“A sweet spot,” agreed Lucas. “But an hour’s ride from town.”
“So much the better. Have I work to do in town, a brisk ride will start my blood coursing. I like not yon city, my friend. I’ll like it even less when a mere few hundred of our people are left to rattle between the walls.”
“There should soon be some life there again. Merchants from abroad; Greek artisans and laborers coming to live, if only for lack of other domicile.”
“What have I to do with such rabble?”
“I think, all told, I’ve found more pleasure in the company of rabble--peasant, carpenter, smith, sailor, barbarian herdsman or hunter, from Italy to Cathay--honest folk, not afraid of laughter--more pleasure with them than with any other sort, save perhaps a few scholars. These stiff-necked, stiff-brained lords and ladies--” Lucas saw himself headed into offensiveness and swerved smoothly--“such as you are not, but as far too many are: they weary me.”
“Each to his own taste,” said En Jaime with a touch of hauteur.
They rode on in the muted music of the troop: plop of hoofs, squeak of leather, jingle of metal, rumble of wheels, played for a mile along the seashore. When Lucas decided the Catalan’s geniality had returned, he cautioned, “Bear in mind, Micer, an isolated estate is prey to attack.”
“It’s inconspicuous from the sea,” En Jaime answered; “the upward path is readily defensible; to landward, someone approaching can be seen in ample time either to close the gates or to retreat by water. Or overland: the hills are wide and free, and he’d be a poor horseman who could not stay ahead of pursuit the whole way to Gallipoli. In all events, Lucas, what foe would stop to search for nooks like mine? He’d go straight against the city.”
“True.”
“It’s so peaceful there.” En Jaime spoke almost too low to be heard. Under the plumed bonnet, his gaze lost itself westward across the sea. “Like the house where my lady dwelt--ah, blessed Virgin, was it that many years ago? A man might find God in such quietness.”
He straightened in the saddle. “The estate has a few cottages,” he said, more himself. “I’ll use them for the families of such guards as I do keep out there. Would you like one, or a room in the villa?”
“My thanks, but--” Lucas shifted position, not quite at ease. “I’ve, ah, already discussed the question of living accommodations with Na Violante--”
“I did not invite her, Maestre.”
“Oh. Indeed. Um-m-m . . . just as well. She hates open countryside. She spoke of our taking a house in town, and some more servants.”
“You could ride in to see her when you must,” said En Jaime, sourly.
Lucas chuckled. “Micer, I’d wear out too many horses.”
“Have you no shame whatsoever?”
Lucas didn’t answer. “Well, as you wish,” said En Jaime. “My actual work, as Micer’s adjutant, would all be done in the city, anyhow.”
“True. Though you might be more useful attached directly to En Ramon Muntaner’s staff. The management of our stores and trade will require learned men.” Sensing Lucas’ hurt, the knight laughed and clapped his shoulder. “Why, you chattering rogue, I do believe you think I’ve turned enemy to you. God forbid! Who’d be left for me to drink with and not have to watch my tongue every moment? No, no, I thought of nothing but your own good, and the Company’s. We’ll see how matters stand once everyone is settled down again.”
Looking into the gray Catalonian eyes, Lucas felt an odd thawing in his breast. He wondered if it felt like this to have an elder brother.
“There’s one kindness I might beg of you,” he said. “I’ll grant it gladly, Lucas, if I can.”
“Simple enough. My slave girl, Djansha the Circassian--”
“A charming lass, that. I cannot understand why you would choose to--Well. What of her?”
“Violante . . . um . . . likes not the idea of having her about. She told me. And Djansha herself abhors the city. Since you plan to dwell out in the countryside, En Jaime, would you accept her from me? As a gift?”
“No!” Presently: “You mean well. At least you’ve heart enough to care about her fate. But I am a chaste man.”
“Oh, she’s an excellent cook and housekeeper. And I’m sure she’s not lied in claiming skill with a garden. Her duties need be no more than these, if you prefer.”
En Jaime frowned at his saddlebow before he said, “I’ll take her as a servant, then. But I will not own a woman. You must retain title.”
Lucas agreed happily.
