My Lord William speaks quietly with the merchant as Father Thomas and I interview the men. Within minutes we add about two dozen of the men to our company.
What is quite interesting, I think, is what Father Thomas tells the men who are not selected - that those men who are still willing to serve will be considered again in the event we acquire more galleys. Now why would he say that?
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The arrival of Reuben and his merchant friend is quite timely. Our plan for Cyprus and the immediate future was settled last night when Thomas and I talked on the deck of the cog out of earshot of our men.
Thomas is going to remain here with my son, our two wounded men, and five or six of our most dependable archers and some forty or so of the more likely looking of our new men as guards. I, on the other hand, will take the two galleys and return to Latika, and maybe even Acre, to rescue more paying passengers – but not until we can find a defensible place to store our coins and shelter my son and our people. Unfortunately we don’t know what we should do with the cog and its cargo. We finally decide to try to sell them here in Cyprus.
But first we must find a warm and defensible place where Thomas and the men who shelter with him can protect George and our coins. I’m not about to return to the Holy Land for more coins and refugees until after we find such a place.
We walk with the two merchants on the track along the beach and George rides on the wagon with the grizzled old man driving the horse. He sits on the bench next to the driver and is quite proud of himself - and watches the horse intently when he is allowed to hold the reins. He’s a good lad, my son is.
While we walk, we talk. What Thomas and I learn is that Reuben periodically risks his life to carry coins and parchments to Cyprus to arrange business transactions and payments between his Father’s group of merchants in Latika and those here on Cyprus.
What we hear from the merchants is quite interesting. It would be worth a lot to the Cyprus merchants, Reuben’s friend suggests, with Reuben’ nodding his head in enthusiastic agreement, if they could give us coins in one place such as here in Limassol and send a parchment letter that would let someone else pick up the same amount of money, less a fee of course, in some other place such as Latika.
The pirates might leave your galleys and our letters alone, Reuben offers with a smile, if they knew they only carry parchment letters instead of actual coins and are full of fighting men. The Venetian galleys and moneylenders are doing this, he tells us with grudging admiration, but they have some kind of contract among themselves so that they only do it for their fellow Venetians.
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The name of Reuben’s merchant friend is Aaron, Aaron of Limassol. Like Reuben and his family, Aaron’s family deals in olive oil and grain. It soon becomes clear that Aaron and Reuben and their fellow merchants in Limasol and Latika, are looking for someone with war galleys who will, for a fee, guard their cargo ships and accept coins handed to them in one place and let someone with the proper parchment collect a comparable amount in another.
If there is a way such a thing might be arranged, Aaron and Reuben explain, they and their fellow merchants will never have to risk having their coins and sons travel on the ocean for the pirates to capture. Having such a service would be, they imply, worth many gold bezants.
That is a very interesting idea. I can see from watching Thomas’ face, which became increasingly impassive and hard to read as we talk, that he is quite taken with it. It sounds good to me too.
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An old abandoned stone house just outside the city walls of Limassol is what Reuben and Aaron are taking us to see. They point it out as we come around the northern end of the city wall. Once it might have been a fortified farm house or caravanserai or perhaps a Roman trading station or even the small castle of a minor noble or city official. That was obviously many years ago and the place has long since been abandoned and fallen into decay.
It’s in pretty bad shape. Part of its slate roof collapsed when its wooden roof beams rotted and the curtain wall surrounding it is down in several places,
“It happened when the earth shook in my grandfather’s day” volunteers another merchant who walks up to join the conversation with a cheery wave to Reuven and Aaron.
“Moslem witches caused it when the Orthodox came from Constantinople and killed the Moslem priests. At least that’s what the peasants say.”
Whatever the cause, the place is a total mess and the wall enclosing the yard in from of house is falling over and almost too short to do any good. It’s barely high enough to keep horses and cattle in let alone keep enemies out. Other missing pieces include part of the wall surrounding the narrow stone staircase whose stone steps now climb up to nowhere. There is also no gate in the curtain wall and no door for the entrance into the building.
All in all, it is a right proper mess and there are squatters living in it who jump up and run as we approach.
In other words, it would be perfect if we can fix it up.
“Who owns it?” I inquire.
“It’s been like this so long ago that no one remembers,” says yet another of Aaron’s merchant friends who joins our little group while we stand there talking and looking at the place. At least I think that’s what he said. I couldn’t tell for sure because his French has such a heavy accent and mine is not all that good. Other than the Latin Thomas taught me to read and write all I can speak is my mother tongue – the bastardized French of Somerset and some call English.
“What will the new king do if we improve the place and turn it into something of a fortress?”
“Very little I would think,” answers Aaron. Then he explains.
“The king is never here. He only visited once and that was several years ago. Although, to be honest with you, the French knight who acts as his local governor may try to extort taxes from you as he does from all the local merchants and landowners. Unfortunately the Frenchman hasn’t been here long enough for us to know how serious his threats are. All we know is that he is some kind of distant relation of the king and has never been to the Holy Land.”
