The Black Sheep

by Peter Darman

  Timothy nodded. ‘Then may I ask how you intend to evict them from Anatolia?’

  Michael gave him a sly smile, his brown eyes narrowing.

  ‘Mercenaries fight for pay, lord treasurer, so we must dangle a great sum before their eyes to entice them away from their lair. I want you to scour the city for any source of untapped revenue, and that includes any obscure taxes that have lapsed. I will order General Mouzalon to raid Turkish territory to capture slaves, which can be sold to raise money. He and his men might as well do something aside from sitting on their arses.’

  *****

  The winter was mercifully milder than the preceding one. The mountains and highland areas were still covered with crisp, white snow, but the winds were gentle and the valleys were mostly free of frosts. The Catalan Company settled into the role of occupiers of Anaia and the surrounding area. Bayezid Islam, cunning individual that he was, sent emissaries to the city to discuss the continuation of trade between Ephesus Neopolis and Anaia. Grand Duke Roger, eager to administer a prosperous and peaceful city rather than a beleaguered metropolis, readily agreed. For his part, Bayezid Islam realised supplies transiting through his port to Anaia would fill his coffers. He promised the grand duke’s ships would be able to come and go freely without being molested, subject to the usual docking fees. And should the Catalan Company wish to leave Anaia and journey overseas, he would gladly make Ephesus Neopolis available, again subject to a prior agreed fee.

  For Luca, the winter months were an opportunity to get to know Ayna more intimately. Not physical intimacy, for the preceding winter had provided ample chances to explore each other’s bodies. Then Ayna had a rudimentary knowledge of Luca’s language. Now she excelled in her linguistic expertise. Every morning, Luca was called to the colours to undertake training. Either route marches over the hills behind Anaia or in the valley in which it sat, plus weapons’ drills, which included javelin throwing and swordplay.

  Training areas were established outside the city where straw targets were arranged in rows and files to replicate enemy troop formations. Other areas were reserved for mounted exercises, in which Bernat’s horsemen practised their charges and how to integrate lancers with Melek’s horse archers. In the afternoons, Almogavars were free to return to the targets to hone their skills still further, though not if they had been assigned sentry duties. Many chose to do so, turning the training grounds into areas of constant activity from dawn till dusk.

  Hector held the spear in front of him. The weapon was for practise, having a blunt end instead of a metal point. But in the right hands it could still inflict a nasty bruise, or worse, on an opponent.

  ‘The point of the spear is fast and lethal,’ he said to Ayna, ignoring Luca armed with a sword and shield nearby.

  Like many among the Almogavars, Hector had been intrigued by the rise of Luca Baldi, who had saved the life of a Roman princess, seamlessly integrated into the ranks of the Almogavars, and had been responsible for recruiting Muslim horse archers into the Catalan Company. He was viewed by many as a lucky mascot, though Father Ramon believed him to be nothing more than a heretical influence, especially as he taken a Muslim as a lover. That lover now smiled at Hector as the captain showed her how to wield a spear two-handed.

  ‘Now, Ayna,’ said Hector, ‘you and your heathen barbarians fought at the wall and were soundly beaten. Do you know why?’

  ‘Because you used sorcery against us,’ she replied instantly.

  He gave her a mischievous grin.

  ‘No, it is because you had no discipline and did not know how to use your weapons correctly. Luca, attack me.’

  To reduce the likelihood of injury, Luca was wearing a padded jerkin, which together with his battle experience and youth, made him confident he could overcome the Almogavar captain. He knew a sudden charge by a swordsman stood a good chance of success against a spearman, so he sprang forward. But Hector was too fast, stepping forward and jabbing the end of the spear at Luca’s face, who instinctively brought up his shield to block the blow. But it was a feint and Hector delivered the real strike low, hitting Luca in the chest.

  ‘Again,’ commanded Hector.

  Luca tried to close with his opponent but getting near to a man expert at wielding an eight-foot spear with both hands is difficult. Hector jabbed repeatedly at Luca’s chest, face, groin and knees, taunting him with his smile, forcing the Italian to make increasingly desperate attacks. Eventually, Luca, who had been holding his shield directly in front of him, allowed it to swing off to the left, giving Hector his chance. The captain delivered what would have been a fatal blow to Luca’s belly, which winded the young Almogavar.

