“I shall be the guarantor of this, Talon, if you really believe this to be the answer.”
“If we miss even one of them he will wreak havoc with the survivors during the night, Sir. That I can promise. It will be easier for all of us to get them to leave of their own free will.”
Sir Guy saw the sense of that, and then they waited impatiently for the Captain to arrive. He eventually came striding out of one of the towers.
“Well, it is going to be very hot work prying these people out of the nooks and crannies of the castle,” he agreed. “They certainly know how to fight, and to die,” he added as an afterthought. “What do you want of me, Sir Guy?” He glanced down at the living prisoner and the dead youth.
“Talon thinks he can talk them out of there, Captain. He spoke to these two and they are from Persia. The rest come from both Persia and from Syria. It would do us no harm at all to let these people go as a sign of respect and to gain their allegiance if not their friendship.”
“Do you really believe this?” the Captain asked him forcefully, glancing at Talon as he did so.
“Captain, I have come to trust Talon in these things and one day I shall explain why,” said Sir Guy, standing his ground.
“Very well then. I shall command the men to assemble out here where we can take a roll call, and then Sir Talon can try to get them all out.”
“Thank you Captain,” said Sir Guy.
The Captain bellowed orders that were quickly relayed to the houses and buildings where the hunt continued. Slowly men in small groups filed out and assembled in the yard. The men on the battlements remained where they were.
It was a disheveled and very bloody group of men who assembled in front of the Captain and Talon. They murmured angrily when told what was wanted and were not a little skeptical. They had felt the hard edge of these phantoms from outside and didn’t really believe that it would be possible to achieve what Talon wanted.
Talon, who had been binding up the wounds of the youth on the ground next to him, spoke to him.
“I shall help you to stand and then we must go to the buildings one by one and call them out. Can you do this? Will you do this? Also, what is your name?” He spoke in Farsi so that none of the assembly could understand. The Templars had a few men who spoke some Arabic, but no one who spoke Farsi.
“Do as you will, Ta’lon. My name is Mehmed. Yes, I shall speak to them,” the youth said.
Talon asked the Captain to provide two men who would support the wounded youth and then they headed for the nearest building.
At the entrance they stopped and Mehmed called out loudly in spite of his pain. Although his wounds were now bound up they were not insignificant and he had lost a lot of blood.
He called to his companions, telling them that he had been spared by another one such as themselves.
“This man with me is called Tal’on. He is a Fida’i and is one of us although he is a Frans and now a Templar. He will protect you and make sure we can all leave the castle safely if you come out now. We have his word and that of his chieftain.”
The whole castle was eerily silent after he had spoken. Even the men in the yard grouped with the Templars were quiet, waiting tensely for whatever might happen.
There was a slight sound within the building. Talon tightened his grip on his sword and the two men holding Mehmed upright looked fearful. But they all relaxed a little as a youth much the same age as Mehmed, dressed in the remnants of a monk’s habit, came cautiously to the door. He was armed with a sword and looked very wary. He called out to Mehmed.
“What have they done to you that you are now calling for us to come out and die in the sun, Mehmed?”
“This is Ta’lon, killer of the Lion in Samiran, who has spared me. He is a Fida’i just like you or I, Mahmud. Remember the tales of the Frank who slew the lion when only a boy? This is he. I trust him as no other.”
Mehmed had called this out loudly to ensure that any other listening would hear and think about it.
Slowly, very slowly, the ‘Assassins came out of the buildings; one by one they came towards the small group standing by the entrance to the main hall. They did not give up their weapons nor did they say very much. They looked warily over towards the glowering Knights clustered in the middle of the yard, but on the whole they concentrated their attention upon Talon.
Many were the questions thrown at him in Farsi by the Persian survivors, who then explained to their Syrian counterparts the story of his time with the ‘Assassins in Alamut.
Talon heard it all but said nothing and finally Mehmed asked him, “You have said nothing, Ta’lon, I have kept my word. Are you going to have us all killed now?”
Talon looked him in the eye. “My word is my life, ‘Assassin. I shall personally escort you away from the castle. Are they all here?”
“I think so,” Mehmed said. He talked rapidly and forcefully with the others, demanding to know whether there might be someone still hidden; most looked around and told him that they were sure that they were all there were left. There were fifteen in all.
Talon beckoned to the men gathered in front of him. In Farsi he tersely told the startled men to lift Mehmed and carry him, as he was sorely wounded. The two retainers who had been supporting him thankfully walked quickly off to join their fellows among the Templar contingent. Talon then asked the youths to follow him.
Walking in front of the ‘Assassins, he led the way to stand in front of the equally surprised Templars.
“I shall lead them out of the castle, Sir Guy, with your permission,” he said to a bemused knight and his Captain.
“Can we trust them not to kill you when you go out with them, Talon?”
“No, but I gave my word that we would not kill them, and now I must keep it.”
Sir Guy looked hard at the ‘Assassins. “Very well, may God protect you.”
The knights stood aside and watched while Talon led the hesitant group of ragged youths towards the gate.
There he told them to wait while the portcullis was reattached to its rope and then winched up out of the way. This was going to take time, so he told them they could take their dead with them or they would be interred outside the castle walls within one day as per the proscribed rules of Islam. They nodded acceptance.
