Hawk Quest (91 page)

‘Are you angry with him?’

Vallon paused in his chewing. ‘Part of me deplores a peasant killing a knight, but Wayland had every reason.’

‘And he’s rescued our hopes. If he hadn’t led Walter into the swamp, the wretch would never have told us where he’d hidden the gospel.’

‘We still have to get our hands on it. If Suleyman sends everyone to Konya, we might not get a chance to return to the tower.’

‘I think fortune will find us a way.’

Vallon laughed. ‘It scares me how much we’ve been sucking from that teat. It can’t be long before it runs dry.’

Wind gusted into the tent. Chinua marched in with Faruq and six soldiers. ‘His Excellency commands your presence.’ Faruq clapped his hands. ‘At once.’

Vallon put down his bread, wiped his hands and pulled on his boots. He and Hero walked to the entrance and went out into the turbulent night.

Suleyman paced up and down the throne room in his armour, his commanders trotting behind, a scribe taking notes. The Emir stopped when Vallon entered and waved his entourage aside. Wayland was already in attendance, standing pale and subdued beside Ibrahim, the gyrfalcon sitting on the hawkmaster’s fist. Vallon squeezed Wayland’s arm. ‘I think it’s going to be all right.’

The Emir hopped up on to his throne. Faruq exchanged a few words with him before facing the company. ‘There is no time for formalities. The pigeon was carrying a message from Persia. The Sultan Alp Arslan is dead – may his glorious deeds be rewarded in Paradise. He died two weeks ago while his army was putting down a rebellion on the Oxus river. A prisoner drew a knife and delivered a mortal wound. That’s all we know.’

Suleyman rocked on his throne, thumping his mace in glee. Faruq forced a smile.

‘The pigeon belonged to the Emir Temur.’

Vallon squeezed Wayland’s arm. ‘You’re safe.’

‘I don’t understand what’s—’

‘Nor do I. Listen.’

Faruq was speaking again. ‘Alp Arslan’s empire stretches from the Hindu Kush to the Mediterranean. His son and heir is only thirteen. The succession isn’t settled. While the rival factions in Persia plot and connive, his Excellency means to establish his own sultanate in Rum.’ Faruq raised a hand. ‘All blessings proceed from God, exalted be his name, and since his Excellency perceives the hand of God in today’s events, he has decided to reward the agents of his good fortune.’

Suleyman clicked his fingers. A guard at one of the entrances called down the passage. A servant hurried in carrying a pair of balance scales with one end adapted to some purpose Vallon couldn’t work out. The menial placed the scales on a table. Next to it sat Suleyman’s war helmet, sporting a panache of osprey plumes.

The Emir clicked his fingers again and Ibrahim stepped forward with the gyrfalcon. He set it down on the scales and Vallon realised that one side was a perch.

Suleyman descended from his throne and held out his hand. Another servant passed him a leather pouch. The Emir scooped out a handful of silver coins and dropped them on the empty pan. Two or three bounced out and rolled away. Officers hurried to retrieve them. The wind moaned outside and the walls of the throne room bellied in and out. The Emir grabbed another fistful of silver and grinned.

‘How heavy is the gyrfalcon?’ Vallon said from the corner of his mouth.

‘About five pounds,’ said Wayland.

‘Well, we won’t leave empty-handed.’

Suleyman heaped handfuls of silver on the pan. With a flourish he upended the bag and sprinkled the remaining coins. The beam tilted. The pan containing the silver settled, then rose again. The Emir frowned. He pressed down the scales in favour of the silver and let go, but it was wanting in the balance and settled in favour of the falcon.

Vallon began to rise. ‘His Excellency is more than generous. Please tell him—’

Suleyman waved him back. He looked around with furious intent and his eyes settled on Faruq. He grabbed the official’s hand and removed from it a ring set with a ruby. He held it above the heap of silver.

‘This had better tilt the scales,’ Vallon muttered.

Suleyman dropped the ring on to the pile of silver. The pan wavered and sank. The falcon rose. The spectators applauded and Faruq managed a feeble smile. The Emir held out the bag to Vallon.

‘The silver is yours,’ said Faruq.

Vallon nudged Wayland. ‘You won it. You take it.’

Wayland advanced awkwardly. He picked up a coin, dropped it in the bag and looked back.

‘It’s not a trick,’ said Hero.

Wayland filled the bag until about a handful of silver remained on the pan. He hesitated, gathered up the remainder and presented it to Ibrahim. The hawkmaster embraced him. The audience applauded once more.

