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From: "smilodon" <smilodonREMOVE@postmaster.co.uk>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Mon, 26 Jul 2004 11:23:54 +0000 (UTC)
Subject: {ASSM} A Storm at Samos (Hist,slow, mystery)
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Date: Mon, 26 Jul 2004 16:10:05 -0400
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A Storm at Samos



May 1107


The cloaked figure stood motionless by the mast. He could hear the rain
hammering on the wooden decks like gravel flung against an oaken door and
hissing where it fell into a leaden sea. The wet sail above him dripped idly
on his neck and shoulders. There was scarcely a breath of wind and to the
north, up by the coast of Turkey, sheet lightning played through the iron
clouds, too distant for the thunder to be heard. This same lightning was the
only source of illumination as he peered through the darkness searching for
a landfall on the island of Samos. Apart from the rain, there were none of
the usual, reassuring shipboard sounds. No creaks of easing planks or hempen
ropes. The wind had died when the rain came and now the ship ghosted
fitfully, the lateen sail hung mournfully unruffled and there was no
cheerful gurgle at the forefoot to mark even the slightest progress.

Despite this, and being soaked to the skin, Cadfael ap Meilyr, for it was he
who stood the silent watch, was happy. He treasured these moments of
solitude - there were few enough on a crowded trading vessel. Much of the
ship's round hull was given over to cargo so the crew lived cheek-by-jowl
under the foredeck. Even the Captain enjoyed no special privilege in this
regard; the blunt stern housed no cabins or accommodation. It was here that
the charcoal brazier of the cook stood and the long tiller. The ship was
old. It was little different from the round ships of Ancient Rome and quite
unlike the swift sea-dragons of the North. Built to carry cargo, it was
neither swift nor particularly manoeuvrable but it suited Cadfael. In the
seven years since he had quit the Holy Land, Cadfael had learned the seaman'
s arts.

One cargo followed another: back and forth across the Middle Sea, grain from
Egypt, glass from Venetia; wine from Samos and copper ingots from Kyrenia.
Bound for Malaga or Byzantium, Alexandria or Toulouse, it was all one to
Cadfael, each voyage a new adventure, each port a new discovery. Now he was
inbound to Samos once again, a cargo of hides to deliver and a fresh one of
wine for loading. He smiled into the darkness. In seven years he had grown
from landsman to mariner and, in those same years, risen from deckhand to
Master. He looked forward to taking his ease in the pleasant little port.
Experience suggested that the rain would blow through by mid-morning and he
would have two days to feel the land under his feet once again. Another
rivulet of water sped from the foot of the sail and insinuated itself
between cloak and skin to run coolly down his back.  It was strange, he
mused, how here in the east, the rain seemed less wet than at home in his
native Wales. It was warmer, of course, that was it!

He started slightly and dashed the water from his eyes. Yes, there it was,
he could see it clearly when the lightning flashed again. The darker shape
of the Island was looming slowly. There must be a slight current pushing
them along. God knew there was little enough by way of tides in this
landlocked ocean. He watched another hour and when he saw the first gleam of
lanterns that marked the fishing fleet, roused the crew with a stentorian
bellow. The sail was lowered and they dropped anchor to await the wind that
would come with the dawn, no more than a half hour away by Cadfael's
reckoning. The cook roused himself and rigged a canvas awning over his
brazier. A porridge of chickpeas was soon in the making and Cadfael's
stomach rumbled as he caught the scent of the unleavened flatbread that
would accompany the dish. Sailors looked for two things when picking a
berth: a lucky captain and a capable cook. Well, Cadfael thought to himself,
on this ship they have them both. He little thought how soon he would come
to revise his opinion of his fortunes.

The light grew very slowly, as if the heavy banks of clouds held back the
sun's progress. There was still no sign of a wind and a chill mist rose from
the slate-flat sea. The rain fell away to nothing, but now the fog thickened
and left pearly droplets on every surface it touched. The sky grew lighter
and Cadfael though he could discern a break in the overcast. If it were so,
the sun would soon burn off this sea-fret and he could enter port. He set
the men to cleaning the deck and had the cook fire doused. The morning wore
on slowly but it was now perceptibly lighter and the first faint stirrings
of a breeze marked cat's paws on the surface. A patch of sky grew brighter,
denoting a hazy sun. It wouldn't be long now.


It still lacked an hour of noon when Cadfael brought his ship to harbour.  A
gentle breeze had risen and dispersed the last of the mist and in the clear
light that followed, the World looked new-made. At this time of the year,
Samos was a green isle. By autumn, the hot sun would have sucked all
luxuriance from it and it would lie baking, sere and brown. The port itself
was nothing grand. It could not compare to the fine harbours of Rhodes or
Alexandria but, to Cadfael's eye, possessed a more welcoming look than
either. An old stone mole protected the anchorage and a number of blackened
wooden jetties afforded a place for ships to tie up and unload. White
limestone houses fringed the docks and climbed straggling up the hill behind
where the pale, dusty road climbed away from the town. In the distance was a
scattering of small villas, each with its vineyard. Samos lived by the wine
trade. Samian vintages were highly prized in Byzantium and the other great
cities of the empire. In truth, the island could offer little else save
stunted olive trees and ragged goats.

The harbour, usually a bustling place, was empty of ships save one. Like
Cadfael's own command, it belonged to Ioannis of Adrianopolis. Ioannis was a
fat, jolly man who presented a habitually smiling face to the world. This
jovial exterior concealed a shrewd and calculating mind tinged with avarice.
Ioannis of Adrianopolis was far from being any man's fool. He had something
of a reputation for sharp dealing and was regarded by not a few traders as
being only as honest as he needed to be. Such things did not trouble Cadfael
unduly. He did his duty and sailed his ship from port to port. Ioannis never
asked anything of him that might trouble his conscience and, if the man
himself drove a hard bargain, that was not Cadfael's concern. It was enough
to contend with the sea in all its moods, and there was a satisfaction to be
had in this, the sense of a task well done.

Thus it was little surprise to Cadfael to see another of Ioannis's ships
tied up at the mole. He was hailed by name as his vessel eased its way
through the narrow harbour entrance.

"Ho! Cadfael! Come aboard as soon as you've tied up. I have news!"

He waved a hand in acknowledgement and eased the helm a touch to bring the
little ship into the wind. A one-handed signal brought the sail swiftly down
and they coasted the last few feet to the landing. A crewman leapt ashore
and secured the warps while others dropped fenders between the dock and the
hull. Cadfael surveyed the activity with mild satisfaction. It was good to
see the crew do all that was needed without a word from him. The sailors
were a mixed lot, mostly Greeks with the addition of one Egyptian and a boy
from Tyre. Cadfael had long since mastered Trade Greek, the lingua franca of
the Levant. It was in that language that he now addressed the bosun.

"I'm going ashore for a bit. Look you to the cargo. I'll be back within the
hour."

The bosun, a grizzled veteran from the Island of Andros, ducked his head by
way of agreement and Cadfael swung easily from the shrouds and onto the
rough surface of the mole. He paused briefly to steady himself and find his
land-legs before setting off along the dock to where the other vessel lay.
It was a mirror image of Cadfael's own ship and, as he approached, he saw a
familiar figure waiting to greet him. If Cadfael had a friend in this part
of the world, it was this man, Nicodemus of Varna, a man of middle years and
vast experience. They had sailed together before Cadfael received his own
command and Cadfael owed much to the Byzantine captain. It was Nicodemus who
had taught him the lore of the sea, shown him how to navigate by the sun and
the stars, how to use the lodestone and how to read the weather. He was a
quiet, self-sufficient man and it was a measure of his regard for his
younger protégé that he sought Cadfael's company when the opportunity arose.

Cadfael, for his part, held Nicodemus in the greatest esteem and knew him
for an honest and plain-speaking soul with deep reserves of courage and
wisdom in equal measure. It was with some foreboding, then, that Cadfael
observed the lines of worry etched deep upon the older man's weathered
countenance.

"Well met, Cadfael ap Meilyr. I had hoped to catch up with you here and my
prayers have been answered. "

"What ails you, old friend? Your face bespeaks me of some misfortune yet it
is barely three weeks since last we met."

"In truth, is it so short a time? Come aboard, for there is much to tell."

"I have sent the crew ashore that we may speak privily, my friend."

Cadfael could see the concern etched deep on the older captain's face.
Nicodemus had been his mentor and friend for a number of years and Cadfael
had never known him as a man given to flights of fancy. Whatever was
bothering the veteran seaman was worth taking seriously.

"Not five days since, I returned from Adrianopolis with a cargo of grain, as
usual. Ioannis's Factor met me here and we unloaded in good order. Then he
bade me wait. The outbound cargo, he said, was not yet ready. I thought
nothing of it - these things happen. Two, no, three, days went by and still
there was no word. I sent to his villa in the hills. It was then I learned
that he had been murdered!"

"Murdered? But why? This was ever a peaceable place."

"There lies the mystery, my friend. They say he was killed by Alexandros.
You know him. He's the captain of the 'Star of Libya' and as sound a man as
ever I sailed with. I cannot believe it of him."

"Even those we know well may yet surprise us, Nicodemus."

"That's God's truth, I know. But murder, Cadfael? Alexandros was a gentle
man."

"Was, you say? What has become of him?"

"I do not know, that's part of the mystery. Alexandros has disappeared
without a trace."

"And this Factor, Tyros, wasn't it? How did he die?"

"He was beaten something fierce about the head and his body thrown here,
into the harbour."

"But why blame Alexandros? Did someone witness the deed?"

"None who has yet come forward. But Alexandros and the Factor were heard to
argue violently that afternoon. Tyros shows up dead and Alexandros
disappears. Thus do people reason him to be the killer."

"It seems little enough, Nicodemus."

"Aye, Cadfael, yet still enough for many, including the Port Captain."

"And do people know the cause of their contention?"

"Not with certainty. Word is they had a falling out many years ago when both
were young and there was a rift between them that time could not heal."

"Where did Tyros live?"

"I was going to go there this morning until I saw your ship. It would please
me if you would bear me company there this afternoon."

