'All is well,' I said, settling on the rock beside him. 'We are making fair speed. We will reach Anazarbus before Bohemond and his army, you shall see.'
'It makes no difference,' he muttered without looking up. 'There are not enough soldiers in all of Armenia to repel the crusaders. They will slaughter us like dogs.'
'Roupen,' I said after a moment, 'we will do what we can, and trust God for the rest.' I reached out and put my hand on his shoulder to reassure him. 'Hope and pray.'
'You hope,' he snarled, shoving my hand away. 'You pray.'
I left him to his despair, and went to help Padraig cook the meal. We ate and dozed afterward, and the day grew hot. The sun soared through a sky bleached white with heat haze, and then began its long descent behind the dusty, sage-covered hills beyond Mamistra.
Padraig and I were just discussing whether we should go back to the mill and look for Yordanus when we heard a horse whinny and there, coming down along the track leading into the town, was the old trader himself on a milk white stallion, riding beside another man on a black. Behind them rode two more men leading two horses each.
They reined up at the water's edge and while the two men watered the horses, Yordanus presented Nurmal, a smiling, graceful white-haired elder with a skin so brown it looked like polished leather. He wore the silken robes of an Arab potentate, and when he spoke, his long white moustache quivered with excitement.
'What do you think of my horses?' asked Nurmal when everyone had been properly introduced.
'They are wonderful,' I remarked. 'In Scotland, not even kings own such fine horses.'
'I am not surprised. Although they are perhaps more plentiful here,' allowed Nurmal modestly. 'The Arabs place a high value on their animals, and breed the best in the world. Yordanus and I have concluded our bargain. AD that remains is for you to choose.' He gestured towards the horses, inviting our inspection.
'I will be more than happy with any of them, I am sure,' I replied casually.
'You are too easily pleased,' he said. 'But that will not do. Any man who must trust life and limb to his mount would be well advised to take a moment's sober reflection over the choice.'
So, I stepped closer and subjected the animals to a more thorough inspection. They stood on long, slender legs, their handsome heads high; their manes and tails were full and long, their necks finely curved and powerful. I ran my hands over their glossy coats, and I could almost feel the surge of those solid shoulders and the earth speeding effortlessly beneath me.
In all, they were magnificent creatures, clearly beyond my own small capacity to judge; aside from the colour of their lustrous coats, there was not a whisker's difference between them that I could see. So, I chose a grey with a speckled rump because it made me think of the mist rising over the moors back home.
The others chose their mounts whereupon Nurmal announced, 'Now then, my friends, we are to ride to my home where you will stay tonight. You will dine with me and tomorrow we will set off for Anazarbus.'
'You mean to go with us?' asked Roupen. I could tell he thought ill of the idea.
'Indeed, yes, my lord. You need a guide and I must look after my horses, no?' Nurmal's smile was broad and handsome.
'Trust this man as you would trust me,' Yordanus said. 'I have already told him of your need for haste and secrecy.'
'That is why it is best for you to stay with me tonight rather than in the town,' Nurmal explained.
Roupen frowned, unconvinced.
'At least it hurries us on our way,' I told him, 'and in a better fashion than we have enjoyed so far.'
Whatever misgivings he might have had about the arrangements were soon swept aside in the exuberance of mounting such excellent horses: spirited, intelligent, compliant without being dull, they were indeed a joy to ride. It had been a fair while since I had been on the back of a horse, but I know I had never sat astride one half so responsive and well-mannered.
We struck off along an old road leading up behind the town and into the quiet hills. The dusky air was cool and heavy with the scent of broom and sage. The sky grew slowly dark, and the moon rose. We rode along, content to remain silent as we passed through the night-dark land, climbing higher into the rough, empty hills until we came to a large walled villa tucked into the fold of a shallow valley and surrounded by stables and yards.
We dismounted in the yard and Nurmal made us welcome, saying, 'Tomorrow we embrace the rigours of the trail. But tonight,' his smile was a glint of white in the moonlight, 'we eat and sleep like kings. Come, the table is prepared. Want for nothing, my friends.'
Thus, we entered a house of such effortless liberality and friendliness that within the space of a simple, wholesome meal we each became monarchs of vast domain, and rose from the table refreshed and renewed for the journey ahead. As we went to our beds, Padraig confided, 'If hospitality was the saving of men, then I have no doubt that when the angels called us to the heavenly banqueting table, we would find Nurmal of Mamistra sitting at God's right hand.'
'Amen,' I replied happily. 'With Nurmal beside him, God could not ask for a more amiable dinner companion.'
TWENTY-SEVEN
It was still dark when we left that homely house. We stopped at sunrise to take the first drink of a long and thirsty day. The night sky grew milky grey, then yellow, and finally blue. Even as we watched the pale fingers of sunlight stretch along the valleys and separate the dark mass of rough hills one from another, we could feel the heat of the day spreading in waves over the land. We mounted up again at once and pushed on so as to get as far as possible along our journey before we were forced to stop and wait for the sun to set.
As I rode along, I thought of all those I had left behind in Scotland – of my mother and father, Abbot Emlyn, and the others-and you, dearest Gait, were foremost among them. I knew Murdo and Ragna were watching over you as well, nay better, than I would if I had been there. Still, I felt a pang of guilt for leaving you, and wished that I might have been a gull or an eagle that I could swoop down and see you and know, if only for an instant, what you were doing at that moment. I held you in my mind, and tried to imagine how you might have grown since I had last seen you. And then, my heart, I held you before the Throne of Grace and asked the High King of Heaven to send three angels to surround you and watch over you day and night until I could return.
Yes, on that rough road into those ragged, dusty, sage-covered hills, my thoughts turned towards going home. And I felt the gnawing agony of what Padraig calls the hiraeth, the home-yearning. I felt it like a sharp, clawing ache in my heart, as if a rip had opened up in the fabric of my soul and a blast of cold, bitter wind rushed through. For the first time since leaving Caithness, I wished I was on the homeward trail.
It was after midday before we found a place to water and rest through the long, hot wait until evening. The trees were short and scrubby little thorn-covered oaks large enough for one or two to squat beneath; the flies liked them, too, and worried us incessantly, but at least the dense, leathery leaves kept the sun off our heads. We tethered the horses to graze on whatever they might find to nibble, and then retreated to the shade.
I had not spoken to Yordanus privately for several days, and I had questions on my mind. So, I joined him as he reclined beneath his tree. He welcomed the company and we began to talk. 'There is something I have been wanting to ask you since leaving Famagusta,' I told him.