Then Aaron and his merchant friend try to explain the realities of local life in Limassol. It seems the King’s local governor is a tax farmer. He has an amount he must pay the King each year and for his trouble gets to keep everything else he can collect.
It’s a negotiation, one of the other merchants suggests - “because the governor knows if he asks too much we’ll move away and he’ll get nothing. On the other hand, this new one seems to be pretty stupid so you never know.”
“And it doesn’t matter what we merchants have to pay - you will pay the governor very little indeed,” laughs Aaron. Then he explains.
“He’ll worry that if he asks for more than a token you’ll just sail away and leave him without even a small copper coin. But even more importantly, he’ll see that you have more archers and soldiers than he has so he’ll know that you’ll be able to make him an offer he can’t refuse – he can stay in the governor’s castle and keep his head and you’ll stay here and keep your money.”
We all laugh. But I really wonder if that is how it would work.
Chapter Five
“YORAM’S CYPRUS TALE”
“It will be very dangerous at first,” Father Thomas warns William after we return to the ships, “particularly if you go sailing off too soon with most of the men to get more refugees.”
“Word is bound to get out that you and most of our men are gone and the coin chests and George are here with a priest and a few guards. Even the Algerians might come back and try or, God forbid,” Father Thomas says as he makes the sign of the cross, “bring back more heathen galleys to help them.”
William agrees. “And we can’t even be sure of the men who made their mark on the Latika beach. A leader may arise from among our new men who will set them upon us. If we are to do this, you’ll have to wave your cross and keep your head.”
“Aye, you’re right. Our own archers are the
only men we can depend on for sure until we get to know the new men better.”
Two hours later, a decision is reached at the end of a lunch of bread and cheese washed down with bowls of tavern ale from the city. We scooped it from a leather bucket with our bowls and it is quite good.
Thomas and Lord William are in agreement and I know what it is: we will sell the cog and its cargo as soon as we can and our two galleys will return to Latika and the coast of the Holy Land to earn more gold by saving refugees - but we’ll only go after our land base here is sufficiently fortified and guarded to turn it into a right proper little castle.
This place is going to be very important. It will be our fortified quarters, our citadel if you will, where we protect George and our coins while we carry passengers and cargos to and from Cyprus to earn more coins.
“We’ll need masons and joiners if we are to fix the place up enough to be both livable and defensible as such a citadel must be,” William warns his brother and me.
“We could restack the fallen stones but the only joiner in the archers fell so long ago that I cannot even remember his name, just that he made particularly straight arrow shafts. Arlon I think it might have been. But maybe one of the new men knows how to do it. We’ll have to ask.”
And that is exactly what we do.
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William is on the beach and waving his hand in a circle over his head in the archer’s signal to assemble as he shouts for everyone to assemble around him. It is an important moment and I remember it well.
When those of us on the beach, perhaps half of our company, are in a big circle around him, William informs us that we will be staying here for a while. We are going to fix up a permanent base so we can winter here in order to have our galleys available to rescue more Christians and Jews from the Saracens.
Then, with me interpreting for those who can’t speak French or English, William asks if any of our men are joiners or shipwrights or masons. Several of the new men raise their hands and come forward. The rest of them are dismissed to prepare for the move to our new home and inform the men who are not present of the decision.
William and Father Thomas spend a few minutes learning the names of the handful of men who come forward and talking to them about their experiences and abilities as craftsmen. The results are very disappointing. Not a one of them, it seems, have ever been a journeyman or master and only one claims to have served as an apprentice joiner - we will have to find craftsmen in the city or bring them from the Holy Land.
There is much shouting and moving about after that as certain of the men are told to stay on the ships as guards and the rest of us march with William to set up a camp at the abandoned ruins which is going to be our new home on Cyprus.
The very first thing my liege lord does is send me and Ralph to the livestock market with a couple of silver coins to buy a horse and wagon to carry George, our two wounded men, and our chests and other possessions, from the cog to our new quarters.
Ralph is apparently the only archer who knows anything about horses and livestock. I must remember that.
Father Thomas comes with us to see the city and find out what else is available in the local market such as timber and pots and pans for our new home. William charges us with putting the word out that we are looking for joiners and masons and shipwrights to employ either temporarily or to put their marks on our contract and join us permanently.
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Our visit to the city’s market is quite revealing. Reuben and Aaron meet us at the edge of the market I wonder how they knew we were coming to show us around and introduce us to the merchants.
Limassol is large enough that all kinds of things are for sale in its market. Much of it is manufactured in the work places behind the shops that line both sides of its crowded and bustling cobblestoned market street and the little lanes that run off it. The market itself is just outside the city walls and all the local merchants and artisans already seem to know that we are moving into the ruin and intend to fix it up.
We receive many suggestions and solicitations for our custom as we move along the street with Aaron and Reuben pointing out what is available and introducing us to their fellow merchants.
Reuben must come here frequently from Latika. He obviously knows these people.
Then it happens.
There is a clatter of hoofs on the cobblestones and the crowd in the narrow market street scatters to the side as a partially armored knight and a couple of men at arms on horseback trot up to us with their swords in their hands. Several people in the crowd call out to warn us that the King’s governor is coming as he and his men trot up to us.
