Hawk Quest

LII

He woke to utter stillness. The lamps around the bed burned without the slightest tremor and the drapes hung motionless. Wincing with the effort imposed by stealth, he extricated his arm from under Caitlin’s neck. She moaned and nuzzled her forearm. He dressed and stood looking down at her. He extended a hand towards her face, drew it back without touching. She sighed and slid an arm into the space he’d left. Was that sleep?

He nipped out the lamps by the bed, parted the curtain and crossed to her dressing table. Reaching into his tunic, he removed one of the bags of silver and placed it next to her shrine of powders and scents. He heard her turn over and he held his breath, wondering what he’d do if she called out. She gave a purring snore and he relaxed his lungs. He took a last look, then he left, stealing down the empty corridor and out into the hushed night. He stood for a moment, his face tilted to the firmament.

The Seljuks had all but cleared the site. A column of riders trotted away in a silent line to the east. Teams of menials were still working on the Emir’s pavilion, pulling down the antechambers. This time tomorrow it would stand proud in the centre of Konya.

The throne room was the last piece of the web still standing. Vallon asked one of the guards if he could speak to Suleyman and after a while Chinua appeared to escort him inside. Only half a dozen officers and advisors remained with the Emir. He waved them away when he saw Vallon.

‘You’ve changed your mind. Good.’

‘I’ve just come from Caitlin.’

Suleyman took his elbow and walked him out of earshot of his men. ‘From her bed.’ It wasn’t a question.

‘Yes.’

Suleyman’s face tightened in a snarl. ‘You interrupt me fresh from your rut. I can smell her on you. I can smell you both. If you came here to rub my nose in it-’

‘I want Caitlin more than anything, but I know that love isn’t enough. I can’t provide for her in the way that you can, the way I know she wants. I’ve told her what advantages will fall her way if she stays and set them against my own poor prospects. I came here to confirm that I’ll keep my side of the bargain and to implore you to honour yours. I’ll be gone before she wakes, leaving her to reach a decision. I intend to return to hear what she’s decided the day after tomorrow. If she’s chosen you, so be it. If she wants to come with me, will you allow her to leave?’

Suleyman cast about as if he’d been accosted by a madman. ‘If you desire her, why don’t you just take her?’

‘I need to be sure it’s what she wants.’

‘If I didn’t know that you’d travelled through the wilderness of the world, I’d call you a coward. Serve in my army and within two years you’ll have acquired enough wealth to keep four wives in luxury.’ Suleyman examined Vallon’s face. ‘I can’t make up my mind whether you’re a trickster or a fool.’ He flicked a hand against Vallon’s chest. ‘I’m too busy to waste any more time on the matter.’ He made a quick gesture to his guards. ‘If the woman wants to go, she can go. Now leave before you exhaust my patience.’

Hands fell on Vallon’s shoulders and propelled him out of the pavilion. Faruq’s voice followed him into the night. ‘Don’t impose on his Excellency again if you have any regard for your life.’

Vallon wandered through the camp in a daze of elation and apprehension. Suleyman’s elite troops sat in firelit circles, some holding the reins of their saddled horses. A few raised a hand as he passed. He paused outside his quarters. The sky to the east held the first grey light of day. He went in and felt his way to his bed.

‘No need to tread softly,’ Hero said. ‘I was too anxious to sleep.’

‘Don’t be. It’s nearly dawn. We’ll be off soon.’

Hero rose, placed kindling on the brazier and blew life into it. Vallon joined him close to the glow, firelight and shadows playing across their faces.

Hero broke the silence. ‘I’ve been thinking. If we don’t recover the gospel today, we won’t get another chance. Perhaps we could ask Wayland to collect it and bring it to us in Konya.’

‘I won’t do anything that might put him in harm’s way. He’s Suleyman’s man now.’

‘Did you spend the night with Caitlin?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you tell her about the gospel? Is she coming with us?’

‘No. I told her that we were looking for something and that I’d come back tomorrow if we found it.’

‘Won’t Suleyman think it strange — you travelling to the tower and then returning?’

