The blask rood

TWENTY-EIGHT

Eight days we were on the road, and in that time met only a handful of fellow travellers-a few farmers and shepherds going to or returning from distant markets, four Greek priests, and a company of merchants on their way to seek their fortunes among the Armenians. These last fell in with us and hoped to keep our company until reaching Anazarbus. Otherwise, the journey was forgettable in every way. One rock-strewn hillside is much the same as the next, after all.

We slept and ate and rode on, growing more fretful and peevish, and less companionable, as the days wore away. Yordanus, who had begun with such zeal, began to fade; he was an old man and his strength was not equal to his enthusiasm. Sydoni seemed to retreat into herself, becoming ever more pensive and melancholy. I would see her riding with her sun shade spread above her, and try to engage her in conversation, but the sombre preoccupations of her mind were too potent to quell for very long; she soon slipped back into her distracted reflection. Roupen, anxious and tetchy since leaving Antioch, grew ever more so as his apprehensions mounted. No one could say two words to him without either starting an argument or casting him into a desperate frenzy of morbid self-pity.

Only Padraig and Nurmal remained unaffected by the oppressive sameness-Nurmal, because he loved his horses and found happiness in all circumstances so long as he was sitting in the saddle; and Padraig, because that is the way he is. Priests of the Cele De find hardship stimulating and entertaining in an improving way. Indeed, they have been known to fashion misfortune for themselves when supplies of the natural stuff run short.

For myself, I gradually tired of trying to keep the others cheerful, and more often than not found myself deep in brooding meditation on the peculiar twists and turns encountered on life's rocky road-all the more because each twist and turn took me further from my pursuit of the Holy Rood. The urgency and importance of our purpose notwithstanding, I began to resent all the intrusions and irritations, large and small, which kept me from my quest. More and more, I grew anxious to be about my own business, and longed for the day when there would be no one to defend, pamper, or appease, save myself alone.

I was heartily glad when, on the eighth day, we crested a hill and saw the walls of Anazarbus glistering in the heat-sheen. Because of the hills, we had come close upon the city before seeing it, and now there it was, nestled like a clutch of dull ruddy eggs in the protective bends of the curved city walls. Away to the south and east slanted a rough, broken plain through which a river had dug a deep ravine; to the north and west ranged the tumbling, craggy foothills of the high Taurus mountains rising elegantly, if forbiddingly, in the hazy distance.

Once in sight of the city, Roupen, morose and unresponsive at best, now became almost drunk with exuberance. He lifted his head and gave out a shriek which must have been heard in the streets of the city itself. He slapped the reins and urged his good horse to speed. The animal, glad for an excuse to run after so many days of dull plodding, put back its ears, reared, and leapt to a gallop, pulling along the poor pack horse tethered behind.

Following his lead, Nurmal and I gave our horses their heads and let them run, leaving our band of merchants behind. It was as if my heart took wings. Suddenly, the grinding monotony of the road fell away as we thundered down towards the city. Roupen was first to reach the gates, and had already dismounted by the time we arrived. We joined him as he remonstrated with the guards at the gate to let us in.

'Do you not know who it is that demands entrance?' he said, his voice tight with anger, his joy quickly quenched by the obstinate refusal of the gatemen to obey.

'It is Lord Roupen, son of Prince Leo,' offered Nurmal helpfully.

'No one is to enter or leave the city without the lord's leave,' the stolid guard replied; the two soldiers with him nodded and edged nearer.

'But that is absurd!' shouted Roupen. He made to force his way around the guards, who levelled their weapons threateningly.

'Wait!' I said, stepping quickly between Roupen and the gatemen. 'Something is amiss here,' I told him. 'It is useless arguing with them. See if they will agree to take a message to your father.'

Roupen was ill-disposed to take my advice, but saw the sense of it nonetheless. Turning to the porter, he snapped, 'Take a message to your master. Tell him that Lord Roupen waits outside the city walls and begs to be reunited with his family.'

This caused the guards some consternation. The chief among them put out a hand towards the one next to him. 'You heard,' he said, pushing the man away. 'Run!'

The soldier scurried off, disappearing into the gatehouse behind him. 'I beg your pardon, my lord,' the porter muttered. 'We did not know it was you.'

Roupen seemed inclined to take issue with the unhelpful fellow, but Nurmal intervened. 'Save your breath, my friend. The error is soon put right.'

