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 (2 page)

       We’ve come back to Palma again to get information and because we didn’t have any problems both when we rendezvoused here last year on our way to England and again when some of our galleys stopped here in September on their way back from England to Cyprus.  Once again that seems to be the case, them being friendly I mean.  Indeed the local Moslems seem pleased that we’d given the Tunisians a poke in the eye last year.  At least that’s the story we got from the local merchants both when we were here last year and on this visit as well.

       The Genoan and Pisan merchants are another matter.  They are like the island’s Jewish and Moslem merchants - all smiles and happy enough to take our coins in the market place and pay us to carry their cargos.  But, according to several of the Jewish merchants, the Genoans and Pisans are not at all happy to see us in Palma.  They know about our concession and trading post on Cyprus and fear we’ll come here next and set up to be their competitors. 

       And, of course, they’re right because someday that is exactly what Thomas and I will be doing if our plan succeeds.  Unfortunately that day is a long way off -so we’ll do as we did before and go all out to convince the local Christians and everyone else that we are friendly and just passing through on our way to the Holy Land. 

       Of course we are acting friendly – it isn’t good to shite where you walk and we almost certainly will want to stop here again as we come and go between Cornwall and Cyprus.  Even so the local Christians don’t trust us and I don’t trust them, and rightly so. 

       I also don’t trust the local Moslem ruler because he’s a Moslem.  It’s well known that they’ll change sides in an instant and cut off your head if one of their priests tells them that’s what God wants or they start listening to one of their wives or mistresses.  They’re like our Christian kings and popes in that. 

      
If we ever come here permanently we’ll probably have to take over the whole island and get rid of all the Moslems.  And we’re a long way off from being strong enough to do that.  Besides, we have other more important bread to bake.

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       “It’s good to see everyone again,” I tell our captain sergeants as they assemble on my galley’s deck to report to me and Harold.  When all the captains in the harbor finish climbing on board I gather them around me on the deck to ask about their experiences and tell them the plan. 

      
But I’m only telling them a small part of it.  I’m not waiting for the captains of our missing ships to start spreading false rumors.  I want to start spreading them in the city as soon as possible.

       “Alright lads, here’s the plan.  We’ll be leaving here and rendezvousing in Malta as soon as the rest of our galleys arrive and the weather looks good.  In the meantime you can give your crews short two hour shore leaves during daylight hours.  Time to wet their whistles and dip their dingles.  But only a few men at a time and no one is to be ashore after dark.” 

       “I want you to make sure that all your men understand that they have to stay close to their ships and their weapons - both because every cog and galley must always be ready to repel boarders in case the Moors come and because we’ll be leaving on short notice and heading for Malta as soon as the rest of our galleys arrive.”

       Young Peter is looking confused.  He’s heard me asking our pilots what they know about Algiers and watched intently as Harold and I studied the two maps I bought off the mapmaker in Lisbon.  Indeed, he’d been with me and Harold when I bought the maps and sat there quietly while we spent an entire afternoon plying the mapmaker and his assistant with questions about Algiers and the pirates based there.  He expected to hear me say we’ll be going to Algiers.

       I tried to explain things to Peter after the captains left. 
I’m trying to school him aren’t I?

       “Do you understand what I’m doing by telling the captain sergeants we’ll be heading for Malta from here, Peter?  Of course you do; or you will if you think about it - many of the people on the island are Moslems and they and all the merchants undoubtedly have dealings with the Algerians and all the other pirates despite the war going on between their various rulers; we want the word to get out to the merchants and taverns that we’re going to Malta from here - because we’re not.”

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       Our twelfth and final galley rowed into Palma’s harbor this morning and Harold and the pilots say the weather looks promising.  So early in the afternoon, after a final visit to the harbor tavern for a bowl and a chop, I piss in the harbor and order Peter to run up the flag that calls my sergeant captains to a meeting.  They’d seen the last of our galleys come in earlier today and my summons is expected.

       Within the minute the captains are all in their dinghies and being rowed to where my galley is tied to the dock.  Some of them are wearing their hooded leather tunics.  It’s chilly on the water even though it’s spring day in early April.

       My message is short and sweet and I wink at Peter after I say it.

       “Everyone is now here and we’ll be sailing for Malta shortly.  So all of you must stop allowing shore leaves and immediately send parties ashore to recall your leave men.  Those of you with ships and dinghies at the dock are to immediately move them to the harbor and anchor them there so our men can’t run or slip ashore for one last drink or dingle dip.  My galley will stay here at the dock and board those of your men who return from leave after you anchor in the harbor.  I’ll send them out to you later.  Dismissed.”

       Three hours later and the flag again goes up to call another captains’ meeting.  Most of their shore parties and leave men have already returned and all the ships are anchored in the harbor and ready to sail.  This time Harold has also moved our galley into the harbor and the meeting is not short and sweet.

       “For your ears only and not to be shared with any of your crews until we clear the harbor – our galleys are not going from here to Malta and then on to Cyprus – as soon as the weather and tides are right we are going to take our galleys into Algiers looking for prizes and then go on to Malta with any we take.

       There are cheers and smiles all around and rightly so – almost everyone here was on our raid into Tunis and profited greatly from it; and those that weren’t there have certainly heard all about it and the prize money it produced.  Then I continue with the good news that this time the prize money will be even greater.

       “Prize money will be as follows:  Captain sergeants will receive three bezant gold coins for every galley or cog or cargo ship their galley takes and gets to Malta; sergeants five silver coins; men ten copper coins.  Every man will get another copper for each additional ship his galley burns.” 