"Gladly! I have to attend to the cargo but 'tis only bales of hides and will
not be long in the unloading."

True to his word, Cadfael returned an hour past noon and he and Nicodemus
set their feet on the road that ran up from the port into the hilly
interior. The heat was fierce, even this early in the year, and soon both
were blowing hard and sweating freely.

"A life at sea does little for a man's wind!" Nicodemus gasped as the road
took a turn up a steep defile. "Still, it can't be too much further. "

Cadfael, who had been more than ten years a soldier, grunted by way of reply
and saved his breath. It was true, he thought, that a stroll such as this
would have barely made him breathe more heavily when he'd followed the
Cross. Seven years at sea had shortened his wind; there was little enough
room for a man to exercise upon a trading ship. The road turned hard to the
left and they emerged out into open country of rolling hills and shallow
valleys studded with olive groves and vineyards. Cadfael stopped to survey
the scene.

The mountains of Turkey were a faint bruise on the horizon and, below them,
the little port drowsed in the afternoon sun. All was quiet save for the low
hum of insects and the occasional harsher chirruping of the cicadas.
Nicodemus gestured to a long, low villa down to their right. In common with
most of such dwellings on the Island, it was lime-washed white with a
terracotta pantiled roof that sloped gently from front to back.  The two
seamen made their way down a path scarcely wider than a goat-track to stand
before a weathered cedar-wood door.

Cadfael had the distinct impression that their progress had been observed
even though now, standing in front of the house with its closed door and
shuttered windows, such a feeling seemed just so much imagination. Nicodemus
gave a loud 'Halloo' but only a faint echo answered him. He stepped up to
the door and pounded on it with the hilt of his belt-knife and, again, the
only response was the slightly hollow reverberation from the empty
vestibule.

"No one, it seems, my friend."

Cadfael held up his hand to silence his companion.  His sharp ears had
caught a small noise just as his friend had started to speak.  Then out the
corner of his eye, Cadfael caught a flash of movement by the solitary low
outbuilding.  He moved swiftly to the opposite side of this hut from where
he had seen the movement and darted rapidly behind it.  Someone crouched by
the far wall, peering cautiously around the corner to survey the ground in
front of the villa's main door.  He had the impression of a slight figure
even though it was impossible to judge the intruder's height, such was
their position.  Neither could he tell the person's age, for some sort of
cowl or cloak covered their head.  He hurled himself forward and seized a
handful of rough cloth as the interloper leapt up in alarm.  The pair of
them crashed heavily onto the baked earth and Cadfael was amazed to find
himself straddling a young woman who stared up at him with wide,
panic-stricken eyes.  The cowl had fallen away to reveal a mane of dark,
lustrous hair and skin tanned the rich colour of honey.  He rose to his
feet and pulled the girl up after him, keeping a sure grip on her wrist as
he did so.  

Nicodemus came up with them and his eyes showed his surprise.

"Ariana! What are you doing here?"

"You know this woman, Nicodemus?"

"Aye, that I do. 'Tis Ariana, Alexandros's daughter.'"

Cadfael relinquished his grip on the girl and was pained to see the red
fingerprints he'd left upon her skin. He muttered a few words of apology but
the girl wasn't listening. She'd recognised Nicodemus and flung herself at
him, clasping her arms about his neck and hung there, sobbing deeply. The
old sailor gentled her as one would an unbroken colt, stroking her hair and
mouthing soothing, meaningless words. At length her sobbing eased and
Nicodemus pried her gently away. He held her shoulders in both hands and
looked into her face.

"Hush now, child, and tell us your trouble. I swear, Cadfael, that she's
scared half to death."

Cadfael now had his first real chance to look properly at the girl, for girl
she was, he decided. Her long hair was a mass of tangled curls. Her clothes
and face were covered in dust and the latter was heavily streaked with
tears. She had fine, strong features, a high forehead and arched brows above
a straight nose and full, ripe lips. He guessed her age to be no more than
eighteen or so. She matched him in height but was as slender as a lath. The
cloak she wore had been quite clearly made for another and, where it gaped,
he could see she wore a short tunic that finished an inch or two above her
knee, revealing shapely and well-muscled legs. Her feet were clad in rope
sandals such as seamen might wear. All in all, he found her pleasing to
behold.

The girl composed herself with some difficulty and managed a weak smile at
Nicodemus.

"Thank Our Lady you have come, Nicodemus. I am at my wits' end. It's my
father. I fear they have murdered him and the other man, the Factor."

"Slowly, child. Start at the beginning. Who has murdered your father and why
do you believe so?"

"I don't know. Some men - foreigners by their accents. They came for him
three night's past and led him away. I heard raised voices, angry and
frightened, they sounded. I've seen not a hair of him since."

"What of the Factor? You said these men had killed him too, or else you
feared so."



"Two weeks gone, the Factor came to our house by night. I could smell the
fear on him. He was closeted with my father for an hour or so then both
left. They loaded a cargo of wine and took the 'Star' to sea that night but
returned empty the following noon. The Factor told my father he was coming
here, to his house, but would leave the next day. He wouldn't say where -
even when Father asked him. I could see Father was worried but he wouldn't
tell me why."

Nicodemus looked puzzled. He turned to Cadfael and gave an expansive shrug.

"What do you make of this my, friend?"

"Little enough, before God. You say your father took his ship to sea that
night but returned by noon the next day. They cannot have sailed far, then."

"That's true, my friend. What would you say, the Turkish coast at best?"

"So I thought, Nicodemus, or Lesvos, maybe."

The girl nodded.

"I thought so, too, save it was a quiet night with little wind. I doubt they
would have had time to make Lesvos and conclude such business as they had to
still return by noon."

Cadfael raised an eyebrow at Nicodemus and the latter chuckled.

"Take the girl's word for it, Cadfael. She knows these waters better than I
do. Ariana's mother died when she was a babe and she was reared shipboard.
It is not for nothing that she is known hereabouts as the 'boat girl.' You
would sail for many leagues before you'd find a finer pilot for these seas."

Ariana shot him a small smile and Cadfael bowed his head in acknowledgement.
She was calmer now and Cadfael could see some of the tension had gone from
her grave face.  Cadfael turned to survey the scene. His previous wariness
subsided and, satisfied that were no further intruders, he relaxed with a
sigh.

"I cannot begin to guess what has happened here. Ariana, you said men took
your father three nights ago and it was some ten days before that Tyros came
to your house and they went voyaging together?"

"Yes. It was as you say."

"And have you seen Tyros since?"

"Not a hair! He returned with Father and then came here. At least, he said
he was coming here, I didn't watch him up the hill so I can't be sure."

Nicodemus looked concerned.

"Tyros the Factor was found floating in the harbour two nights past. Where
have you been, girl?"

"I - I was at my grandmother's in the south. I thought perhaps my father had
gone there. She is frail now and he likes to keep a watch over her."

"I have worse news, my dear. Men say it was your father killed the Factor."

The girl blanched and her mouth worked soundlessly, unable to find the words
to put the lie to Nicodemus's news. Her eyes filled with tears and she
turned away from the two seamen. Cadfael thought at first that she was
accepting of the words but, as her shoulders began to shake, he heard her
say in a small voice:

"Then they have killed Father as well."

"People are saying they fought and your father slew Tyros and then ran
 away."

"Who? Who is saying such wicked lies? 'Tis true they disliked each other but
not enough to kill. My father would never hurt anyone. Apart from the
Factor, and that was an old trouble, I never heard him give a hard word to
anyone, much less a blow."

"What was this old trouble, Ariana?"

"It stems from when they were young. My mother was promised to Tyros. She'd
have none of him and ran away with my father to the Piraeus. They married
there and didn't return here until I was born. Tyros hated my father for
 it."

Cadfael considered for a moment in silence. He glanced at Nicodemus and saw
something akin to relief on the older man's face. He nodded and smiled at
Ariana.

"Old trouble indeed and hardly cause to kill a man after all these years.
What say you, Cadfael?"

"Thus it would seem, my friend. And yet they still maintained their
wrangling."

Ariana broke in.

"No. After my mother died they were somewhat reconciled. They both loved her
and were united in their grief. They each maintained a surly aspect towards
the other out of habit, but there was no longer real feeling behind it. This
later trouble had some other cause, I'll vow. Something about that night
voyage."

"That seems possible. It is more common to have one mystery than two. Your
father never gave a hint?"

"He wouldn't talk about it. Of course, I asked him and asked him more than
once. He would only shake his head and say it were better I didn't know. Oh,
please, Nicodemus, and you, sir. Please help me."

Cadfael was moved by her desperate plea. It went hard with him to see a
woman so distressed. He saw a sympathetic tear glisten in Nicodemus's eye
also and knew his old friend felt the same. Nicodemus placed his arm around
the girl and smiled gently.

"We'll both do all we can, my dear. Your father was - is - my friend and I
have known you since a babe. If there is some meaning we can unravel from
this knot, we shall. You have my word. Now, since we are all here, we might
as well look over Tyros's house."

Nicodemus slipped the blade of his knife between the door and the frame and
prised up the retaining latch.  He shoved hard once with his bulky shoulder
and the door groaned open. The interior was dark after the bright sunlight
and it took a few moments for their eyes to grow accustomed to the gloom.
Nicodemus made to move further into the house but Cadfael stopped with a
restraining arm. He pointed to the fine layer of dust of the floor. Two sets
of footprints were clearly visible.

"It appears that someone else has had the same idea."

Nicodemus nodded and hunkered down to inspect the marks more closely. His
finger traced the outline of one set of prints and then the other. He rose
and edged carefully down the inner hall, concentrating hard on the
footprints until he came into the central room. He cast about for a second
and found a lamp, which he lit with his flint and steel. He returned with
the light and held it low to illuminate the prints.

"Two men, without a doubt. One wears sandals like ours, the other something
grander. See here, the sole and heel are separate. Our grander man drags one
foot a little. See how the left print is blurred? The other is smaller and
takes shorter steps."

Ariana looked in wonder at Nicodemus.

"I'd never thought you could tell so much from a footprint."

