To her relief, he disappeared around the rock wall as he spoke so she did not have to answer. She lingered a moment in the outer cave, looking back at the bands of lemon and green in the western sky. Then suddenly it was dark and she had to feel her way forward until the brigands’ lamps came into view. The vast cavern seemed positively cosy, particularly when she considered the prospect of crossing the wintry mountains without a tent.
“I have an idea!” she exclaimed, leading the donkey over to where James was tethering the ponies. “At least,” she went on doubtfully, “do you suppose Achates could carry two carpets on top of the rest?”
“He may stop loving us quite so much but I don’t believe it would hurt him. You’ve seen the enormous loads the peasants make donkeys carry. A carpet would be more comfortable to sleep on than the ground, and warmer.”
“Yes, but I was thinking we might use them above us, stretched over sticks perhaps, like a tent to keep off the rain.”
“Not to mention snow. That is a splendid notion! We’ll take two, one for under us and one for on top.”
She instantly objected. “Two tents, one each.”
“You cannot expect poor little Achates to bear four carpets,” James pointed out. “Fetch me a lamp, will you? There’s a leather bucket here and I’d better give these fellows a drink.”
Cordelia brought a lamp and he went off towards the sound of water. Watching the light bobbing away, she decided there was no point arguing over the number of tents. She did not want to overload the donkey. As long as the weather held fine, they could each have a carpet to sleep on, and with luck they might be able to buy a proper tent—two proper tents—before they needed them. Only, would Achates be overloaded with two tents?
She was not going to share a tent with James ever again. And what about tonight? There was plenty of space but would he observe a proper distance?
Returning with a full bucket, he said with a sigh, “I daresay I ought to sleep in the outer cave tonight.”
“You think someone might come? Or wolves?” she asked in alarm, remembering what Captain Hamid had said.
“No, not really. But if we are to rise early one of us needs to be where daylight is visible and I am far too gentlemanly to suggest that it should be you.”
“Thank you,” she said gratefully, forgetting that a moment before she had regarded him as a far from gentlemanly seducer.
* * * *
By noon next day they were well past the town, having seen no one but peasants, few of whom turned their heads from plough or pruning hook to observe the travellers. They had forded the river, fortunately not yet swollen by autumn rains. Now the day grew hot, and Cordelia hotter.
“It’s all very well saying this cloak makes me look more like a boy,” she said crossly as they stopped on the riverbank to eat and rest, “but it will not help if I expire from a heat fever before we reach the mountains.”
“Very true, and you must be tired, too. We’ll stay here through the hottest hours. There is plenty of grass for the animals, and the bushes will both give us shade and hide us from anyone who passes.”
Already dismounted, James watched critically as she descended from her pony’s back. She wished he wouldn’t—swinging one’s leg over a horse’s rear end was neither elegant nor ladylike—but sooner or later she would have to do it before more eyes than his. And she was pleased when he said, “Not bad, not bad at all, if more like an old man than an active lad.”
“I am a bit tired, though not as much as I expected. Riding astride is much easier than sidesaddle when one has the right clothes.” Especially with drawers under her breeches. With a sigh of relief she discarded the heavy woollen cloak.
“Just don’t forget to tell me if you start to get sore.” James started to unload the donkey and she went over to help. “It will waste much less time to stop right then and take a rest than to have you laid up for days unable to ride at all. Here, take Achates down to the water, but don’t let him drink more than a mouthful or two until he has cooled off a bit.”
“How do I stop him?”
“Just pull on his halter and lead him out.”
Achates had other ideas. Instead of rejoining Cordelia on the bank when she pulled, he jerked his head and she joined him in the river.
It was sheer bliss. Leaning back on her elbows in the shallows, Cordelia let the cool water run over her, washing away road dust. The sun on the bushes filled the air with the fragrance of myrtle and bay. Beside her Achates swigged to his heart’s content and beyond him the two ponies drank deep.
James stood on the bank, holding the ponies’ reins and laughing at her. “Let’s hope donkeys have less sensitive stomachs than horses,” he said. At that moment, both ponies decided to wade out a bit deeper. Not concentrating, he followed them with a mighty splash.