Entering Gallipoli land gate, he spied Djansha on the edge of the Catalan assembly who welcomed the troopers back. She was a small figure, muffled in robe and cloak but wildly waving to him. She must have returned home at once, though, for he saw her no more as he went about the day’s business. At dusk, he crossed the threshold of the house En Jaime was leaving. He turned toward Asberto’s former apartments--he and Violante would use them until they found a satisfactory dwelling of their own--but paused, remembering the slave.
“Oh, damnation,” he muttered. “She must be awaiting me. I’d best tell her before she worries.”
Reluctant, for no good reason, he walked to his old door and opened it. The odor within was overwhelming, like all springtimes that ever had been. The chamber was heaped with roses, violets, tulips, wildflowers, ferns and green branches. Candles burned in silver holders polished dazzling bright. A table stood crowded with wines and dainties.
Djansha went to her knees, kissed his boots, and rose again. She wore a thin robe of white silk, through which her flesh seemed to glow, a gold-worked girdle, tiny red slippers, jewelry on hands and arms and bosom. The auburn hair was drawn back in the latest Catalan mode. But, chiefly, he noticed the heart-shaped face. He had not often seen such gladness.
“W-w-w--” She gulped. “Welcome home, my lord.”
“But you are crying!” he said, astonished.
”Only because I am so glad.” She reached up fingers that trembled very faintly, to stroke his cheek. “Shible--I mean Keristi be thanked and fed, my lord has his health back. You are still too thin, but we can soon set that right. I hope you have not supped. See, I’ve spent days preparing a feast.”
“No,” said Lucas, “I haven’t eaten.”
“Will my lord n-n-not be seated, then? Here, I’ve new slippers for you. Let me draw off your boots--”
Lucas remained where he was. “You are very good,” he said. “I wish I had known. I’m expected elsewhere to dine.”
“Oh.” She stood mute for a few seconds. Then, tossing her head: “So be it. I can always make another meal.” Softly, she added, “I hope my lord will not be out too late this night?”
“Well--”
“No!” She seized his hands. Her words bubbled forth. “I can not wait any longer to tell you. My lord, I am with child.”
“What?”
“Yes. I was not certain when you left. Now I am. Your son!”
Lucas looked away. The silence grew.
Finally she whispered, “Are you not pleased?”
“Yes. Of course. Fear not, I’ll make provision for you. And the child.” Lucas drew a long breath so he could tell her swiftly: “In fact, I’ve planned this beforehand. I know you don’t like the city. En Jaime will take you to his new estate. Far beyond the walls. Grass, trees, hills. You’ll be kindly treated. Now I must go. You need not wait up for me. Goodnight.”
He went from the room, slamming the door so it would block off the sight of her.
Chapter XI
The next several weeks roared.
The fame of the Grand Company went through all Europe and near Asia. In the West, King Fadrique of Sicily found himself suddenly deferred to because of those mercenaries he had been so anxious to be rid of, and pondered means to get them back under direct leadership of his princely house. Encouraged by Pope Clement, the Venetian Republic arrived at a convention with Charles of Valois for the joint conquest of Byzantium, as if this were the Fourth Crusade all o
ver again. Fortunately for the rotten stump of the Roman Empire, nothing came of that, the allies being too jealous of each other.
In the East, Seljuk and Ottoman Turks rapidly reconquered those parts of Anatolia from which the Catalans had driven them. The Moslems held no grudge; rather, they admired the Catholic warriors and were eager to help them exploit Orthodox Christendom. Two thousand men from the tribes under Alaeddin of Roum crossed over to enlist with Rocafort. Afterward another eight hundred cavalry and two thousand infantry came. Many of them were Greek-born, who had renounced their religion on discovering that the emirs were rulers more wise and lenient than the Emperor. In all the later adventures of the Grand Company, these allies kept faith.
Westerners, too, began to flock thither. En Ferran Ximeno de Arenos had quarreled with Roger di Flor the first winter and gone to the Duke of Athens; now he returned with eighty men and was made welcome. Taking a band of some five hundred, he harried as far as Constantinople, bringing back a crowd of cattle and newly caught slaves. The Imperialists met him in a pass with sixteen hundred men, horse and foot; he overbore them and got a huge booty.
