Ironhand

by Hilary Green

  The fortunes of the match went first one way, then another. There seemed to be no set time limit, no pause for rest. The Blues scored the first goal; then the Greens scored two. At last Ranulph saw the opportunity he had been waiting for. A careless stroke sent the ball out wide in his direction. He squeezed Storm with his legs but instead of responding the little horse put his head down and bucked violently. Unprepared, Ranulph found himself flying through the air. He hit the ground with a thud that shook every bone in his body and left him dizzy and breathless. He dragged himself to his knees in time to see Jacopo charging towards him, whirling his club, clearly intending to strike him. Instinct made him gather his legs underneath him and when Jacopo was almost on top of him he ducked under the swinging club and grabbed him by the ankle. Phoenix helped by shying in the opposite direction and it was Jacopo's turn to fly out of the saddle. His head struck the ground with an audible crack. Without waiting to see the consequences, Ranulph staggered to his feet and gazed around him. Storm had vanished, well on his way back to his stable, but Phoenix had come to a standstill and was surveying the chaos of men and horses with flaring nostrils. As Ranulph watched, the stallion raised his head and gave a shrill neigh, challenging all comers; then he turned and began to gallop straight towards him. He stood his ground and as the horse reached him he grabbed the pommel of the saddle and vaulted onto his back. A perfect remount! It flashed through his mind that Leofric would have been proud of him. He gathered up the reins, but kept them loose and used his legs to turn the stallion back into the game, which had continued to surge past them uninterrupted by the small drama. As he did so, the ball came loose again and he sent the stallion galloping after it, realising too late that he had lost his club when he fell. Two members of the green team were rapidly converging on the ball. Ranulph forced his mount between them, then with a shove of his right leg pushed Phoenix sideways so that he cannoned into the horse on his left. As the rider yelled a protest Ranulph leaned over and wrested the club from his hand. Then he deliberately jabbed his spurs into the stallion's right flank. Phoenix reacted exactly as he expected. He swung his hind quarters away and bucked, kicking out with his back legs. His hooves struck the second opponent's mount in the ribs and it veered away with a squeal of pain. For a moment Ranulph had an uninterrupted sight of the ball. He swung his club. There was a satisfying thwack and the ball hurtled between the enemy goal posts.

  The scores were even, two all, and a minute later Nikko made it three for the Blues. Very soon after that, to Ranulph's intense relief, the trumpets sounded for the end of the game. He looked around for Jacopo, but there was no sign of him. As he rode off the field he was surrounded by the members of his crew, Beppo at their forefront, all eager to congratulate him, and his team mates crowded round as well, thumping him on the shoulders and thanking him for his efforts. His pleasure was clouded, however, by a nagging anxiety. Did he have another death on his conscience?

  As he unsaddled Phoenix he asked those nearby, 'What happened to the Venetian? I didn't see.'

  'Him?' someone responded. 'They carried him off, unconscious or dead, not sure which.'

  'Not dead,' someone else said. 'I heard them say he had come round. He'll have a sore head, though, and serve him right. That was a clever move of yours, Ranulph. Where did you learn a trick like that?'

  'On the battle field,' Ranulph replied grimly. 'Has anybody seen Storm?'

  Nikko turned from talking to one of the stable boys. 'He's all right, but I think we can see what was wrong with the poor beast. Look.'

  He showed Ranulph a horse's bit. A piece of stiff wire had been wound around it, so that the sharp ends would have dug into the horse's tongue as soon as any pressure was exerted on the reins.

  'That little bastard!' Ranulph exclaimed. 'I saw him fiddling with the bridle.'

  'Who was it? He needs to be punished.'

  Ranulph shook his head. 'He's not to blame. He will have been acting on orders, and I know whose. There's nothing we can do about it.'