  ‘The spear can overcome a sword and shield if used correctly,’ Hector said to Ayna.

  Luca down on one knee, trying to catch his breath, wondered how he had lost. Hector helped him to his feet.

  ‘Using a spear one-handed with a shield, though,’ continued Hector, ‘slows you down, which can be lethal in battle.’

  Ayna pointed to Luca’s shield. ‘But you use a shield.’

  ‘Only as a last resort in a battle. Mostly, it is slung on the back as a defence against arrows, and sword, axe and spear strikes.’

  ‘I want Luca to teach me how to throw a spear and javelin,’ she said.

  Hector wagged a finger at her. ‘We don’t throw spears because the spear is your main weapon in battle, against both horse and foot. We throw javelins. I’m sure Luca can teach you how to throw one, as he had the best instructor to show him how.’

  Who?’ asked Ayna.

  ‘Me,’ he beamed. ‘Well, you stay here so Luca can teach you the rudiments of the javelin. I have to attend a meeting of the captains.’

  He tipped his head at Ayna and sauntered off, training spear on his shoulder.

  ‘He likes you,’ Ayna said to Luca.

  He walked over and kissed her on the lips.

  ‘What’s not to like?’

  She rolled her eyes.

  ‘You have never talked about why you were in the ranks of the enemy at the wall,’ he said.

  Her eyes became pools of sadness.

  ‘You never asked me.’

  ‘I am asking you now. If you do not want to tell me, I will understand.’

  She stared into the distance, towards the snow-covered hills behind Anaia.

  ‘My family is from Baghdad, or was.’

  She looked at Luca, who wore a quizzical expression.

  ‘Baghdad was once a great city in the east, a centre of learning and culture.’

  ‘Was?’ he said.

  ‘The Mongols, a barbarous people from a land far to the east, attacked and captured it. They massacred most of the population and destroyed all the great libraries in the city. By the will of Allah, my father, a librarian, had been sent on a mission to translate some ancient manuscripts in the city of Caesarea, to the west of Baghdad. He escaped the massacre.’

  ‘That was lucky.’

  ‘It was the will of Allah,’ she said forcefully. ‘He met my mother in Caesarea and continued with his work, but the Mongols are a godless people and forbade the worship of Allah in their lands. But my parents continued to follow the true faith in secret.’

  She sighed. ‘I grew up in the shadow of the Mongols, their ruler suddenly declaring his intention to follow Islam. My father was overjoyed and attended a gathering in the city square of all those who were also Muslims, lured there on the promise of finally being able to practise their faith openly.’

  The sadness returned to her eyes. ‘But the Mongols are false Muslims and demanded all those in the square swear allegiance to the khan, their leader, first and Allah second. All those who refused were murdered.’

  ‘Your father was one of those killed?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said softly. ‘The Mongols gave my mother his head as a reminder of what happens when anyone questioned their authority. After that she started to lose her mind and so, fearing for her safety, I took her away from Caesarea and we fled to
the land of the Turcomans.’

  ‘Where is your mother now?’

  Her head dropped. ‘When the spirit is dead, the body soon follows, Luca. I believe she died from grief. After her death, I wandered eastern Anatolia, thieving food and sleeping in forests, until I came across the camp of a man descended from the Prophet Himself.’

  ‘Who’s the Prophet?’ asked Luca.

  She gave him a wan smile. ‘It does not matter now. Suffice to say, he and his followers welcomed me. They clothed me, fed me and gave me weapons to fight for Allah. When he led us to the Artake Peninsula, the rest you know.’

  He took her hand. ‘I am glad your prophet led you to me.’

  ‘He was not the Prophet, Luca.’

  She was about to tell him the story of Muhammad, the true Prophet, but thought it would just confuse him.

  ‘The point is, Luca, I will not give up my faith because your priests command it.’