‘He won’t be here. He’ll have left on campaign.’

Wayland and Syth arrived with bread, cheese and olives as the first light of dawn showed through the weave. Watching Syth bustle about, Vallon remembered the night he’d ordered Wayland to put her ashore. If the falconer had obeyed, how would things have turned out? At any stage, their course might have taken a different turn.

‘Sir?’

Syth bent towards him, holding out food, bobbing her head in her inimitable way. He reached up and caressed her cheek. ‘Ah, Syth, I’ll miss you.’ He smiled at Wayland. ‘Our last meal together. It’s good of you to rise so early.’

‘We didn’t want to miss your departure.’

‘We wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye.’

Syth frowned. ‘Does Caitlin know you’re leaving?’

‘Yes. We’ve made an arrangement. I hope to return for her in a day’s time.’

‘Why can’t you take her with you today?’

Wayland shook his head at her in warning.

A coarse-featured Seljuk entered and announced that it was time to leave. They went out, the mountains rising blue against a sky of steel and violet. A troop of Seljuks galloped past, headed by Suleyman. He reined in hard, his stallion pawing the air, and waved his mace. Then he and his followers rode off in a dust cloud of their own making.

Four unfamiliar and shabbily outfitted Seljuks had been detailed to escort them to the border. Boke, their commander, could hardly speak a word of Arabic and seemed dull-witted. Their poor turn-out was encouraging, suggesting that Suleyman had lost interest in his guests.

Vallon collected his horse and walked it towards Wayland and Syth. ‘For now this is where we take our leave.’ He clasped Syth close.

Her wide eyes gazed up at him. ‘You will return for Caitlin, won’t you? She loves you. I know she does.’

‘And I love her.’

Vallon kissed her and separated himself with delicacy. He laid a hand on Wayland’s shoulder. ‘Who would have thought when we set out that you’d end up in the service of an Emir?’

‘I’d rather circumstances meant I remained in your service.’

‘You’ll be a father by next summer. You have no place with a vagrant soldier.’

‘All the same, it saddens me to think that we won’t meet again.’

‘We will.’

‘I don’t mean when you come back for Caitlin.’

‘Nor do I.’

‘Where then? When?’

Vallon swung up into the saddle. ‘Here or in the hereafter.’

Seams of sunlight were spreading across the plateau. Vallon consulted the weather-wise ring as he did before each day’s journeying. As part of the same routine, he twisted it on his finger. He frowned. ‘Here’s sorcery,’ he said, holding out the ring between thumb and forefinger. ‘It’s consented to loosen its grip now that our journey’s over.’

Hero laughed. ‘We still have a few days’ ride ahead of us. What does it say about our prospects?’

Vallon studied the gemstone. ‘Bright, I’d say.’

A stir behind the escorts drew his idle attention. A string of camels plodded past, heading for the Konya road.

‘Vallon!’ Caitlin screamed. ‘Vallon!’

He jerked his reins. The Seljuks spun their horses. Through them he saw Drogo standing outside the women’s quarters, holding Caitlin with his sword across her throat, both of them stained with blood. The Seljuks were already unslinging bows and levelling lances. Boke kicked his mount into a charge.

‘Stop!’ Vallon shouted. ‘Tell him to stop!’

Wayland called out in Turkic. Boke was only twenty yards from his target when he veered away.

Vallon’s heart raced. He flung out a hand left and right at the Seljuks. ‘Nobody move. Wayland, make them understand.’

He reached out and took a lance from one of the Seljuks. He rode forward at a walk.

‘Let her go, Drogo.’

The Norman’s face contorted in a frenzy of effort as he tried to control Caitlin. She kicked and struggled and managed to sink her teeth into his forearm. He jabbed his sword hilt into her face and she sagged down.

Vallon halted. ‘You said you’d got what you want. Walter dead, the inheritance assured.’

‘I changed my mind. My honour’s more important.’ Drogo’s speech was slurred, his eyes bloodshot.