Nicodemus laughed.

"It's a little enough, girl. I cannot tell who they were or why the came
here and that I would dearly like to know. I'd also give a crown to know if
they found that which they came for."

They searched carefully through the house but found it innocent of any
clues. There was no obvious sign that the place had been ransacked but
Cadfael had the strong feeling that someone had conducted a thorough search.
Some small items seemed to be in the wrong place as if they been picked up
and discarded on a whim.  A small Egyptian figurine lay on a stool. A chess
piece, carved from soapstone to represent a patriarch of the Byzantine
Church, stood on the low table next to a stack of wax tablets and a stylus.
There was no sign of the rest of the pieces. A small plaster saint stood on
the floor at the edge of the room. It looked as if it belonged somewhere
else.

Nicodemus scanned the wax tablets but they were either blank or were clearly
cargo manifests; his own and Cadfael's were among them, he recognised the
names of their ships, although he could not read. They searched the
bedchamber but there was little to be seen. An aged clothes press stood in
one corner. It contained nothing but tunics. The bed was little more than a
pallet with a straw filled mattress. It was clear from the way that the
mattress had been slit that the searchers had been there before them.

At the back of the house was a small cooking area with a simple rough wooden
table, the remains of a meal still upon it. Mould was growing upon the heel
of a loaf and the remains of a bowl of olives.

"Five days, at least," said Nicodemus and Cadfael nodded his agreement.

It was apparent that there was nothing to be learnt from the house and the
three made their way out and back down the hill towards the port. They
walked in silence, in sombre mood. Ariana left them at the square, turning
back up the hill along a narrow lane. Cadfael and Nicodemus continued
downwards to the port. They parted on the dockside. Nicodemus placed a hand
on Cadfael's shoulder.

"I'd really like to help her, you know. I've watched her grow from a baby.
But I tell you, my friend, it's hard to know where to start."

Cadfael could only concur. He, too, wished to help the girl. He couldn't
claim years of acquaintance but something about her stirred protective
feelings in him. Both soldiering and the sea made for a hard living and he
had become inured to the harsh realities of the world. He believed that most
people had much good in them but he also recognised that there were those of
whom this would never be true. There would always be a minority who trod a
darker path; who thought the world owed them more than just the fruits of
their own labour. Such men, and a few women, he acknowledged, would not
hesitate before the prick of conscience. And if someone stood in their
chosen path - so be it. They would stand there at their peril. Yet from all
he could divine of both Alexandros and Tyros the Factor, and he would admit
it was little, he did not feel that either was such a creature.

He knew both only slightly. He had met Tyros a few times, delivering and
loading cargo, but had ever only exchanged a few pleasantries among the
business. He had a vague memory of meeting Alexandros in the company of
Nicodemus in some waterfront tavern. He dimly recalled a taciturn, sad-eyed
man content to allow others to speak but still exuding a calm air of
competence. The conversation, as always, was of seamanship. Alexandros
contributed little but his few sallies had been sensible and authoritative
and it had been clear that Nicodemus respected his opinion. Such brief
acquaintance was not sufficient to declare a man innocent of all crimes but,
and here Cadfael would own to prejudice, it seemed inconceivable that the
man who reared the girl Ariana could be a cold and callous killer. It was
not impossible, of course, but something rubbed against the grain to think
it so.

They agreed to meet in a tavern later that evening to discuss what might be
done to help the girl. Cadfael repaired back on board his ship and stood at
the rail watching the sun sink into the fiery water on the western horizon.
He felt weary to the bone and slightly depressed. His head ached and his
wits felt dull. He stripped and poured bucket after bucket of seawater over
his head and shoulders. He finished with a bucket of fresh water to remove
the salt and went below to change his tunic feeling only marginally better
for his ablutions.

Cadfael was up and dressed just before dawn. He shook the bosun awake and
left instructions for the day before swinging ashore once more and heading
down the mole towards Nicodemus's ship. They had accomplished nothing the
previous evening but had talked round and round, trying to make sense of all
that they knew. God knew it was little enough. Tyros the Factor had come to
Alexandros by night. In great secrecy they had sailed and returned at noon
the following day. A few days later, strangers removed Alexandros from his
home under some kind of duress and, the very next day, Tyros's body was
found floating in the harbour. Alexandros had disappeared and two people had
made a thorough search of Tyros's home. That was the sum of it.

He felt it had to be bound with that unexplained night voyage. That appeared
to be the start of the sequence of events. Nicodemus and he had agreed that
there could have been no cargo. There had not been time to load or unload
anything of substance. Logic said therefore that it was the men or one of
them, at least, that was important. But why the secrecy? No matter how they
had cudgelled their brains they could think of no reason that made any kind
of sense. Even thinking about it now, in the clear light of day, made
Cadfael's head hurt. He was both surprised and pleased to see the girl
standing on the dock as if waiting for him. She greeted him with a shy smile
and he felt his face set into an answering grin.

She reached into a satchel and handed him an object wrapped in a piece of
cloth. He took it, puzzled, for she said not a word but looked at him
expectantly. He unwrapped the thing carefully. It was a soapstone chessman -
another carved in the image of a patriarch. Cadfael could feel the girl's
gaze upon him. He looked up into two intensely brown eyes. He cleared his
throat and asked:

"Where did you find this?"

"Among my father's clothes."

"It was hidden?"

"Yes, I think so. It was at the bottom of his sea chest with tunics and
things folded on top. What can it mean?"

"That I cannot tell you. Was it wrapped in this cloth when you found it?"

"Yes."

Cadfael examined the figure and the cloth it came in. The piece was simple
and didn't appear especially valuable. It came to him that it was not the
object that was important but rather, what it meant. He turned the piece
over in his fingers. There seemed nothing remarkable about it to his eye.
Chess was popular throughout the Levant and such cheap soapstone pieces were
ten a penny. Most of the seamen he knew who were addicted to the game carved
their own sets. His own bosun would sit for hours contemplating a single
move while his opponent stared in similar concentration. Cadfael didn't
understand the game's fascination.

Nicodemus hailed the pair as he climbed onto the dock. He appeared in
excellent spirits.

"Good morning, Cadfael, good morning, my dear."

They returned his greeting and Cadfael showed him Ariana's find.

"What do you make of it?" Cadfael asked.

"Not very much. It's wrong of course."

"Wrong?"

"There is no Patriarch in chess. You have the Shah and the Vizier, the
Rhuks, the Elephants and the soldiers. No Patriarch."


"Perhaps it's supposed to be a Vizier?"

Nicodemus snorted and shook his head.

"No, look at the robes. It's meant to be an archbishop or something. I don't
know, maybe someone is changing the pieces for their own amusement. I've
seen others do that. They carve the pieces to suit themselves. I don't hold
with it."

Cadfael shrugged. He didn't understand the game and cared less about its
traditions.

"It seems to me that it might be a token."

"Of what, Cadfael?"

"That I cannot say."

Nicodemus passed the figure back to Ariana, who had remained silent
throughout the exchange. She gave Cadfael a grateful look as if to say that
she appreciated that he saw the significance of her find. He found himself
wanting to reassure her but felt bereft of any idea how to do so and
contented himself with a slight smile. Nicodemus suggested breakfast and
then a visit to the Port Captain.

"He's new here. His name is Demetrius and he came from Constantinople about
three months ago. Not exactly rising in the world, is it? I've met him but
the once and found him pompous."

They agreed to the suggestion and after breaking their fast at the
waterfront Tavern, repaired to the Port Captain's lodgings behind the
warehouses. They were kept waiting for a good half hour. Cadfael found this
to be the Byzantine way. It was to let the visitors know that the man they
sought was important and that his time was more valuable than theirs.
Nicodemus sat upon the step while Cadfael idly examined the surrounding
street. They conversed in a desultory fashion and they were all relieved
when a slave called them to enter. They were shown into a large room. A
grossly fat man reclined on a couch. A small, dark-skinned woman stood
behind him, her eyes lowered. Nicodemus made the introductions. The fat man
peered at them owlishly before raising himself up on one elbow.

"Well, Captain, tell me what this is about. I'm a busy man."

"We are seeking news of this girl's father. His name is Alexandros and he
was captain of the 'Star of Libya,' a ship owned by our employer, Ioannis of
Adrianopolis."

"Then we seek the same thing. This Alexandros is a killer and I will have
his head."

Cadfael felt Ariana stiffen with outrage beside him. He surreptitiously took
her hand and gave it a squeeze, hoping to forestall any outburst. He shot
Nicodemus a warning glance before addressing the Port Captain.

"Might we enquire if you have made any progress in your, ah, investigations,
Excellency?"

The man regarded Cadfael with suspicion. He sniffed pointedly as if to infer
there was an unpleasant stench in his nostrils before replying.

"What business is this of a Norman?"

"My name, Excellency, is Cadfael ap Meilyr of Trefiw in the land of Cymru
and I am not a Norman. Captain Alexandros is our fellow and we seek only the
truth in this unhappy matter."

The Port Captain grunted and glowered back at Cadfael who held his gaze with
steady eyes. The two men stared at each other with obvious mutual dislike.
It was the Byzantine who looked away first. He gestured to the woman behind
him and she stepped silently through the curtain behind her to return with a
tray holding glasses of sherbet.

"Well, Cadfael ap Meilyr of Cymru, I have passed a description of the
murderer to all Port Captains in the area. I have impounded his vessel and
its cargo and have written to Constantinople to inform the authorities
there."

"And may I enquire, Excellency, if you are certain that Alexandros is the
murderer?"

The Port Captain clapped his hands and a slave appeared and bent low. He
muttered something in the slave's ear and the man bowed and dashed away. The
Port Captain settled back down on his coach and folded fat hands across his
vast stomach. His small eyes rested on Ariana and he licked his lips with a
surprisingly pink tongue. The slave reappeared, gingerly carrying a short
oar. The Port Captain waved in Cadfael's direction and the slave bowed and
presented the oar to Cadfael with both hands, as though it were a sceptre.

"Behold, the murder weapon! If you will examine the blade, you will find the
unfortunate Factor's brains - or, at least, some of them. I think it safe to
conclude the man didn't drown, what say you?"