  He laughed. ‘They are not my priests, Ayna. You are free to go.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You are not my slave, Ayna, and if you wish to leave, though it would break me into a thousand pieces, then I will give you money to allow you to go back to your people.’

  She cupped his ashen face. ‘You are my people now. You, Jordi, Carla and Chana. Even Sancho, though he is like an angry viper. So, I will stay, and you will teach me how to use a spear and throw a javelin.’

  Chapter 23

  What use are mercenaries with no battles to fight, no enemies to butcher and no lands to conquer? The Catalan Company was based in a land that was now at peace, its depleted and wary enemy locked behind high stone walls, the valleys and hills bereft of the mounted raiders that had previously cowered the inhabitants of beleaguered Tire and Philadelphia. The only horsemen at large in the winter landscape were Bernat de Rocafort’s Catalans and the Roman horsemen of Philadelphia. The Almogavars trained and prepared… for what? The outbreak of peace might have been welcome in Constantinople, but a lengthy cessation of hostilities meant potential disaster for the Catalan Company. How would thousands of mercenaries subsist with no wars to fight?

  Fortunately, there is always someone to fight, and in the spring the news the Roman emperor had need of the company against the Bulgarians was greeted with relief and joy in Anaia. The Almogavar council reminded Grand Duke Roger that the Romans had been unreliable employers in the past, but a voyage made by the commander of the company to Constantinople in late winter, during which the emperor proved his sincerity by displaying to him chests filled with gold, which were promised to the Catalans, was enough to convince the mercenaries of the Romans’ good faith.

  It was early March when the whole Catalan Company marched out of Anaia, dozens of Catalan banners flying among their ranks, the children and some of the women riding in wagons in the middle of the column. Grand Duke Roger had sent word to Philadelphia that the company was quitting Anatolia, which was greeted with dismay by the city’s residents. The new governor, the son of Count Komnenos, sent a detachment of horse and foot to Anaia to provide the nucleus of the new garrison. In truth, though, he had neither the resources nor resolution to adequately replace the more than six thousand mercenaries that had held Anaia for several months. Everyone knew, though none would say it, that Anaia would fall to the Turks sooner rather than later.

  The air was crisp, the day bright but chilly, as the Almogavars tramped through the valley towards the port of Ephesus Neopolis, which would be the point of embarkation for the company. Commercial intercourse between the port and Anaia had carried on almost uninterrupted during the winter months, the Catalans purchasing food and supplies from the Turkish town. Grand Duke Roger had toyed with the idea of marching overland to the Artake Peninsula, and from there using his ships to transport the company to the city of Kallipolis on the Gallipoli Peninsula, where the company would prepare for the war against the Bulgarians. Such a route would entail retracing the company’s march to Philadelphia via Soma, which risked being attacked by the forces of both Mehmed Bey and Karesi Bey. However, when the former learned from his spies in Constantinople, who were nothing more than merchants with the ear of the authorities, the Catalans were leaving, he sent orders to Bayezid Islam to make Ephesus Neopolis available to Grand Duke Roger. He sent emissaries to Anaia to report to the relative of the emperor the same, the governor of the port himself more than willing to assist the Christian mercenaries once more. For a price. For his part, Mehmed Bey wanted to do everything in his power to get rid of the Catalans. He could not defeat them on the battlefield, but he could speed them on their way. Roger accepted the offer for the Almogavars and their servants and dependents, though the horsemen of Bernat and Melek would ride north to Artake, it being a major and time-consuming logistical exercise to transport hundreds of horses by ship.

  ‘Where is this Gallipoli Peninsula, father?’ asked Jordi, beside him the delightful Chana, her long black hair shining in the morning sun.

  ‘West of Artake,’ Sancho told him, his wife walking beside him. ‘But we will not be staying there for long. From there we will march north to fight the Bulgarians.’

  ‘Who are they?’ asked Luca, spear in hand, javelins in his quiver.

  Ayna also carried a javelin, having improved her proficiency with the weapon. Carla and Chana also carried weapons, it being an Almogavar custom for their women to be trained in their use. From bitter experience in Sicily, the Catalans had learned they could only rely on themselves in times of war, and peace for that matter.

