Ironhand

by Hilary Green

  'No! No, I have asked myself that many times. All I wanted to do was to scare him, perhaps to make a laughing stock of him with his crew. I thought he would wake up and somehow bring the ship back to harbour, or that some other vessel would rescue him. I never imagined his death.'

  'In these matters intention is all important. When you fought the duel with the other boy, did you mean to kill him?'

  'No. But he said something... I lost my temper. I didn't know what I was doing.'

  'But you did not intend his death – and in the event you did not kill him. Now, the third matter that concerns you. You say it was your neglect that led to the deaths of your friends?'

  'Yes. If I had not been so blinded by the glamour of being taken up by a man of high rank I would have understood where my true friends were. If I had fought alongside my fellow countrymen, I might have prevented Rosa from being kidnapped – or at the least it would have been me, not Hildred, who went after her.'

  'But it was you who followed and tried to rescue them, at the risk of your own life.'

  'I owed them that, at least.'

  'But you did not at any time intend harm to come to them?'

  'No.'

  'If your conscience is troubled by your behaviour at that time, that is a matter for you to resolve; but I cannot see that you can hold yourself responsible for their deaths. So, am I to understand that because of that first event you have held back from the sacrament of confession and have therefore exiled yourself from Holy Church and from the comfort of Communion?'

  'Yes. I could never bring myself to speak of what was done to me that night.'

  'But the sin was committed by the man who abused you, not by you.'

  'I know, but I was too ashamed to tell anyone.'

  'But now you have told me.'

  'Yes. When I return next summer I am to be married to the lady Mariam. I cannot stand before God's altar and swear my faith to her if I am not in a state of grace.'

  The old man laid his hand on Ranulph's arm. 'Go home, my son. Find a priest, one who you feel able to confide in, and tell him what you have told me. There may be some penance. To my mind you have sinned, not by your actions, but by your lack of faith in the mercy of God and the redeeming blood of Christ. But I cannot believe that the penance will be heavy and you will be able to return cleansed and ready to make your oath with a pure heart. And there is one thing more. You ask how it is that your path has been directed so beneficially. You have come far. You have the gift of tongues, and of healing. You have learned wisdom and gained wealth. Such gifts are not given lightly. God has some purpose for you, which is yet to be revealed. You must wait patiently and be ready when the moment comes. Now go in peace, and God's blessing go with you.'

  The Buonaventura had been loaded with her cargo of silk and provisioned for the voyage home. Now she rode low in the water beside the quay at St Simeon. Dmitri and Firouz and Mariam had come with Ranulph to say farewell and now he walked with her a little way away from the others and took her hands. They had been allowed a little time alone together since Dmitri had agreed to their betrothal, but there had always been someone close at hand and their mutual passion had been forced to find relief in fervent kisses but nothing more. Now they had to part.

  'My dearest,' he said, his voice husky, 'the months will seem long between now and next summer, but they will pass. And as soon as it is possible I will return, and we will be married. I swear that on all I hold dear.'

  She looked up into his eyes. 'You do not need to swear, my love. I know you love me, and I trust you. I shall pray every night that God will keep you safe and bring you back to me. Now go, dearest heart. I do not want to weep as I wave you goodbye.'

  The mountains of Cyprus were floating in the summer haze to the south of the Buonaventura when the sailing master came to Ranulph as he sat under an awning on the aftcastle.

  'Bad news, sir. The water casks have been pierced and we have scarcely a cup of water left for each man.'

  'What?' Ranulph started up. 'Every one of them?'

  'Every one.'

  'By accident,or deliberately?'

  'Deliberately, I think. The holes have been partially plugged so that the loss of water has been gradual, which is why it was not noticed earlier.'

  'While there was still time to turn back,' Ranulph murmured. 'Can we make Modon?'

  'No chance. You know as well as I do that each oarsman requires at least four pints of water every day in this heat.'

  Ranulph looked to the south. 'Then it will have to be Cyprus. Make for the port of Kyrenia.'

