable shape. Giorgios estimated that perhaps a third of the cargo was damaged, but said that they would still come out of it with a respectable profit if they could unload the salt speedily once they made port.

  Talon thought about the gold he had brought with him from Rodos, which had been paid for the silk and spices, and the chest of gold he had taken from the Arab ship. Giorgios had told him that after the fees of ten Solidari for the ship’s entry to the city and the taxes for the cargo itself were paid, they would still come out ahead.

  “If we had to pay thirty Solidari like the other Greeks, or even the seventeen, it would have been a little more tight, Sir Talon. Salt is always popular, as it is ever in short supply. I am sure that Makarios will get a good price for it.” He appeared satisfied with the results, modest though they were.

  “Do you think Makarios will be pleased?” Talon asked in a low tone.

  Giorgios smiled at his obvious concern. “Do not be so worried, Sir Talon. You should remember that up until a few weeks ago the cargo we took to Rodos was rotting in a warehouse and going nowhere. Now it has been sold at a reasonable profit! Furthermore, we are bringing salt back to the city for more gold. Yes, I think Makarios will be very pleased, and so will master Alexios Kalothesos and the Senator. Even if we only made back the cost it would be considered a success, I am sure of it. And I shall be sure to info
rm them all of the risks you took to bring back their payment, Sir.”

  “And I shall inform them that I want you to come with me on the next venture as our agent, Giorgios. You are a very good negotiator.”

  Giorgios almost simpered. “I am honored, Sir, but…I pray to God that there will be much less excitement the next time. I am not the best sailor, and the fighting scared me.”

  “I too, Giorgios, I too. Storms terrify me. Alas, I do not think I shall ever be a good sailor.” He laughed at the look of disbelief that Giorgios gave him.

  Talon relaxed and was able to concentrate his thoughts on what he must do when they arrived in the city. He wondered where the Genoese ship might be. He badly wanted to have a talk with that captain.

  Evening was glowing red in the west when they sighted the city of Constantinople and breathed a collective sigh of relief. There was no sign of the Arab fleet, and Henry suggested that they might have been scattered by the same storm that struck them and be regrouping south of the Hellespont.

  “I hope they were wrecked all over the place, may God strike them all,” he said with a savage look at Aarif. who was taking the air on the afterdeck. Talon looked across at the other two ships and noticed that the double eagle of the empire flew from the masts, so he asked Henry to run up their pendant. Giorgios agreed that it was a good idea. People would be keeping a lookout for them from the hills as they came into the harbor, and they would pass along the news of their arrival to Makarios and the family Kalothesos.