"All right. It's time to begin. Dip the whites to signal the other galleys, if you please, Senior Sergeant Rolf, and let's start drifting."
"Dipping the whites is your order, Captain William. I'll be supervising it myself to make sure it's done right and proper."
I suddenly feel the urge to go back to the shite board and pee. After I pee I'm going to go forward and climb part way up the mast to be my own lookout. It would be terribly embarrassing if the current is running so fast we drift past the crusader camp and I launch an attack on an empty parcel of ground.
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Everything is quiet as our fleet slowly drifts on the current until we come abreast of the crusader camp. In the dawn's early light I can see outlines of the Venetian galleys on the beach and those of my drifting fleet and the Venetian ships at anchor around us.
I even hear the solid "thunk" and a string of curses and shouts in Italian as the current takes one of our drifting galleys up against an anchored Venetian.
It's time. So I cup my hands around my mouth and shout down to the deck in as quiet a voice as I think will be heard by the men standing below me.
"Raise the red lanterns and bring down the whites,"
My command is obviously heard for Rolf himself and two of his sailors instantly come scurrying up the mast and go past me. They're each carrying a red lantern, three in all, in case one goes out.
Good for Rolf; I should have thought of that myself.
Time seems to stand still as all around me I can dimly see and barely hear the Marines in our landing parties as they climb into their small boats and pull for the shore.
I know when a galley's small boats are safely away because that's when the galley's oars immediately begin rowing to swing it around to row it into shore stern first. The galley captains do that so their crewmen standing in their galley's stern can throw their grappling irons to put tow lines on to the prizes they'll try to pull off the beach.
Warning shouts begin long before the first of our landing parties reach the beach. They initially come from the anchored ships into whose midst we've drifted and then from shore.
That's to be expected and so far so good - it doesn't look like anyone's waiting on the beach to fight our landing parties; we've surprised them for sure.
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The morning sun is well up and the men on Rolf's galley are happy. A couple of them are literally dancing on the deck as we row up to the dock and throw our mooring lines to the dock workers.
It's time to tally up our prizes, get the butcher's bill, and provision the prizes that are to head for Cyprus. So far everything looks good, very good.
Most of the day is spent naming off prize crews and consoling the dejected captains of the galleys that are just now arriving and missed the prize money. By nightfall fourteen more of our galleys are in from Cyprus.
We're getting stronger. We now have a total of thirty three galleys here in addition to the nine prizes we pulled off the beach that did not have slaves on board to row them to Cyprus.
Some of the sergeant captains of the new arrivals reported seeing some or all of our seven prizes with galley slaves going by in the other direction bound for Cyprus with cheering crewmen on deck and the flag of England flying over that of Venice. They are green with envy.
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Late that afternoon I told Rolf to give his entire crew a two hour liberty and pass the word to everyone that all of our galleys including the new arrivals will be sailing for Cyprus as soon as they can take on enough water.
Then I called an "all captains" muster for the deck of Rolf's ship with Marine sentries from Martin's squad of guards keeping everyone else well away.
With the newly arrived sergeant captains listening intently I asked each of the captains who'd been on the raid what worked and what had not.
"What had been the problems and what are your suggestions for improvement - we all want to know what you think while everything is still fresh in your mind?"
It took a while and there were some good and helpful suggestions for improvement that had everyone nodding in agreement. It was a good meeting even if the late arrivals are morose about having to turn around and go straight back to Cyprus. Then I dropped my rock on their toes.
"This morning's raid took the Venetians and crusaders by surprise. In fact, it worked so well that we're going to do what they'll never expect - we're going to hit them again tomorrow morning and this time go after both the remaining beached galleys and the ships at anchor."
At least I hope they don't expect us to come right back for a second bite.
The sergeant captains are over the moon; they're stunned - and then they begin cheering and carrying on like little boys who've been promised they can dip a finger in a bowl of honey.
When everyone settles down I tell them that as soon as our meeting breaks up he is to put on a long and unhappy face and immediately announce to his crew that we'll be sailing later tonight as a fleet so we can protect each other while we escape the wrath of the Venetians.
"If anyone asks, tell them that our goal is to go through the Dardanelles at first light tomorrow morning en route back to Cyprus. That will explain why we'll be sailing tonight. But under no circumstances is anyone to even so much as hint to his crew that we're going after more prizes, not until he casts off and is well away from shore."
"If anyone asks, and your seconds should if he's any good, tell him you'll be stopping for more supplies and water after you get clear of the strait. Indeed, you might rush around and pretend to hurry to load food and water just to further convince everyone that we'll be leaving these waters in a few hours."
"Actually, that's a good idea and everyone should do it."
My description of what they are to do brought smiles to the faces around me. I can see from their enthusiastic responses that every man understands and will do it.
Then we got down to planning the raid - whose ships will go for the beached galleys and whose for the Venetians at anchor and such like that.
It is hours later and late in the afternoon when we finally break up and I gave the sergeant captains my final order - which is a repeat of what I had explained earlier.