At this he gave a wheezy chuckle. Ariana paled but moved to stand beside
Cadfael as he examined the oar. He marked the traces that the Port Captain
had alluded to and noted also that a small patch of hair was stuck to the
wooden blade amid the dried blood. He handed the oar back to the waiting
slave without comment. Cadfael turned back to face the Byzantine and found
the man watching him with a sly smile.

"Excellency, I agree. It seems clear enough how the Factor died but I fail
to understand how this oar proves who was responsible."

"Of course you can't understand. I would not expect a simple sailor to be
capable of higher logic or reasoning. Who would use an oar to kill? A
sailor. Why would a sailor flee? Because he is a killer. It is well known
there was bad blood between them and thus, we have a motive as well. It is
clear enough to me."

"And may I ask where the oar was found, Excellency?"

"Floating in the harbour, close to the man it killed. If that is all?"

Nicodemus made as if to protest but Cadfael silenced him with a warning
look. He thanked the Port Captain for his time. The Byzantine struggled up
from his couch with the aid of the small woman and exited through the
curtain behind, signalling the audience was at an end. Cadfael watched his
progress with interest; particularly the way the man dragged his left foot
slightly as he walked.

Once outside, Cadfael led the other two away, gesturing for silence with a
finger to his lips. The walked swiftly back down to harbour and he led them
out along the stone mole before speaking.

"I think we now know who was before at us at Tyros's house."

Ariana interrupted. "That oar! It's mine!"

Cadfael and Nicodemus stared at her, shock clear upon their faces. She
looked from one to the other with pleading in her eyes.

"What does it mean? I didn't know it had gone. I haven't been to the boat
since Father vanished."

"Then we had better go there now," Cadfael replied.

Ariana led them back along the mole and then down some rough stone steps to
the inner harbour. This part was too shallow for sea-going ships and was
used by the fishing craft and smaller coastal boats. She indicated a
brightly painted double-ended skiff with a short mast and furled ochre sail
lying a little way in. It was clearly well cared for and to Cadfael's eye
appeared a handy little craft. Ariana hiked up her tunic and strode into the
water, affording the two seamen a view of long tanned legs as she did so.
She seized the boat's painter and pulled it to her with a practised ease and
slipped over the gunwale. They watched her stoop and search about before
rising once more with a short oar in her hands. She stepped back into the
water with fluid ease and Cadfael was struck by both the grace of her
movements and her obvious familiarity with boats. The little craft had
hardly rocked as she boarded and left it bobbing gently at its mooring.

Ariana reached them and presented Cadfael with the oar. It was immediately
apparent that it was the twin to the one the Port Captain had shown them.
Her eyes had a frightened look as she rested her hand on Cadfael's arm.

"I don't understand. How could my oar have been used to kill the Factor?"

Cadfael could find no answer but he felt that was the wrong question,
somehow. One thing was certain, he thought. Someone had gone to some pains
to obtain the weapon. There were a number of small boats nearer the shore
and most would have similar oars aboard. Even simpler, one had only to cast
about on the dockside to find a balk of timber. It made no sense to wade the
several yards to Ariana's boat. He turned to the other two.

"I fear we are sailing through fog. Why use this particular oar to kill the
man?"

Ariana turned the blade of the oar over in Cadfael's hand and pointed to the
letters 'A' and 'X' carved into the wood.

"My father's mark."

"Ah, it gets a little clearer. Whoever killed the Factor wanted people to
think that it was Alexandros."

"But why, Cadfael?"

"Of that we are still uncertain. But it's my guess that it was a good way of
eliminating the pair of them."

"Why not just kill them both, if that was what was wanted? Why kill the
Factor and then blame Father?"

"I think it was to close the matter. If you have two men slain, the hue and
cry will arise for the killers. However, if one man is dead and another
blamed, the matter is resolved and no cause for anyone to think otherwise."

"You think my father killed the Factor?"

"I am now certain he did not. What sort of man with murder on his mind would
wade out to fetch his own oar and then leave it to be found in the
aftermath? No, Ariana, your father is as innocent as a babe in this matter."

"Then where is he?"

Neither Cadfael nor Nicodemus could provide an answer.

They went their separate ways and Cadfael returned to his ship. He felt
sure, now, that the key to the mystery lay with the chess pieces but try as
he might, he could make no particular sense of them. The bosun was waiting
to meet him on his return. The new cargo of wine was loaded and the ship had
been re-provisioned for sea. There was no help for it but he must sail. He
bade a brief farewell to Nicodemus and gave his mind to the business of
seafaring. As the ship slipped quietly from the harbour, Cadfael caught
sight of the girl standing on the mole. She made a forlorn figure,
silhouetted against the setting sun. He raised an arm and waved and felt a
touch of sorrow as she turned away without returning his gesture. He would
confess he felt attracted to her but was loath to press the matter in any
way. She was worried half to death for her father and any offer of
assistance would have been met with gratitude. It would be wrong to take
advantage of her present vulnerability and yet he could not deny that she
stirred him.

The voyage to Antalya was uneventful. The ship had ghosted into the vast bay
at dawn two days later. Cadfael liked Antalya. The magnificent backdrop of
the Taurus Mountains, peaks touched by the first rays of the rising sun,
took his breath away. White marble buildings stood out against the
still-dark loom of the land. It would be a while before the sun climbed over
the eastern horn of the bay. Even so, the port was abuzz as they tied up.
Cadfael's feet had barely touched the dock before he was accosted by a
stranger who demanded to know if he had the news.

"There has been an attempt on the Emperor's life!" The man was beside
himself with excitement. "Some say it was the Ottomans and others that the
King of Antioch was behind it. "

Cadfael was surprised to think that Count Bohemond, the self-styled King of
Antioch, would stoop to hiring assassins and said so. The man shrugged.

"Haven't you heard? Bohemond has raised an army of Normans and had vowed to
make himself Emperor. They say he plans to force the Church to submit once
more to Rome. They also say that there are those within the palace who wish
him all success. I dare say there are, if he has been generous enough!"

Cadfael nodded. The one thing he had learnt about the Byzantines was there
were few limits to their venality. Bribery was endemic and favours traded
like fleeces in Shrewsbury market. Neither was he surprised by Bohemond's
stated intention to make himself Emperor. From what he knew of the turbulent
knight, it was entirely in character and, given the man's military genius,
entirely within his compass. However, Cadfael felt, Bohemond would make his
challenge openly. There was nothing underhand about the man and Cadfael
doubted that he would even stoop to bribery. Others may do so in his name,
of course. Still, it was important news. A war would seriously affect trade
and therefore his own prospects.

There was a fresh cargo ready to load so Cadfael had little opportunity to
learn more until later that evening. He made his way to the tavern favoured
by sea-captains and heard again the news of the attempted assassination. The
would-be killer was a slave belonging to a highly placed member of the
Emperor's entourage. The slave had been summarily executed but the master
had taken poison before he could be put to the question. No one was any the
wiser as to the forces behind the attempt. The affair was something of a
nine days' wonder. Byzantines were inured to the regular round of usurpation
and bloody coups. It was a constant theme of Byzantine politics. It ran like
a flawed seam through the rock of the State. Talk soon turned to other
things and two of the company set out their chess pieces and began to play.
Cadfael watched idly for a while. They used the traditional pieces, which
looked to be of their own making, carved from driftwood. Some of the others
drew closer to watch the game and there was a deal of wagering on the
outcome.

Cadfael took the opportunity during a lull in the game to ask one man, who
seemed to be an authority on the game, if he had ever seen the Patriarch
used instead of the Vizier. The man frowned and shook his head.

"I've heard that some use Norman Knights in place of the Elephants but I've
not heard of the Patriarch at all."

Cadfael let the matter rest. He drained his cup and bade the rest a good
night. It was a warm, still evening and the air was close and thick. He soon
found himself sweating as he walked and felt the oppressive heat might
presage thunder. He was startled by a hand upon his arm. It was one of the
captains from the tavern. The man had clearly followed him out.

"What do you know of the Patriarch?" The man's voice was a sibilant hiss in
the darkness.

Cadfael shrugged. "I saw such a piece once, that is all."

"Some things are best unseen and better yet, not spoken of."

"And you say so?"

"That I do, Norman, and you'd best pay heed to my words."

"Who are you?"

"A captain, like yourself."

"And something else besides, I'll warrant! So, the truth, what does this
Patriarch mean?"

"The truth is it? Then you tell me where you set eyes on such a thing and I'
ll give you your answer."

Cadfael drew the man out onto the dock where none could overhear them. He
briefly explained what had transpired on Samos, leaving out only Ariana's
part. The man gave him a grim smile that did not reach his eyes.


"Then it has begun," he said. "Well, you have given me your tale and I must
now give mine. My name is Antonius. I am a Greek yet born in Sicily and a
seaman for a score of years and more. I serve no man but own my own vessel
and ply my trade between here and the west. Men count me honest and I give
them no cause to think but so.

"Three months past a man came to me. He was seeking passage from here to St
Simeon. I was bound thither with a cargo of ingots for the Normans at
Antioch so saw no harm in taking him along. He fell sick on the passage and
was delirious. In his ravings he spoke of the King of Antioch. Bohemond
makes no secret of his ambition so I paid no heed, at least, not until he
mentioned the Patriarch.

"At first I thought he was saying the Patriarch favoured Bohemond, but that
made little sense. Bohemond has vowed to reunite the eastern and the western
Church under the Pope's authority. So I knew I had not understood aright. He
rambled in his fever but I learnt the truth.

"It's no secret that Bohemond has been in Italy, raising men and money for
his adventure. Three ships sailed from Brindisium to St Simeon carrying
Bohemond's treasure. Only two made safe haven in the port. The third was
taken - some say by pirates - I know not. Now two factions search for the
vessel, or, truth be told, its cargo, for it was the richest of the three by
far."

"This is news indeed! But where comes the Patriarch in all of this?"