The while they squatted in the bloodstained dust Talon was subjected to a barrage of questions. The Persians all knew of the legend of his fight with the lion. Few knew of his involvement with the killing of Ahmand or his uncle those long years ago, for which Talon was grateful. He started asking questions of his own.
“How was the General Esphandiary?”
Still the mightiest warrior that ever lived, they bragged.
“What of Reza...does he still live?” Talon held his breath at this point.
“The Reza of fame, who had saved the life of the Master?”
Talon nodded.
“He has not been seen for many years,” one of them said.
“He is somewhere in the south with the Master’s sister.”
Talon’s heart began to thump very loudly in his chest. He spoke very carefully. “The Agha Khan had only one sister, as far as I know.”
“He has only one sister and she is living somewhere in the south,” the leader of the group of young men told him.
“What is her name?”
“Why, it is Rav’an. If you had been in Samiran you should know this, as she grew up there they say, around about the time you were there.”
Talon had to stare at the ground. “Yes, I know,” he whispered almost to himself.
Work on the portcullis was finally finished and the winch turned by two burly men in the tower. Talon watchfully herded his new acquaintances out of the castle.
“Please convey my deepest respect to the Timsar Esphandiary and tell him that this was the wrong castle. He should punish Lord Raymond in the manner that he would normally use, if indeed Lord Raymond deserved it,” he told the man who led them out. “Tell me, where is th
e General?”
“He is in Aleppo,” was the reply.
Taking care not to seem too interested Talon managed to obtain a fairly detailed understanding as to where the youths would be going, and ascertained that would also be the place where the general would be staying.
The youths came up to him one by one. “Khoda Haffez, Genab Agha,”—God Protect, honored Sir—they said in unison, clasping his hand between their two. His onetime enemies were almost ready to embrace him. But he would not permit it. His own mind was racked with a different kind of emotion; he barely noticed them anymore. But he mustered himself and bade “Khoda Haffez” to each as they came to him and clasped their hands in his. They had been trying to kill each other only half an hour ago but fate had changed things for all of them.
The youths were barely gone when the fearful retainers hurriedly closed the main gates with a loud crash of wood and iron on stone.
Talon was left alone in the archway of the gate to ponder what he had heard.
Rav’an was alive? How could this be? His mind was ready to explode and his heart was thumping so hard he could hardly breathe. He sat down abruptly on one of the steps leading to the tower nearby and put his head in his hands. How could this be? He had lived for nearly six years with nothing inside him to be called hope and now fate had come and laughed in his face.
She was alive! He could not believe it! And yet these men had told him to his face innocently without guile. His mind was in such turmoil that he did not notice Sir Guy when he came up and stood in front of him until that man asked him if he were all right.
Talon stood up shakily. “Yes, I am all right, Sir Guy.”
“For a moment there I thought you might be wounded, my boy. God be praised, but that was a close thing,” said Sir Guy with concern in his voice.
They were interrupted by the Captain, who strode up still covered in dried blood to clap Talon on the shoulder and exclaim, “I have never seen the like of what we saw today. What kind of hold do you have over these people?” he glared at Talon as though he would tear the answer out of him.
“Talon was a prisoner of the Saracen at one time, Captain. He speaks their language, which is Persian.”
“It would seem this man has many talents. I saw him fighting, and then he took care of the portcullis as well. Now he speaks to them as though they are his brothers. In God’s good name I am bound to say that I am grateful, Talon, but I understand little of how it came about!”
Talon shook his head and smiled bleakly. “There is no need to be concerned, Sir. It was chance and a lot of God’s help that saved the day.”
Luckily Talon did not have to answer too many questions, as for the rest of the day the entire company of men were tasked with cleaning up the wreckage of the battle. They had to clear the grounds, bury the dead and look to the wounded. The sad truth was that while they had survived the attack by the ‘Assassins the company of men was now badly depleted. Many of the retainers who had not been either armed or protected by armor had been killed in the first few minutes of the battle.
Sir Guy told the Captain that he would be leaving on the next day and would ensure that replacements were sent north as soon as possible. In the meantime, they had to manage somehow to give the illusion to any marauding bands of Seljuks or Arabs that they were an impregnable stronghold.
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Table of Contents
Greek Fire
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Map of Constantinople
Names Byzantium
Book One. 1176 AD
Chapter 1 Acre and The Templars
Chapter 2 A Journey by Sea
Chapter 3. Constantinople
Chapter 4 Visitors
Chapter 5 The Invitation
Chapter 6 The Chariot Race
Chapter 7 The Emperor
Chapter 8 The Audience
Chapter 9 Stone Work
Chapter 10 A Game of Tzykanion
Chapter 11 Negotiations
Chapter 12 The Passes of Phrygia
Chapter 13 Battle of Myriokephalon
Chapter 14 An Army at Bay
Chapter 15 The Return
BOOK TWO
Chapter 16 The Senator
Chapter 17 Thanks Giving
Chapter 18 Family Affairs
Chapter 19 Preparations
Chapter 20 Rhodes
Chapter 21 A Fleet at Night
Chapter 22 The Storm
Chapter 23 Doubtful Haven
Chapter 24 Treason
Chapter 25 War in the City
Chapter 26 A Battle at Sea
Chapter 27 A Debt Paid
About The Author
Excerpt from A Falcon Flies
We Hope You Enjoyed This Book
Greek Fire Page 64