Rashaad lowered his eyes but said nothing more. Kalim smiled.
“Thanks to your inept handling of guard duties, I was deprived of a key strategic piece in my war against the Byzantines.”
“You were going to lure out the Norsemen with her,” Rashaad said, rolling his head aside as if he had been slapped. “We are not at war with them. They mean nothing to securing Pozzallo.”
“Their men are holed up in that fortress. I could have used that girl to persuade them to surrender. But now I have lost the chance. You have cost me too much. And, there is other news.”
“Other news?” Rashaad turned his head back to Kalim, eyebrows raised.
“Yes, just this morning a patrol was sent into the hills to flush out the Norsemen. Do you know what they found at the foot of the hills?”
Rashaad’s dark eyes betrayed nothing.
“Well, they found Saleet. More accurately, they found his body. His head was discovered later set on a rock at the peak of those hills. The Norsemen had carved something into his forehead. I have no care to know what it was. Now, I find it interesting that Saleet was in those hills rather than properly taken before me.”
“I knew nothing of it.”
“You knew nothing,” Kalim repeated. He smiled then looked toward the tent wall. He cleared his throat and called out. “Umar, would you please enter now?”
Rashaad’s eyes went wide. Kalim held his gaze while the barely perceptible shadow of the man called Umar slid along the tent wall. The flap opened to let in bright morning light and framed his lithe shape against it. He was covered completely in black clothing; short jacket, pants, head cover, and mask were all as dark night. He bore no weapon, but did not need to. Threat radiated from his wide-legged stance, arms folded tightly behind his back. Eyes like coal lumps peered out from the mask.
“Your Majesty, this is the man I saw supplying Saleet with food and coin, before sending him out into the rain.”
Rashaad did not stir except to swallow. He must have known he was confronting an assassin, the very one Saleet had ironically secured for Kalim. What delicious irony.
“So there it is.” Kalim said. “You have betrayed me for the last time. Here is your punishment.”
Rashaad circled on him, but the two giant guards responded with precision. Each stepped forward like two elephants entering a parade ground. They lifted their mighty swords with no effort, holding them ready to strike.
“Killing me would be a mistake,” Rashaad said. “Your father will make you regret it.”
“I’m not killing you.” Kalim rubbed his palms together. “You have cost me something dear and caused me humiliation. So, in return, I will do the same to you. Bring your servant forward.”
The young servant squeaked in fear, but Rashaad obeyed. He put both his hands protectively over the tiny creature, which Kalim at last decided was a boy. The question of the servant’s gender had disturbed him. He was glad to finally be clear on it.
“Now, strangle him to death.”
Rashaad’s eyes widened and his dark flesh paled. He blinked, then finally spoke.
“He is my grand-nephew.”
“Strangle him yourself or I will have him flayed alive. You will eat the peeled flesh. Which would you rather?”
“You are a monster,” Rashaad said, his voice trembling. “This sickness of yours, this is why the emir will never advance you. You are not human.”
Kalim smiled. “I’m giving you this final moment to make your choice. Strangle the boy or I’ll have you both taken away to a far worse end. You know I will do it.”
“Uncle?” the boy croaked. His eyes were overflowing with tears. Rashaad began to weep as well.
But the old man obeyed.
He gently kissed his grand-nephew, who to his credit did not cry out or struggle to flee. Umar held out a cord. Rashaad stared at it as if it were a snake. But he took it. He turned the boy to face Kalim, wrapped the cord around his neck, and began to twist it. Then he pulled back so the boy stood on his toes, gasping and grabbing at the cord.
Kalim watched the young boy’s face turning blue. As he twisted and struggled, he wet his robes. Rashaad sobbed as his nephew went limp, but had not yet died. His eyes had rolled back but his hands still held to the cord.
The scene brought warmth to Kalim’s crotch. In fact, he became aroused watching the young boy’s struggle. He would have to try this again, he thought. This was something new he had not experienced. When at last the boy’s arms dropped and his body slackened, Kalim’s heart raced and he was out of breath.