"The missing ship is called 'The Patriarch.' My fevered passenger was one of
Bohemond's agents who sought her. He carried a chessman carved in the
figure. I'll stake my life it was a token so others of his ilk could
recognise him. I have yet to tell you the heart of this. The man believed he
'd found that which he sought. At Samos."

"Did he say more?"

"No. When he recovered somewhat from his ague, he questioned me closely;
asking what he had revealed. Like I said, men count me honest. I told him
all he had let slip. He made me vow if I saw a man with a chess piece like
his own I was to say there was grave danger; that others sought the
Patriarch and would not balk at murder to achieve their ends. Three had died
already in the search."

"And did he name these others?"

"The Scorpions. At first I thought it invective but 'tis, in truth, the name
by which they go. They are a criminal brotherhood of the waterfront from
Constantinople to Alexandria. Most are sailormen or work upon the docks.
Their usual practice is barratry. They will place a captain on a ship with a
few of their fellows among the crew. Once out of sight of land they seize
the ship and sell the cargo where they may."

"And this befell 'The Patriarch'?"

"Perhaps. The man could not be sure. All he was certain of was that the ship
was brought to Samos. I think they meant to trans-ship the cargo there and
sink her, bringing the treasure home in another vessel."

Cadfael nodded slowly. It was becoming clear to him at last. He thanked
Antonius warmly and returned to the ship. He was now resolved to return to
Samos as quickly as possible. He prayed he would not be too late.

The next day dawned with leaden skies. An oily swell met them as they left
the shelter of the bay and wind was chancy, one minute full and on their
beam and the next, taking them aback. There was little doubt a storm was
brewing. Cadfael hoped against hope that they would make it to Samos before
the weather broke. Towards noon, the wind picked up and they were able to
make better progress. Cadfael was wary of squalls and had a man sent up the
mast to scan the sea around them. The waves were broken now and white caps
flecked the water about them. The ship rolled with an uneasy motion and the
Bosun looked askance at the full canvas they were carrying but Cadfael was
resolved to keep on all possible sail until he was forced to reef. He could
not explain why he had abandoned his usual caution and there were dark
mutterings among the crew, unaccustomed to being driven so hard.

Cadfael reasoned that they were running before the storm. With luck, they
would reach Samos before it overtook them. He spent a sleepless night pacing
the deck. He had been forced to take in sail when darkness approached or
face a mutiny. It was one thing to be scudding along in the stiffening wind
in daylight, to do so in pitch black was more than the crew would stomach.
He had reluctantly agreed to reef and had seen the visible relief on the
faces around him. It was clear they believed their captain had taken leave
of his senses. All the while he fumed inwardly at the delay. He had visions
of Ariana's body, broken and bleeding, floating in the little harbour. Now
he understood all that had transpired, he was doubly anxious for the girl
and his old friend.

Dawn came to find Cadfael still pacing the deck, frantic with worry. The
wind was now blowing half a gale and more canvas was out of the question.
Iron grey seas marched behind them and it now needed two men on the tiller
to keep the little ship on course. Even with the best will, they were still
twelve hours from Samos. He rehearsed the arguments in his own mind:

Three months ago, Bohemond's treasure ship had vanished. Report placed it at
Samos. Three months ago a new Port Captain arrived; a personage who appeared
somewhat grander than the post merited. Time passed and then Tyros the
Factor came to Alexandros by night, insisting they put to sea. The pair
returned the next day. Alexandros was clearly worried and refused to tell
his only child where he has been. Shortly thereafter, Tyros is murdered with
an oar taken from Ariana's boat but bearing Alexandros's mark. Alexandros is
 taken from his home by men in the night and not seen since. The Port
Captain pronounces that Alexandros is the killer and duly impounds the
missing captain's ship and cargo. Both Tyros and Alexandros carried the
token of Bohemond's agents. There was only one explanation for all these
events and Cadfael was fearful of his reasoning.

By noon, they had reefed to a bare scrap of sail no larger than a man's
cloak. The wind was urgent now, moaning through the rigging like a soul in
torment. Despite the heavily reefed sail, the little ship was flying through
the water and it was all that the three steersmen could do to keep her on
course. Spray was being ripped from the wave-tops and flung in icy volleys
over the deck. Cadfael could hear the tortured timbers groaning with the
movement as each wave lifted the stern and rushed under the plummeting hull,
threatening always to poop the small craft. The sailors were terrified,
certain their captain had gone mad to be driving the vessel so. They were
unaccustomed to see such a thunderous expression on his face, a face that
was normally open and cheerful of countenance. Yet somehow, his sense of
urgency had communicated itself to them and they still worked with a will to
obey his sharp commands.

It was not the first time that he had weathered a storm but usually, Cadfael
would order the spars struck and they would lie under bare poles with a
sea-anchor streaming astern to keep the ship's head to the sea. Rain squalls
added to their misery and visibility was barely a mile. Still he drove the
ship onwards to Samos. During the afternoon the wind eased somewhat, as if
the storm were drawing breath before unleashing its full fury anew. Cadfael
took the opportunity to shake out one reef and the little ship continued its
headlong rush towards his goal.

Ariana watched the gathering storm with mixed feelings. Part of her loved
the wildness of it: she saw in the primordial power of the sea something
that marked and confirmed her own humanity. On such days, she would often ma
ke her way to a low cliff to the east of the port and sit, wrapped in her
cloak, watching the march of the waves as they hurtled shoreward to dash
themselves to foamy ruin on the rocks below. She enjoyed the wild feeling of
the wind in her hair, although she paid for it afterwards, combing out the
snarls and tangles. This day, she felt the touch of that old excitement but
it was twinned with apprehension. Cadfael had promised to waste no time in
his return to Samos and she could picture his storm-tossed ship in her mind'
s eye, battling with the rising storm. She prayed to St Anthony that he
would have a care and take no chances in his anxiety to be back with her.

Nicodemus had assured her that Cadfael was a cautious captain, and she
fervently hoped that this was so. The old seaman had looked at her with
something like amusement in his eyes when she had expressed her concern for
the Welshman. She had been about to defend herself, to declare that she was
only worried because Cadfael had become a friend but she recognised the lie
before it was uttered. She was attracted to him. He was not a handsome man
but there was an open honesty about him. His plain, strong features spoke of
the integrity within and she had seen him look at her more than once with
frank admiration in his eyes that, she knew, was not born of lust More than
anything, she realised, he had some incalculable capacity to make her feel
safe. It was though, she thought, she could come to no harm if he were near.
That, she decided, was a rare feeling for a man to engender in her, who was
so self-sufficient.

Now, standing above the seething cauldron of the sea where it battered the
headland, she strained her eyes to the northeast, willing his sail to
appear. Something within her craved the sanctuary of his arms and she
blushed at the warm feeling conjured by imagining it.  Nicodemus stood a
little way off, frowning. He hailed her.

"He'll not come in this. He'll heave-to and ride it out with sea room. He'll
not venture on to a lee shore."

"I know he's coming. I can feel it here."

She placed both hands between her breasts to show Nicodemus the centre of
this certainty. He smiled and shook his head, as if in wonder at her.

"These ships aren't built to take such hard driving. Cadfael knows that. He'
ll surely take the wiser path and wait it out."

"As you say, Nicodemus. But I know he's coming."

They returned to scanning the horizon.

Cadfael, eyes rubbed red raw by the salt spray, was the first to catch the
distant loom of land through a ragged hole in the lowering clouds. He
guessed at the time. Without the sun by which to reckon the hours, it was
all he could do. The sky behind was growing blacker by the minute and
distant lightning slashed across the blackness. He figured that there were
still two hours to sunset but, with the heavy cloud and driving squalls, it
would be dark as night long before then. He had given no heed to what he
would do once they raised the Island. Attempting the harbour was out of the
question; they would be driven onto the rocks long before they could reach
the shelter of the mole. Somehow, he had to bring them safe to shore.

He bellowed into the wind for the men to wear ship and alter course a little
to the north. If he could weather the headland, he reasoned, they could take
shelter in one of the small bays on the western side where the holding
ground was good for an anchor. The ship lurched and the motion grew uneasy
with the quartering sea. The ship's high freeboard took the wind and he
noted that they were moving almost as fast to leeward as they were making
forward. It would be a near-run thing. He heard the bosun's cry of alarm as
the man saw they were being driven down towards the headland. He vaguely
noticed the two cloaked figures standing at the cliff's edge and somehow he
knew who they were. His heart gave a little leap but he allowed himself no
time to think about her now. Their peril was all too plain.

He did the one thing that he knew was certain death and yet it seemed the
only possibility. He altered course towards the point. The ship leapt
forwards, wind and waves now acting in concert on sail and hull. The bosun
screamed in terror, certain Cadfael meant to kill them all. He forced
himself to wait as they drove down upon the rocks. Then, when he thought he
left it too late, he flung his whole weight on the tiller. The ship slewed,
carrying its momentum, as it swung beam-on to the sea.

On the cliff top, Nicodemus shook his head in wonder and Ariana cried out in
alarm. She felt she could almost reach out and touch the plunging masthead.
Then she saw what he had done. It was a mad gamble.

Cadfael felt the ship touch once and then break free. The backwash from the
breaking sea had seized her and pushed her back, away from the waiting fangs
of the rocks. In the seconds between that and the next incoming wave, she
was round; clear of the headland and into the open expanse of the bay. Now,
in the slight shelter of the cliffs, she rode easier and Cadfael grinned
maniacally at the shattered crew. They were gaping at him awe-struck,
scarcely able to comprehend that they were still afloat. He wiped the
streaming salt water from his face and bade them see to the ship.

Half an hour later, in the last of the fading daylight, they dropped anchor
in a small shingle cove. The bosun reported that one of the planks had
sprung when they touched the rocks but that the damage wasn't bad. They
plugged the leaking seam with canvas and pitch; it would hold well enough
for the moment. Here, out of the wind, the sea was calmer. Cadfael could
still see the waves piling up outside the cove but they were sheltered from
the worst of it, a mere stone's throw from the gently shelving beach. A
second anchor was streamed to hold them snug and Cadfael turned his mind to
getting ashore. Ariana was safe; at least, she was at present. That was a
greater source of relief than his own survival.