Rocafort, himself, raided the main enemy shipyard and naval base, burning all the craft he found. That destroyed Byzantine opposition by water and Gallipoli became freely accessible to visitors. The Greeks still held the castle of Maditos farther down the peninsula, but it was now a mere heap of stones which occasionally made a futile catapult shot at passing vessels.
Galloping out of Rhedestos, the Catalans daily pillaged Thrace and Macedonia. One such expedition, within sight of Constantinople, massacred five thousand cultivators of the soil. Town after town was sacked and burned; orchards were cut down, vineyards destroyed, inhabitants brought to the slave mart at Gallipoli. Quarrels over the loot destroyed more men than the Greeks had. But the moment there was fighting to be done, the whole snarling, rutting, flea-bitten Company closed ranks and worked with grim discipline.
A baron of the Kingdom of Salonica, Sir George de Cristopol, came with eighty horsemen to visit the Emperor. Seeing the chaos all about them, they determined to practice a little banditry on the Catalans and attacked a wagon train sent out from Gallipoli to bring in wood. The mules were worth money. The train was guarded by four foot soldiers and a crossbowman named Marcho. When Cristopol swept down upon them, the soldiers retreated to a nearby tower and defended themselves with stones, while Marcho ran to Gallipoli for help. Muntaner had let almost all his horse go on a foray with Rocafort; he had only six full-armed knights and eight jinetes. With these, and as many foot as he could assemble in a few minutes, he hastened forth against the Salonicans, attacked on sight, and took thirty-seven dead or prisoner. The rest he pursued as far as the tower, which the four soldiers were still holding; “And we recovered these four men,” he wrote afterward; “then we let the enemy go and returned to Gallipoli. And next day we had an auction of the horses and of the prisoners and of what we had taken, and we had, of the booty, twenty-eight gold hyperpera for each armed horse and fourteen for each light horse and seven for each foot soldier, so that everyone had his share.
“And I have told you this fine adventure in order that you should all understand that it was due to nothing but the power of God, and that this was not done through our worth but by the virtue and grace of God.”
That was the only warlike action Lucas saw during this time. It cheered him greatly--not so much his part in the gold as his part in the deed. When En Ramon clashed down visor, lowered lance, and charged, the noise seemed to drown out the remembered sound of peasants shuffling along a dusty road to the slave block.
Muntaner had one failure, when in August the Genoese who held de Entenza returned homeward. He tried to obtain his friend’s release, but they would accept no ransom offer. Muntaner was only able to give de Entenza a thousand hyperpera out of his own purse, to lighten the captivity a little.
Emperor Andronicus was bargaining too, but more frantically. His bad faith and the corruption which had gutted his treasury found their punishment as he tried to negotiate the withdrawal of the Catalans. They insisted that all prisoners be set free without ransom, that their arrears of pay be made up in honest currency, and that the ships captured with de Entenza be given back. Certain of their power, they added a demand that he pay them for all booty they would be unable to carry away! The Emperor groaned. Peacock-feather fans cooled the royal brow as he sipped a restoring beaker of lemonade. Could Genoa, the century-old ally of his dynasty, offer any hope?
Genoese traffic was indeed moving through the Boca Daner. So was that of other nations. The military republic of the Catalans was shrewder than to antagonize foreign powers by attempting an impossible blockade of Constantinople. Rather, they--Muntaner especially--wished to attract ships to their own port. And ships came, drawn like flies to the wealth now stuffed in Gallipoli. Many men aboard those vessels stayed, not only adventurers to join the army but merchants to establish factories. These were chiefly Catalans; but Castilian, Frenchman, Venetian, German, Jew, Moor and Turk also saw their opportunity. As had been foreseen, a number of Greeks even dared return, to form an oppressed class of servitors. Life flowed anew in Gallipoli, a hectic, lawless, many-colored life in which Lucas and Violante often sought amusement. This trade created a need for his skills, both with languages and with accounts. The grandeur of the Company was founded on the unspectacular organizing toil of men like Muntaner and himself.
Thus the summer wore away.