  That evening the strategos gave a feast for both teams and their families. Entering the hall, Ranulph was not surprised when Viviana cast a look like a poisoned dart in his direction and then turned her back on him. The strategos had taxed the resources of his cooks to the utmost to provide a memorable meal and it was more elaborate even than the feast they had been given on their arrival. There was a boar's head, served with the tusks wrapped in gold foil and accompanied by a spicy sauce. There were huge pies, their crusts gilded and crenellated like castle battlements, filled with all sorts of game; and fowl of all sorts stuffed with ingredients he could not name. Again and again he found himself sampling sauces flavoured with spices he had never tasted and whose names he only knew from the contents of Beppo's warehouse.

  There were no further summonses to Viviana's bedchamber and over the next days Ranulph found himself reverting to the position of scribe, making lists of supplies, checking their delivery, calculating costs of materials to make good the damage to the galley. Sooner than he thought possible the repairs were finished and they were ready to sail.

  Beppo slapped him on the shoulder.'Well, lad, thanks to your efforts on the tzykanion field we shall be away well before the Venetians and in Antioch while they are still detained in Cyprus.' He cocked an eyebrow. 'You won't be broken hearted to say farewell to your mistress?'

  Ranulph shook his head. 'No more than she will to say farewell to me.'

  'Well, I can offer you some consolation, anyway. You deserve to reap a reward for what you did. If we make a good profit on this voyage, one tenth of it will be yours. You have my word on it.'

  On the morning of their departure they waited on the strategos to say goodbye and thank him for his hospitality. While Beppo was making his farewells to other members of the court, Laskaris drew Ranulph aside. 'A word of warning. You have made a dangerous enemy. She does not forget, or forgive, and her reach is long. Do not assume you are safe once you leave here.'

  19.

  Alexandria. 1087.

  'I see it! I see it! The pharos!'

  The lookout's shout brought Ranulph to his feet. Beppo came up from the small cabin beneath the aftcastle. 'Come here. There's something you should see.'

  They made their way forward to stand at the prow of the ship.

  'Look! That is your first sight of one of the wonders of the world.'

  Ranulph screwed up his eyes and saw a flash of light which seemed to come from a finger of stone rising out of the ocean.

  'What is doing that?'

  'That, lad, is the pharos of Alexandria, the tallest building in the world and it has stood there for more centuries than a man can count.'

  'Where does the light come from?'

  'There is a mirror at the top, which reflects the sunlight. At night a fire is lit, so that ships can find their way safely into the harbour.'

  Two years had passed since Ranulph first agreed to sail with Beppo, but this was his first visit to Egypt. As the word spread that the lighthouse had been sighted the rowers responded with a cheer and the galley surged forwards. Ranulph watched as the finger grew into a tower that seemed to reach the sky. It was composed of three tiers. The first tier was square, the second octagonal and the third round. It stood on a rocky platform and was built of stone that glowed in the sunlight.

  They rounded the end of the mole connecting the island of the pharos to the mainland and came into the eastern harbour and Ranulph caught his breath at the sight of the city stretched along the waterfront. Buildings of all shapes and sizes crowded the view. There were domes and pillars and the strange slender towers he had learned to call minarets. The wide quays were alive with people and heaped with goods. A small boat was already heading towards them and within a few minutes three men in long striped robes and turbans were climbing on board.

  'The hakim's men,' Beppo explained. 'He is in charge of regulating trade in the city. They will want to inspect the cargo and levy the tax. It will be extortionate, but we hav
e to pay it.'

  While Beppo dealt with the officials, Ranulph leaned on the rail, watching the comings and goings of boats in the harbour. There was a galley flying the flag of Genoa moored a short distance away and he gave a grunt of annoyance. That meant they were not the first to arrive and there would be competition for the spices they were hoping to buy. Small boats flitted between the larger vessels, ferrying passengers from one side of the harbour to the other, and Ranulph's attention was drawn to one which was passing quite close to the Santa Christina. It contained a man and a small boy, about five or six years old as near as he could guess. The boy was standing up, waving excitedly to someone on the quay. Ranulph straightened up.

  'That child is going to end up in the water, if someone doesn't make him sit down,' he remarked to the sailing master, who was standing nearby.