"Now everyone is to put on a most serious and pissed off face and rush back to your galleys complaining to each other. Everyone must do that - there are spies everywhere and we want everyone to think we'll be leaving for Cyprus tonight to escape from the Venetians we've pissed off."
"Going back to Cyprus in a few hours means you'll have to hurry to roust your men out of the taverns and whore houses and load as much water and food as you can. We'll be leaving six hours after dark while the tide is still going out."
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Our second raid is a great success. The Venetians and crusaders couldn't believe we would hit them again so quickly so they were once again not ready.
We came away with nine more galleys, eleven cogs, and six badly constructed horse transports that look to be more useful for firewood than anything else. Unfortunately the horses had already been unloaded.
We also lost thirty two men killed and mercied and numerous wounded badly enough to be give some of the flower paste we bought in Beirut. We took our wounded back to the dock and quickly converted two of the prize cogs into hospitals, one for our wounded and one into a hospital and prison ship for the far more numerous Venetians.
Reuben rushed into the city to get bonesetters and barbers to sew up and bleed our wounded.
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Two very good things happened the afternoon of our second raid. I was on the deck of cog with our wounded when there is a great shout and much cheering from our men. A very battered and bedraggled Thomas suddenly walks out of the city gate accompanied by several of the emperor's courtiers and a smiling young orthodox priest.
"Don't let the Byzantines take credit for freeing me," Thomas whispered into my ear in English as we fell into each other's arms.
"They didn't have anything to do with setting me free. It was the papal nuncio wh
o grabbed me. And it was the Venetians and crusaders who forced him to let me go - you terrified them with your promise to destroy the Venetian fleet and starve them into slavery."
"The crusaders laughed when they got your first letter and even had a priest read it to me; they weren't laughing and didn't read your second letter to me. They didn't have to because everyone was talking about it."
"They were even more upset this morning, much more upset, but wouldn't tell me anything except that they decided to be merciful and let me go since I was a priest. But I heard them talking - did you really destroy their fleet and strand them here?"
"Not all of it, brother, but more enough to get their attention and obligate us to pay a lot of prize money. And the priest that was with you? What about him? Is he free?"
"He's the nuncio's nephew and at first I thought he was in on stopping the delivery of the pope's letter from the very beginning. But now I'm not so sure. The nuncio didn't want the pope's letter delivered, you see. But then he changed his mind when he saw how it was worded."
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A couple of Venetian priests representing the Doge and two elderly crusaders have come to see me. A fishing boat brings them across from their camp with a peace offer. That's when we find out why the crusaders have traveled to Constantinople instead of to the Holy Land.
Their offer boils down to "join us and we will give you a share of the coins and lands we'll get when the deposed emperor is restored to power." They are there to negotiate our share.
If they are telling the truth about how much has been promised, and Thomas and Peter and I believe they are, it's a lot of coins.
According to our visitors, Alexios, the son and heir of the deposed emperor, has made a contract with the crusaders: If they will restore his father to the throne, Constantinople will pay the Venetians to carry the crusaders to Acre or Beirut plus pay a huge sum of two hundred thousand silver marks to the crusaders plus one thousand pounds of gold plus provide ten thousand troops for the crusade - as soon as his father regains the throne.
It's an interesting offer and Thomas and I seriously consider it while our visitors are enjoying some fresh bread and cheese and a bowl of wine.
In the end we decide not to accept - because if we do get paid, which is doubtful, everyone will know we are rich and we'll be targets for invasions and ransoms. It's better for our plans for George for us to be secretly rich and left alone because we are greatly feared and not rich enough to be worth the trouble of fighting.
But we do spit on our hands and shake on a different agreement - we agree to stop our attacks on the Venetian ships and the Venetians and crusaders agree to leave us alone to carry refugees and not to ever attack the city wall with the gate in front of the dock where the refugees will come out.
"You made a wise choice," I said to one of the elderly Venetians as I gestured towards the additional galleys that were just then coming in to dock and being enthusiastically greeted by those who arrived before them.
"We English have many more war galleys than Venice and they're crewed by fighting men instead of slaves and sailors - if you hadn't returned Bishop Thomas and made peace we intended to go for Venice itself after we'd finished destroying your ships and selling your men to the Moors."
That's ox shite about us going for Venice, of course, but it made me feel good to say it and see the shock on their faces.
Chapter Twenty Five
Months have passed and I'm still at Constantinople even though Thomas long ago sailed for Cornwall and Tori is still in Limassol with Yoram and Lena.
To my great surprise, our agreement with the Venetians and crusaders is still holding. Our dock area and the city wall and gate into the city are islands of normalcy in the midst of a serious war ranging all around us.
And the war and the siege of the city is indeed becoming more and more serious - the crusaders and Venetians have come across the water from their camp on the other shore and are attacking the walls and gates on the land side of the city.
