“You have a daughter, my husband,” she told him.
Talon could barely breathe. In two strides he was over to sit where Theodora had just been to take Rav’an’s hand and hold it while peering at the little creature lying against her breast, already feeding.
“We have a daughter?” he asked with an incredulous look.
“Are you pleased? A son would have been better, perhaps?” she asked with a look that was a trifle uncertain.
He snorted and exclaimed, “We have a daughter! Reza, Jannat, and you, Theo! Look what she has done!” he leaned over the baby and kissed Rav’an on the lips. “I shall teach her to ride,” he told her.
After that the others cooed over the baby. Reza looked dazed, but Jannat linked arms with him and said, “Come along, Reza, it’s time for bed. Rav’an is in good hands.”
“What are we going to call her?” Talon asked.
“I would name her Fariba, after Aunty Fariba,” Rav’an answered with a contented smile.
The next morning Rostam was up early, just as the sun cleared the horizon to the East. He crept into Irene’s room and woke her with a finger on his lips and a grin, and a nod of his head towards the truckle bed where her maid was still fast asleep, snoring hard. He led Irene all the way up the stairs to the pigeon coop. The two children could hear the cooing of the birds and the occasional flutter of wings. It had become his job to clean the room on a regular basis, and Irene was only too happy to assist.
Rostam now understood the usefulness of the pigeons, and with that knowledge, the importance of their good health. The ten or so pigeons accepted their caresses and pecked at the grain in their hands with no fear. While Irene inspected them for any injuries Rostam took a broom and brushed the droppings into a pile, which one of the servants would pick up later in the day. He had been very reluctant to do this chore and to handle the pigeons before Jannat had explained their value; then his father had reinforced the idea by showing him the coded rolls that he transcribed.
To Rostam it was an exciting idea to be able to communicate with Dimitri in Famagusta and Boethius in Paphos in this manner without ever setting foot outside the castle. He yawned. He had been woken by Jannat in the middle of the night. She had been very excited and had dragged him and Irene out of their beds to meet the new family member.
He now had a little sister named Fariba after his great-auntie who lived in Muscat in Oman. Irene had cooed over the wrinkled, red-faced little creature in Rav’an’s arms, but he had been just a little disappointed. He had hoped for a brother. His thoughts were interrupted by an agitated flutter on the window sill. There was a new arrival.
“Irene!” he called to her. “Look, we have a messenger, just arrived. Catch it for me?” Irene handled them better than he did, and Jannat had told him to let her do this whenever the opportunity arose to keep her interest.
Irene glided over the newly swept floor and with gentle words persuaded the new arrival to sit still, then picked the messenger up and carried it over to Rostam. “It’s from Famagusta, Rostam,” she told him, pointing to its coloring. While she held it firmly but gently, he worked the thin copper ring loose from its leg to release the roll of paper, and then Irene placed the bird in the cage where the Famagusta birds were housed.
It was quite late in the morning when Rostam proudly delivered the note to Talon, after his father had risen. The entire castle staff had crept about as though on eggshells for the better part of the morning so as not to wake the family.
“A message from Dimitri, Father,” the boy said as he handed over the coded note.
Talon thanked Rostam with an inward smile. The boy had stopped calling him Papa recently, more or less when his training had begun. He sent him off, then took the slim piece of paper up to his study and unrolled it. After deciphering the note he sat back in his chair, deep in thought. He was still there when Reza arrived and let himself in with a light tap on the door.
“I hear from Jannat that Rav’an and the child are safe and well,” Reza murmured as he sat down.
“Yes, Brother. Thank God for Theo. It might have gone badly, but she knew what to do and they are safe.” Talon gave his brother a tired smile. He handed Reza the piece of paper.
Reza looked at it and said, “I am not as good as you at this code, Brother. Tell me what it says.”
“It says that things have begun to get hot in Famagusta.” Talon explained the details of the death of Laskaris. “Dimitri sees this as a huge disaster, but... I’m not so sure.”