‘You call holding a woman hostage honourable?’

‘The whore’s my way to revenge.’

‘Let her go and I’ll let you live. I’ve given Suleyman money to send you back to Byzantium. In dignity, not on hands and knees.’

Drogo laughed and pointed his sword at him. ‘That’s what twists my guts. Your charity. I’ve suffered enough humiliation from you.’

Vallon rode a few yards closer. ‘You won’t regain your pride by killing Caitlin. Before she falls to the ground, you’ll be skewered by arrows and I’ll still be alive to kick your corpse. Or perhaps I’ll order the Seljuks to let you live so that they can devise the cruellest and slowest way to end your life.’

‘I’ll release Caitlin only if you agree to fight me man to man.’

‘You’re drunk. Even sober you’re no match for me.’

‘Then you have nothing to fear.’

‘If you were lucky enough to strike a mortal blow, you wouldn’t have a moment to savour your victory before the Seljuks killed you.’

‘Then I’ve got nothing to lose.’ Drogo pulled Caitlin’s head back and pressed his sword against her neck. ‘I swear to God …’

‘I’ll fight you.’ Vallon looked for Wayland. ‘Tell Boke and his men not to interfere. Tell him this is a feud that can only be settled by single combat.’ He turned back to Drogo. ‘Now release Caitlin.’

Drogo flung her aside. She stumbled away, clutching her face. Syth ran forward, gathered her in her arms and led her back.

‘Don’t hazard your life!’ Hero cried. ‘Leave it to the Seljuks.’

Vallon raised a hand. ‘My word means something or it means nothing.’

Stillness descended on the arena. Overhead in the silence a kite whistled. The sun was lifting clear of the horizon. At the margins of Vallon’s vision, Seljuk labourers spectated in scattered groups. Drogo stood about forty yards away, the ground completely open. Vallon shifted his grip on the lance and nudged his horse forward.

‘Get down off your horse,’ Drogo said.

‘We’ll engage the way we did that snowy night when we first met, you on horseback telling your men to take me downriver and cut my throat. I bested you then. Are you scared that you can’t match my skill?’

Drogo drew his sword back. ‘Any way you want.’

Vallon heeled his horse into a trot. Twenty yards from Drogo, he broke into a canter and levelled his lance. Drogo shuffled from side to side. Vallon had seen enough of him in action to know that he was a good swordsman, his skills honed in many battles. Unafraid and with a suicide’s disregard for his life. Vallon maintained his easy pace, the point of his lance aimed at Drogo’s chest. He was sure that his target would spring aside the instant before contact and then make an immediate counter.

Closer and closer. Drogo was going to jump to his right. Vallon corrected, lifted in his saddle and drove the lance forward.

Into empty space.

Drogo had dropped to a squat and as the lance passed harmlessly over his head he sprang up and swung his sword back-handed. Vallon dropped the lance and tried to fling himself off, drawing his sword at the same time. Drogo’s blade sliced into the horse’s haunch. It screamed and spun like a snake-bitten cat, throwing Vallon completely off balance. His left foot was still trapped in the stirrup. He could feel the horse toppling over and he couldn’t jump clear. From the corner of his eye he saw Drogo jumping about on the blind side, trying to get in a killing blow, then the ground rushed up to meet him.

He landed left hand first and heard the crack as his wrist broke. He still held his sword in his right and was trying to propel himself clear when the horse crashed on to his left leg. Something tore in his ankle, the pain so intense that he screamed. He dragged himself free and saw Drogo running towards him. Using his sword as a crutch, he clambered upright, left arm and foot useless, a standing target. He managed to ward off the first stroke by blind instinct.

Drogo laughed. ‘No left-handed trickery today. No fancy footwork.’

Vallon stood flatfooted, sick with pain and Drogo attacked with all his strength. Only Vallon’s superior sword-play kept him at bay. At the fifth stroke Vallon saw an opening, dropped and opened up Drogo’s left arm with a counter the Norman didn’t even see. Drogo skipped back, looked at the wound and grinned. ‘You’re good. The best I’ve crossed swords with. But not as good as me.’ He walked in a tight fast circle around Vallon, flicking his sword contemptuously. ‘Let’s see you hop.’