Rashaad wept silent tears, and unwrapped the cord from his grand-nephew’s neck. Kalim strained to see the boy, but did not want to make his lusts too obvious.
Umar snatched the cord back. Rashaad cradled the dead boy’s body.
“Well, now you have felt some of my pain,” Kalim said breathlessly. “Though you can never imagine how I have suffered.”
Rashaad’s red-rimmed eyes met his. He was full of loathing and hate.
He had to know his death was at hand. How could Kalim leave such a powerful foe alive?
He looked to Umar. A simple glance was all it took.
The assassin’s knife struck true. It cut Rashaad’s leathery old throat with the ease of cutting soft cheese. The old man fell backward, spilling a sheet of bright blood onto the pale blue of his robes. His white beard bloomed red.
Umar guided him back, so that Rashaad began to choke on his blood. He crawled and clawed at his neck. But he was old and physically weak. He died with a short gasp, bleeding onto the carpet beside his dead boy.
“Well, that was fulfilling,” Kalim said. “Now, let’s see how my brother or his tiresome servants can interfere with me.”
Umar wiped his knife on Rashaad’s sleeve. He then ducked his head out of the tent, and beckoned in Kalim’s loyalest men. He had few left these days. But the three than entered had been with him since they were all boys. Had Kalim been born to another father, he might have been friends with them. But he was above their station. He was above everyone.
The soldiers sneered at the two corpses lying before his throne. Umar and the bodyguards still remained with their weapons ready, but lowered.
“I have ruined a fine carpet today,” Kalim said. “It is unfortunate, but as you see Rashaad al-Bashar has fallen in battle. He was a brave man, leading from the front. His men had warned him against it, of course, but he was filled with such passion to win Pozzallo for his beloved Prince Ahmad. Such a shame.”
The soldiers smiled and nodded. Umar’s expression could not be read behind his mask. Kalim guessed nothing meant anything to the assassin except gold. His dead black eyes showed no emotion. A perfect killer. Perhaps he would keep this one around. There would be real gold to share once Pozzallo fell.
“You three all know the plan. I will present you to the men this morning. Rashaad’s fate will remain a mystery until this is all finished. Tonight, you three will lead the attack on Pozzallo. The moon will be bright, and we may be seen unless the men take care.”
One of the three bowed low. He had a round head and a small scar by his left eye.
“Your Majesty, we will ensure the men sheath their weapons and daub their exposed metal with mud. Their faces will be covered. But two hundred men cannot move so close to the walls and remain unseen. Not without magic or trenches to conceal them.”
“You’ll have neither,” Kalim said. “But in some ways you will have magic. Umar will provide it.”
“Your Majesty.” The assassin bowed. His voice was rich and melodious. Kalim expected he must be a wonderful singer. Such a strange thing for so evil a man. But even Satan must fill his court with entertainers.
“I will open the gates. I assure you.”
The soldiers looked on skeptically. Kalim smiled patiently.
“Yes, you must wonder how this will be done. Why has not my dear brother done the same for his sieges? Indeed, why has not every siege in history been concluded so eas
ily? Well, Pozzallo is already a wounded deer hiding in a thicket and hoping to die unseen. They are in chaos and had we been luckier yesterday they would’ve fallen. But I was not in charge yesterday.”
“Your Majesty,” one of the soldiers said. “Opening the gates is no mean trick. There is a portcullis and barred doors. One man alone cannot do all this unseen. The Byzantines are weak, but they are not blind.”
“Of course not! But they are few and they are fractured. And we have Umar. Once he is inside, he will have assistance.”
“You mean there are still those who would work with us?” The soldiers looked on hopefully.
“While there might be, we cannot depend upon it. By now the Byzantines have rooted out the disloyal. No, Umar will enlist the aid of the Norsemen. They will open the gates and deliver themselves to me. You will simply need to rush inside and kill any who resist. Set fires. Do what you soldiers do whenever you capture a fortress. I don’t care for the details.”
The soldiers looked between themselves, then to Umar who stood rigid with his blood-stained dagger at his side.