Two hours later, a dripping Cadfael changed into a borrowed tunic and
laughed at Nicodemus's vigorously shaking head. The older captain swore that
Cadfael had the luck of the Devil himself. Ariana, huge-eyed, smiled shyly.
The three had gathered aboard Nicodemus's ship. The storm had now unleashed
its full-throated madness and thunder rolled and boomed, temporarily
drowning out the drumming of the rain on the deckhead. Now, dry again and
warm, Cadfael felt overtaken by a feeling of lassitude. It was not unlike
his reaction as a soldier after a battle. Once the frenzy and horror had
subsided, there followed a sensation of sated heaviness as if the body
slowed to recoup and the mind dulled to blank out what had gone before. He
roused himself with difficulty.

"I think I understand much that was previously hidden. There is still more
to be uncovered yet, but, with your help and God's grace, I believe we can
see our way."

The other two listened in silence as he recounted his chance meeting with
Antonius and all that he had learned.

"It appears to me that it fell out thus: The Scorpions brought 'The
Patriarch' to a hidden anchorage hereabouts. Some of Bohemond's faction
discovered the ship, or at least the whereabouts of its cargo, for I believe
the ship was too well known and they probably scuttled her after unloading
the cargo. Let us surmise that it was Tyros who found the treasure. He
enlisted your father's aid, Ariana, in moving the cargo to a place of
safety. It was then, I believe, he gave your father the token so those who
came after would know him as a friend.

"I think our friend Demetrius, the new Port Captain, is at the root of it.
His arrival coincides with the taking of 'The Patriarch.' When he discovered
the cargo gone, he somehow learnt that Tyros was involved and had him taken.
I expect that they put him to the question before killing him. They probably
heard of the night voyage of the 'Star of Libya' and went looking for your
father. I doubt that Tyros told them. There would have been enough idlers on
hand to witness their departure or arrival.

"When they couldn't find your father, they made it look as if he had killed
Tyros by taking the marked oar from your boat. Then they sat back to see who
would start asking questions."

"Why not just take us and put us to the question, Cadfael?"

"So I thought, Nicodemus. But it would be passing strange to accuse us of
involvement when the world knows we were at sea and nowhere near the Island
at the time. The only real possibility was Ariana, and I greatly feared that
they would take her while I was away. Now, Ariana, is there some place - a
sea cave, a deserted house or something - somewhere within a few hours'
sailing that your father and Tyros would know? If I'm right, 'tis there we'
ll find some answers."

"But what of my father? Where is he?"

"I believe he's safe enough for the nonce. I think it likely that Bohemond's
men came for him. Either to make him safe or to secure their master's
treasure. If it had been the Scorpions, we'd doubtless now be told that the
murderer Alexandros had been apprehended or had died resisting his arrest."

"That sounds like reason to my ears, girl. I think Cadfael is right. The
fact we've heard naught of your father speaks to me that he is safe enough
for now."

Ariana looked dubious. She hoped it were so but was still consumed by worry.
She forced herself to think of Cadfael's question. Was there some secret
place her father knew? She cast her mind back to the hours they had spent
together in the little skiff. He had spoken to her of the sea and passed to
her his knowledge of the waters around Samos, his weather-lore and
seamanship, his deep abiding love of the ocean in all its moods. He had told
her of snug anchorages where a small craft could run for shelter in any
given wind. He had shown her places where fish would run at different
seasons and also where the hidden reefs lurked beneath the azure surface,
waiting to rip an unwary hull. There were sea caves aplenty in the limestone
rocks, both here on the Island and on the coast of Turkey, a scant handful
of miles to the north, but none she knew of were especially secret. She
relayed this to Cadfael who looked disappointed.

"Well then, girl," said Nicodemus, "think where a man might land a cargo by
night. With just two of them, it would need to be a handy place where they
could take the 'Star' close inshore. It would need to be done privily, so
there should be no homes nearby. Know you such a spot?"


Ariana thought hard. She dredged her memory for steep-to beaches where the
water was deep close in. There was but one on Samos that would fit that
particular bill and perhaps two or three more on the mainland. Beyond these
few, she was at a loss. She told the others what she could remember. Then a
thought struck her. If 'The Patriot' had indeed been scuttled, there was but
one place in these waters where it might be done and leave no trace. For the
most part, the waters were too shallow and clear. Only to the south east of
the Island was there water deep enough to hide a ship. She said as much.

"Well, then, our course seems clear enough. Cadfael, you go with Ariana and
search these landings. I'll take my ship to the deep and trail an anchor to
see what we might fish! As soon as this storm blows through, we'd best be
about it."

"Aye. And we should send word to Ioannis. He'll want to know the 'Star has
been impounded. Best also that we tell him of these Scorpions. He'll alert
the other ship owners. They'll not want barratry to thrive unchecked."

"A good thought, Cadfael. Kostas came in last night and is bound for
Adrianopolis with wine. I'll have him pass the word to Ioannis. He'll likely
also tell the insurance men."

Cadfael nodded. He had forgotten that the Byzantine ship owners pooled their
risks. If piracy and barratry were rife, those who underwrote the risks
would want to know. The more men hunting down these Scorpions the better.
However, it was troubling that a man such as the Port Captain should be
involved. This spoke of treachery in high places; then Cadfael had to own,
that would hardly be unusual in the Byzantine world. Had there not just been
an attempt on the Emperor's life, inspired, it was said, by some who were
close to him? He rubbed a hand through his russet curls and sighed. The
greed and wickedness of men seemed omnipresent.

The storm abated somewhat during the night but it was still too rough the
following day to venture out to sea in Ariana's small boat. By afternoon the
seas had subsided sufficiently for Cadfael to bring his ship round to the
harbour and, together with the crew, they set about repairing the sprung
planking. When they had finished, dirty and tired from their efforts,
Cadfael bathed and changed and went ashore. Ariana had invited him to her
home to dine that evening and he had accepted with pleasure if a touch of
chagrin that Nicodemus would also be there. They spent the evening
pleasantly enough. Cadfael told Ariana something of his life as a soldier of
the Cross and Nicodemus questioned him closely about what he knew of Count
Bohemond, the King of Antioch.

"The man is a good soldier and something of an enigma. Like most of the
Norman breed, he's arrogant and thinks his word to be law. For all that, he'
s a fair man and has a strong sense of justice. His nephew, Tancred, is also
a great warrior but more given to flights of passion. There's something of
the monk about Bohemond, but nothing base that I could ever see."

"An ambitious man, though?"

"That he is! 'Tis said he would make himself Emperor and re-unite the
Church. That sounds to me like the man. Everything must be dressed in a
higher purpose. But of those knights who took the cross, I think he, alone,
was sincere in his wish to see the holy places free."

"And the rest?"

"It always appeared to me that they were in it for the plunder or the
indulgences."

"Indulgences?"

"The Pope decreed absolution of all past sins for those who would take the
cross. There were some whose sins weighed heavy on their souls."

"And you, Cadfael, why took you to the Crusade?"

"Young man's folly for the most part, if truth be told. Oh, I believed
sincerely enough in the cause at first but it was mostly for the adventure.
I could not be content with the lot of a younger son in Wales. First I hired
myself to an English wool-merchant and when that life began to pall, I took
the cross and became a soldier."

"How came you to the sailor's life, then?"


"Ah, Ariana, that would be a long story. Suffice it to say that the reality
of following the Cross was less than I had hoped. It is one thing to risk
all for that you believe in but quite another when the cause proves
unworthy. I saw as much virtue among the Moors - nay, more virtue - than I
could descry among our leading men, Bohemond apart. After Jerusalem fell, I
called it quits and took another path. Nicodemus granted me a berth and I
took to the life."

"What he doesn't tell, Ariana, is that he saved me from a gang of
cutthroats. Some wharf-rats in St Simeon would have had my life in exchange
for my poor purse. This Cadfael here came to my aid and despatched them. I
thought him then a handy man to have at my side in a fight. I now own him as
a friend and more besides."

Ariana smiled and refilled the wine cups.

"He has proved as true a friend to me, also," she said.

The next day dawned clear and calm. The remnants of the storm had blown away
and only a slight chop was left to serve as a reminder. Cadfael rose early
and broke his fast before repairing to the inner basin to meet Ariana and
begin their search. He found her ready and waiting when he arrived. Her boat
was drawn up close to the sea wall and she called him aboard. Once clear of
the basin, she hoisted the little sail and the small craft skipped over the
waves as she headed down to the east of the Island. Cadfael watched her
handling the boat. Her skill was obvious and he enjoyed looking at her. She
wore only a short tunic, clean but much patched, and he gazed with frank
admiration at the fluid grace with which she moved, hard muscle under satin
skin.

Before long, she eased the little vessel into a tiny cove. Cadfael looked
down into the clear depths and guessed there was full five fathom under the
keel even though they were but a short distance from the beach. The storm
had left the shingle piled high and had scoured the water's edge, making it
impossible to beach the boat. Ariana dropped a large stone anchor over the
bow and turned to smile at him.

"This is the only place I know on Samos that father could have brought the
'Star' close inshore. I doubt this is the place, though. Have you marked the
houses up the hill?"

Cadfael nodded; the bay was clearly overlooked and could scarcely be called
secret. Still, he thought, it would be as well to look around and, hiking up
his tunic, he slipped over the side and waded ashore. There was little to be
seen. A steep path led away from the beach up the hill towards the houses. A
couple of fishing boats had been pulled well clear of the water. It was
clear the bay was much frequented. He knew this was not the place they
sought and said as much. He climbed back into the boat and Ariana hauled the
anchor and they put out to sea once more, heading north towards the coast of
Turkey.

Meanwhile, Nicodemus had sailed to where the deep water lay. The area was
plain enough; the darker blue showed clearly where the bottom fell away into
some sort of seabed trench. Nicodemus was dismayed to see the deep blue
patch extended for almost a league to the south and was, perhaps a quarter
as wide. There was no help for it, he thought and began the laborious task
of dragging a kedge back and forth over the area. It took a full sixty
fathoms of rope to touch bottom. Nicodemus knew they were in for a long day.