“Let’s hope ponies also have less sensitive stomachs!” Cordelia said as he came up spluttering.
He looked ruefully at the happy pair, muzzles deep in the river. One came up for air, snorting and shaking his head. Silver drops flew.
“Too late to worry. They ought to have names, don’t you think? Since we already have Achates, how about Dido and Aeneas?”
Though she agreed, Cordelia did not like the names. After all, Aeneas had callously deserted Dido, and it seemed a bad omen to name her mare after the unhappy queen. But if she mentioned her qualms, James might think she still feared he would desert her, which would offend him. And she was not afraid of that any longer, or at least only when she awoke in the small hours of the morning in a vast, empty cavern.
She returned to practicalities as Achates decided he had had enough to drink and hauled her out of the river. Sodden, dripping, she let him lead her to the lushest patch of grass where she hobbled him, as James had shown her at their earlier stop. Then she fetched dry clothes from a bundle and disappeared into the bushes to change.
When she emerged with an armful of soggy garments, James was hobbling Dido and Aeneas. “I’m going to wash these properly,” she said, “or at least as well as I can without soap, and the cloaks too. They should dry fast if I spread them over the bushes. Get changed and give me yours.”
“It’s only fair that I should do my own. You shall show me how. What about the sheepskins? Are they too heavy to dry?”
“Probably, but more important I’m afraid washing may spoil them. You cannot wash furs.” She had learned that in the affluent days with the Margrave of Rennenburg, but she was not about to mention another foreign nobleman to James.
He groaned. “You mean we have to go about stinking all winter? They have been airing on top of Achates’ load all morning and they still smell.”
Inspiration struck Cordelia. “We shall roll them up with myrtle and bay leaves inside and hope the scent will counteract the stink. But later. I’m hungry and I want to do the laundry before we eat.”
Much refreshed by their impromptu baths and an hour’s sleep, they set off again as soon as the worst of the midday heat had passed. Soon they turned west through a gap in the hills. According to the map Captain Hamid had quickly sketched for them, this would bring them to the River Vardar, which they could follow northwest as far as Skoplje. Beyond that, he could not advise them.
Long before reaching the town, he told them, they would leave the Greek provinces of the empire. In the provinces to the north, such a mix of peoples and languages was found that they were unlikely to be recognized as foreigners, or rather as non-subjects of the Ottomans. A good road ran up the Vardar valley and he thought there was little danger in their taking it.
This they did. After the first day, the weather turned damp and chilly, and Cordelia had no further objection to wearing a cloak. Her notion of using a carpet as a makeshift tent, draped between rocks or bushes, worked well as long as the wind did not blow too hard. To her relief, though they shared its shelter James made no attempt at unwanted familiarities, thanks, no doubt, to weather too inclement to invite unnecessary undressing.
Despite the cold rain, they avoided seeking lodgings in the villages they passed through. They bought fresh food to supplement their supplies, but if they stayed questions were bound to be asked to which they had no satisfactory answers.
On the road, they met Macedonians, Albanians, Greeks, Serbs, Gypsies, and Bulgars, as well as Turks. Each had their own national costumes and languages. For the most part Greek and Turkish served well enough when James and Cordelia needed to communicate, but she was delighted to find her Polish came in useful. A Slavic language, it had much in common with Serbian. As they were likely to meet more and more Serbs, she started to teach it to James as they travelled.
However, they never rode along with other travellers, always falling behind if they could not pull ahead after an exchange of greetings.
The valley narrowed as they continued north. Often hidden in mists, the bleak hills on either side boasted few trees but the rains brought fresh grass springing, to the delight of ponies and donkey alike. Between the plentiful forage and their new, shaggy, winter coats, their once visible ribs disappeared.
Cordelia, on the contrary, began to feel her ribs for the first time in an age. Even with the occasional quail, pigeon or rabbit James shot, their travelling rations were spartan fare. Together with constant exercise, they proved a more effective reducing diet than any her mama had recommended over the years. What was more, she felt full of energy and she was growing much stronger. Soon she could ride all day with only brief rests, as much for the animals’ sake as hers.