The walls of Anazarbus were curved, as I say, and protected with squat towers along their length, and over the central gate. What is more, despite the peace and calm of the day, soldiers manned the towers and moved along the walls. Upon pointing this out to Nurmal, he replied, 'It was the first thing I noticed. I think they must be expecting someone-but not us.'

Roupen did not hear this, as he was pacing back and forth between us and the guards, growing more and more peevish over the lack of respect shown him. I decided it was best to ignore his ill humour, and sat down on a rock beside the road to wait for the others to join us. Nurmal took up a waterskin, drank, and passed the skin to me. 'It is warm, I fear, but until we get something better…'

I drank, and then stood, took the skin and poured some into my hand and gave it to my mount. In this way, the thirsty animal finished the little left in the skin, and I was about to fetch some more when Roupen shouted. 'Look! My brothers!'

Out from the gatehouse strode two men – as unlike the young lord as beans from barley. Where he was slender and frail, they were well-muscled, brawny men; where he was long-limbed and languid, they were stocky, broad-shouldered, and vigorous. The only similarity between them that I could see was their thick black hair-a feature they shared with all Armenians.

At the sight of the young man they both shouted a greeting and Roupen ran to meet them. The soldiers, slightly embarrassed that the strict observance of their duty should have inconvenienced the royal household, shrank back, looking both repentant and stubborn as the glad reunion commenced in spite of their earlier efforts to prevent it.

The two men caught the younger and lifted him off his feet in fierce hugs, and pounded him on the back until he winced, all the while speaking in a tongue as rapid as it was unintelligible. They knocked the youth this way and that with the easy abuse of true brothers, and it put me in mind of how Eirik and I had behaved towards one another when we were younger.

Nurmal and I approached and waited to have our presence recognized. Presently, Roupen turned and grinning, said, 'My friends, I give you my brothers!' Indicating the elder of the two, he said, 'This is Thoros.' The man inclined his head politely. Pointing to the second one, he said, 'And this is Constantine.' The man bowed respectfully.

Roupen then introduced me, and explained quickly that if not for me, he would not be standing there now. 'Duncan saved my life,' he said, proudly, 'not once, but twice. He is a true friend.'

The elder brother, Thoros, stepped before me then and seized my hand in both of his. 'We are much indebted to you, sir. Tonight, in your honour, we will hold a feast to celebrate our brother's return.' I accepted his announcement with a modest bow, whereupon he turned at once to Nurmal.

'Here you are! Nurmal, my good friend. I should have known you would have something to do with this.'

'Not at all, my lord,' replied the horse-trader humbly. 'They would have reached Anazarbus on raw determination alone. I merely helped smooth the way a little.'

To me, Thoros said, 'Did you hear that? Never believe it! There is nothing that happens east of the Taurus that does not concern Nurmal of Mamistra.' He laughed then, but Nurmal did not share his patron's jest.

'You exaggerate, Thoros,' the horse-trader protested. 'But no matter. I am happy to serve however I can.'

The rest of our party reined up then, and introductions were made all around. Padraig was made much of; they had never seen a monk who was not dressed in heavy black robes, and refused to believe he was a priest. Yordanus and Sydoni also received especial regard, and I noticed that Thoros lingered over Sydoni's hand as he welcomed her and her father. Then, with good grace and simple sincerity, Thoros thanked everyone for taking care of his brother and helping return him to his home.

'God will honour your charity with the praises of angels,' he said, 'but the Noble House of Anazarbus will fill your pockets will gold!' So saying, he gathered everyone with a great swoop of his arms as if we were children. 'Come now, friends! Let us go in! The prince will want to know his lost son has returned at last.'

Once inside the thick city walls, we were conducted directly to the palace which stood a short distance across a small square directly inside the gates. The palace itself was built in the manner of a church and was flanked by two domed towers, each surmounted with golden crosses.

As we walked across the square, I observed that there were few people about. Nor did there seem to be much activity in the surrounding streets-a few children playing, an old woman carrying a basket of greens, and one or two men pushing carts, but not at all what I might have expected from a city the size of Anazarbus. I was not the only one to notice the absence of the local population. Nurmal, walking easily beside Thoros, said, 'Is everyone in hiding? Where have the people gone?'

'As it happens,' replied Thoros, 'we are under alert. Seljuq raiding parties have been seen in the hills, and it is feared that an attack is imminent.' The big man cast a hasty glance at me behind him. 'Do you mean to say you have seen no sign of them?'