By noon, Cadfael and Ariana had searched two more possible places. The first
had proved a waste of time. It was clear it was much used by fishermen. The
second had looked hopeful for a time until they had realised that it, too
was overlooked, this time by a watchtower that proved to be the base of a
detachment of the Emperor's soldiers. Ariana thought there was one final
possibility, six or so miles to the east. She suggested they sail down that
way but look for somewhere to beach on the way to cook a midday meal. Half
an hour's fishing brought a plump catch and they soon spotted a deserted
cove which, they saw, would offer easy landing. Ariana ran the boat up to
the beach and Cadfael sprang ashore to pull the little vessel further up out
of the waves. They gathered driftwood for a fire and cooked their fish in
companionable silence.

The day was now hot and there was only a slight breeze to cool them. They
sat for a while after eating and looked about them.

"If only the water were deeper close in, this would be the ideal sort of
place for a discreet landing."


Ariana agreed. "True, but there are dozens such along this coast and a score
besides on Samos."

"I fear this day is bootless. All we have done is fry our brains."

She looked at him and smiled broadly. His face, though burnt brown by the
sun, was showing traces of red and he was perspiring freely, damp curls
sticking to his forehead. His eyes were screwed up against the sun's glare
and she thought he looked a picture of misery. For his part, Cadfael saw her
cool and healthy-looking. Her flawless olive skin showed no trace of the
heat and her riot of dark hair framed an oval face that cried out youth and
vitality. Her clear brown eyes regarded him with ill-disguised amusement. He
was forced to smile in answer. He imagined he saw something else within her
gaze. It seemed to him there was a challenge lurking there behind the
beguiling smile. She stood with a lithe movement and walked with a slow,
hip-swinging gait to the water's edge.

"Come, Cadfael, this will cut no bait! We've one more place to search before
evening."

She climbed aboard and he pushed the boat into the water, stumbling as it
lurched away from him and he ended up prone in the backwash, spluttering and
coughing. She laughed aloud, but without malice.

"If you could see your face! Now, get aboard before you drown. I'll warrant
you're no swimmer."

Cadfael grunted and heaved himself over the gunwale. He tried to glare at
her but burst out laughing instead.

"I must confess I never learned the art too well. I can float, right enough,
but swimming is beyond my compass, although I've never felt the lack."

She laughed. "Then I must teach you."

They sailed down the coast with the sun behind them. The clear water
sparkled and the loom of Samos in the distance looked green and inviting.
Low limestone cliffs intercut by small bays passed to their left and Cadfael
's mood lightened with the pure pleasure of sailing in the company of a
lovely young woman. After a couple of hours, Ariana altered course towards
the land. Cadfael was puzzled. He could discern no cove but the girl pressed
on. It was only when they were but a stone's throw from the cliffs that he
saw the entrance. A low promontory ran parallel to the shore all but hiding
the cove that lay behind. From the sea, the coastline appeared to be
unbroken. He felt a sudden surge of expectation; here, indeed, was a secret
harbour.

They rounded the point and slipped into the calm waters of the bay. The
water beneath the keel was clear as glass and he could make out a shoal of
small fish darting hither and thither among the rocks below. No storm had
touched this beach. A mixture of sand and shingle lay at the sea's margin.
He looked about to landward but saw nothing. No houses overlooked the beach
and there were no fishing craft drawn up upon the strand. Ariana drove the
boat ashore and when Cadfael stepped over the side to help her pull it up
the beach, he was startled to find the water rose to his shoulder. It was no
small labour to climb out of the sea, so steeply did the beach shelve.

"A man could sail within bowshot and never know this place was here," he
said in wonder.

"In truth, I had all but forgotten it myself. My father brought me here once
years ago. He found it by chance one year when caught on a lee shore. He
swore that St Anthony guided his hand that day. Had it not been for this
bay, he would have been lost. He ever called it 'St Anthony's bay'
thereafter."

"If they sought such a secret anchorage that night then surely this is it,
Ariana."

They moved on up the beach and cast about for any sign that Tyros and
Alexandros had indeed been there. The heavy rain of the storm had washed
away any footprints that might have lingered in the sand. The beach was
innocent of any sign of life. Low cliffs backed the sand and shingle shore
without a break. No pathway showed itself and there appeared to be no egress
from the beach to the interior save a dizzying scramble up the weathered
rock. It was not the sort of ascent to be attempted by night and heavily
burdened. Cadfael felt his spirits fall. He had been certain this was the
place they were looking for but there was nowhere to be seen that a man
might hide so much a bauble, much less a treasure horde.

Ariana felt his dejection. She had not voiced her thoughts but she had long
doubted they would find anything. She took his hands in hers and gave him a
shy smile.

"It was a brave attempt, Cadfael, and a good thought. Now we needs must
think again."

He shrugged. He had been so sure that he had read it aright. Now it appeared
he had been mistaken. He turned back towards the boat and stiffened.

"What's that?"

"Where?"

"There, on the headland, close to the waterline."

Ariana's gaze followed his outstretched arm and she gasped.

"It looks like a cave half under the water."

They rushed back to the boat and pushed off. Ariana seized one oar and
sculled over the stern for the thirty or so yards across to the headland.
She threw the stone anchor over the side and stared at the fissure in the
rock. Only about six feet of it was above the water and it was so narrow
that Cadfael thought even one as slim as Ariana would struggle to pass
through it. However, in the clear depths they could see a large cave
entrance lay just beneath the surface. He wondered how he could ever get in;
as he'd told Ariana, he had never mastered the art of swimming. They same
thought had obviously struck her for she chose that moment to shyly demand
that he turn his back. He stared at her uncomprehending until she started to
tug at the hem of her tunic. He flushed furiously and spun away. He heard a
slight splash and the boat rocked slightly as she entered the water in a
graceful dive. He caught a tantalising glimpse of her naked body as she slid
through the cool depths into the cave.

Ariana broke surface deep within the cave and pushed the hair back out of
her eyes. It took a moment or two to become accustomed to the dim light
streaming through the narrow fissure. She became aware of the sheer size of
the place. It stretched back thirty or so feet and was half as wide. She
pulled herself up on to a shelf of rock to the right of the entrance and
stared about. At first she could no sign of anything secreted within the
cave but then she saw the unmistakeable shape of a Samian wine amphora. She
climbed gingerly over the sharp rock and discovered five more such amphorae
half hidden behind a slight outcrop of limestone. She was puzzled. Why would
anyone go the trouble of hiding wine? Then she gave a start. Perched on a
rock next to the earthenware vessels was the soapstone figure of a
patriarch. It suddenly dawned on her that perhaps the amphorae contained
something else.

She stepped gingerly over the sharp rock and tried to pull one of the giant
earthenware jars upright. It was too heavy so she rolled it carefully until
she could gain access to the sealed neck. The seal was covered in wax and
she could make little impression on it with her bare hands. She needed a
knife. Slipping back into the water, she swam out into the sunlight where
Cadfael was eagerly awaiting her return.

"I found some amphorae! I need a knife."

Cadfael did his best to ignore the sight that greeted his eyes as he fumbled
for his belt knife. As she reached up to take the blade, his gaze was drawn
to her breasts. He looked away, colouring furiously, and handed her the
knife with eyes averted. She almost laughed aloud at his obvious discomfort.
At the same time, she felt a small thrill; there was something deliciously
sinful in exposing herself to the young captain. She slipped back under the
water and told him it was all right to look. He turned back to her, face
blazing. The clear water did little to hide her body and he forced himself
to keep his eyes firmly on her face.

"They're too heavy to move much but I should be able to see what's inside.
Are you sure you can't swim?"

Cadfael swallowed and shook his head.

"Very well. Wait there. I'll be as quick as I can."

Something, some little streak of wickedness, made her turn away in a surface
dive. Cadfael groaned aloud as he watched the sweet swell of her rump flash
briefly above the water. That image, and the vision of two dark-nippled
breasts, were engraved for ever on his memory. He had the feeling she was
teasing him but could not begin to imagine what it might mean.

Ariana gently worked the knife blade around the wax seal. She slid the blade
deeper into the gap between the neck and the stopper and started to prise it
slowly upwards. The stopper came free with an audible 'pop' and several
gallons of Samian wine gushed out of the vessel, washing over her feet and
ankles. She jumped back in surprise. It was wine! After a moment's thought
she reached down and grabbed the now-empty jar, meaning to pull it away and
try another. As the amphora skittered towards her she heard a dull thud from
inside it. She seized the base of the vessel and pulled it up, shaking out
whatever lay within into a puddle of wine. It was small bundle wrapped in
greased leather. She picked it up and dived back into the water. With
Cadfael's knife in one hand and the bundle in the other, she propelled
herself from the cave using only her legs.

Cadfael started to his feet when he saw her reappear and set the boat
rocking so violently he was forced to sit again hurriedly. She came
alongside and tossed both knife and bundle into the bottom of the boat
before hauling herself over the gunwale. In her excitement, she had totally
forgotten her nakedness. She arrived beside him in a breathless rush,
spluttering out that the first Amphora had been full of wine but this bundle
was secreted at the bottom of the jar. Cadfael gaped at her open-mouthed. He
was torn between her natural beauty and the curious bundle. He tore his eyes
away from her and grasped the leather package. It was secured with a binding
of rawhide and he used the knife to cut it. He unrolled the leather and
stared in disbelief. It was a soapstone chess piece carved in the image of a
patriarch.

Ariana looked from the figurine to Cadfael and back again, her face
collapsing in disappointment.

"What does it mean? I thought it was part of Bohemond's treasure. It's
worthless!"

Cadfael sat and stared. He shook his head dumbly. He could make no sense of
it at all.

Down to the southeast of Samos, Nicodemus was hot and tired. He had spent
the day fruitlessly trawling the depths for a wreck. Twice, the grapnel had
snagged something. Once they had brought up a huge clump of weed and the
second time a blackened piece of timber, so ancient and rotted that it fell
apart on the deck. He was utterly convinced that no vessel had been scuttled
in the near vicinity. He decided it was time to give it best and ordered
course for Samos once again. He could only pray that Cadfael and the girl
had enjoyed better fortune.