  In all his voyages, the one place he had avoided had been Cyprus. He told himself that Viviana must have forgotten her animosity towards him long ago, but even so, he had no wish to encounter her again. As the island grew closer he could only hope that they would be able to find new casks and supplies of water without having to remain in port too long. As they glided into the harbour the westering sun turned the walls of the castle on the point to gold and beyond the clustered houses a range of sharp-toothed mountains enclosed the scene. It was a serene and beautiful place.

  As he expected, their arrival had been noticed and it was not long before the officials in the employ of the emperor's collector of taxes arrived on board. As he explained that they had only called to take on water, he saw a pair of riders gallop out of the town and head north. He was in no doubt that they had been dispatched to announce his arrival to some higher authority. It was, the officials pointed out, too late to start negotiating for new casks that evening. They invited him to accept the hospitality of the town until the following morning.

  Next day he was waiting for his sailing master to return with the new casks when a messenger rode onto the quay and dismounted beside the ship.

  'I have a message for the Kirios Ranulph. May I come aboard?'

  'Come. I am the one you seek. What is your message?'

  'The Lord Philocales, the strategos, has heard of your arrival and is anxious to make your acquaintance. He begs that you will attend him at his castle in Leukousia.'

  The messenger was accompanied by six mounted men-at-arms so Ranulph had little choice but to accept the invitation. Leaving the serjeant who commanded his small force of crossbowmen in charge Ranulph mounted the horse which had been brought for him and followed the messenger up the winding road leading through the mountains and down onto the blistering heat of the central plain. The centre of administration had been moved to Leukousia from coastal Arsinoe, his escort explained, because it was less subject to attacks from pirates..

  The interior of the strategos's castle was laid out much like the palace of Leo Laskaris at Modon and furnished in a similar opulent style. Ranulph was conducted across a colonnaded courtyard and into a great hall, where Philocales rose from a grand chair to greet him. He glanced round the room but, to his great relief, there was no sign of Viviana.

  'I have followed your career with interest,' the strategos remarked, when they had exchanged the preliminary formalities. 'You will remember, I am sure, that you met my wife, the Princess Viviana, a few years ago.'

  'I recall it with great pleasure,' Ranulph responded. 'I trust the princess is in good health?'

  'She is, as far as I know. Regrettably, she is not on the island at present. She is visiting her sister in Venice. I know she would have wished to renew your acquaintance.'

  'As should I,' Ranulph lied smoothly, hoping that his relief did not show on his face.

  Refreshments of sweet wine and cakes were served and they exchanged observations about the political situation and the threat posed by the Turks to the city of Constantinople. Then they spoke of trade, and the strategos showed himself to have a good grasp of the profits and risks involved.

  After a little he said, 'How do you like these little cakes?'

  'They are delicious,' Ranulph replied. 'Would I be correct in guessing that they are sweetened not with honey but with this substance some call sweet salt?'

  'With sugar, p
recisely,' Philocales agreed. 'You are perceptive. Perhaps you know that we are experimenting here on Cyprus with growing and processing the product?'

  'I had heard rumours of it.'

  'It is on a small scale at the moment, of course. But we hope in time to be able to produce enough to export. And when that time comes, of course, we shall be looking for a partner who will transport and market it. Would you interested in seeing how it is done?'

  Scenting a new market opening up, Ranulph agreed readily and the strategos arranged for one of his stewards to take him to the plantation the following day.

  Crossing the courtyard on his way to bed Ranulph's mind was busy. So, was this why he had been brought here? He was in no doubt that the holing of the water casks had been done expressly to ensure that he had to put into port on the island. If he was being offered a share in this new market it could be very profitable indeed. For a moment he wondered if he had been mistaken about Viviana's feelings towards him. Was it possible that, rather than seeking revenge for his act of disobedience, she actually cherished warm memories of the pleasure they had enjoyed together and wanted to reward him?