Landing their men on this side of the water means they've not only cut off the city from food supplies coming in by land and but also, except for the food our galleys are chartered to carry, by sea. They've also broken through the city wall several times before being repulsed and part of the city has burned.
So far the city is holding. All of the crusader and Venetian attacks have failed but anxiety is rising as the lack of food deliveries begins to bite. More and more refugees are coming out to buy their way to safety.
Some things haven't changed - our men and the rich lords and knights of the crusaders are still welcome to enter the city if they are unarmed and pay the necessary bribes and refugees are still free to leave.
Even so, about the only living creatures who totally free to move back and forth through the gates unmolested are the city's clowders of cats. They are everywhere which is probably why there are no mice and rats.
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Byzantium's emperor is Alexios III. His men periodically charter our galleys to take supplies and messages to and from the rest of their empire. There is also a steady stream of refugees coming out of the city, mostly merchants, orthodox priests, and members of the aristocracy.
There is no doubt about it. We are making more coins than if we had accepted the crusaders' offer and been paid.
One of our galleys chartered by the city is quite interesting. It has been loaded with a small amount of cargo, a couple of dozen heavy wooden crates, and just sits there at the dock we've taken over opposite the city gate.
The charter was made and fully paid right after the Venetians broke through the city wall the first time and were thrown out by the emperor's fearsome Varangian Guards. It's obviously a cargo that is extremely valuable since it is under constant guard by a dozen or so of the emperor's Varangians.
There are not all that many guards so we could, of course, kill the Varangians and take the cargo. But I forbid it. Even though it might make us richer today it would almost certainly make us much poorer in the years ahead when George and his heirs are in charge - because we would lose our constantly growing reputation for keeping our word and protecting our passengers and cargos.
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Our neutral status and the dock area we hold has led to some strange things happening. For example, the city lets our men and small numbers of unarmed crusaders in through the dock gate to buy drinks and women.
It won't let them carry weapons in, of course, or food out but they can come to city to eat and drink. So it's mostly the richer lords and knights of the crusaders and Venetians who come for a bit of rest and recreation. I wonder how many are spies?
Keeping our men busy while they wait for their galley to have a charter or load of refugees is a challenge.
One of our diversions is the archery tournament we conduct every day along the city wall next to the dock. We hold it every day and virtually every Marine enters - and rightly so since there is a silver coin and a twenty four hour pass into the city for the winner.
Archers and the use of bows, even longbows, don't impress the mostly French and Italian crusader knights. They watch and sometimes cheer a good shot. But they are generally dismissive, saying they have armor so when there's a real battle they'll just pull down their helmet vizors and wade into the archers and kill them.
Yesterday it came to a head when some of our archers began to be insulted by some drunken French knights. One of our men speaks French and told the Marines what he was saying. Apparently the insults went back and forth until one of the Frenchmen pulled out his purse and bet that his chain armour would stop any arrow.
It was a particularly bad bet because he made it with one of our strongest archers. By the time Peter and I heard the commotion and got there the Frenchman was gone - with a bloody iron pointed shaft through his armour and sticking six inches out of his back. Tough shite. But perhaps a good message.
"We'll bury him and say the words if you don't want to," I told the other French knights.
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"But only if you agree to tell the truth - that he was drunk and wrong about English archers and made a bad bet."
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The crusaders and their Venetian allies are now seriously fighting and attacking. They've stepped up their attacks now that emperor's efforts to string them along with meaningless negotiations has finally come to an end.
We watch as the entire army of crusaders and Venetians comes across in their remaining ships and the emperor's army doesn't come out to fight them. The very next day two of the empire's senior officials come to see me.
The first to arrive is chamberlain who manages the empire's financial affairs and its treasury. He has, the chamberlain confides, a very special and very secret assignment from the emperor - to take the twenty five crates of gold bars and jewels to safety in the chartered galley if it looks as though the city might fall.
Gold bars and jewels? Well, of course, it had to be something like that.
"I only tell you this because you have been so helpful by attacking the Venetians and your integrity and that of your men is so well known throughout the world - if you will help me save the gold and jewels so we can use them to pay for the mercenaries we will need to defeat the crusaders, the empire will make you a big and generous payment."
My response is that I will, of course, do all I can to help him and the emperor. I promise to think about how it might be done and get back to him within the next few days.
Later that same day an orthodox archbishop comes with virtually the same responsibility and I tell him the same thing. And the next day who should appear but two more men and their entourages, each with a secret assignment to save the empire's gold by taking the crates to safety.
The first is the emperor's son in law who is the Admiral of the Byzantine fleet. The second is the emperor's eldest son and probable heir. He's the one who chartered the galley in which the crates are stored.
"Peter, do we have any shipwrights or carpenters with us?"
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It takes four long days to build what I want into one of our galleys, but in the end we have a very safe and special place to hold the gold chests.
The Archer's Gold: Medieval Military fiction: A Novel about Wars, Knights, Pirates, and Crusaders in The Years of the Feudal Middle Ages of William Marshall ... (The Company of English Archers Book 7) Page 14