In September, a new full-scale expedition was mounted. Greedy for gold, fanatic in their faith, the Catalans still kept one desire that overpowered all others, to get revenge for Roger di Flor. It had pleased them greatly to hear that the Alans had quit the ill-paid, incompetently led Imperial service and had begun plundering on their own account. But the Company did not therefore forget that George, the Alan chief, had wielded the knife which struck down the Caesar. Now word came that his tribe, nine thousand horse and foot with their families in tow, were trekking northward to serve the King of Bulgaria. If they could not be overtaken, they would soon pass out of reach.
The Catalans moved all their own women and children and treasures back to Gallipoli, which was more defensible by a small garrison than Rhedestos. That garrison was assigned almost at spearpoint, so reluctant were they to stay. Muntaner, their commander, insisted on a third share of booty for them, and said it was little enough compensation. Nonetheless, the night after the army marched forth, a part of his men decided to follow. Muntaner avoided mutiny only by giving them leave to go, on condition they pay half their gains to the seven knights who remained with him. Besides these, who stayed chiefly from personal loyalty, Gallipoli was now in the care of a hundred and thirty-two foot, some being seamen and some Almugavares.
“And so I remained,” he wrote, “badly provided with men and well provided with women, for, altogether, there remained with me over two thousand women, one with another.”
That news was quick to reach Constantinople.
Lucas entered his house. Two doormen bowed to the tiles. Two footmen removed his flame-colored cloak and bonnet. “Do the master and his lady wish to dine at the usual hour?” asked the major-domo, as if his salvation depended on the answer.
“No,” said Lucas. “I’ve had a hard day’s work. The devil with eating in state.”
“But Despotes, my noble lady said--”
“I’ll change my noble lady’s mind. Prepare food, but I may want it brought to the boudoir. Fetch a flagon of red Cyprian wine, with two goblets. Jump! I’m thirsty, I tell you!” Lucas made a pretense of drawing his sword. The major-domo turned white and scuttled backward. Lucas was instantly sorry. He didn’t want to abuse his Greeks. A man often forgot how a rough jest affected those who had lived through horror.
Well, there were other things to think about. He strode over Persian carpets to a marble staircase, and thence along a second-floor hallway whose windows overlooked a garden of nearly Arabian intricacy. The sky was purple overhead,
the first stars twinkling forth in the east. A slave went by, lighting bracketed lamps. Too big a house, he thought for the hundredth time; too silent; we creep about in all this stolen wealth like mice. But if she wants to dwell thus, let her.
It was easier to give way to Violante than to suffer curses and blows and glassware thrown at his head--though surrender often left her cold toward him. But then he would grow angry in his turn, and suddenly she offered him a purring, teasing, endlessly inventive body. He could seldom predict her; sometimes her darker moods frightened him. Her lighter ones, though--He increased his pace.
A boy was on hand with the wine when he reached the bedroom door. They went through together. Violante was lying back among cushions on a couch, while one slave girl brushed her hair and two others trimmed her nails. The boy’s eyes popped, for she had just come from the bath and was not yet dressed. She paid him no more heed than any other domestic animal. A reddening went up her skin, however, as she saw Lucas. “You know I am not to be disturbed when preparing for dinner,” she said coldly.
“But you aren’t.” He began to unlace his doublet. “We’ll not trouble with dining like richs homens this evening.”
She sat up straight. “What do you mean, you son of a merchant?” The movement caught one girl by surprise, so that her manicure scissors scratched milady’s hand. Violante twisted about with an obscene oath, caught the girl’s hand, took the scissors and raised them to stab. Before they had pierced the slave’s skin--she was only about twelve years old--Lucas was across the room and had grabbed them. He threw them aside.
“Go,” he said. “All of you.” The attendants scampered out.
Violante damned him, struggling to rise. He held her down by one shoulder. “See here,” he declared, “we’ve had this trouble before. My patience is at an end. The servants are to be treated as human beings. D’you hear me?”
“You dung-clod--!”
“Be still! If you want to dine in the banquet hall, you’ll dine alone. God’s teeth, I’m tired and worried and I want to take my rest!” Violante broke free and rose, hissing in her fury. He put a foot behind her ankles and flipped her down on the couch again without effort. “Remember,” he said, “I’m quite able to kill you.”
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