'If he cannot help you,' called Theodoros, 'come to us. We have better goods.'
'If I cannot help them, I will personally bring them to you. Now, go.'
Having sent away his rivals, he turned to his customers, and made a polite bow. 'I am Didimus. What can I show you? A new cloak perhaps? I have several I think would appeal.'
'Where did you learn your craft?' asked Cait, examining the stitching on the mantle Alethea still clutched tightly in her hands.
'My family lived in Jerusalem-six generations, all tailors,' the young man said. 'When the city fell to the Franks, we were among those fortunate enough to survive. We fled to Jaffa, and then here. Now, I am the only one left.' His long, sad face brightened. 'But I have a son. God willing, he will learn all I have to teach and he will become the best tailor in Famagusta, like his father.'
'It is good work. But we are not looking for ourselves,' she said, and went on to explain that she required clothes for four men. 'Everything,' she said, 'from cloaks to belts.'
'Small-clothes as well?' he asked politely.
'Small-clothes as well. Everything.'
It will be a pleasure, my lady,' he said, bowing low. He ran to the door and called to someone inside, then returned with a stool for Cait. 'Please, be seated. I will bring you some things to examine, and we will begin.'
He hurried away again, and returned with an armload of cloth which had been half-sewn into cloaks. While he was showing Cait his wares, a young dark-haired woman emerged with a tray containing a jar of sweetened lemon water, and small honey cakes which had been baked until they were dry and crisp. She placed the tray on the ground beside Cait and knelt down to pour the drinks and offer the cakes, before retreating hastily inside.
While Cait sipped her drink and made her selections, Alethea munched honey cakes, and chose beribboned shifts and flowered mantles for herself. In the end, Cait decided on five cloaks: one red, two green, two blue with thin rust-coloured stripes; five short mantles, all white; five pairs of long breeches cut from a stout, tightly woven wool which had been dyed a deep brown. 'Now the belts,' she told Didimus. 'They must be leather, and they must be stout.'
'Alas, I do not have belts such as you require, but my wife's brother works in leather. If it please you, my lady, I could take you to his shop and you can tell him what you want. Also, if you need shoes for these men of yours, he would be happy to oblige.'
So, that is what they did. Cait paid for her selections, arranged for the knights to come along later to be fitted for their clothes. At the shoemaker's workshop she chose the leather for the belts, and was discussing the cost of new boots when Abu appeared to say that Rognvald had found an armourer with whom he was pleased to deal. 'They are waiting for you now.'
It was not an armourer who greeted Cait, but a merchant named Geldemar who traded with smiths and weapons-makers from many places, including Cairo, Constantinople, Tripoli, and Damascus; the continual warring in the Holy Land brought a steady commerce to his door that made him wealthy, discriminating, and fat. He conducted his lucrative business from a large house at the end of a street of metalworkers. The house, protected by a high wall and three imposing servants with dogs, boasted two floors; the lower rooms were crammed with weapons and armour of all kinds. 'Your men have been kind enough to express an interest in my wares,' Geldemar told her, lifting a jewelled hand to a hall bristling with lances, pikes, halberds, and swords. 'As you see, I have assembled a fine collection.' He smiled, regarding Alethea with a keenly appreciative eye. 'My ladies, you are welcome to examine my goods. I trade with only the finest craftsmen. Please, satisfy yourself that this is so.'
Alethea, uninterested in weaponry, yawned as Cait moved to a nearby rack which contained a dozen or more Prankish broadswords; other racks contained both smaller and larger swords of Arab and Byzantine design. She picked up one and hefted it in her hand; the weight was good, and the wooden pommel tightly bound with rawhide. Thoroughly bored now that there was nothing for her, Alethea wandered into the next room where Yngvar and Dag were selecting shields from among the many different varieties on offer-from small, round Byzantine dorkas, and long oval targs which covered half the body, to the enormous curved square wooden scutum of ancient Roman design.
'My compliments to you, Geldemar,' said Cait, replacing the sword. 'You have amassed a distinguished armoury.'
Rognvald appeared just then, holding a slender^thin-bladed lance. Caitriona joined him. 'We will find everything we need here,' he said. 'With your permission, my lady, I would like to deal with this fellow.'
'Very well,' replied Cait. 'I will leave it to you, my lord. If you like, Abu can stay and help with the bargaining.'
'No need,' answered Rognvald. 'Geldemar and I understand one another.'
She turned and addressed the merchant. 'I will leave the choice of arms to the discernment of my knights,' Cait told him.
Geldemar smiled, pressing his hands together. 'Very wise, my lady.'
Producing a small purse, Cait handed it to the merchant. 'As a gesture of good faith here are ten gold solidi. Let this be a partial payment for the items they select. The rest will be paid when the goods are delivered to the harbour.' Indicating the tall knight looking on, she said, 'Lord Rognvald will make the arrangements.'
'I am your servant, my lady,' replied the merchant, accepting the money. To Rognvald he said, 'Now, perhaps if you would tell me what you require, I will consider how best to help you.'
Cait left the men to their business and, summoning Alethea and Abu, resumed her procurement of provisions. They visited a butcher, miller, baker, sellers of spices, honey, oil, and green goods, and suppliers of smoked and salted meat and fish. They arrived back at the ship only a few moments before the knights returned. Each carried a new sword and dagger-which the merchant Geldemar had trusted them to take away – and their spirits were higher than she had yet seen them. They vied with one another in proclaiming the virtues of their weapons.
'This blade shines like a flame,' announced Svein, brandishing the weapon in the slanting sunlight. 'I shall call it Loga.'
Yngvar said that his sword would be called Fylkir because, as he boasted, 'It will always be first into the fray.'
Dag said his was to be called Hollrvarda, because of the three, his blade was the only true defender. This provoked an argument over what sort of names were best for weapons, and what the other items in the armoury were to be called. The discussion was still going on when Rognvald and Geldemar arrived in a horse-drawn wagon carrying the remaining arms and armour: helms and shields for all, swordbelts with heavy bronze buckles and hangers for their daggers, battle axes for Svein and Yngvar, a mace for Dag, and ten good stout lances. There were hauberks in heavy ringed mail, with hoods, and mail greaves to cover their legs.
Cait went down to the wharf to meet the wagon and pay the balance due for the weapons. 'We have done well, my lady,' Rognvald informed her. 'He put up a good fight, but we vanquished him in the end.'
'It was four against one,' Geldemar said happily, 'what could I do?' She noticed the rosy blush on his nose and cheeks, and guessed he had been standing very near a wine jar recently.
'How much is owing?' asked Cait.
'One hundred and fifty-five gold solidi, my bounteous lady,' said the merchant grandly. 'And a rare bargain it is, if I say so myself.'
'Indeed?' Cait looked to Rognvald for confirmation.
'Our friend here was rendered helpless by a fit of generosity of a magnitude unseen in Cyprus for more than a hundred years,' declared the knight, patting Geldemar on the shoulder amiably. 'I do believe he is trying to become a saint among merchants.'