Vallon had no choice. He tried putting his weight on his left foot and almost collapsed.

‘Hop!’

Vallon lost his balance and had to use his sword to stay on his feet. Drogo gripped his sword two-handed, stepped round Vallon’s right side and swung at his midriff. Vallon reverse blocked and skipped back. His right foot collided with a forgotten tent peg and he sprawled full length on his back. He tried to scramble away, but Drogo was already looming above him, sword poised to strike.

‘I told you you’d feel my foot on your neck.’

Vallon gathered himself and coiled forward with all the force he could muster, at the same time driving his sword upwards. It deflected Drogo’s descending blade, entered the pit of his stomach and came out through his back. Almost simultaneously, three Seljuk arrows punched into his torso. He flopped on top of Vallon, striving with his dying breaths to raise his sword.

Hooves pounded and Drogo jerked sideways, his brains dashed out by a blow from a Seljuk’s mace. Vallon clawed hot jelly from his face and pulled himself away. People were running towards him, calling. Hero flung himself down beside him. ‘I told you not to risk your life.’

Vallon tried to sit up. ‘That’s my job.’

Hero pushed him back down. ‘Lie still.’

Caitlin dashed up and dropped to her knees, her cheeks flooded with blood- and kohl-streaked tears. He reached for her. ‘Did he hurt you? You’re covered in blood.’

‘My maids. He burst in while I was dressing.’

‘Give me room,’ Hero said. Caitlin pillowed Vallon’s head on her lap while Hero examined him. He gasped when Hero palped his wrist.

‘It’s a clean break, thank God.’

Wayland cut off Vallon’s boot and Hero manipulated his ankle. ‘I don’t think it’s broken. You must have torn a tendon.’ He winced. ‘Painful.’

Vallon closed his eyes and sucked in a breath. ‘I hurt more than I’ve ever hurt before. I’ll need some doctoring before we leave.’

‘You’re in no condition to travel. Your ankle won’t heal for weeks.’

‘I’m not walking to Byzantium. Strap it up and let’s get going. If we don’t leave soon, we won’t reach the tower today.’

Hero splinted Vallon’s broken wrist and strapped his ankle. Wayland made a pair of crutches. The best part of the morning was over by the time he’d finished. ‘It’s a full day’s ride to the tower,’ Hero said. ‘Night will fall long before we reach it. Stay here tonight and rest. We’ll leave before dawn to make the journey as easy as possible.’

Vallon looked around. The last tent had been struck and the plateau lay empty on all sides. A cohort of mounted Seljuks ringed a group of women. Drogo’s body still lay where he had fallen, curled up like a sleeping child, a burgundy stain on the bare ground around his head. ‘There’s nowhere to stay. We have enough time to reach the caravanserai before dark.’

Hero and Wayland assisted him to his feet. Boke led a replacement mount up and Hero and Wayland lifted him into the saddle.

Caitlin clung to his leg. ‘Take me with you.’

‘I told you, if I find what I’m looking for I’ll return.’

‘What is it that’s more important than me?’

‘Did you find the silver?’

‘The final insult. The price of a night with a harlot.’

‘I left it so that if you choose to travel to Constantinople on your own, you would have the means. Suleyman won’t stop you.’

Caitlin stepped back and passed a hand over her eyes. ‘Why are you treating me like baggage? Didn’t last night mean anything?’

‘It meant everything.’

Boke had witnessed enough. An attempted homicide on a man he’d been charged to protect. Now this unseemly argument with a half-dressed woman stained with blood. He shouted an order and his men hazed the foreigners’ horses away.

Vallon looked back over his shoulder at Wayland and Syth. ‘Take care of each other,’ he called. ‘Remember us in your prayers and don’t grow too proud.’

Caitlin ran after him. ‘Don’t leave me!’ She stooped and threw a slipper. ‘Come back, you bastard!’