The silk canopy rippled in a draught. The Seljuks leaned, looking at something behind Hero. He risked a glance and saw an elderly man guiding Wayland forward, whispering instructions. The falconer carried the haggard on his right hand and seemed apprehensive. When he saw Hero he mouthed a question: ‘Is Syth all right?’
‘She’s fine,’ Hero whispered from behind his hand. ‘She’s in the women’s quarters with Caitlin. Kneel and bow before the Emir, touching your forehead to the ground.’
When Wayland had made his awkward obeisance, the Arabic-speaking official stepped forward. He was a fleshy individual attired in sumptuous silks, adorned with expensive jewellery and wearing an air of massive self-importance.
‘I am Faruq al-Hasan-al-Baghdadi, Chief Secretary to his Excel -lency.’ He pointed a hand winking with jewels in Hero’s direction. ‘Step forward.’
Oddly enough, Hero felt less nervous than he had when delivering the ransom terms to Count Olbec. He bowed to the Emir. ‘Peace to you, Lord. Your Excellency’s health is good by the grace of God?
Faruq translated Suleyman’s languid wave. ‘His Eminence is strong in body and keen of mind, thanks be to almighty God. Be so good as to address your answers to me. Now then, state your purpose in coming here.’
Suleyman already knew. Hero decided that this audience served only to satisfy the Emir’s curiosity or reveal the character of his guests. He chose his words with care. ‘His Excellency will remember his generous
dealings with Cosmas, the Greek traveller who undertook to raise a ransom for Sir Walter, one of his Excellency’s prisoners captured during the Seljuks’ great victory at Manzikert. Alas, Cosmas died soon after reaching Italy, charging me with his last breath to continue the mission. I was too young and weak to complete the task, but providence led me to this man here, Vallon, who agreed to help me reach our goal. Under his brave leadership, we travelled to the wildest corners of the world to obtain the white falcons desired by his Excellency.’
The Emir pulled Faruq’s sleeve and spoke into his ear. Faruq nodded and turned towards Hero. ‘Are the Frank and the Norman prisoner former comrades in arms?’
Hero hesitated. ‘No. They’ve never met.’
‘Then why did he embark on this undertaking?’
Vallon had learned enough Arabic in Spain to be able to follow the exchanges. ‘Tell him I did it for money. Keep it simple or we’ll be here all night.’
The Emir mulled over this reply and Faruq voiced his concerns. ‘His Excellency is puzzled that your expedition was commanded not by the prisoner’s brother, but by a mercenary who has never laid eyes on Walter. Furthermore, his Excellency cannot help observing that while the Frankish captain’s bearing suggests a man at ease with himself, Walter’s brother seems to have drunk from the cup of bitter sorrow.’
‘The two captains are men of different temperaments. Drogo’s melancholy is caused by deep concern over his brother’s fate. He’s—’
Vallon cut him off. ‘Don’t lie. They’ll find you out and it will count against us.’
Hero nodded. He was sweating. He took a breath and gave a neutral response. ‘We’ve been travelling for more than a year. During that time we’ve received no news from civilised lands. Cosmas assured me his Excellency treated Sir Walter generously. Can I assume that under the Emir’s protection, he still lives?’
‘No harm has come to him.’
‘Has he been told of our arrival?’
‘No.’
‘When will we be allowed to see him?’
‘That’s for his Excellency to decide. It’s disrespectful to ask so many questions. The details of your journey can wait. Tell the young man with the yellow hair to show his Excellency the falcon.’
Hero sat down with relief. Wayland’s escort led him forward and turned him this way and that so that the Emir could study the gyrfalcon from every angle. He ordered the hawkmaster to unhood her. She gripped the glove and fanned her wings, creating a draught that extinguished a dozen lamps and made the silk hangings billow. The hawkmaster slipped her hood back on and transferred her to the Emir. Suleyman held her up with a grin and spoke with animation to his entourage. At last he passed the falcon back and his features settled into immobility. Faruq straightened.
‘Where are the other falcons?’
‘Alas, they died. We left the northlands with eight. It was a long and dreadful journey and one by one they sickened.’
‘The ransom stipulated two casts.’
‘And that’s what we intended to deliver. It’s a matter of deep regret that we were unable to satisfy the terms to the letter. Perhaps his Excellency will view the deficiency less harshly when he learns that the falcon has been brought at the cost of men’s lives. Of the original company who set out on the quest, three are dead, including my dearest friend, Sir Walter’s youngest brother. We have faced great perils. Many times we considered giving up. Instead, we stayed true to our task, confident that his Excellency would reward our efforts with magnanimity.’
