The Archer's Return: Medieval story in feudal times about knights, Templars, crusaders, Marines, and naval warfare during the Middle Ages in England in the reign of King Richard the lionhearted (13 page)

       It all started to go wrong, according to Kostas, when some of the emperors began selling concessions to the Venetians and other Latins to carry the empire’s cargos and passengers to the rest of the world.  It worked for a while but then the Latins brought in more and more of their families and started their own markets and fighting wars among themselves inside the city.  Real wars, for God’s sake.  Inside the city walls.

       In the end they fought so much and stole so much and sold so many poxed slaves to the church that the local pope got seriously pissed off and told the people to slaughter them.  That was about twenty years ago. 

        According to Kostas, killing most of the Venetians and selling the rest to the Turks solved the problem for a while.  But Orthodox owned galleys and financing didn’t arrive to replace what was lost.  So now the Latin galleys and moneylenders are back with new concessions along with some Pisans and Genoese merchants and moneylenders.  And, of course, the troubles look to be starting again - except this time the Crusaders are coming to help the Venetians keep their concessions.

      
“Help the Venetians my arse.  They’re coming to loot and take over.”

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       The priest disappears as soon as we dock.  And so does Aaron.  In fact I think I saw them walking off together towards the nearest gate in the city’s huge walls.

       Aaron returns a couple of hour later with two men wearing great huge turbans.  They are leaders of the local merchants and want to talk business.  And so we do. 

     Then in rapid succession Kostas arrives with a white bearded old priest with a long name and title I cannot get my tongue around and a couple of messengers arrive from the emperor’s palace.  Kosta’s companion is obviously a high ranking church official if Kostas’ deference to him is any guide; the gaudily dressed palace official is some kind of court functionary who is visibly distressed when it becomes apparent that I neither recognize his importance nor can understand a word of whatever version of Greek he is speaking. 

        It is an amazing scene of confusion as Randolph and I stand on the dock with the men who’ve come to welcome us.  Helen and a number of our men are standing on the galley deck immediately behind us and watching carefully. 
And the bows of our men are strung just in case. 

       Each of the dignitaries wants to speak with me privately but can’t because we speak different languages.  The result is that we stand there and everyone interprets for everyone else – and usually at the same time. 
It is so preposterous and chaotic that I’d laugh if I wasn’t so deeply involved.  Thomas would be delighted.

       Over time it becomes somewhat clear; they all want the same thing.  Each wants his leader and high ranking followers, to be rescued at the last minute if the crusaders attack; but only if their attack looks like it’s going to be successful.  Each, of course, will accompany his leader to safety when he runs.  Money, it seems, is no object. 
Alright
.

       Finally, I raise both my hands and bellow to get everyone’s attention.  Then one at a time I take each of the men to the side along with Aaron and Kostas and give them a time to meet me here tomorrow so they can discuss matters privately. 

       “What you desire can be done but it will require many bezant gold coins in advance.  When you return please bring a trusted interpreter who can speak Latin or French.  We will meet in private on the deck of the galley behind me so no one can overhear us.  When we meet you can tell me how many people my ships will have to carry to safety and where you want my ships to take them.  Then I’ll tell you how many bezants you must pay - when I know how many people are to be saved and where they are to be taken.” 

       After the various groups of men leave I send Aaron and Robert Monk into the city to buy maps of the city and the surrounding waters – “as many different maps as you can find.  Particularly those that show the city gates and the harbors and moorages on the islands and coastline near the city.” 

      
It’s been a stressful day.  I need a glass of wine, a good back rub, and a massage.  I hope it’s still light enough to see when Aaron and Robert get back with the maps.

      
But then I something important pops into my mind and I call after Aaron and Robert. 
We could end up fighting the Venetians if we try to do business here.  I wonder how they arm and fight their galleys?  Whether they use slaves as rowers or fighting men?

      
“Oh, and one more thing.  While you are talking to the mapmakers try to find out if the Venetians use slaves to row their galleys and how their men are armed?

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       All the next morning Randolph and I study the maps and discuss how the crusaders might attack the city and how the Venetian galleys might support them.  One thing is for sure.  Because of the Venetians and their galleys we’ll need to do things differently if we base any of our ships and men here.

       A party of four grandly clothed courtiers arrives three hours late the next day on ornate slave-carried litter chairs.  They are, of course, deliberately late to show us how important they are.   It’s the custom here as everyone knows and I am suitably impressed.

       The emperor’s courtiers are the first group we will meet.  And there’s little wonder in that - the emperor’s involvement means we’ll need his permission for everything we do.  In a nutshell, the emperor and his court want enough escape galleys standing by to carry three hundred people up the coast to safety whenever the emperor decides to run. 
Aaron tells me the slave-carried litter chairs are called sedan chairs. He doesn’t know what it means.

       Normally such a number of refugees would require two galleys with the refugees doing much of the rowing while our Marine archers stand by to do any fighting that might be necessary.  Rescuing the emperor and his court will be different – all of them will be high dignitaries and their families and retainers, and thus, in general, quite soft and useless.  It would be folly to expect any of them to be capable of rowing.  That means we’ll need to provide a lot more men and have less room for refugees on each galley. 
Hmm.  Maybe some of the extra men we supply could simply be strong rowers instead of our highly trained Marines.

       After the ritual pleasantries are complete and I listen to where they want the passengers carried, I tell them it sounds as though they will need five of our war galleys and the price for one year is three thousand bezant gold coins in advance for each galley and a crew of one hundred experienced men – plus, and this is important I tell them, a proper place for the galleys and men to wait for them. 