       “And that’s not all - sergeants who become prize captains will get an additional gold coin and keep the ship as its captain if they get it to Malta; their prize sergeants get two additional silvers and their prize crewmen five coppers.  Fishing boats are to be left alone as always.” 

      
Yes we’re generous, but we’re not dumb; even the meanest galleys and cogs are worth a lot more than the prize money we’ll be paying to get them – and burned galleys can’t be used against us.

       Loud cheers and even bigger smiles are the order of the day when the captains hear the prize monies they’ll receive for the ships they take and burn.  All the sergeant captains were with us on our visit to Tunis last year and what they are now being offered is a chance for advancement for their men and riches beyond their dreams for themselves. There is, of course, the little matter of actually getting to Algiers and actually taking prizes and actually getting them back to Malta.

       The only men not smiling are our two cog captains - they are not going to accompany us to Algiers.  So I take great pains to console them. 

      
And rightly so as I later explain to Peter Sergeant.  Albert’s one of the original archers and deserves to know he’s not being slighted.  And, for that matter, so does William from Chester who is the archer sergeant captaining the other cog.

       “Don’t worry you two – you and your men will get the very same prize money for every pirate galley or Saracen ship you take from this moment on.  So you’ll likely end up with more prize money than anyone else by the end of the season.  You can sail from here to anywhere you wish and begin baiting them to attack your cogs as soon as our galleys clear the harbor for Algiers.  Send your prizes to Cyprus and you and your men will collect your prize coins there just like everyone else.  Oh yes, and make damn sure they have enough water in their skins or a good plan to get some on the way.”

       Then we got down to seriously planning our raid and arranging for the cogs to pass out all the extra candle lanterns and incendiary bundles of dried twigs they’ve been carrying as cargo without even their sergeant captains knowing why.

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       Two days later the weather and tides look good for reaching the harbor at Algiers during the Moors’ prayers on Friday.   That’s the main time, so we’ve been led to understand, for Moslems to go to their shrines and pray on the Islamic Sabbath.  I hope that’s true for it is always best to try to steal something when its owner isn’t around.

       It’s crisp and clear and the winds from the north when I order Peter Sergeant to raise the “follow me” flag on Wednesday in the early afternoon and nod to Harold.  A few shouted orders from Harold and the big galley’s anchor is raised and our archers are in their places on the rowing benches.  Everyone’s obviously been waiting - a few seconds later the sound of many rowing drums begins to be heard and a long line of galleys follows us out of the Palma harbor. 

       The men on our cogs are crowding their rails and waving down to us and cheering as we row past them.  I see Albert Devon high above me on his cog and we exchange friendly salutes and waves as our galley passes by.  The cogs will be on their way to troll for pirates as soon as the wind is favorable.

       As soon as the galleys clear the harbor they move in and close up tight around us.  We’ll use the light from the lamps hanging on our masts in an effort to stay close together in the darkness.  The lamps are important because we have to stay together so we can go in to the Algiers harbor together in one big group Friday morning. 

       According to all the information Harold and I have been able to gather, the Algerians are most likely at prayers at high noon on Fridays. That, according to Harold and those who are supposed to know about such things, is when the Moorish galleys and ships in the Algiers harbor are most likely to be tied up at the beach so they can’t float away or are sitting lightly crewed at the dock or are anchored in the harbor.  Cutting out their ships when the pirates are praying worked for us at Tunis and we’re all hoping it will work again here at Algiers.

      
Attacking when they least expect it and are not ready to fight back is always the best policy when fighting Moslems - and everyone else.

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       The weather is favorable and we are able to stay together under the stars of mostly clear skies both Wednesday and Thursday night.  A couple of hours after sunup on Friday morning finds us bobbing in the water just off the coast near Algiers with our men fully rested and ready to go.  Harold and I look at each other and we both nod our heads.

       “Hang the “follow me” flag and the “attack” flag on the mast,” Harold bellows at the chosen man he’s had standing ready at the mast ever since the sun came up. 

       Harold and the other galley captains will be using their sails and having their men rowing easy to conserve their strength until we reach the harbor entrance.  After a while Peter fetches me my iron helmet and sword and a small ship’s shield from the railing.  Peter and I are both carrying our long bows and two quivers of iron tipped arrows.  Peter’s got a ship’s shield and sword as well and a borrowed helmet that looks like it doesn’t fit very well.  The other archers on board are similarly equipped.  Those who are not still on the rowing benches have spread out along on the deck and untied all of the many bales of arrows we have on board.

                                    Chapter Two

     Algiers is a huge place with a superb harbor.  It’s an altogether impressive city with a couple of beautiful white sandy beaches and houses with red tile roofs that run from the dock all the way up to the great fortress crowning the hill that towers above the city and harbor.  More than twenty thousand people are said to live inside the city walls.  And they are all apparently either pirates or merchants or their slaves and servants.

       Our tightly grouped galleys split up into three separate smaller groups as we come through the harbor entrance with the rowing drum of every galley beating a fast and steady beat and two men at every oar.  Four of our galleys are going for the Algerian galleys beached next to the dock; four to the dock itself to take the ships tied up along it; and four to the ships anchored in the harbor. 

      
There are also a few galleys and a lot of fishing boats all along the beach south of the harbor.  If all goes well we may try to get some of those galleys on the way out.

       People are standing on the beach and dock watching as we row in.  Then some of the watchers begin running for the houses and the big mosque part way up the hill towards the great castle that towers above the city; others are running toward the galleys on the beach
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