“If anyone had told me I should positively enjoy spending day after day on horseback in the rain, I should have thought them tottyheaded,” she said to James when they set out on the day they expected to reach Skoplje. “But I have enjoyed it.”
He grinned. “Must be the company.”
“Yes, Dido and Aeneas and Achates are excellent company,” she retorted with a smile. “All the same, I shall be glad to spend the night at a caravanserai if you really think it’s safe.”
“Hamid said it is large enough for anonymity if we only stay one night.”
“As long as we stay in the town long enough to visit the hammam.”
“He did say it’s one of the most splendid in the empire, but we are not travelling to see the sights.”
“Wretch! It’s a bath I want and for all I care the building may be built of wattle and daub. I cannot visit it as a boy, though, James. I shall have to turn back into a female for a few hours.”
“A delightful prospect!”
She looked at him severely. “It is lucky we have plenty of funds to take two rooms, thanks to Captain Hamid and the brigands.”
“Yes,” he agreed with a sigh, “I cannot pretend we are short of money. However, we have a long journey ahead of us, with no more large towns on our way. If you will entrust a diamond or two to me, I shall seek out a jeweller.”
“Aaron did not give me the name of a trustworthy jeweller in Skoplje. Neither of us could have guessed I might need one! You won’t take the first price you are offered?”
“Nothing less than double,” he promised, laughing.
* * * *
By mid afternoon the sky cleared and ahead of them the sun shone on the domes and minarets of Skoplje. Next the red-tiled roofs appeared. Riding across the ancient Roman Vardar bridge they entered the town.
The first person James accosted directed them to the caravanserai. The season being advanced, many routes were already closed by snow so the huge inn was not busy and they had no difficulty taking two rooms next to each other. James tipped the ostler in the stables to ensure good treatment for Dido, Aeneas, and Achates. Then they picked up such of their belongings as they could carry and followed a servant burdened with the rest.
The great courtyard was surrounded by two stories of galleries with rounded arches on square pillars. Their rooms were upstairs, each with a barred window to the gallery, another to the outside, and a door with a hefty lock.
“Travelling merchants would soon cease to frequent a caravanserai where their valuables were not safe,” James said. “You can leave your diamonds and money here when we go to the hammam.”
“Good. Let’s go right away. I shall change my clothes and meet you in ten minutes.”
He escorted her to the hammam’s women’s entrance and went off to the men’s side. She entered the windowless, multi-domed building rather nervously, since she had never before taken a Turkish bath without Aisha or Amina to attend her. The thought of letting strangers wash and massage her body embarrassed her. However, the hired attendants were so matter-of-fact about the whole business that she soon relaxed and enjoyed the process of ridding herself of weeks of dirt.
The only awkwardness came when one of the women exclaimed over her hair. Cordelia explained vaguely that the colour was because she came from the north, and that she had had to have it cut off because of a recent illness. She was overwhelmed with sympathy. As if to compensate her for its shortness, they all gathered round to praise its fairness.
James was waiting for her when she emerged, glowing, into the chilly dusk.
“I’ve got the name of a Jewish jeweller,” he said triumphantly. “I’ll wager he’s at least heard of Uncle Aaron. Let’s get those diamonds and I’ll go and knock him up.”
“If he is Jewish, I shall come too.”
“You’re the haggler,” he agreed, grinning. “Shall you be my brother, my sister, my wife, my mother...”
“Not your mother!”
“No, he’d never believe it. You are too pretty. Be my wife.”
Cordelia nodded, but a curious pain twisted her heart. She did her best to disregard it. It was not as if she wished him to ask her seriously to be his wife. The last thing she wanted was to be wed to a ne’er-do-well scamp, even if he was a wonderful travelling companion.
They fetched two diamonds from her chamber and found the jeweller, who turned out to have actually done business with Aaron of Istanbul. He bought the jewels at what seemed a fair price, then invited them to dine with his family. Despite grumbling about the short notice, his wife provided a magnificent meal, while he provided advice about the journey ahead of them.