  A second later he was proved right. The wash from a larger vessel rocked the little boat and with a yell of terror and a flailing of arms the little boy overbalanced and fell into the sea. The man with him rushed to the side and attempted to reach him, but the child had already disappeared under the surface and his efforts only served to make the boat rock more wildly. The two rowers began shouting and one of them thrust out an oar in the direction of the place where the child had disappeared. The small head surfaced briefly but the child made no attempt to grab the oar.

  'In Christ's name! Why don't they go in after him!' Ranulph exclaimed.

  'Can't swim, probably,' Fernando responded laconically.

  Ranulph swore and began undoing his belt. He had put on good clothes in anticipation of their arrival in a new port and was wearing a tunic of fine linen, embroidered at hem and sleeves; and his boots were of red Castilian leather. He had no wish to get them wet. Beppo had kept his word on their return from that first voyage and in the two years since trade had been equally good. Ranulph was no longer the humble scribe and bodyguard, but second in command; and richer than he had ever imagined possible.

  'Hey, what do you think you're doing?' the sailing master exclaimed.

  Ranulph was already stripping off his tunic and kicking off his boots. He poised himself for a second on the rail and then dived. He came up for breath and dived again, forcing himself to open his eyes against the sting of the salt. The water of the harbour was clogged with rubbish and it was hard to distinguish the small figure he was searching for from the other debris, but just as his lungs were bursting he saw him. He surfaced, took a breath and dived again and this time his hand closed on the stuff of the child's robe. He struck out for the surface, dragging the boy with him, and came up a few feet from the rowing boat. The man was leaning out, crying out an appeal in which Ranulph distinguished the one word 'Allah', his face streaked with tears; but as Ranulph appeared with the boy clasped in one arm his expression was transformed into one of wonder and gratitude. Ranulph swam to the boat and pushed the child up into waiting arms. The man, whom Ranulph assumed to be the father, clasped him to his breast but the little body was limp and unresponsive and the man sent up a fresh wail.

  Ranulph grabbed the side of the boat and hauled himself over the gunwale.

  'Let me have him!'

  With difficulty he prized the child out of his father's arms and turned him upside down, banging his back until a gout of water spouted from his mouth; but the child still was not breathing. Ranuklph laid him on one of the thwarts and, kneeling over him, covered his mouth with his own. He blew and relaxed. blew again, feeling the slight ribs expand in response. He had seen this done once before, but that was to a grown man, and he feared to burst the child's lungs. He tried again and suddenly the child choked and gasped and took in a breath. He handed the shivering child into his father's arms.

  'Wrap him up and keep him warm.'

  He spoke in Greek, which came to him as naturally now as French or Latin. Somewhat to his surprise the reply came in the same language.

  'Forgive me, I don't know who you are, or where you come from, but I should like you to know that you have my eternal gratitude. You have performed a miracle. My son was dead, and now he lives.'

  'No miracle' Ranulph replied. 'I have seen it done before. Take the child home and keep him warm.'

  'I shall. But tell me your name and which ship you came from.'

  'My name is Ranulph. I came off the Amalfitan galley over there – the Santa Christina.'

  'I am Mishal ibn Khalid, and this is Zayd. If you will permit me, I will call on you later to express my thanks properly.'

  'There's really no need,' Ranulph said, then hesitated. A friend in a foreign port could always be useful. 'But please do call if you wish. We shall be at the Amalfitan funduq.' He glanced over his shoulder. Beppo was standing on the deck, gazing in his direction. 'I had better get back or I shall be in trouble with my captain.'

  He stood up and prepared to dive back into the water, but ibn Khalid reached out to stop him. 'Please! The least we can do is row you back.'

  Moments later Ranulph was hauling himself aboard the Santa Christina and turning to wave goodbye to his new acquaintances.

  Beppo stood with his hands on his hips and looked him up and down. 'You can never resist being the hero of the hour, can you?' He grinned suddenly. 'Well done, lad. Come on, get some clothes on. The hakim's men have gone and we've got work to do.'

  The formalities having been been completed, the galley was allotted a place alongside the quay and the business of off-loading the cargo began.