“How so?” Reza asked.
“Well now, suddenly everyone is killing everyone else. Reading this note, it occurred to me that the spies from the palace and Pantoleon’s men might think it was each other who did the killing, if Dimitri was not detected removing Laskaris’s body. Then they might go for each other’s throats.”
Reza smiled. “That would prove interesting. Then... they could destroy each other?”
“What’s all this about killing each other?” Max had just walked into the room.
“Have a seat, Max. We have a development in Famagusta.” Talon explained about the message and what he knew and guessed.
“Dimitri appears to be keeping his head at least,” Max remarked.
“That’s the hope, but it is imperative for me to go and find out what’s really going on. He is not used to this kind of rough and tumble and must be in a panic. Also he is running out of pigeons, so we have to take some back to him. I could leave in a couple of days. I can’t delay it much longer than that.”
Reza and Max were staring at him.
“What is it?” he asked, looking from one to the other.
“You’ll do no such thing, Talon. If you even think of leaving on any kind of trip the women will kill you, and perhaps us. Think of Rav’an, man!” Max stated, and Reza nodded emphatic agreement.
“Reza, Max, it’s becoming urgent in Famagusta,” Talon said, frowning and shuffling papers about on his desk in an attempt to settle his nerves. Having babies was a nerve-wracking experience, he decided; furthermore, it was exhausting. Never mind what the mother had to go through.
“Then I should go,” Reza insisted. “Jannat is not yet ready to drop our child. Theodora will be here in any case should it come early. I should go.”
Talon looked concerned and relieved at the same time. “Very well, Brother. That can be arranged with Guy, but only if you are very sure.”
“Why don’t I go, Talon?” Max offered.
“Max, you are still recovering from your holiday in Acre prison. Jannat and Rav’an would never let you leave, and Theo has told me that you have a mild inflammation in your lungs which she is still treating. Yes,” he said with a smile at his old friend, “our physician tells me all, as I need to be kept informed. Besides, Reza, even if he is getting old, is somewhat more nimble and it might get nasty.”
“Oye! Getting old am I, Brother?” Reza glowered, pretending to be mortally offended.
Talon responded with a grin then turned to Max with a more serious expression. “Max, there is a chance that both of us might need to go before long. I would be far more comfortable if I knew the castle was being run by you while we were away.”
Reza added his argument to that of Talon. “He’s right, Max. We need an experienced head here. Talon obviously can’t manage on his own.”
Max grunted with amusement. These two were forever bantering, but he nodded reluctant acceptance. He knew Talon was right. Theodora had taken him in hand and was giving him herbal medicines which eased the persistent aches in his knees and the cough he never seemed to be able to get rid of, which had become worse as winter drew in.
“Reza, you’d better make sure Jannat is not upset at the idea. But we need to get to Dimitri urgently and restore any fall-off in morale. The whole situation could fall apart any time, and there’s no telling what Pantoleon might conjure up. You could be there and back within a week.”
“At least we have Maymun in place to support Dimitri. He is
a good man good with a bow,” Reza remarked.
“Dimitri implied that,” Talon said in a dry tone.
“Then it is decided.” Reza sat back in his chair. “I could do with a glass of wine, how about you two? There’s been enough excitement for one night; it fair tired me out! You’re a father again, Talon!” he laughed. Instead of wine Talon poured some of the local arrack, which had been presented to him by the villagers, into three small opaque glasses. It was fierce and very powerful.
They all took a deep sip and Reza pulled a face. “Ouch! That’s poison!” He exclaimed. “Do you think they’re trying to get rid of us?”
“It’s got potential. I quite like it,” Talon gasped. “Father I may be today, but you’d better be back here when Jannat gets going,” he added.
Reza left on Guy’s ship within two days. None of the womenfolk had been happy with the idea of his leaving, but when it was explained why Jannat had reluctantly nodded her head.