'No, lord. Not so much as a single turban between here and Mamistra,' Nurmal told him.

'Well, they are out there. The scouts say the hills are crawling with them. You are lucky you did not run headlong into Amir Ghazi himself.'

'Ghazi, is it?' mused the horse-trader. 'Why is the old devil sniffing around here? Did you forget to pay your tribute?'

Thoros laughed heartily, and said, 'We have had other things on our minds lately.'

They continued talking in this way, but my attention shifted to what Constantine and Roupen were saying behind me. 'What is the matter with him?' Roupen asked; although he spoke softly, I caught the concern in his tone.

'He is not well,' his brother replied. 'The physicians have done what they can, but no one knows what ails him.'

'How long?'

'Four months,' answered Constantine. 'Maybe a little longer. There is not much hope any more-still, he lingers. The old warrior fights on.' The young man paused, then added, 'He will be glad to know that you are home at last. What happened to everyone else?'

'We were stricken with ague the moment we set foot in Frankland. I escaped, but fever took all the rest.'

'It bodes fair to take the prince as well,' observed Constantine gloomily.

Thus, I pieced together what had caused the closure of the royal city: Prince Leo was gravely ill, and the tribute paid to the Muhammedans had been allowed to lapse. Consequently, their Seljuq overlords were angry; those who should have been their allies and protectors were massing in the hills, gathering the necessary strength to attack. And the Armenians, soon to be forcibly reminded why they paid the tribute in the first place, were about to receive the unhappy news that Bohemond II's army was on its way.

Although not as large or as opulent as the citadel at Antioch, the palace of the Armenian princes was grand without being extravagant. While they obviously shared the same lofty ambitions of all noble families, they at least showed some restraint in the furnishing of the royal residence. Or perhaps their means were not as extensive as some. Then again, they may have had better things to do with their wealth than spend it on over-lavish possessions. Be that as it may, I found the simplicity of my surroundings refreshing.

The walls of the chamber Padraig and I were to share, for example, were painted the deep ruby colour of red wine below a ceiling of dark blue in which small golden discs had been affixed. No trouble had been taken to hide the rooftrees above; indeed, these were painted green. When I lay down that night by candlelight it was as if I looked up through the clustered boughs of a forest into the night sky agleam with stars.

But that was yet to come. For, no sooner were we conducted to our room, than the prince's chamberlain appeared to inform us that Lord Thoros was awaiting us in his receiving chamber. We splashed water on our faces and brushed the dust of the road from our hair and clothes, and then followed the servant. 'You must tell him about Bohemond's attack as soon as possible,' Padraig reminded me. 'They will need time to prepare.'

'Of course,' I agreed.

'At once,' the monk insisted.

'I will, I will.'

We were led through the inner corridors of the palace to a cozy reception chamber somewhere behind the main hall. Thoros was there alone, standing at a table mixing wine with water.

'Come in! Come in!' cried Thoros, pouring the wine into two large gold-rimmed silver bowls. 'I thought a drink might ease the fatigue of the journey,' he said, raising a bowl in each of his hands and extending them to Padraig and myself. After observing the proper greeting and welcome rituals-which he conducted in the Armenian tongue-he invited us to sit with him.

'With pleasure, my lord,' I replied. 'I wanted a word with you before the feast.'

As we stepped into the room, Nurmal appeared behind us. 'Sit with us, my friend! We were just about to share the welcome cup.'

'Nothing would delight me more, my friend,' replied Nurmal, his white moustache bristling with delight. 'It has been far too long since we sat together.'

'Not long enough for me to forget that I owe you a great deal of money,' replied Thoros. He shook his head ruefully. 'I do not need to tell you it has been very difficult here these last two years.' Sorrow dragged down the corners of his mouth as he gazed forlornly into the cup between his huge hands. 'The harvest… trade…'

'Nonsense!' scoffed Nurmal good-naturedly. 'You have had fine harvests – nay, bounteous harvests! Magnificent harvests! – three years running. And trade has never been better. The coffers of Armenia are bursting!'

Caught in his small lie, Thoros made a shamefaced grin and looked at me from under his heavy brows. 'You see? I told you nothing happened east of the Taurus he does not know.'

'I did not come here to embarrass you into paying me,' Nurmal told him. 'Yet, if it would ease your conscience to lighten the load, I would of course accept any amount you would care to bestow in recognition of our long-forgotten bargain.'