  'Where is our funduq?' Ranulph asked.

  'Close to the spice market.'

  The fundaq was a large, walled compound, with a central courtyard with a well, a warehouse with rooms above and a kitchen. Once the cargo had been stowed they sat in the courtyard and a boy brought them ice-cold sherbet.

  'It's a good job you can swim,' Beppo said. 'I've never asked you who taught you. In my experience most sailors refuse to learn because they consider it to be tempting fate.'

  'Piet Joossens, my first captain. One day a man fell overboard and he went in and fished him out. Then he blew into his mouth until he revived. After that, I asked him to teach me.'

  'And he did?'

  Ranulph smiled at the memory. 'Oh yes. He took me to the stern and threw me in. But we were in shallow water and I found I could touch bottom. Then he came in and showed me what to do, and after that we used to swim quite often, especially when we were in Bordeaux, where the water was warmer. The rest of the crew thought we were mad.' He started and clapped his hands to his ears. 'Oh, no! Not that unearthly caterwauling again. I heard enough of it in Antioch.'

  Beppo chuckled. 'Get used to it. These people may be Egyptians, not Turks, but we're in Moslem territory, just like we were in Antioch. You will hear the call to prayer five times a day as long as we are here.'

  Next morning Beppo took him to the spice bazaar. They returned grim faced. One of the fundaq servants met them as they entered the courtyard.

  'There is a gentleman to see you, sayeed.'

  For a moment Ranulph was puzzled. Then he saw who the visitor was.

  'It's the father of the little boy I saved yesterday.'

  At that moment the Egyptian saw them and came across and Ranulph made the introductions.

  'I hope I have not come at an inopportune moment,' ibn Khalid said, glancing from face to face. 'I wished to convey my thanks for what you did yesterday and to offer you a small gift.'

  He handed Ranulph something wrapped in an embroidered cloth. Inside was a dagger, the handle exquisitely carved into the shape of a coiled serpent, enamelled in green and blue to represent the scales, and with emeralds for eyes.

  Ranulph gasped and swallowed. 'It is beautiful, but I cannot possibly accept such a valuable gift.'

  'How can the value of an object like that compare with the life of my son?' ibn Khalid asked.

  Beppo touched Ranulph's arm and said quietly in Italian, 'You must take it. Not to would be discourteous.'

  Ranulph turned his eyes to ibn Khalid. 'I am happy just
to think that your son is alive. But this gift will remind me always of your generosity. I thank you.'

  Beppo called for sherbet and they sat down in the shade of a palm tree.

  'You are merchants, I assume,' ibn Khalid said. 'Here to buy spices?'

  'That was our intention,' Beppo said, with a return of gloom. 'But it seems that we have been forestalled. The entire cargo of the caravan from Arabia is now in the warehouse of the Genoese.'

  'Now I understand the look on your faces when you came in,' ibn Khalid said. 'I too am a merchant. I understand how it feels to lose an opportunity.'

  'Are you in the spice trade?' Beppo asked hopefully.

  Ibn Khalid shook his head. 'I deal only in textiles.'

  'Textiles?' Beppo's face brightened. 'I have a cargo of top quality woollen cloth from Flanders and fine linen from Champagne.'

  Ibn Khalid smiled.'I thought perhaps that might be so. If you are interested, I am sure we can agree on a price.'

  'No doubt,' Beppo responded non-committally. Ranulph knew he was too wily to make hasty agreements with a stranger; but if ibn Khalid was disappointed he did not show it.

  'Excellent! And do not be too despondent about your return cargo. There is more than one spice caravan. The one that the Genoese have purchased came by ship up the Red Sea; but that is not the only route. Spices are also landed at Jeddah, in the Hejaz, and from there they go overland. At Ayla, on the tip of the Red Sea, the ways divide. Some of the camel train turns west to come here to Alexandria. The rest go on north, to Damascus and Jerusalem.'

  'But some comes here? In that case, we still have a chance.' Beppo smiled. 'Do you have any idea when it might arrive?'

  'Sadly, no. But if I hear anything I will let you know.'