Suleyman had resumed his throne. Faruq listened to him, stroking the finger where his ring had been. He faced the company. ‘His Excellency has more blessings to bestow.’

Here comes the catch, thought Vallon.

Faruq walked up to him. ‘His Excellency offers you a position as captain of a hundred in his personal guard. With the title comes land and a property in Konya. A band of trumpeters will proclaim your rank outside your gate each sunset.’

Hero sidled closer. ‘Accept the position if that’s what you want. Don’t worry about me.’

‘What about the gospel?’ Vallon bowed to the Emir. ‘His Excellency does me more honour than I deserve. Convey my humble gratitude and tell him that I’ve pledged my services to Byzantium.’

The Seljuks murmured and shook their heads. The Emir pinched his nostrils. He tugged at his moustache. Faruq approached Hero.

‘His Excellency esteems all branches of learning. He invites you to choose a position in his household as scribe, translator or physician. He intends to establish a hospital in Konya and would like you to work in it.’

Hero glanced at Vallon in panic. ‘How am I supposed to answer?’

‘Truthfully. If you want the position, say so.’

Hero plucked at his throat. ‘His Excellency has formed an inflated impression of my medical expertise. I’m only a student, with years of study ahead before I qualify. When I do, I look forward to returning to Rum and sharing what skills I’ve mastered with his Excellency’s physicians.’

More disapproving whispers from the Seljuks. The Emir settled in a malign slouch. He said something and Faruq addressed himself to Wayland.

‘The Emir’s offering you a position as assistant keeper of his falcons,’ Hero said.

‘I don’t know. I need time to think. I have to talk with Syth.’

Hero glanced at Suleyman. ‘In his world, men make the decisions. He expects an answer now.’

Vallon smiled at Faruq. ‘Allow us a few moments to consider.’ He turned Wayland aside. ‘Do you have any plans for when we reach Constantinople?’

‘No. I don’t want to live in the city.’

‘Quarter of the silver is yours. Enough to set yourself up as a farmer.’

‘I don’t want to work the soil.’

‘You could return to England.’

‘I can’t travel while Syth’s pregnant.’

‘Then I suggest that you consider the Emir’s offer seriously. You know what sort of establishment he runs. You’ve seen how cruel he can be when crossed; but having come so close to death at his hands, I don’t think you’ll make that mistake again.’

Wayland looked at Ibrahim. The hawkmaster smiled encouragingly.

‘I wouldn’t accept if it meant leaving Syth.’

‘It won’t.’

‘Will I have to convert to Islam?’

‘The Emir won’t insist on it. He employs Jews and Christians in his entourage.’

Wayland took a breath, looked at the gently smiling Ibrahim. ‘Tell him I accept.’

The Seljuks gave a smattering of applause. Vallon patted Wayland’s arm. ‘I think you’ve made the right decision.’

Suleyman slipped off his throne. Chinua began escorting the company out.

‘Vallon.’

He turned and saw that it was the Emir who’d spoken. ‘I’ll catch you up,’ he told the others.

‘I’m disappointed that you turned down the offer to serve in my army,’ Suleyman said in serviceable Arabic. ‘I’ll be here until dawn in case you change your mind. If you don’t, you and the Greek will leave for Konya tomorrow. From there an escort will take you to the frontier with a safe conduct.’

The opposite direction from the tower where the gospel was hidden. Vallon’s skin prickled at the risk he was about to take. ‘An escort isn’t necessary. We’ll make our own way. We’d planned to take the northerly route, riding back up Salt Lake.’

Suleyman shook his head. ‘I won’t allow my guests to travel without protection.’ He shrugged. ‘As for the route, choose your own.’

Vallon hid his relief. Almost there.

‘Will Walter’s brother be travelling with you?’

‘No. I’ve suffered his presence long enough.’

‘What do you want me to do with him?’

Vallon knew that if he said ‘Kill him’, the Emir would attend to the matter as casually as if he’d asked for a drink of water. ‘Let him travel to Constantinople on his own. I’ll provide funds for the journey.’

Without turning, Suleyman gave an order. Two of his men went out.

‘Is that all?’ Vallon said. ‘I don’t want to intrude on your time more than necessary.’

Suleyman looked up at Vallon from under drooping eyelids. ‘The Icelandic woman.’

Vallon forced a smile. Here it comes. If he tells me that he won’t let her go, there’s not a thing I can do to stop him. ‘Caitlin? What about her?’

‘She’ll be travelling with you to Constantinople?’

‘If that’s what she wants.’