Ash rustled in a brazier. Suleyman picked his teeth. He held out his cupped hands. One of his attendants filled them with water from a bronze aquamanile cast in the form of a lion. The Emir rinsed his hands and the attendant towelled them dry.
‘His Excellency will consider what you have said and deliver his judgement tomorrow.’
Permission to call on Sir Walter arrived next afternoon. Vallon left with Hero and Wayland. He’d insisted on Drogo being housed in separate accommodation and had no intention of allowing him to confront his brother at this stage.
Two Seljuk escorts led the way. ‘When are you going to tell Walter about Drogo?’ Hero asked.
‘I’ll pick my moment.’
‘He’s bound to suspect a double-cross.’
‘I know. I should have killed Drogo the night we landed, but without him and Fulk we wouldn’t be here. It’s hard to slay in cold blood a man who’s fought at your side and lost a close companion.’
The escorts marched ahead to a small pavilion on the other side of the encampment. One of them shouted through the door flap in Turkic. A voice answered in the same language. The Seljuks called again and the entrance opened and a slender young man wearing eye shadow hurried out covering his face. ‘
Tch!
’ the escorts said. One of them smacked the youth across the head and gave him a tongue-lashing as he hurried off. Vallon stared ahead with his mouth slightly pursed.
The escorts pushed the callers into the tent. Vallon entered the carpeted interior first, Wayland lagging behind Hero. Walter lolled on a divan, dressed in a loose Persian gown, a flask of wine and two empty cups beside him on a large brass tray. His puzzled expression showed that he had no idea who they were. He rose, looking from one to the other. He appeared much as Vallon had envisaged – tall and broad of shoulder with wavy yellow hair and a square jaw deeply cleft. Perhaps a suggestion of jowliness, a slight bagginess beneath the eyes. His smile revealed perfect white teeth.
‘You have the advantage of me. Are you diplomats? Have you arrived on a mission from Constantinople?’
‘I’m Vallon, a Frankish soldier of fortune. This is Hero, a Greek scholar. You already know—’
But Walter had recognised the figure standing inside the entrance. ‘Wayland? My God, I don’t believe it.’ He strode forward and placed his hands on Wayland’s shoulders. ‘It really is you. How tall you’ve grown. How serious you look.’ He turned to Vallon. ‘My head’s spinning. Does this have anything to do with the ransom?’
‘Yes. It would take a day to tell the whole story.’
‘Master Cosmas?’
‘Dead. He tried to raise your ransom in Constantinople. When that failed, he set off for England with Hero. I met them in the Alps as Cosmas lay dying and I agreed to continue the journey. We reached
your home in February. Your mother pawned her lands in Normandy to raise funds for your release. We’ve been making our way here ever since.’
Walter opened his mouth, but too many thoughts and conjectures got in the way of speech. ‘I’m neglecting your comfort. Please sit. Let me order you some wine.’ He went to the entrance and shouted. As he returned, he ran a hand over Wayland’s back and his smile flashed. ‘Dear Wayland. All this way for love of your master.’
Vallon and Hero perched on the edge of the divan. ‘Before you ask,’ said Vallon, ‘I travelled here with the intention of claiming the reward you promised to Cosmas.’
‘The Gospel of Thomas and the letter from Prester John,’ Hero said.
Walter glanced towards the entrance. ‘Where’s that servant?’
Vallon slid one of the cups on the tray. ‘We interrupted at a delicate moment. He probably didn’t want to disturb you while you were entertaining company.’
Walter’s smile froze. ‘I’ll serve you myself.’
He fetched clean cups. His hand shook as he poured.
‘The gospel and letter,’ Hero repeated. ‘Do you still have them?’
‘They’re safe,’ Walter said, handing them their wine. ‘Not here.’ He raised his cup. ‘So my mother raised the ransom money?’
‘Part of it.’
Walter drained most of his cup in one draught. ‘I wouldn’t have thought that my mother’s estate would raise a quarter of the sum Suleyman demanded.’
‘We’re not redeeming you in gold. The Emir specified an alternative. Two casts of white gyrfalcons. We’ve spent the best part of a year on that chase.’
‘And you have them?’
‘We have one – one falcon that is.’
‘Only one?’
‘The rest died.’
‘What does Suleyman say?’