  ‘The Bulgarians are a threat to the Romans in Thrace,’ said Sancho, ‘and have inflicted several defeats on them in recent years, including one suffered by Co-Emperor Michael himself last year.’

  ‘Let us hope his father pays us fully this time,’ remarked Carla.

  ‘If he does not, we will march on Constantinople itself,’ threatened Sancho. ‘But Roger has seen the gold we will receive, so I anticipate no difficulties.’

  ‘Do you trust the Roman emperor, lord?’ asked Ayna.

  ‘Trust is an expensive commodity,’ he told her. ‘Take a look behind you. I do not need to trust anyone when I have five thousand of the best soldiers in the world to call on, to say nothing of Bernat’s horsemen.’

  ‘And Melek’s riders?’ said Ayna mischievously.

  Sancho shrugged. ‘Them, too.’

  He looked at Chana. ‘I have no issue with Muslims, or Jews, fighting alongside us as long as they are loyal.’

  ‘Bayezid Islam is not to be trusted,’ said Chana in faltering Catalan. ‘He is a fat rapist.’

  Luca was shocked by her words but the venom in Chana’s voice told him her accusation was true. He looked at his friend, who was quaking with anger.

  ‘If there is to be an exchange of hostages, father, I wish to be one, as before.’

  ‘That will not be happening,’ said Sancho, ‘even though I would gladly gut that fat governor with my own knife. But sometimes, son, the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.’

  Jordi was kept well away from the governor’s castle when the Almogavars reached Ephesus Neopolis, and he and Luca were on the first galley to leave the port.

  The voyage to Kallipolis was a delight. The sea was a glittering blue and the gentle spring breezes ensured the hops between islands were smooth and uneventful. After leaving Ephesus Neopolis, the fleet headed north to the Roman island of Chios, a place blessed with many coves and beaches only accessible from the sea. This meant the company, its dependents and the sailors could put ashore each evening safe in the knowledge they would not be attacked by bandits. Chios was nominally under the control of the Roman emperor, but the reality was he had too few soldiers to adequately garrison the many islands he still possessed in the Aegean. The sea was a playground for pirates, but they stayed clear of such a large and powerful fleet, and so the only ships the Catalans saw were trading vessels and the occasional war galley out of Constantinople.

  From Chios the fleet kept on voyaging north to the islan
d of Lesvos, a lush, green place full of fruit trees that the company helped itself to. In addition to the vineyards and olive groves, most of which were abandoned as a consequence of waning Roman power in the Aegean, there were expanses of oak, pine and walnut forests. From there, the fleet sailed north to the west coast of what was now the Karesi Emirate, which meant the majority of the women and children slept on the decks of the ships during the overnight stay. Patrols were mounted up to two or more miles inland from the beach, other parties refilling water bottles from the streams and springs in the area. But Turkish activity was conspicuous by its absence and so the next morning, just after dawn, the ships weighed anchor and set sail for the Hellespont, the narrow channel separating the Anatolian mainland from the Gallipoli Peninsula, which gave access from the Aegean to the Sea of Marmara. Because the strong currents and winds are predominantly from the northwest in the afternoons, the fleet had to wait until early morning to enter the narrows.

  The Hellespont was full of vessels, most being Egyptian grain ships taking their cargoes to Constantinople to feed its population. But there were also Roman dromons patrolling the passage, complete with terrible tubular weapons that shot fire that could incinerate enemy ships and their crews. The Hellespont was of strategic importance to the very survival of the emperor’s capital, and so his naval resources were directed towards keeping the Hellespont free of threats. For the first time since he had stepped foot on Roman soil, Luca was impressed by the display of the emperor’s military power.

  He sat on the deck of the Catalan dromon as a southerly wind filled her sails to propel her and the others in Grand Duke Roger’s fleet towards the port of Kallipolis. With him were Ayna, Jordi and Chana, around them dozens of other Almogavars and their families. The ships were packed to the gunnels, though with favourable winds and the calm seas it had enjoyed thus far, the fleet only spent around ten hours at most in the water daily. The rest of the time was spent ashore, resting and gathering food and water for the next leg of the journey.