“Please,” Kalim said. “Do not worry for the gates. They will open for you. Umar is an expert.”
The assassin inclined his head. He then addressed the three soldiers.
“I came to Licata specifically to serve Prince Kalim, for I know Pozzallo better than the men inside. My family has a long history with it. I thought His Majesty could use my skills, and it seems I was not mistaken. As for how I will gain the Norsemen’s cooperation, it should be obvious. They risked so much for one woman. I will ransom her life for their help. They will open the gates or else she will die.”
“Simple and effective,” Kalim said. “A plan too complex never succeeds. That yellow-haired whore thinks she has been saved. But tonight she will feel the cold touch of a blade across her neck. And if her friends disobey Umar, then she will die.”
“But if they would sacrifice her? The plan would fail and we will be exposed before sealed gates.” The soldiers still seemed unconvinced. Kalim released a long sigh.
“Don’t believe they are so far-thinking. But supposing they are. In that case, you will not reveal yourselves and the girl dies along with all the others. We have lost nothing, except my payment to Umar, of course.”
The soldiers laughed. The one with the scar by his eye studied Umar.
“I doubt you can kill all those enraged Norsemen yourself. You’re better off running back over the wall if you fail.”
“I will not fail,” Umar said. Then, behind his mask, his emotionless eyes creased with what must have been a smile.
Kalim joined the assassin in his wicked grin. Victory was hours away.
26
Captain Alexius sneered as his veteran aide rose from the bench to fulfill his orders to take Yngvar prisoner. Though Nordbert and his Franks did not understand the captain’s words, they understood the threat. Benches flipped and tables shoved aside. Hands reached for swords.
Gyna, who had gotten her translation from Alasdair, screeched and drew her dagger.
“I’ll cut the heart out of that ungrateful bastard.”
Yngvar raised both hands to each side, Byzantine and his followers.
Both sides paused, but neither side took their hands from their weapons. He nodded to Alasdair and Ragnar to explain his words to the others. He turned to Captain Alexius.
“If you do not trust me, then I will gladly be your hostage. If I have deceived you in any way, then I offer you my neck.”
Alexius glared at him. His tired eyes searched Yngvar’s face. He could tell the captain wanted to believe he had some hope to salvage Pozzallo, even if just long enough for the battle at Messina to decide his fate. But his doubts fought back. His expressions shifted like a pennant on a high mast.
“That’s madness,” Gyna shouted. “They’ll find any excuse to kill you. You can’t trust them.”
“Lord,” Alasdair said. “She could be right about this.”
“Of course I’m right. Am I ever wrong?”
Yngvar glanced away from Alexius to frown at Gyna.
“There’s not enough time to count how often you’ve been wrong. But I know the dangers.”
“What are you talking about?” Alexius snapped.
“They’re planning how to turn this against us,” the veteran shouted. He had been the first and only one to actually draw his short sword. “You can’t trust Norsemen.”
Yngvar lowered both hands, placing one over the back of his neck. He shook his head.
“Captain, I have been honest with you. I have withheld nothing from you. This is a chance you cannot fail to take. If it eases your fears to keep me by your side, then I accept it. I ask only that once I have proved good faith that you release me to attack Licata and have my revenge on Prince Kalim.”
“The Norsemen is a liar,” the veteran shouted. “He’s working for the prince just as he always has.”
“They’ll cut your throat,” Gyna shouted back. “Doesn’t matter what you do. All Byzantines are liars.”
“Someone has to extend trust,” Yngvar said to the captain. “Follow this plan and you will have victory. If I am lying, then I am committing myself to death at your hands. Would I do that?”
The captain’s tired face seemed as if it might collapse. He began to shake his head in denial.
“Commander Staurakius trusted him.”
Valgerd spoke up. Though she had been no more than a slave, since the commander’s death she had transcended her former status. Even the soldiers had recognized it. She had never been a true slave, but a trusted companion of their leader. Now, when she spoke, she summoned the ghost of his authority. No one disputed her assertion. She stepped beside Yngvar, her clothes muddied and her hair lusterless and matted. But she held herself like a queen.
