Cait nodded to show that she understood, whereupon the jailer pushed open the door and stepped through into the cavernous chamber. Cait followed, with Abu Sharma close behind. Haemur and Otti came next – in attendance not because they were any real use in this matter, but for propriety's sake: Cait had quickly learned that the Saracens respected only those women who appeared to possess the support and protection of men.
The lower prison was little more than a dark noisome hole; the only illumination came from the grates of the open sluice drains in the floor above. Despite the stink, the cell was cool and dry-an acceptable trade, Cait thought, for if one could not have the light, at least one did not have to endure the heat. In the surrounding gloom, the captives lay: eighteen or twenty men, all knights, all of whom had been captured in one battle or another.
As Cait moved into the high-vaulted room, the captives stared up with hopeful faces, and began clamouring for attention. The jailer waded in, roaring at the prisoners and clouting them with his ring of keys until rough order was restored. He then stepped back, and beckoned Cait forward to examine the goods on offer and make her choice.
Cait had already had plenty of time to decide what she wanted. She stepped forward, and raising her voice to the hopeful men addressed them in slow, distinct Latin. 'Believe me when I tell you that I am sorry for your plight,' she said. 'My own father sat in this same cell awaiting ransom and release. It came for him eventually, and I pray that it will come soon for each and every one of you.'
She paused to allow her words to be relayed by Abu to the jailer. 'Today, however, liberation has come to a fortunate few,' she told the prisoners. Then changing smoothly to a simple, but serviceable Norse, she asked, 'Are there any Norsemen among you?'
Several voices answered eagerly: 'Here!' said two; and 'Over here!' said another.
'Stand, please,' commanded Cait. Three men rose eagerly to their feet. Pointing to the nearest of them, she turned to the jailer, who motioned the prisoner to step forward.
Hobbling, his hands and feet shackled and chained, the man edged into the light. Tall and gaunt, his fair hair and beard hanging in dirty tangles, his face grey with despair and lack of light, he regarded the young woman with an expectancy almost painful to behold.
'What is your name?' Cait asked in the northern tongue.
'I am Yngvar,' replied the man, his voice cracking dry. He held himself gingerly, favouring one side, as if to protect an injury.
She looked him up and down. 'Are you well enough to fight, Yngvar?'
'I am that,' he replied without hesitation.
'These others,' she said, indicating the knights waiting their turn. 'Do you know them?'
He nodded his head once. 'They are my swordbrothers.' Pointing with both hands to the thick-shouldered, heavy-browed man behind him, he said, 'That is Svein Gristle-Bone.' Nodding to the young, dark-haired man a short distance away, he said, 'That is Dag Stone-Breaker.'
She summoned them by name. 'Svein, Dag, come here.' As they shuffled painfully forth, she asked, 'Where is your lord, Yngvar? Was he killed in battle?'
'By no means,' replied the knight. 'He is here with us even now.' He turned and pointed to a man squatting on the floor a few paces away.
Cait moved to him and he looked up at her impassively. His face
what she could see of it beneath the foul mat of his hair and beard
was broad, his chin and cheekbones strong. 'This man here says
you are his lord.'
'He speaks the truth.'
'Then why do you refuse to stand with the others?'
'You did not say how many would be chosen,' he replied evenly. 'If any are to gain freedom today, I want my men to have first chance.'
Cait nodded thoughtfully. 'If I pay ransom for your men, will you join them?'
'Of course,' he said. 'I am their lord.'
'Tell me, how did you come to be here?'
'There was a battle,' answered the knight. 'We lost.'
'Is that all? Nothing more?'
'That was enough.'
'I mean,' said Cait with exaggerated patience, 'is there nothing more you care to tell me about how you came to be here?' 'We are warriors, not criminals. There is nothing more to tell.' 'Then let us strike a bargain, you and I,' replied Cait, satisfied at last.
The knight climbed slowly to his feet. Even in chains, his clothes little more than filth-crusted rags, he held himself straight and tall. 'I am Rognvald of Haukeland,' he declared. 'Tell me your bargain.'
