The sluggish servant returned with a small chest made of a dark, heavy wood. Yordanus opened the box and withdrew three leather bags, then bethought himself and took three more. 'Here,' he said, thrusting three of the bags at me, 'a man on a journey can never have enough money.'
Thanking my host for his thoughtfulness and generosity, I tied one of the purses to my belt, and gave the other two to Padraig to carry in his monk's satchel. 'With your help, we shall travel like kings,' I told him.
'Ragged kings, at best,' Yordanus said, indicating our clothes. 'Fortunately, I have something for you.' He crossed to a large chest and threw open the lid. Delving into the chest, he began tossing lengths of cloth and various garments onto the floor around him. 'Ah, here! Here!' he said at last, and brought out a long flowing garment like an overlong tunic.
Made of fine, light-weight cloth, it was the colour of the northern sea as night sweeps in from the east. There were trousers of the same cloth and colour, and new boots of soft leather, the sides of which were stitched with coloured thread in a plumed emblem. The tunic's sleeves were long and wide, but close around the wrists. The trousers were secured around the waist with a long cloth belt of woven purple strips to which hundreds of tiny bronze discs had been attached.
In all, it was the raiment of an eastern prince, and although I was impressed, I could not imagine myself wearing such a garment. 'People will think I am pretending to be an Arab,' I said. 'I will feel foolish. It would be better to stay as I am.'
'Nonsense,' said Yordanus, ignoring my objections, 'your clothes are unsuitable for the rigours of the journey ahead. Not only that, they mark you out as a stranger and an outsider. If you wish to travel swiftly without arousing unwanted interest in your affairs, you must not fly the banner of the ignorant foreigner.'
Sydoni agreed with him, and after my initial scepticism, I allowed myself to be convinced. Despite his protests that he was a monk dyed in the wool of his monastery, Padraig, too, came in for the same treatment. In the end, we changed our clothes and marvelled at the difference; I felt cooler and more comfortable instantly, and bade farewell to my tattered homespun in favour of the lighter Eastern stuff.
Only when both Padraig and I were suitably attired did Sydoni allow us to leave the house. 'I will see you as far as the harbour,' she told us.
Leaving the villa, we crossed the darkened courtyard and waited while Gregior unlocked the door, then slipped out onto the deserted road. We hurried down the hill through the new town, and continued on to old Famagusta and the quiet harbour as crimson sunrise broke in the east.
'I will speak to the harbour master directly,' Yordanus told us as we came onto the quay. 'He will know which sailors are available for hire and, of those, who can be trusted.'
'As it happens,' volunteered Padraig, 'we know our way around a ship. Count us among the sailors.'
'Splendid,' said the trader. 'The fewer who know our business, the better.'
Among the vessels riding peacefully at anchor on the tranquil crescent of blue water, there were the usual fishing boats plus a few more substantial craft used by the island traders. There were also four large ships, which I took to be of Venetian or Genoan origin. I was wrong.
Upon arriving at the wharf, Yordanus pointed to the four large ships and said, 'My beauties. Which one do you like the best?'
'The smallest,' I replied, thinking how much work it would be raising sail.
'The fastest,' suggested Padraig. The canny priest was, as usual, closer to the mark.
'That would be Persephone? the old man said, indicating the long, low vessel at the end of the line. Although painted in the Greek style-with a green hull, a slender red mast, and a rail and keel of bright yellow-the ship owed more to the ancient Roman design which had held sway in that part of the world for a thousand years or more. 'Not the smallest, but she fairly flies before the lightest breeze. With God's help and a good wind, we will be in Anazarbus before Bohemond makes the Syrian Gates.'
TWENTY-FIVE
Cait, you will not believe what has taken place. I can scarce believe it myself, and hardly know where to begin to explain. Nor can I say with any certainty whether it is good news for me, or bad. Good, I think. For, if nothing else, it has delayed my execution for another day at least, maybe more. Lord of Hosts in heaven, let it be more!
After dismissing Wazim to learn what he could of matters in the city, I returned to my writing and thought no more about what the caliph had said about the affairs of Cairo. You have been reading the result of my diligence.
This account grows more ungainly by the day, I confess, and my poor hand cramps and burns, and the effort tires me-Cait, sometimes I feel as if I have been wrestling giants from dawn to dusk, though I have not stirred from the chair! Nevertheless I worked through the day and into the night-a common enough practice for me, to be sure; the only difference was that this time no meals were brought to me. I assumed this was because I was soon to die, and the grim assumption spurred me on. Tired as I was, I worked all the more diligently for the knowledge that each page before me might be my last.
It was very late when I again heard rapid footsteps in the corridor. I lay aside my pen, and turned as Wazim burst into the room, excitement making his eyes bulge out. He had gone out to discover what it was that had caused the caliph to suspend the ordered executions; and he had returned with the tale which has caused such alarm throughout the city, and which I shall swiftly relate. First, however, I must explain a detail which is necessary for your understanding.
You will have gathered that the caliph is supreme among Muhammedan rulers. Yet, he is not singular in his authority. Not by any means. He shares the administration of his government with other authorities, chief among them the wazir-or vizier, as some say. This he does so that he may undertake more fully his primary duty as the spiritual leader of his people, thus leaving the ordinary charge of temporal matters to the vizier.
As it happens, the Caliph of Cairo, however fortunate in other respects, is cursed with a wayward and unruly son, Hasan. The caliph, upon taking the throne, had struck upon the idea of at once making peace with the stormy youth and bringing him under his control by raising the young man to the rank of vizier. Wazim tells me that, while many counselled against this, the plan nevertheless worked very well at first.
After a time, however, Hasan began to find his office too constricting. He drifted back into his former bad habits. Soon he was once more the bane of his father's life, only this time he was placed where he could work great harm to any and all who opposed him. Although none of this reached my ears, it was well known all along the Nile from Alexandria to Luxor, for the wicked young man ran from one tantrum to the next, plunging the government of Cairo into scandals and skirmishes of every kind.
Matters grew so precarious and unpleasant, and the outcry of aggrieved citizens so loud, that the caliph had lately begun to entertain the suggestions of his advisors who insisted that Vizier Hasan must be deposed. This, I suspect, had been behind al-Hafiz's inquiry into what I knew about affairs in Cairo-but more of that later.
So, there it is. All that remains is for me to say that on the day my execution was to have been effected, Vizier Hasan, on an insane whim, summoned no fewer than forty amirs and atabegs from the city and surrounding region to meet with him that he might receive their heartfelt homage. Once they were assembled, he charged them with plotting against him. Thinking it a crude jest, the noblemen made light of it. Enraged that they should laugh at him, he had them thrown into a hafir-a grain house – and then ordered the warriors of his personal bodyguard to slay them all then and there. Without weapons or aid of any kind, there was very little the noblemen could do. The soldiers waded into the hafir, killing all who stood up to them; the rest were butchered one by one as they tried to escape.