“He and Alasdair saved the commander’s life. He valued their company. He wanted to learn more about the Norse way of fighting. He wanted a way to confuse and trick the Arabs with something they had never seen before. This is your chance to fulfill the commander’s hopes.”
Some stirred to oppose Valgerd, but Captain Alexius waved down his men. He stared at her and drew a long breath.
“He wrote as much in his journal. He hoped to find some means to break the long stalemate, and thought the Norsemen’s ideas might be foreign enough to confuse the Arabs. But that doesn’t make them innocent. They confessed to working for Kalim once when it was to their benefit. Now, it would be even more beneficial to work for him.”
“Sir, that is exactly it,” the veteran said hopefully. “They only work for their benefit.”
“We all do,” Alexius said. “I am tired and I’ve no wish to fight amongst ourselves. There are too few of us. The more divided we become the faster we will fall. I agree to your plan, Yngvar. But you will remain my hostage. You’ll surrender your weapons. If all is as you say, then they’ll be returned and you will be free to chase your revenge to Licata.”
“That’s an outrage,” Gyna shouted. “He shouldn’t have to do this.”
“My companions will remain armed,” Yngvar said, waving Gyna to silence.
“Of course,” Alexius said. “There’s not enough of us to hold up without them.”
“Then it is agreed.” Yngvar slipped off his sword and removed his dagger. He offered them to Alexius, who blinked at them before accepting. He handed them off to another of his officers.
“Keep them safe,” Yngvar said. “For I will need them soon.”
The tension fled the room. The officers, if that is what they were, sank back to their benches. Nordbert and his Franks folded their arms, dissatisfied but not hostile. Gyna alone had turned her back and spoke quietly to her nephew, Ewald. Alasdair joined him and Valgerd.
“Lord, that veteran will try to kill you. I will shadow him. I am sure that he won’t hesitate to act this night, and I will stop him if he tries.”
“I fear you’re right. But do not act too rashly. Be certain of his i
ntent or else we will seem as guilty as they believe us to be.”
Alasdair nodded, then turned to Valgerd. “Thank you for speaking up when you did. I think the soldiers miss the commander’s strength. You knew exactly what to say.”
She blushed and lowered her head. “You should rest tonight.”
“If I rest tonight, I fear the worst will happen. I must follow Alexius’s aide and be certain he does not act against us.”
Yngvar smiled at the two and thought of what a good match they made. He would have encouraged Alasdair to spend the night reuniting with her, but Alexius stepped in between.
“We will be bunkmates, it seems.” The hostility was gone from his face, replaced with a deathlike mask of exhaustion. “After your last few days, you will be as tired as me. Let’s get rest.”
“Hamar,” Yngvar called out to his men as he turned to follow the captain. “Be sure to keep repairs going on our ship. It must be ready soon. Work with One-Eye as well. We will need speed to catch Kalim.”
Square-faced Hamar waved in acknowledgement. He and Nordbert watched him leave.
Outside the night was comfortable. The bright moon filled the parade ground with silvery light. The captain led him back to the fort, where he maintained a spare barracks on the first floor. Only a half-dozen men slept there. Yngvar was instructed to sleep on the top bunk and Alexius took the bottom.
Sleep came easily.
The next day Yngvar rose with the captain. He was told to remain under guard in the fort while Alexius went about his duties. Yngvar was grateful to accept guilt-free relaxation. Alasdair visited him twice with food, the second time arriving with Valgerd and Lucas the Byzantine. Only two guards rested in the fort barracks, and neither wanted to rouse from their sleep to address the arrivals. They simply lifted their heads and set them down again in unspoken acceptance.
“Lord, you seem refreshed. The ship repairs are nearly done. Hamar says he has to help One-Eye more. The sailors all seem to get along, much better than the soldiers do with us.”
“The sea joins men by their hearts,” Yngvar said. “Can’t expect men who sit behind walls to understand us. Now, what else have you seen? Anything from Kalim’s camp? Today he would’ve learned Valgerd has escaped.”
The Red Oath Page 25