'It is this,' said Cait. Before she could continue, the jailer, who had been talking idly to the katib, suddenly thrust himself between them, shouting and swinging his keys again. Instantly, the knight raised his shackled hands, caught hold of the iron ring, and held it firm so that Cait would not be struck. The jailer roared with frustration.
'Peace! Sala'am!' cried Abu, rushing forward. He beseeched and cajoled, and by degrees calmed the outraged jailer. 'He says you must not go among them,' Abu informed Cait, 'or you will certainly be hurt.'
'Tell the jailer I thank him for his vigilance and concern,' Cait replied, stepping back to show she understood. To the knight, she said, 'Here is my bargain: I require the aid and protection of several men-at-arms for a pilgrimage I intend to make. In exchange for your vow of fealty, I will pay your ransom. Serve me well, and once I have reached my destination and achieved my purpose, you will be paid for your services and released to go your way.'
Lord Rognvald regarded her with the same indifferent expression with which he had greeted her.
'What say you?' she asked. 'Do you wish to discuss the matter with your men?'
When he still did not reply, she demanded, 'Well? What is your answer?'
'I am thinking.'
The other prisoners began shouting just then, imploring to be recognized, giving Cait to understand that if these Norwegians were reluctant, many another would happily take their place. Putting out her hand to the clamouring captives, Cait said, 'You see? There are plenty of others ready and willing to volunteer.'
'This is what I am thinking,' replied the knight, stroking his beard with a grimy hand.
It was at that moment that Cait knew she had made the right choice. 'Lord Rognvald, I chose you because while I know nothing about fighting men, I do know something about Norsemen. And I know that if a Norseman accepts my bargain I can trust him to keep it, and I will sleep secure in my bed at night.'
'That is true,' replied the knight. 'How do you know so much about Norsemen?'
'My great-grandfather was born in Norway, and my grandfather came from Orkney) ar-he served King Magnus on the Great Pilgrimage.'
Lord Rognvald's men stood looking on, their faces pinched with desperate hope.
'Come, let us agree,' said Caitriona. 'I think you will find service in my employ far less onerous than your present occupation.'
A ghost of a smile touched his dry lips. 'My lady, I accept.'
Cait turned at once to the katib. 'These four men,' she said. 'How much is the ransom?'
Abu translated her words, and the wazir's secretary cast his eyes over the standing men. He made a mental calculation, and announced the price.
'Ten thousand dirhams,' Abu said, relaying the katib's words. 'Each.'
'Very well,' said Cait. 'Tell him I agree.'
'With all respect, sharifah, that I will not do,' Abu replied. 'It is impious to accept the first price-it shows disrespect for the bounty Allah has given you. Also it is an insult to the intelligence and an affront to the spirit of commerce.'
'I see. Then tell him it is too much,' said Cait. 'I will give five thousand.'
Abu and the katib held a short, spirited discussion, whereupon Abu turned to Cait and announced, 'Katib says you are not to offend his master the prince with such a ridiculous offer. These are Christian knights, not camels. Ten thousand is the price for which noble fighting men are redeemed. He will not accept less than eight thousand dirhams.'
'While I intend no
disrespect to Prince Mujir ed-Din,' Cait replied smoothly, 'I must point out that one of these men is injured, and all of them suffer from lice, starvation, dysenteria, and God knows what else. I doubt whether his highness the prince would buy camels in a similar condition. Six thousand, tell him.'
'Seven thousand and five hundred dirhams for each man,' countered the katib when Abu had translated her words.
'I think it is still too much,' Abu confided in a low voice. 'These men have been here a long time. Stay at six.'
'Six thousand and not one dirham more,' said Cait through her dutiful translator. Looking around the prison, she added, 'I do not see anyone offering a better price. Therefore,' she smiled, 'I advise you to accept mine.'
'Twenty-five thousand for all four,' countered the katib serenely.
'Very well,' said Cait. 'Twenty-five thousand for these four,' she held up a finger, 'and freedom for one more of my choosing.' She paused, and added with a smile, 'Twenty-five thousand silver dirhams, katib, or nothing. I leave the choice to you. Personally, I think twenty-five thousand dirhams would be very useful in helping repair the earthquake damage to his majesty the prince's reception hall.'