  His reverie was interrupted by a flicker of movement at the edge of his vision. He turned and glimpsed the figure of a woman disappearing round a corner. He stopped short, stifling an exclamation. It was, he was almost sure, Aurelia, Viviana's waiting woman and confidante. And what was she doing here, if her mistress was in Venice?

  'Sir?' The attendant who was escorting him was waiting.

  'That lady, who was over there just now, who is she?'

  The man looked puzzled. 'I saw no lady, sir.'

  'No? Perhaps it was my imagination.'

  He went to his room and prepared for bed, but for some time he stayed awake, half expecting a tap on his door. None came, and at length he slept.

  Next day he was escorted to where the sugar cane was being grown and shown the crushing mill and the vats and boilers needed for refining it. In the summer heat the atmosphere in the refining shed was almost unbearable and men worked stripped to the waist, their bodies drenched in sweat.

  'By God, I wouldn't want to work here!' he commented.

  The steward who escorted him shook his head with a grimace. 'Nor do most of the people on the island. If the strategos decides to go ahead we shall probably have to bring in slaves to do it.'

  It occurred to Ranulph as they rode back to the castle that it was surprising that he had been allowed to inspect the machinery. He would have expected Philocales to want to keep it secret for fear of competition.

  In the morning he returned to Kyrenia, to find the Buonaventura fully equipped with new water casks and ready to sail. They put out to sea and set a course for Modon. There was a light breeze from the east and the sailing master called for the lateen sail to be set. The rowers sat at ease on their benches, chatting and playing dice, and Ranulph stretched out under the awning on the aftcastle. He yawned and relaxed. Life was good! He was sailing home with a full cargo; there was the possibility of a lucrative deal in prospect and his path ahead, for once, was clear. He would find a priest in Amalfi and make his confession and perform whatever penance was required, and in the spring he would return to Antioch and he and Mariam would be married. It occurred to him that over the winter he must find a house of his own. Until now he had stayed with Beppo, but Mariam must have her own establishment. He could afford it. The Jew to whom he lent his money gave a good rate of interest and with the profit from his current cargo … A new thought interrupted these pleasant dreams. Yes, he was rich now. But to what purpose? Once he had had only one aim in life – to amass enough gold to equip a force to drive the usurper out of his native land. He was realistic enough now to understand that that it was a feat no one man, however rich, could accomplish, but there must be others who felt as he did. Where was Edgar, his true king? Might it not be possible to rally around him a band of men like himself, prepared to commit their money and their lives to his cause? But then … what of the life he had been imagining with Mariam....? Did he have the right to live in comfort with her, while his countrymen were trodden under the feet of their hated conquerors?

  'Galley approaching astern!'

  It was the tone of voice rather than the words that brought Ranulph to his feet. Shading his eyes, he looked behind them and saw at once the reason for the panic in the lookout's voice. They had not quite cleared the coast of Cyprus and from some hidden cove or harbour a sleek, black galley had put out and was rowing towards them at top speed.

  'Corsairs!' said the sailing master, unnecessarily.

  Ranulph spun round. 'Get that sail down! We can't manoeuvre under sail. Tell the men to take to their oars.'

  Bare feet thudded on the deck. The sail came down with a rattle and a hundred oars hit the water. The drummer who gave the stroke set a pace that Ranulph knew could only be maintained for a short time, but still the black galley was gaining on them. The crossbowmen were already assembling on the aftcastle, bolts nocked in readiness.

  'Don't fire until I give the order!' Ranulph said. The corsair was closing fast, but bows on the galley presented only a slim target. He turned to the sailing master. 'Tell the men to be ready for a quick turn to starboard.'

  He waited until the corsair was almost level with them.

  'Now!'

  It was a manoeuvre they had practised many times. With perfect coordination the men on the starboard side changed the angle of their oars to backwater, while their opposite numbers dug in deep and pulled. The Boanaventura swung to starboard, presenting her stern to the rival galley, which was now broadside on.

  'Fire!' Ranulph yelled, and twenty crossbow bolts thudded into the ranks of oarsmen on the other ship.