‘He’ll announce his decision this evening.’
Walter set down his cup and grimaced. ‘This is awkward. Worse than awkward. If the ransom specified four falcons, he won’t settle for less.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. Wayland tended the falcons with the utmost diligence.’
Walter kept his smile, just. ‘You know, Vallon, it might have been better for me if you’d never come.’
Vallon regarded him with bleak intensity.
Walter looked away. ‘A mercenary, you said. Perhaps you’d care to tell me more about what set you on this course.’
‘The gospel and the letter. We can discuss my motives at length another time. For now, it’s more important that you tell us what sort of man Suleyman is.’
Walter picked up the flask and held it out. Vallon covered his cup. Walter refilled his own and settled back into the cushions. ‘He’s the son of Kutalmish, a cousin of Alp Arslan and a former contender for the Seljuk empire. When Kutalmish died, Suleyman and his three brothers were branded traitors and forced to flee for their lives into the Taurus mountains. Alp Arslan sent expeditions against them and succeeded in killing all the brothers except Suleyman. When he left the mountains, it was as commander of all the Turkmen in southern Anatolia.’ Walter took a draught. ‘That tells you all you need to know about Suleyman’s character.’
‘Why did the Sultan reward him with the title of Emir?’
‘He had little choice. Suleyman’s army is too powerful for Alp Arslan to crush. Besides, it suits the Sultan to have a strong Seljuk force in western Anatolia. Suleyman’s territories are a buffer against the Byzantines, and the Sultan knows that the Emir won’t attack him in Persia because that would mean leaving his own lands exposed.’
‘So Suleyman covets the Seljuk throne.’
‘He’s more interested in consolidating his position in Anatolia. Since Manzikert, he’s been exploiting the power struggle in Constantinople, allying himself first with this faction, then with that one. Don’t be fooled by his coarse manners. Suleyman’s as shrewd as they come.’
‘You don’t sound too concerned about your own situation.’
‘As you can see, it isn’t an uncomfortable one. I’m a valued member of the Emir’s war council. He’s convinced that Christendom will wage a crusade against Islam, striking first at the pilgrim routes now controlled by Suleyman. He looks to me for advice on military strategy,
particularly the use of heavy cavalry. I’m also active in his negotiations with the Byzantines.’
‘So you’ve changed sides.’
That touched a nerve. Walter thrust forward, spilling his wine. ‘The Byzantines are on no one’s side, not even their own. The Emperor Romanus lost Manzikert because of treachery within his own ranks. The Sultan released him with full honours in exchange for a peace treaty and a marriage alliance. And what did the Byzantines do? They dug out his eyes and drove him into the wilderness with his head full of rot. When the Sultan heard of his murder, he declared the treaty void.’
Vallon hadn’t touched his wine. ‘Have you petitioned the Emir for your freedom?’
‘No.’
‘And if you did?’
Walter considered. ‘I think he’d grant my request.’
‘Why haven’t you asked to be released?’
Walter turned the cup in his hands. ‘The truth is, I find the life to my liking. I drink wine instead of sour ale, eat grapes and peaches in winter, wear silks and brocades. I earn a handsome commission from my dealings with the Byzantines. I’ve no burning desire to return to that cold castle in the north and spend the rest of my life skirmishing against savages. When I inherit on my father’s death will be soon enough.’
‘Have you been in touch with your family?’
‘I sent letters this spring. I haven’t received a reply yet. The only news I’ve heard from England is that my half-brother Drogo was killed campaigning in Scotland.’
Vallon put down his cup. ‘Your parents are much as you left them. Your half-brother Richard is dead. He joined us on the expedition and died of an arrow wound at the mouth of the Dnieper.’
‘Richard? Richard was in your company?’
‘A much-loved and much-mourned companion.’
‘I’m distressed to hear that. Poor Richard. I always suspected that he would never reach manhood. Whatever possessed you to take such a weakling with you?’
‘He volunteered. He was desperate to get away from your family.’ Vallon stood, ignoring Hero’s signals to remain.
Walter rose. ‘Leaving so soon?’
‘We’ll meet again tonight before the Emir.’
Walter stepped forward. ‘Wayland. Don’t you go.’
Everybody stopped.
Walter threw his arm around Wayland’s shoulder. ‘Remember the hunts we enjoyed together? They were nothing compared to the sport we’ll share in Anatolia. Bears, lions, leopards – creatures you’ve never even seen.’