"Allah willing, they will wait until their beards grow to touch the ground," he replied.
"And then?"
"They will shave, and wait some more."
What with his crew so brutally decimated, Harald no longer commanded enough Sea Wolves to man four ships, and had been forced to the onerous expediency of hiring seamen to help man the ships-Greek fishermen, mostly, who agreed to go to Constantinople where they could find work on other ships. He hired fifty-three, and would have taken more, but there were no more to be had at any price.
As soon as the last water cask was lashed to its companions, and the last of the rafiq scrambled aboard, the Sea Wolves took up their long oars and pushed away from the wharf. As the wind was favourable, Harald ordered the handsome red-and-white banded sails to be raised while the ships were still in harbour. Although such practice was certain to draw the harbour master's condemnation, the jarl cared nothing for that, thinking only to get away as swiftly as possible. Thus, in less time than it takes to tell it, the four longships sped from Trebizond like wild geese loosed after lengthy captivity.
Harald, glad to be his own master once more, took his place at the sternpost and commanded Thorkel, the pilot, to steer a course that kept us far from sight of land. I asked him if this unaccustomed caution arose from fear of Sarazen pirates, but he spat and said, "The emperor owes me much silver for my pains, and the sooner we reach Miklagard, the sooner I will be paid."
I could but marvel at the audacity of the man. Even after all that had happened, he still considered himself in the emperor's employ, and meant to collect his wages. Nor had he forgotten the debt Nikos owed him-an account he meant to collect in blood.
The tented platform behind the mast, where Harald was wont to keep his treasure, became the amir's sickbed. As soon as we departed the harbour, I went to see how he fared. Faysal and Ddewi had hung the amir's sling between the mast and one of the supports of the platform; Sadiq lay covered only by a cloth of the lightest material. He seemed peacefully asleep, and if not for the white band swathing his head instead of his customary turban, he might merely have been a man taking a well-deserved rest.
"There is little change," Kazimain informed me when I asked. She appeared haggard, her eyes dull and her skin pallid; her lips were dry and cracked. The journey and its consequent demands of caring for her stricken kinsman had used her cruelly.
"Has he woken?"
Not trusting her voice, she merely shook her head.
"The worst is behind us," I said, trying to comfort her. "He can rest for a time now-at least until we reach Constantinople."
At this, Ddewi raised his head and regarded me with interest. "How long?" he asked. The question, though simple, surprised me; it was the first time I had heard him speak since escaping the mines.
"No fewer than twelve days," I answered. "Thorkel says if the wind stays fair, we shall make good time."
"Twelve days," he mused, returning his gaze to the amir's unmoving form. "That is good."
Kazimain noticed my look of mild surprise, and smiled. "Yes," she said, "he speaks now. No doubt, you have been too busy to notice."
"I am sorry, Kazimain. If I have seemed preoccupied, it is not-"
"Shhh," she soothed. "I did not speak so to rebuke you, my love. I know your thoughts are elsewhere."
She returned to her duty, and I curled myself into the curve of the bow to take a nap. No sooner had I closed my eyes, however, than Harald's bellow roused me. "That one may be trouble," he said, pointing to a square red sail visible against the buff-coloured hills. Another ship with a blue-and-white striped sail could be seen moving eastward along the coast, following the established sea path.
"Perhaps he will turn aside when he reaches deeper water," I suggested.
"Perhaps," agreed Harald doubtfully. "We must keep our eyes on him, I think. He is very fast, that one."
The red ship did not turn into the sea lane when he reached deep water; he proceeded on steadily, following our wake, seemingly content to hold back as the distant hills dwindled behind us. Harald read this as a bad omen. "He is waiting until we are out of sight of land," Harald said. "Then he will make his move. We have a little time yet to prepare."
Signalling to the other three ships, Harald brought them nearer so that we sailed more closely together. He ordered all the provisions to be lashed down and secured, and for weapons to be placed at the ready. The Sea Wolves placed their shields along the rails, which served to raise the sides of the ships and so better protect those inside. Spears were set upright in the leather oar holders between the shields, ready at hand.
My brother monks saw the activity and asked what it meant. I told them about the red ship, saying, "Harald thinks they may be pirates."
"I think he is right," Dugal agreed. "The ship that attacked us on the way to Trebizond had red sails, too."
"We will pray to God for deliverance," Bryn said staunchly. Dugal regarded the spears thoughtfully.
"You would be better employed," I advised, "praying to the wind that it does not fail."
The red ship drew ever nearer-until we could see the narrow prow plainly above the sea swell. Then she slackened her pace to match our own, hanging back what seemed a respectful distance, her master exercising obvious caution. "What does he want, this one?" mused Harald aloud, cupping his hands to his eyes to shield them from the sun-glare. "Why does he wait?"
"Perhaps," I suggested, "he is simply a merchant who wishes to travel in our company."
"And perhaps he is waiting for his friends," the jarl replied contemptuously. "We are four against one, after all."
By day's end the red ship had come no closer, neither had she altered her course by so much as a hair. She kept her distance through the night, and when morning came the red sail was still in place. With the dawn came a more forceful breeze, blowing out of the southwest. Thinking to increase the distance between ourselves and the red ship, Harald altered the course slightly to take advantage of the fresh wind.
The longships leapt forward at once, and very soon the red ship was seen to be growing smaller. "We are leaving them behind!" shouted Dugal. "Praise God!"
Faysal was of the same opinion and looked upon the dwindling red sail as an auspicious sign. I could not help noticing, however, that none of the Sea Wolves shared this optimistic view. Not even when the strange ship disappeared from view completely, did they relax their vigilance. Since they were masters of seacraft and warfare, I allowed my mood to be guided by their example, and remained wary.
Harald's manoeuvre gained us a space of peace-at least, once the sail disappeared we did not see the red ship again the rest of that day, nor the following night. All day long, we anxiously scanned the horizon for any sign of the red ship, but saw nothing. It seemed that the monk's prayers had done their work.
Night was far gone when the moon finally rose, and Harald sent a man up the mast to watch the horizon. I dozed at the prow, half-awake, listening for the warning cry from the mast-top. It came at dawn, when the Sea Wolf called down from his perch that he saw the red once more. We gathered at the rail and gazed into the dawn-misted distance, waiting to sight the tell-tale spot on the horizon.
Alas, when it came into view, it was not one ship only this time; it was two. The call came down from the mast lookout: "Two ships! I see two!"
We leaned over the rail, each holding his breath, straining for a glimpse. In a little while, we were able to confirm the lookout's observation: two sails-one ahead, and one slightly behind and to the right of the first-emerged from the sea haze. As midday approached, it became clear that they pursued a course directly towards us. By evening, despite Harald Bull-Roar's best efforts, they had gained on us.