When her words were relayed to him, the katib rolled his eyes. 'Yu'allah!' he sighed. 'Very well, which is it to be?'
Addressing Rognvald, she said, 'Is there any man here with a young family waiting for him at home?'
The knight thought for a moment. 'There are two that I know of,' he said, and pointed out two knights, who eagerly rose and stood expectantly.
'Do either of you have a daughter?' Cait asked in Latin.
'I do,' replied one of the men.
'How old is she?'
'Six years this summer,' answered the man.
'When did you last see her?'
'Three years ago.'
'I will buy your release on one condition,' she said. 'You must abandon any claim to wealth or rank in the Holy Land and return home to your family without delay.'
'God smite me if I do not fly from this hellhole the moment I am released,1 replied the knight, unable to keep the quaver of excitement from his voice.
'Swear it,' she insisted.
'Upon my soul and every hope of eternal salvation, I hereby abandon any and all claims to wealth and rank in the Holy Land, and vow to return home by the swiftest means possible.'
'Very well,' replied Cait. 'If you like, you may accompany us to the coast where you will find passage aboard a ship to take you home.'
'You kindness shames and overwhelms me,' replied he knight. 'I thank you, my lady. I am your devoted servant.'
'Your safe return to your family is sufficient.'
Turning to the katib, Cait indicated the man and said, 'That one is to be included with the others. They are to be allowed to wash and given clean clothes. Understood?'
The katib bent his head in acknowledgement and the bargain was sealed. Turning on her heel, she walked quickly from the chamber, steeling herself against the piteous clamour of the captives as they cried out to be released. She did not stop until she was outside the prison and drinking in the fragrant air of the prince's courtyard once more.
'Please tell Prince Mujir ed-Din that I thank him for indulging my request so admirably. And I will thank Wazir Muqharik to command the captives to be readied for their release by midday when I return with the money.'
'It shall be done,' replied the katib when Abu had delivered her words.
The party then left the palace and returned to the inn where Caitriona had taken rooms. Leaving Abu and Otti to keep watch in the courtyard outside, she and Haemur brought out the chest containing the items carefully selected for the purpose from among the treasures Duncan had assembled to pay for their pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Alethea watched as her sister withdrew a gold bowl rimmed with alternating rubies and sapphires, and a ceremonial dagger with pearl-studded handle and crystal blade.
'Now what are you doing?' Thea asked, yawning with boredom.
'I am selling a few things to pay for knights,' Cait explained, passing the objects to the ship's pilot, who placed them in a cloth bag which he knotted and tied.
'Are you going into the city?' asked Alethea. 'I want to go. I hate staying here alone. If you are going, I am going, too.'
'No,' replied Caitriona crisply. 'We are staying here.'
'I cannot see why we need knights anyway,' grumped Alethea.
'I told you, it is not safe for us to travel alone,' replied Cait. 'We need the protection of a bodyguard.' With that, she and Haemur returned to the courtyard, where Cait instructed Abu Sharma to accompany Haemur to the principal marketplace in the city and negotiate the best terms possible for the sale of the precious objects. 'We need at least twenty-five thousand dirhams, as you know,' she said. 'Bargain well, and I will give you a dirham for every ten you receive over the necessary amount.'
'Done!' cried the young physician. 'Place your full confidence in me, sharifah. We shall return in triumph.'
'Otti,' she said, turning to the seaman, 'I want you to go with Haemur for protection. Let no harm come to him. Understand?'
The simple seafarer nodded dutifully, and took his place beside the pilot. She watched them depart, and then went back to her room and lay down on her bed with eyes closed, hoping to escape the heat and noise of the busy streets outside the inn.
It was no use. The barking of dogs, the braying of donkeys, and the restless fidgeting and sighing of Alethea kept her awake. So, abandoning the attempt, she rose and, taking her sister with her, went to find the innkeeper to arrange for a special meal to be served that evening for her soon-to-be-released warrior band.
CHAPTER SEVEN
'Sharifah!' cried Abu Sharma, his voice loud in the courtyard. 'Come quickly!'
Cait awakened at the sound. The chamber door was open to the courtyard outside. 'Thea!' she muttered.