‘Isn’t she sure?’

‘We haven’t discussed it.’

‘You haven’t discussed your plans with your lover?’

‘We aren’t lovers. That was a lie to protect her.’

‘I know. Her maids report everything she says.’ Suleyman stepped close. His head came up to Vallon’s shoulders. He pointed at the scales. ‘Leave her with me and I’ll give you as much again.’

Vallon shook his head.

‘In gold.’

A fortune. Vallon swallowed. ‘I won’t force her to do anything against her will. If she wants to stay, I won’t try to dissuade her. It will be her choice and I won’t accept any payment. If she wants to leave, I’ll take her with me.’

Suleyman studied him, nodding. ‘Very well. Let’s leave it in God’s hands.’

Vallon bowed and began to back away. Suleyman reached out to detain him. ‘Before we part, tell me what brought you here. The real reason. It wasn’t money and it wasn’t for love of Walter. So what?’

Vallon looked at the carpet. Its maker had woven a design of carnations and scorpions. ‘All journeys have secret destinations.’

‘And what is yours?’

‘I’m not sure I understand.’

‘When Cosmas negotiated Sir Walter’s ransom, I was curious why a senior Greek diplomat should bother himself with a Norman mercenary.’

‘I don’t know. I only met Cosmas on the night he died. We hardly spoke.’

‘I set a high price for Walter’s release, never expecting Cosmas to raise it. Then more than a year later, you arrived, having voyaged from the end of the world to save a man you’ve never met. Why all this interest in rescuing a Norman of modest rank?’

‘In the beginning … ’ Vallon looked up. ‘It was penance for a crime I committed.’

‘Penance?’

‘Expiation. I killed my wife and her lover.’

Suleyman’s eyes crinkled. ‘That’s not a crime.’

‘I have no regrets about killing the man. He betrayed me in other ways. But my wife … Killing her has left my three children orphans. I’ll never see them again.’

Suleyman tapped him on the chest with his mace. ‘A good commander never regrets his actions. If I think someone means me harm, I kill him first and leave God to do the judging.’

‘That’s why you’re an Emir and I’m only a captain.’

Suleyman pressed his mace against Vallon’s chest. ‘Did the falconer kill Walter?’

‘Why would he do that? Walter saved Wayland from the forest.’

‘If you save a wolf, it doesn’t mean it loves you. Walter told the Seljuks that the falconer led him into the bog.’

‘How would they know? They weren’t there when Walter lost his way.’

The pressure of the mace increased. ‘Walter swore it was murder.’

‘Men often rave when they come face to face with death. I’m sorry Walter died. We tried our hardest to save him.’

Suleyman relaxed the pressure on the mace. ‘It’s as well that he’s dead. His behaviour was becoming a scandal and I suspect that he was playing a double game with the Byzantines. I would have had to deal with him myself if … ’ Suleyman raised his eyes ‘ … he hadn’t fallen into the bog.’

He swung on his heel and joined his officers. ‘My offer still stands. You have until dawn.’

‘Can I ask you something, your Excellency?’

Suleyman looked back over his shoulder.

‘How many wives do you have?’

Suleyman’s eyes went vague. ‘Nine, I think. My chief secretary will give you the precise number.’

‘Eleven,’ said Faruq and pointed to the exit.

Hero jumped up, agog for news when Vallon returned to their quarters. ‘Are we free to return to the bastillion?’

‘Yes. Under escort.’

‘That could make things difficult.’

‘Suleyman’s suspicious. He can’t understand why Cosmas and me were so desperate to win Walter’s freedom.’

‘Do you think he has any idea of the gospel?’

‘No. I told him I’d made the journey to atone for killing my wife. It seems strange now, but it’s the truth.’

Vallon divided the silver into four equal parts, keeping two parts for himself and leaving the rest to be shared between Hero and Wayland. He washed and changed before heading back out into the night. The Seljuks had cleared most of the camp and scores of men were dismantling the Emir’s pavilion, wrestling with billows of flapping felt. Vallon stooped against the wind, making for the women’s quarters.

A eunuch led him down a corridor with chambers leading off it. The roar of the wind fell away to a distant sigh. The eunuch stopped
outside an entrance and called out. A woman’s voice answered. He nodded and Vallon went in.

It was like entering a silken womb. Caitlin sat at a dressing table attended by two maids. She rose, her eyes outlined with kohl, her hair dressed in a complicated oriental style. She wore a costume of many gauzy layers, each layer semi-transparent. Jewellery sparkled at her neck and on her wrists.