the Walking Drum (1984) (25 page)

At daylight, after concealing the horses on some grass among the willows, and while Safia slept, I took my sword and bow to prowl about. In a small copse I found a few of Akim's sheep banded together with one big old ram for protection. I put an arrow into a lamb that strayed from the flock and, butchering it, carried the meat back to the cave. Later, following the stream, I found another cave, larger, roomier, still better hidden, so I moved us there.

Treating Safia was the first test of my medical knowledge and a severe test for a more experienced man than I. However, Safia began, slowly, to recover. First, hers was a struggle for life, then for health, and mine was a struggle for our very existence. The food kept with the horses was soon gone, but the sheep seemed glad to have me about. If they noticed the inroads upon their number, it was no more than they expected.

Some of Akim's crops had seeded themselves, and I found a little barley, some fruit the birds had not eaten, and once I killed a wild boar. Several parties of riders appeared, and one rode to the ruins of Akim's place, but I had erased all evidence, and they found nothing.

When Safia could sit up and fend for herself, it became easier, for I could go further afield to forage for food and the herbs needed to treat her.

Trouble came without warning. Three mercenary soldiers rode up to the cave just as I was mounted to ride away. I saw them the instant before they saw me and drew my sword, keeping the left side of my horse toward them, my sword resting on my knee, point forward.

No doubt they thought me some peasant, easily frightened, for when they rode up one said, "Get off that horse, or you will have a split skull."

The third man who held back somewhat said, "Rig, see what's in the cave. I think we've found ourselves a woman."

Unmoving, I sat my horse, and the first speaker started for me just as Rig started to swing down. Touching a spur to my Arab, I leaped the horse at him, knocking him to the ground. At the same time my sword came from behind the barrel of my horse.

My sudden lunge at the dismounting soldier had brought me up on the left of the first man. He threw up his arm, and he had no shield, and the edge of my blade cut deep into his arm and shoulder. Our horses were pressed together, and commanding my horse with my knees, I thrust my sword into his side.

The third man was fleeing, but sheathing my sword, I leaped my Arab after him, bringing up my bow with an arrow ready. His heavier, slower horse was no match for mine, and I overtook him swiftly, unleashing an arrow that shot him through. Catching up his horse, I despoiled him of armor and weapons and returned to the cave.

The man whom I had knocked down was no longer in sight, but I had no doubt where he was. Dismounting, sword in hand, I entered the cave.

Safia was against the wall, her dagger in her hand. "You are a fool," she was saying. "He will kill you!"

"Maybe, but I shall have you first." He leaped at her, but instead of using the dagger as he expected, she struck him across the face with a brand from the fire. His attention had been concentrated on the knife, and he had not seen the glowing stick she held down beside her. The swing through the air ignited flame, and he sprang back. It was not my fault that he fell against the point of my sword, although maybe I did push, just a little. If a man is determined to die, who am I to fly in the face of destiny?

"We were lucky," I said.

"Yes," she admitted, "but you have skill, also." Our venture of the morning had been rewarding. We now had three more horses, three helmets, two coats of mail and a breastplate, daggers, swords, and some other gear. There were only four dinars between them, but we had money of our own. Yet it was time to move.

During the long days in the cave Safia had taught me more Persian than the little I had learned, and also some Hindi. Born in Basra, daughter of an emir by a slave girl, she had been given a fine education and betrothed to a Bengali prince. His death left her alone, but in Baghdad she married one of the old Abbasid dynasty and engaged in intrigue to seize the caliphate of Cordoba for him. Failing in that, she had become a spy, selling information to all who could pay.

It was now four months since our flight from Cordoba, and although her body was wasted from the long illness, she was now fit to ride. The soles of her feet remained so tender she could walk only a few steps. Often when bathing in the pool or prowling the ruins of Akim's farm I wondered how Sharasa fared. Had she done well? Where was she now?

Resuming the battered armor of a mercenary, but armed better than before, I led back to the road, but this time we traveled away from Cordoba. "There is a man in Constantinople," Safia said, "who might know of your father. It is he you must find."

We sold our captured horses as well as the armor and weapons. The four horses Safia had acquired originally we kept. We were not apt to find their equal.

Safia had given me her jewels to store safely back in Cordoba, and I had remembered to bring them, but we hoped not to touch them. Riding in the fresh, clean air was raising color in her cheeks, and the dead, lackluster expression of her eyes was gone. Outside Toledo we met a group of travelers and joined our force to theirs. Now that we would be traveling beyond the areas controlled by the Moslems, we would be in even greater danger. Banditry existed in Moslem territories now, too, since the breakup into many smalltaifas.

It was in Zaragoza that we met Rupert von Gilderstern, a mountain of a man, at least two inches taller than I and many pounds heavier. His huge face both long and wide, possessed a beak of a nose and two chins. Although he looked fat, he gave no impression of softness, and despite his massive size he moved with ease and grace. He spoke with the voice of an oracle and the commanding presence of a god.

Arriving at a wayside inn, we found the courtyard filled with packhorses and mules. Standing wide-legged at one side of the court was a man the like of whom I had never seen. "We will have the packs off. Check your beasts for scratches, wounds, or abrasions. We will have no animals unfit to bear burdens here."

He ignored our arrival and looked at no one. He spoke strongly and clearly. "Look to their hocks, check their hooves for stones. Brush down the hair upon their backs, a lump of twisted hair can cause chafing. No man will see to himself until his beasts are cared for."

Obviously, we had encountered a merchant caravan, and this huge man was theHansgraf or captain of the train. Such caravans took merchandise up and down and across Europe, traveling by age-old trade routes dating from ancient times, long before the Romans. Some followed the old Amber road that led from the Baltic to the Mediterranean over which amber had been taken to the pharaohs of Egypt, to Solomon himself, and to Hiram of Tyre.