'Ha!' cried Thoros, slapping the table with his hand. 'You are a fine fellow, Nurmal. So I have always said. Never fear, you will not leave Anazarbus empty-handed.'

Lord Thoros, I decided, was like a great shaggy bear, at once fierce and childlike. There was nothing of subtlety or guile in his open features or wide dark eyes. His loyalties could be easily discerned by the expression on his face.

'Yordanus Hippolytus appeared at my door in the company of these good men,' Nurmal volunteered. 'He said he had urgent business in Anazarbus and required horses for himself and his friends. Once I discovered why he needed my horses, what else could I do but see them safely to their destination?'

'Protecting your investment,' said Thoros, wagging his finger knowingly. 'I know you.'

'I will not deny it,' said Nurmal. 'But there is more.' Setting aside his bowl, he looked to me. 'Tell him, Duncan,' he said, his voice taking on a solemn tone.

Thoros sipped his wine and regarded Padraig and me benignly. 'Yes, whatever you have to say, tell it to Thoros. I am in a mood to hear the news of the world.'

I needed no urging from Padraig, silent or otherwise, to speak the message we had all travelled so far and at such great expense to deliver. 'My lord, the news I bring is not good,' I began, and went on to describe how I had learned of Prince Bohemond's desire to restore the County of Antioch to the boundaries established by his father. 'He is on his way here now with his army,' I concluded, 'and means to take the city.'

Thoros received the news remarkably well. 'I know this already,' Thoros said blithely, pouring more wine into the bowls. 'Roupen has told me. Of course, he is known of times to become somewhat… overwrought, shall we say? I am happy to have you confirm that this is nof the case.' He smiled as if to dismiss the report as an ill-founded and fairly disreputable rumour.

'It is a fact,' Padraig said, speaking up. 'Lord Duncan and I heard it from the lips of Bohemond himself. We called upon him to repent of his plan before God.'

The priest's assertion seemed to impress Thoros, who inquired how this had come to be, so I explained about meeting the Templar Renaud, and how he had given Roupen, Padraig, and myself passage aboard his ship. 'Commander Renaud told me about the prince's plan-although it was by no means a secret. Bohemond had been raising troops for this purpose all summer.'

'But he would not listen to you,' Thoros suggested with a sympathetic shake of the head. 'They rarely do, these Franks.' If these tidings, for which we had endured considerable hardship, caused him the least concern, he hid his distress admirably well.

'We failed to persuade him and had to flee Antioch,' I told him. 'We came here as quickly as we could to warn you. I expect Bohemond wasted no time in gathering his troops. It is entirely possible that he is only a few days' march from here even now.'

Nurmal nodded gravely. Padraig frowned, gazing at the serenely untroubled nobleman as if at a riddle that might be solved by staring long and hard. 'Lord Roupen will no doubt confirm all we have told,' the monk said, watching our host for any sign of dismay or alarm.

Thoros nodded sympathetically. 'You have risked your lives to help my brother and bring this warning to us. For this you shall be rewarded. What is more, I shall order prayers to be sung in your honour tonight.'

'My lord is too kind,' I replied, fighting down a sudden and overwhelming feeling of foolishness. 'We did not come here in anticipation of any reward,' I told him stiffly. 'Indeed, we will be more than satisfied to continue on our way as soon as possible.'

'I will not hear of it,' replied Thoros amiably. 'You have travelled a very great distance. You must rest and take your ease. Allow us to show you the generosity of the noble Armenian race.' He put aside the bowl and rose. 'Please, remain here and refresh yourselves as long as you like. Tonight you will sit with me at the feast. Speaking of which, I have remembered something I must do. I ask you to excuse me.' He bade us farewell, and strolled from the room.

'You should feel proud,' said Nurmal. 'You have done well. The Armenians are a generous people, and will certainly reward you handsomely.'

'We have done only what anyone might do,' I replied, still struggling to shake the feeling that, for all his thanks and praise, Thoros cared more about his wine than the calamity looming over his city. The fate of his people swung in the balance, and his concern was arranging feasts. Moments ago, my chief desire was to see Bohemond and the rulers of Armenia reconciled, and for peace to reign between the two houses. Now, I could think only of leaving the doomed city of Anazarbus before the upstart Bohemond arrived and reduced it to smouldering bricks and ash.