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Authors: Poul Anderson

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BOOK: Rogue Sword
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“Ah, Lucas, my beloved,” she breathed in the dark, “you must teach me to read. To think I once believed it an unmanly art! There’s so much you must teach me. Can you understand what this means, having a man I can truly talk with--for the first time since my father died?”

Not that she was always so mild. When she had a whim for something, which was often, and was not gratified at once, her language would make a mule blush. If Lucas seemed at fault, she would turn on him, with harpy screams that often led to attacks with fingernails or hurled crockery. Loathing such fights, he was apt to give in, or else to walk out of the tent. Afterward, she would again be so pleasurable that he abandoned the thought of discarding her. But she never admitted herself to have been wrong. He needed weeks to realize the full measure of her strangeness.

By then, he was back in Gallipoli. Though the Company was to establish itself in Rhedestos and Panidos, the city commanding the Boca Daner must also be retained. Rocafort moved the standard from Gallipoli and took nearly all the soldiers, with wives, mistresses, children, servants, and slaves. En Ramon stayed behind with the seamen, a hundred Almugavares, and fifty horsemen. These had charge of the treasures, magazines, and arsenals.

Though he did not say so, it was a fair guess that En Jaime de Caza chose to stay with Muntaner because the latter was an honorable and kindly knight who had openly condemned the excesses at Rhedestos. Gallipoli under his governorship would no longer be a base from which to ravage a helpless countryside; leave that to Rocafort. It would instead be a trade center (if most of the trade was in slaves and loot, that could not be helped) and a first line of defense against the outside world.

Lucas was relieved. But certain questions did arise. As they rode side by side down the westward highway, with the Propontis asparkle on their left and a lushness of green growth on the right, En Jaime said to him: “Do you remember that pretty little estate a few miles down the coast from Gallipoli? You came with some other attendants of mine to dinner there one day, when Nalfonso Boxadors invited me. It sits atop a steep cliff overlooking the water, with a large garden and some ancient sculptures--Yes, that one. Well, now that he’s moving to Panidos, I’ve gotten the place off Nalfonso for a small sum. I mean to spend as much time there as I can.”

“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 over 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.

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