       Being from the east as they are, the courtiers take three thousand as my opening position for the negotiations.  An hour later and they have beaten me down to two thousand gold bezants.  They will, of course, tell the emperor we are being paid a much higher price and keep the difference for their trouble.

      All is well because two thousand is the price I’d had in mind when the negotiations began.  But, of course, traditions must be observed.  We’ll undoubtedly go through the same process with the merchants and priests.  The gold coins we agree on are called bezants and are struck by the emperor’s coiners. 

      
Of course we’ll take them; they are known and accepted everywhere in the civilized world.  Thomas will rub his hands with glee when he sees them.

    
What is quite important is that we also reach agreement on one of the most important things of all - where all our galleys and men, including those for the merchants and priests, will be based.  It will be on a long and very narrow stretch of land between the ocean and the incredibly high city wall that runs along it. 

       The distance between the water and the wall is so narrow, fifty to one hundred paces, that someone standing on the city wall towering above our camp’s site can easily throw a rock over our camp and into the sea.  The city wall has been built such a short distance to the sea so that the sea acts as a moat and no invading army can assemble there.  It’s an ideal location for us and where our galleys will be beached and our men will live and train. 

       Moreover, they agree that our men can immediately put an extremely defensible gate through the city wall, one that is so narrow and low that only one man can use it at a time and will have to crouch over to do so; that’s the gate our men will use to enter the city and the dignitaries and our other passengers will use to get to our galleys when they flee.  

       Our proposed location is instantly accepted by the emperor’s men.  They like the proposed location because the city wall towering over our camp will give them a degree of control over us and insure the safety of their escape galleys; we like it because it is right next to the water so we can quickly get away.  We also like it because we can quickly wall off each end of the narrow strip of land that is our new concession. 

       Walling off the strip of land important because it  will make it virtually impossible for the crusaders or anyone else to launch a surprise land attack against us except from the city wall towering above us – and we’ll all be long gone before they fight their way into the city and climb the wall. 
At least I hope so.

    
Kostas and a gaggle of priests arrive later the next morning.  Most are walking quite piously with only their white-haired archbishop in a sedan chair.  They too are fashionably late to show us their importance, but only by a couple of hours.

       Our negotiations are over quickly after the obligatory pleasantries and prayers.  The priests obviously know about the two thousand gold bezants the emperor is paying and we are able to reach an agreement on that price after only twenty minutes.  They also want three galleys because of the importance of “saving the church and the ‘extremely important hand of Saint Peter.’”  Unlike the royals and the court, their priests will agree to row.  Rowing is apparently unseemly only if one is a bishop or above.  Their willingness to row is important; it means we will need few men for the galleys chartered by the Church.

      
While we are waiting for the merchants to arrive Aaron explains that one of the big churches in the city has somehow obtained Saint Peter’s hand and encased it in gold.  It cures various diseases if one pays the required fee to kiss it and prays correctly.

     A couple of hours and a brief nap on the deck in the sun and the merchants arrive.  They too already know about the price we are charging per galley and are willing to pay it - and they want to contract for four of our galleys with two hundred refugee places in each ship.  It seems they are going to sell some of the seats to pay for their escape and their clients will be required to do the rowing. 

       “We think your fearsome reputation means we’ll need fewer of your sailors and archers to protect each ship.  That will give us more seats to sell.”

       The rest of the terms are the same – half of the coins now and half as soon as the galleys and men arrive.  We’ll head for Malta and on to England as soon as the promised evacuation galleys arrive and the initial payments are safely stored away in mine for carrying to England.

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       “Will you do it for sixty gold bezants for one year with young Robert Monk as your sergeant?  He can scribe and do sums, you know.”

       
That’s what I offer Randolph.  He is stunned and rightly so.  Finally he just nods. 
Little wonder - it’s ten times more than he earned in Alexandria and more than enough to buy a very nice home and many acres of land anywhere in England, maybe even a title.  No archer has ever been paid so much in his entire life.

       “Well then we better send both galleys with parchments to Yoram telling him to send eleven galleys here and the type of men we’ll need to crew each of them.  That’s one more than you’ll need in case one doesn’t make it.”

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       The next two weeks are among the best in my life.  Helen and I move into the upstairs room of an old wooden merchant’s house with a guard detail drawn from the galleys downstairs.  Every day we go out to walk in the great city, drink tea in its tea shops, and luxuriate in the warm water of the best public baths.  And, of course, we visit the grand bazaar almost every day. 

       Istanbul’s grand bazaar is surely one of the world’s great wonders with its more than one thousand merchants selling everything imaginable.  We buy all kinds of things to take to England – rain cloaks, string beds, chamber pots, cooking spices, candles, lotions, combs, garlic cloves guaranteed to prevent the pox, a mirror, and all kinds of other useless things that my astounded Lena suddenly sees as things we must have. 

       Helen is a sight to behold as she goes wide-eyed from stall to stall.  Even my guards are smiling and pleased.  She has captured them entirely and our little captain’s castle in the front of the galley is soon filled to overflowing.

      
We almost don’t need the guards who accompany us everywhere.  The word is out that we are protected by the emperor, the church, and the merchants.  We would probably be among the very safest people in the world – except for the inconvenient fact that the city is boiling with tension and there are anxious Venetians everywhere.  I wear my chain mail shirt at all times.  I’m not sure Helen realizes the danger and I certainly don’t tell her.