These parties of merchants, bound together by an oath of fidelity, were well-armed, prepared to resist attack by brigands, orRaubritter. There were barons who charged down from their castles hoping to plunder a caravan. Many a castle was lookout for such as these.

TheHansgraf 's caravan of the White Company of traders was a rich one, and immediately I realized this could be our salvation. Our route led eastward through mountain passes where danger lurked, yet with such a caravan we might travel safely.

Choosing an empty corner of the yard, I unsaddled and tended my horses, and no horse in the yard could compare to ours.

Several times I saw the eyes of theHansgraf upon me, or glancing from me to Safia, who stood nearby. When my animals were cared for, I gathered my weapons and went inside.

A dozen men were seated about the table, eating and drinking, several of them already drunk. They stared at Safia as she entered, and one spoke aloud in the Frankish tongue, an insulting phrase that Safia did not understand. Reaching across the table, I took him by the beard, the worst of insults in a Moslem country, and dragged him across the table. Jerking down on his beard, I shoved a handful of grease and suet into his opened mouth.

"Keep your filthy mouth shut," I said, "or next time I'll force a sheep down your throat." Wiping the grease from my hand on his shirtfront, I released him and shoved hard, toppling him back over the bench choking and gagging.

Two of the others, flushed with drink, half started to rise. "The lady," I told them, "will be treated as such. If you wish to take issue with me, I shall split your skulls like melons."

We chose a table at the far side of the room, and I saw the loud-mouthed one stagger to the door, gagging. It would be a while before he wagged his tongue over another woman.

Glancing up, I saw theHansgraf looking across the room at me.

We ordered up a bottle of wine and a chunk of roast beef and settled down to eat. Safia had recovered except for her too tender feet, and the cool air had given her a fine appetite.

A shadow loomed beside our table. It was theHansgraf. "Nobly done! That swine was well served. Do you travel far?"

Gesturing to the bottle, I said, "A noble wine,Hansgraf, will you join us?"

"A moment, at least." He seated himself, and again I was amazed at the size of him. He must have weighed half again my own weight. He was clad in black: black hose and black tall boots, a black cloak over all.

"You are a soldier?"

"Of fortune," I said, "a fighting man, if necessary, but something of a scholar as well. I travel eastward," I added, "and the lady Safia travels to her home in Shiraz."

"It is a far place." He measured me again with appraising eyes. "Do you have capital to invest? Ours is a merchant company, our goods bought and sold in common, profits shared. If you would like to join us, we can use strong men."

"Would I share with the company?"

"You would be one of us. Your sword must be ours, also. We will have need of swords, I believe."

"And your route?"

"By way of Pamplona to Pau and Avignon. We go eastward but by way of the fairs."

So it was that I, who had been a scholar, a geographer, and perhaps a physician, became a merchant.

A merchant with a sword.

Chapter
25

The tawny hills lay like sleeping lions along the narrow track. Far ahead, leading the convoy, was theschildrake, or standard-bearer. Behind him rode six armed men, selected for their skill with weapons, and then theHansgraf himself.

The caravan was made up of nearly five hundred pack animals, mostly horses and mules but cattle also. These last would be eaten when their packs were sold or shifted to mules. They walked in pairs because the track was narrow, with armed guards along the flanks of the column.

Four women accompanied them, and there were sixty-two men, hardened by constant travel and intermittent warfare. All were shareholders in the venture, and in von Gilderstern they had a very superior commander who maintained sharp discipline. If any failed to live up to standard, he was dropped at once. His goods were purchased, and he was left wherever they happened to be.

That morning Gilderstern had stood with his feet planted upon the earth and stared at me, hands on hips. The stance was typical, I was to learn. "You are a Celt?"

"From Armorica, in Brittany, near the sands of Brignogan."

"I know the place. And the woman? She is not your wife?"

"She is a lady to whom I am indebted. And she is a lady."

"I assumed as much. Tell me, and no offense intended. Is she well-behaved?"

"As man to man, yes. We are friends. Good friends, but no more than friends. Also," I added, "she may be of much value. She is a lady who deals in information. She was at the center of things in Cordoba until enemies caught up with her. I helped her escape as she had once helped me."

TheHansgraf nodded. "We go north to Montauban, then to the fairs of Flanders, back to those of the Champagne. It could be a year before we reach the sea." He glanced at me sharply. "You were ready to fight. Are you a quarrelsome man?"

"I am not."

"For your information, we are like a family here, in loyalty, in cooperation. All quarrels or disagreements are settled by me. At any time you are not satisfied or prove less than you need to be, we will buy you out, and you go your way.

"The company protects all its members, and all trading companies stand ready to aid each other."

Under gray skies we moved forward. The great fairs of Flanders and the Champagne attracted merchants from all the countries of Europe. The honor of being the oldest fair was believed to belong to St. Denis, but there were fairs at Ypres, Lille, and Bruges almost as old as St. Denis. The greatest of the Flanders fairs was at Ghent.

By the earliest years of the twelfth century the fairs at Bar and Troyes as well as those at Lagny and Provins were long established, and those in Champagne had become the money marts of Europe, clearinghouses for debts contracted in all Christian and many Moslem lands.

Fairs lasted from three to six weeks, and it was customary for merchant caravans to travel from one fair to the next. Large fairs operated at Cambrai, Chateau-Thierry, and Chalons-sur-Marne.

The laws of the lands had given many unique privileges to the fairs and the merchants who attended them, all with a view toward attracting trade. Merchants doing business at the fairs operated under a specialconduit, under protection of the ruler of the land through which they traveled. A special group of armed men, the "guards of the fairs," maintained order, and a letter bearing their seal assured safety to all who bore them.