Is he here to intimidate us or to protect us from the merchants and common people who have, according to Ruben, risen several times in the past few years against high taxes?
Reuben and Aaron and I and our escorts fade back into the crowd. Father Thomas, however, just stands there in the middle of the lane between the stalls and gazes up at knight on horseback who trots up to him. He seems rather serene under the circumstances.
“You there, Priest. Did you come on one of those ships?” The knight says it arrogantly and with menace.
“Yes I did, Sir Knight. And that’s why I know that there was an Algerian galley in the port when we arrived and that we paid twice for the use of the dock – once to your port captain and once to the outlaw who pretended to represent you.
Then Father Thomas stepped towards the knight and spoke even more loudly so that all could hear.
“The captain of our company, Lord William, found it most curious that the King’s governor would allow such behavior to occur. Why is that? Does the King know you are letting it happen?”
Yes, I know William is neither knight nor lord and so, certainly, does Father Thomas. But this man and these people do not.
The knight governor is visibly taken aback by Father Thomas’s lack of fear and to the veiled threat in his response; it’s clearly not what he expected. But he puts a great scowl on his face and plunges ahead.
“Watch your tongue, Priest, or you’ll find yourself in my dungeon.”
Then Father Thomas surprises me and impresses everyone. He walks up to the horse and speaks quietly to the governor so that only the few of us standing nearby can hear.
“It is much more likely that you’ll end up in your King’s dungeon than I or any of Lord William’s men will end up in yours, Sir Knight,” Thomas says softly.
“And even more likely of all is that you and your men will not live to see the sun go down on this day if you make difficulties for us. Lord William’s men are here in the market in force and there are only three of you here - and not enough men in your castle to come to your aid or defend it.”
After a pause Thomas continues much more loudly.
“But you are fortunate, Sir Knight, very fortunate indeed – Lord William means you no harm and his presence can only enrich the merchants you tax for your king. Surely you can see that?”
Father Thomas asks the question with a genial wave of his hand towards surrounding crowd as he steps back out of the range of the governor’s sword.
It is only then, when the knight instinctively looks toward the crowd where Father Thomas is gesturing, that his eyes widen as he sees the archers of our escort only a few feet away with their longbows fully drawn and their metal tipped arrows pointed straight at his bare face and throat.
At that point, Father Thomas becomes most conciliatory and begins speaking in a normal voice so the merchants standing nearby can also hear.
“Lord William never saves his coins, Sir Knight; he spends them all on the hundreds of veteran fighting men he has brought with him to Limassol to help the refugees trying to flee the Holy Land. All of these fine merchants know of his generosity towards his men and the victims of the Saracens, and so does his friend and liege lord King Richard of England who brought him to Cyprus and His Holiness the Pope.”
It’s all pile of shit about the king and the pope
but the governor will never know – at least that’s what Father Thomas told me when we walked back to the dock.
Then with a smile Thomas spreads his hands wide and adds, “and now it will be your good fortune to convey to your king the news of the prosperity and increased taxes Lord William’s arrival and generosity will bring to him from Limassol. King Guy will be pleased.”
“Ah, well,” answers the pudgy and suddenly sweating governor as he finally realizes his danger and slowly sheathes his sword, “if that’s the case, perhaps all is well, isn’t it?”
Then he and his men back their horses around and trot away down the market lane with as much arrogance as they can muster.
Father Thomas and I spend the rest of the afternoon talking to those who present themselves to us as the city’s master joiners and masons. There are several of each and Reuben and Aaron assure us that their prices are reasonable - all those who are available are told to report for work in the morning with their journeymen and apprentices.
William and Thomas are in a hurry to get the work underway. William wants to make the farm house defensible as quickly as possible so he can make at least a few money-earning trips to the Holy Land before summer ends and the sea storms arrive.
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We all sleep that night either on the ships or inside the ruined walls under a couple of big tents hastily made from the spare sails Randolph found on the cog. It’s a good thing it isn’t raining.
Work begins immediately as soon as the sun comes up the next morning. By early afternoon the first of the fallen stones are beginning to be lifted back into place by masons from the city. They use contraptions similar to those sailors use to raise sails; and large timbers and logs begin arriving on wagons and being manhandled into place so they can be trimmed and joined to once again hold up the slate roof. The work is divided among the masters and their men with them providing the expertise - and our archers and men at arms providing whatever additional help they need with the lifting and fetching.
When their muscles aren’t needed by the craftsman our men take turns practicing with their weapons and using some of the tools we bought in the market to begin digging a moat around the curtain wall that encloses the little courtyard. The rocks and stones they find will be used to raise the curtain wall and build arrow slits for the archers to shoot through; the dirt will be used to begin a second moat and defensive wall William wants to build out beyond the first one. It will go all the way around the current wall and our little citadel.
The Archer: Historical Fiction: exciting novel about Marines and Naval Warfare of medieval England set in feudal times with knights,Templars, and crusaders during Richard the lionhearted's reign Page 5