Rising, she pulled on her shoes and hurried out to find the courtyard filled with the horses, camels, and baggage of a caravan of Arab merchants newly arrived in the city. The travellers, dressed in dark robes and pale yellow turbans, were standing in the yard overseeing the unloading of their pack animals while the innkeeper passed among them with cups of lemon water and tiny honey cakes. The sun was hovering above the rooftops, and the heat of the day slowly fading.
'Here, sharifah,' Abu called again. 'Come and see what I have done for you!'
The young physician and the old pilot stood holding a small wooden casket between them. Otti loomed behind in an attitude of hovering protection. Haemur was grinning like a child with a naughty secret, and Abu was puffed up and strutting like a cockerel. Alethea stood nearby, gawking at the Arab travellers in their opulent, richly patterned robes. The younger men among the merchants were, in turn, ogling Alethea who, owing to the heat, had put off her mantle and come out wearing only her undershirt; her long smooth arms were exposed and her legs bare from her shapely calves to her slender ankles.
'Thea! Get inside,' Cait ordered. To Abu and Haemur she said, 'Bring it in. There may still be a few people in Damascus who have yet to learn our business. Perhaps we might keep it that way.'
The two men lugged the chest into Cait's room, and lay it at her feet. The others crowded around as Abu pulled the hook from the hasp and swung the lid back on its hinges. 'Behold!' he cried. 'Silver and gold for her majesty!'
Indeed, the casket was filled with silver dirhams and a scattering of gold dinars. 'How much is here?' asked Alethea excitedly, her eyes wide at the sight of so much money.
'Thirty-three thousand dirhams,' replied Haemur with unaccustomed enthusiasm. 'It was all Abu's doing. You should have seen him, my lady; he bargained like a champion -'
'That is me: Abu Sharma, Champion of the Bazaar!'
Otti laughed out loud. 'He is crazy, this one.'
'That may well be,' agreed Cait, removing a handful of coins from the chest.
'But this is wonderful, Cait,' said Alethea. 'Do you not think so?'
'I am delighted.' Sh
e counted out coins amounting to eight thousand dirhams, put them in a leather bag which she tied, and returned the rest to the box. To Abu and Haemur she said, 'I might have been more delighted if you had accomplished the task in good time.' Taking up a shawl to wrap around her shoulders, she said, 'Close the box and bring it.'
Abu's face fell slightly. 'You do not wish to hear how the Mighty Abu wrestled the demons of avarice, greed, and desire in the marketplace?'
7 do,' said Alethea.
'Later,' Cait said, moving to the door. 'I wish to secure the release of the captives before they close the palace gates.'
Motioning Otti to help him, the young Syrian took up the casket. 'I know,' he said, brightening once more, 'I will tell you on the way. It will pleasantly pass the time.'
'Excellent,' said Thea happily.
Cait turned and handed her the bag of coins. 'You are staying here.'
'Ohhh,' Thea whined in frustration. 'Cait, please, I want to go.'
'And keep the door closed until I get back.'
Thea frowned.
'I mean it, Thea. I will not have you wandering around outside alone.'
'Otti could come with me,' she suggested hopefully.
'I need Otti with me.'
At Caitriona's command, Abu hired a small carriage from among those waiting outside the inn. She and Haemur rode in the carriage guarding the box, while Otti and Abu walked alongside. Abu, eager to aggrandize himself in the eyes of his patroness, embellished his story shamelessly. However, the tale that emerged bore at least a passing resemblance to what had actually taken place.
As directed, the three men had taken the precious objects Cait had given them from among the items in her father's store, and they had gone to the marketplace, where, in the street of goldsmiths, they sought out the expert valuation of one of the more highly respected craftsmen there. The fellow had examined the items, expressed interest and, when he asked the reason for the sale, had been told the simple truth: to raise funds for the ransom of prisoners. 'Fifteen thousand,' offered the goldsmith, upon receiving this information. Abu duly pointed out that the objects were far more valuable than that, but the fellow refused to barter. The offer remained firm. 'The walls of Damascus would be easier to move than that pinchfist,' Abu declared.
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