  'Reload! Fire!'

  But by the time the second volley was released the corsair had swung round and a few powerful strokes brought her alongside. With a splintering crash she severed the oars along the Boanaventura's larboard flank and the grappling irons were thrown and found a hold. Ranulph had his sword in his hand and the crossbowmen dropped their now useless weapons and drew their own. Below decks the oarsmen reached under their benches for knives and daggers. In seconds the ship was a swaying mass of men fighting hand to hand. Ranulph laid about him and accounted for five or six and his crew gave a good account of themselves, but it could not last long. The corsairs were all seasoned fighters and they outnumbered the crew of the Buonaventura. As they closed in around him Ranulph had time for one thought.

  'So this is why we were detained on Cyprus! Viviana has her revenge after all.'

  Then he went down into the darkness.

  The Moorish galley slid into Valetta harbour and came to rest and her slave rowers slumped thankfully over their oars. Bowls of thin stew were distributed and were rapidly consumed – except in one case. Ranulph put his bowl on the deck between his feet and sank his head into his hands. His back was raw from the lash and his buttocks were a mass of ulcers from sitting in his own filth for days on end. Almost a year had passed since the fight off the coast of Cyprus, during which time he had been hauled to the slave market in Algiers and bought to serve in the galleys of the emir of Malta. Spring had come again, and summer, with no possibility of getting a message to Mariam. He closed his eyes and, for the first time since leaving the monastery, he prayed with genuine fervour.

  'Almighty and most merciful God, put an end to this misery! I have sinned, but if this is my penance I must have redeemed myself by now. Christ in your mercy, release me from this life. The trials of purgatory cannot be worse than what I suffer now.'

  It seemed to him that a window opened in the sky above him and he saw a face, a face he recognised even though he had not seen it since he was four years old; the face of his mother.

  'Ranulph,' her voice was gentle, consoling. 'You must endure a little longer. Your penance is almost over. Be patient. God has a purpose for you.'

  Ranulph opened his eyes and looked up. Darkness had fallen and above him a single star
seemed to shine with unnatural brightness. He took up the bowl of soup and drained it.

  'God has a purpose for me. I shall survive.'

  24.

  Malta: 1091

  The Moorish war galleys glided out through the narrow mouth of the harbour. Below decks, chained to their benches, the rowers sweated as they hauled on the oars. Above them there was the sound of shifting feet and the chink of mail, as the fighting men lining the rails adjusted themselves to the rollers of the open sea.

  The lookout in the bows of the leading galley shouted, 'I see them! Normans! Ten, no twelve! Allah have mercy on us!'

  At a command from the captain of the leading vessel the drummer who gave the stroke slowed his rhythm, so that the galley lost weigh, allowing the five following craft to catch up and form line abreast. Then the drum beat quickened and the galley master's lash whistled and the rowers flung themselves against the oars, so that the ship flew through the water towards the enemy vessels.

  'Courage, men!' the captain shouted. 'Don't let the sons of dogs see you quail. They are but men and ripe for death! They …' His words were cut short in a gasp, like someone winded, and he clutched at his chest, where a cross-bow bolt protruded from his chain mail. A second later the galley yawed broadside on to the wind as the steersman collapsed across the steering oar with a arrow in his throat.

  In the confusion of shouts and curses that followed one voice rose above the rest.

  'Strike off the fetters and let me take over! I can steer a galley as well as any man.'

  Slumped against the rail the captain stared at him. 'You! Infidel!' he croaked. 'Let you take over so you can surrender us to your friends out there? Do you think I am a fool?'

  'Yes, if you cannot tell the difference between men just because they are fair skinned. I am not one of those you call my friends. I am English and I have good reason to hate all Normans. Strike off these fetters before the ship capsizes and we all drown!'

  To lend urgency to his words the galley lurched into the trough between waves and water surged over the gunwales before she righted herself with a shudder. The captain gestured weakly to the galley master.