“You had better get back here for me when my time comes, my Reza,” she told him with tears in her eyes. She knew the dangers that lurked in that city and was frightened for him.
A full day later, with the early evening settling in and the sun just about to disappear below the horizon, Guy conned the ship into the crowded harbor of Famagusta. As the ship glided through the clear waters within the curved arms of the sea breakers, he and Reza stood on the after deck observing the shipping. They were seeking the ship that Guy had seen before.
The rowers were put to work to turn the ship so that the prow faced seaward, then anchor stones were dropped fore and aft with satisfying splashes. They were almost alongside another three ships that were waiting to be moved alongside a quay to unload their cargo. They looked deserted; Reza assumed the crew were ashore taking advantage of the wine shops and whores. Guy had brought a medium-sized reed cage with six pigeons to replenish Dimitri’s lair, and for the sake of credibility some barrels of very young wine and olives. Just enough to offer an excuse should anyone enquire.
Guy pointed towards the inner harbor. “There it is, Reza.”
Reza peered at a long, sleek-looking galley. “Are you sure?” he asked.
“You’re not a sailor, Reza so you wouldn’t know a bireme warship from a Venetian merchant tub,” Guy told him. “You were not there when we captured the ship that Nigel captained. A fast Arab fighting ship, it was. That’s it over there or I am a blind man.”
“Do you think this Nigel will be still on it?”
Guy shook his head. “No, I think he is dead and gone, but that’s his old ship, for sure.”
Reza didn’t respond, but he continued to stare at the ship, assessing its points of accessibility. It might be worth a visit some time, he decided, but there was more important business at hand.
The sky darkened perceptibly, and both men became aware of a disturbance on the quayside across from their anchorage. A group of armed men strode along the stone walkway and gathered on the quay; they were staring over at Guy’s ship, and one man was pointing and saying something. Then they rushed down the steps that led to the water and clambered into two boats, which they began to row rapidly across the intervening water. Reza could see two men remained on the quayside, watching.
“We have a reception committee,” Guy said nervously. “It doesn’t look friendly either.” He started with shock. “By St. Cuthbert’s balls, but that is Nigel, as I live and breathe!”
“That man is Nigel?” Reza demanded. “Which one of the two?”
“The thinner one, not so tall.”
“He lives after all, but I would not say he is our friend today.”
“No, Reza, this is definitely not the way one old friend greets another, and you must hide. Get out of sight. I don’t like the look of this at all. I will stay and see what is going on but you must hide.” Guy’s tone brooked no argument and Reza knew he was right. Armed men making a bee-line for their ship, and this man Nigel on the wharf, pointing them out? That smacked of betrayal and great peril.
He had his sword on him but his bow and arrows were still in the cabin. Too late to collect them. I wish I had a couple of our bamboo bombs, he thought to himself as he clapped Guy on the shoulder. “God protect. Do what you can. We will not abandon you, neither Talon nor I.”
“God bless, my friend. Go now!’ Guy’s tone was urgent. The boats were almost alongside.
Without another word Reza vanished over the side of the ship and slipped into the water. Not even Guy saw where he went, assuming that Reza had gone below to conceal himself. Very carefully, with his head only just above water, Reza paddled over to the ship Guy had pointed out and swam around to its other side, hanging onto the rough wood of the hull and peering back from behind the steering oar, He could see without being seen and observe the activity on Guy’s ship. It was not long in erupting.
Men swarmed onto the vessel, rounded up the crew and drove them below, slamming the gratings and locking them. Others ran up the steps to the afterdeck where Guy stood, waiting.
They were shouting and gesticulating as they pushed Guy about and demanded loudly where the ship had come from and what Guy was doing here in Famagusta. One began to shove him hard, demanding something. It didn’t take long for Guy to lose his temper. With a roar he spun on his tormentor, picked him up with both hands, ran to the starboard side and threw him overboard before his startled companions could intervene.
With a surprised yell the man flew through the air, his arms and legs flailing, to fall with a mighty splash in the water. He went under for a long moment, then surfaced, sputtering and shouting with fear. He couldn’t swim. Someone threw a line to him from the waist of the ship and hauled him in, laughing all the while, and helped the half-drowned man onto the deck. He recovered enough to spit salt water onto the deck and begin cursing. He cursed all the way back up onto the after deck, where he drew his dagger and advanced on Guy, now bound and held fast, who stood bravely facing him.
“I said no killing! I want him alive!” a voice roared from the quay.
The drenched and dripping man hesitated, scowling ferociously, then sheathed his blade and slammed his fist into Guy’s face. Guy, a big man, staggered back but regained his footing. A blow to the midriff doubled Guy over, but still he obstinately refused to fall.
“Stop that, you fool! Bring him ashore and get on with it!” called the man from the quay. He was obviously in charge. “In the name of the emperor, you are under arrest,” he called over in a loud voice. “Get him off that ship and take him to the villa! Do it now!” Reza clearly heard what was said and tucked it away for future reference.
“Why are you arresting me? I have only just arrived and have done no wrong!” Guy bellowed at the men on his ship. He received a painful slap for his defiance.
“We are impounding this vessel. Search it for anyone hiding! Look for the man called Talon.”
From his watery observation point Reza watched as Guy was bundled off the after deck. He could not see the wharf on the other side of the ship, but he could clearly hear the sounds of the rowboat transporting his companion. He wondered how the meeting with Nigel would go. From within the ship he could hear men thumping about blow decks, ransacking the quarters as they hunted for anyone hiding on board. Eventually they trickled back on deck. There was an exchange of shouts across the water and the men disembarked, leaving guards to ensure that the crew remained imprisoned below decks until someone could decide what to do about them.
Dusk settled in and the harbor quieted. The normally shrill cries of the seagulls diminished to the occasional squawk as they settled down for the night, and the activity on the quayside stopped as the workers and fishermen left for their homes. Waiting until it was quite dark, Reza swam back to Guy’s ship. In a couple of minutes he was hanging onto the edge of the upper deck transom, peering over and trying to locate the guards.
It was not hard to find them. They were clustered on the main deck with their spears stacked, playing knuckles. From time to
time one of the guards would peer down through the grating to make sure the crew were docile, but otherwise they seemed content to simply guard the gangway that led down to the boats.
It was easy for Reza to slip into his cabin and retrieve his weapons, but there was something very important he had to have with him when he left. The pigeons were essential, and they were in the main cabin. He was just about to slip across the passageway when he heard voices and the sound of men clumping down the stairway. Diving into the main cabin he drew his sword and waited in the dark. Two men entered the room with candles in their hands, obviously looking for loot.
“There isn’t much here, no gold nor nothin’ like that. I already went over it,” one of them said.
“Let’s have another look. Never know with these seamen. They hide stuff everywhere,” the other replied. Neither had time to do more than open their mouths in shock as Reza appeared out of nowhere in front of them like some vengeful phantom. He looked like a horrifying apparition that had just risen from the deep, dripping sea water from ragged clothing, his face hidden and a wicked looking blade in his hands. The sword flickered in the candlelight as it struck with incredible speed. Two candles fell to the floor alongside the tangle of bodies, and it was over. Reza quickly retrieved one of the candles and came to a decision. It was not yet time to leave.
A low-voiced call summoned the other two guards to the after-part of the ship. Grumbling, they abandoned their game and slouched towards the dark form standing near the steps.
When they were close enough, Reza struck. The guards were too slow and shocked to react; they died with barely a sound other than the thump of their bodies on the decking. Reza casually wiped his blade on their coats while he looked around for more victims. There were none.
The crew below decks heard the grating being lifted up and Reza’s voice pitch to penetrate the reaches of the hold. “Come on deck, I need you up here at once!”
Warily the rowers and sailers clambered onto the deck to find that the guards had disappeared and Reza was telling them not to worry.
Assassins of Kantara Page 47