They were standing on the dock to greet him as the ship tied up. Cadfael's
face was showing the effects of too long exposure to the sun and the girl
had a heavy look about her. Nicodemus's heart sank. He climbed wearily
ashore.

"We found nothing. And I would venture you fared little better."

"Oh no, Nicodemus, we found something all right. The problem is that what we
found makes little sense."

The older man raised an enquiring eyebrow. Cadfael suggested they repair to
Ariana's house. Standing about on the dock could attract too much attention.
Nicodemus promised to follow on once he had secured the ship. Ariana and
Cadfael trudged up the hill in silence.

Ariana poured wine and she and Cadfael explained the finding of the
amphorae, each one filled with wine but containing a leather-wrapped chess
man. Cadfael set the six identical pieces on the table before them and
Ariana added the piece she had found among her father's clothes. Nicodemus
sat and stared, his face paled and his eyes went from the pieces to Cadfael
and he spluttered:

"What kind of folly is this? Such gimcrack dross cannot be worth any man's
life!"

They were disturbed by a hammering on the door. Ariana looked up in alarm.
Cadfael placed a hand on her arm and rose to answer. He had scarcely
unhooked the latch when we was roughly pushed backwards into the room. Two
large men, each with a drawn sword, entered followed by Demetrius the Port
Captain.

"Well, what have we here?"

The three friends regarded the fat man in silence. His eyes darted round the
room.

"I have followed your progress with interest my friends. Now where is it?"

Ariana opened her mouth to protest but Cadfael answered quickly.

"There, upon the table."

The fat man looked askance at the chess pieces. Anger and bewilderment
chased each other across his features.

"That is it? If you lie.."

"That, Excellency, is it."

He seemed to suddenly deflate and sat down heavily and gestured for the two
toughs to step outside. Ariana handed him a cup of wine, which he all but
drained at a single draught. He picked up one of the figures and glared at
it as if willing it to give up its secrets. Then he glanced around the room,
still suspicious that they were keeping something from him. He seemed to
come to a decision and heaved a sigh.

"What do you know of this matter?"

Cadfael related everything that had befallen since he had first arrived on
the Island. The Port Captain listened in silence. When Cadfael had finished
he gave a tight smile.

"A fanciful tale, Captain, but I've no doubt you believe it. I'll also
venture that you think me one of these 'Scorpions.' No, don't deny it, it's
plain upon your face."

He tossed the chess piece he was holding onto the table; it skidded on the
wooden surface, fell to the floor and shattered. A curious look came over
his face. He bent down and pulled a small piece of parchment from among the
sherds. He carefully unwrapped the fragment and understanding dawned slowly
on his face. He began to laugh. One by one he picked up the other chess men
and smashed them on the floor. All save one gave up a similar parchment.

"See! Here is Bohemond's greatest treasure!" He smoothed out all the pieces
of parchment. Each was no bigger than a man's palm. They were covered in
minute writing that appeared to Cadfael to be some sort of lists.

"What you see, my little treasure-seekers, are the names of those in
Constantinople who would aid the King of Antioch."

He looked from one blank face to the next and shrugged.

"I see that I had better explain. From what you have told me, you already
know that Bohemond means to make himself Emperor. In truth, the man's made
no secret of it. I work for His Highness. Three months ago, Bohemond
despatched two ships to St Simeon. He has been gathering support and money
for his attempt. The Emperor was aware of it, of course, but then rumours
began of a third ship - one that had gone missing - carrying the greatest
prize of all.

"However, we were able to establish that there was no such ship. There was,
though, a third cargo - Bohemond's greatest treasure. It left, not from
Brindisium, as had the true treasure ships, but from Constantinople itself.
Then mere stupidity took a hand. This cargo was said to have been loaded by
mistake onto a ship bound for Samos. I was sent here to discover what had
happened."

He picked up the head of one of the patriarch figures. It had broken off
smoothly. He indicated the clean circle.

"Bohemond's agent in Constantinople was being watched. He dare not send a
courier. We would have taken him without any difficulty. Instead, it
appears, he sent his information disguised in these strange chess pieces. It
was a little joke. Bohemond has vowed to have the Patriarch's head. His man
decided to make him a gift of it."


Cadfael interrupted. "But what of Tyros the Factor? Who killed him? And
where is Alexandros?"

"As to the former, I can only guess. We suspected that he was involved
somehow. Who knows? Perhaps one of the names on these lists took fright and
tried to recover them. Perhaps there was a falling out, I cannot say."

"And my father? Do you know what became of him?"

"I must confess I do not know. I did think for a little while that perhaps
he had killed the Factor but I now doubt that very much. I can only suppose
that he took fright when Tyros was murdered and has gone into hiding. I'm
sorry, child, but now that I have what I sought, my task is done. I shall
return to Constantinople as soon as I may. You understand, I left you free
because I thought you could lead me to him and he, in turn, would lead me to
Bohemond's 'treasure.' Then these worthy captains took your part. I had you
watched."

Nicodemus was still struggling with what he had heard.

"Then there never was a ship called 'The Patriarch.' That captain, Antonius,
spun Cadfael here a tale of moonbeams?"

"I don't think so. You will recall Antonius told you his passenger was
raving. I suspect the captain tried to make sense of the story and when he
told his version, the man was content to let him believe so. Perhaps he said
the patriarch had been shipped, and the captain heard that as the Patriarch
was a ship, who can tell? The man then invented this tale of 'Scorpions' to
give credence to the rest. I can assure you, no such brotherhood would
survive long where the Emperor's writ runs. Nevertheless, I congratulate you
all. You accomplished in days that which I could not in months. Please
believe me, I never meant you any harm. Now I will take my leave."

They sat in stunned silence for a while after the Port Captain left, each
alone with his thoughts. Then Cadfael rose suddenly.

"There is one more of those figures. At Tyros's house! Do you remember, we
saw it there the first day?"

"So? It is probably empty like my father's was."

"It's possible, to be sure. But yet I feel there are more answers than we so
far received. I shall go to Tyros's house in the morning. It may be that
there are still things hidden there that we overlooked before when we knew
not what we looked at."

Nicodemus roused himself.

"Cadfael, I still don't understand. I can see that the lists would be of
great import to the King of Antioch but it seems a deal of trouble to hide
them in a chess piece."

Cadfael smiled at his friend. He picked up the broken head that the Port
Captain had discarded, turning it over in his hand. He used a thumbnail to
chip away some of the soapstone. A thought struck him. He searched about
among the shattered fragments sorting through the sherds until he had seven
flat bases lined up on the table in front of him. He turned each of them
over and cried out in triumph. On six of the bases there was a small gouge.
The seventh was innocent of any markings.

The following morning the three companions climbed the hill again to Tyros
house. As before, Nicodemus sprung the latch with his belt knife and they
went inside. Cadfael went directly to where he had seen the chess piece and
picked it up. He flipped it over to examine the base. As he suspected it was
marked, but this time with a double gouge. He seized the figure in both
hands and twisted sharply. The head came neatly away from the torso. He
shook it slightly and a small piece of parchment fluttered to the floor at
his feet. He stooped hurriedly and picked it up, smoothing out the folds as
he did so. He frowned at the writing there. It was Greek script, an art he
had not mastered. He handed it wordlessly to Nicodemus who shrugged.

"I lack the skill, my friend."

Ariana took it from his drooping fingers and began to read aloud.


"If you are reading this then the worst has befallen me. Know that I served
my master faithfully and trust my soul to St Anthony to intercede for me."

"Is that it?"

"That's all it says."

Cadfael jumped. "St Anthony!" he sprang across the room and picked up the
plaster figure of the saint and dashed it against the wall. A larger roll of
parchment fluttered out. He caught it before it reached the floor and handed
it to Ariana.

"Two days' past I had word. The Emperor's agents are on the Island. The
information my master needs arrived today from Constantinople. I am sure the
Port Captain suspects. I will ask Alexandros to aid me. They have hidden the
lists in some chess pieces. I am to pass them on to a man who carries their
twin."

Ariana paused. "It looks like he wrote this next bit afterwards. The writing
is different, as though he was in a hurry."

She scanned ahead, her excitement rising. "Listen!" She started again to
read aloud.

"Alexandros agrees to carry the cargo. We have hidden the messages in some
Amphorae. Alexandros took us to a place he called St Anthony's Bay. We hid
the wine jars there. When he is able, he will recover them and take them to
St Simeon. A ship came in from Constantinople. Some of the crew were asking
for me by name. I am sure I'm being followed. I fear for us both. I have
sent word to Alexandros to take care and trust no one who does not carry the
token. I sent him a token so that they may know him as a friend. There is a
new arrival in the port. I believe the captain is of our party. I told
Alexandros he must go with them and tell our friends in Antioch all is well.
He wanted no part of it and we quarrelled. Now I must go to meet the other
captain and arrange safe passage. I can only trust in God and pray we will
see the Church once more re-united."

Nicodemus heaved a sigh of relief.

"So Alexandros is safe, at least."

Cadfael nodded. "Safe enough for now, I think."

He picked up the wax tablets with the cargo manifests written on them and
passed then to Ariana.

"What am I looking for?"

"I don't know."

Ariana read through the stack of manifests. They were routine lists of cargo
with the name of the shipper and the name of the recipient. It all seemed
perfectly innocent. Cadfael listened in rapt concentration.

"Read that last again, Ariana."

"From Theophelus of Nicaea, Thirty gaming pieces, samples. For Tyros the
Factor."

"Which ship?"

"Uh, yours, Nicodemus!"

"You knew?"

"No, I swear it. We unloaded everything at the warehouse. Tyros marked each
item off, as always. He never said a word."

Cadfael nodded. It made sense that they would use one of Ioannis's vessels.
That way Tyros would not have to explain to another Factor why he was
receiving gaming samples.






"Why did you do it, Nicodemus? Why did you kill Tyros?"

Ariana stared at Cadfael as though he were mad. He ignored the girl's face
and kept his eyes on Nicodemus.
The older man shrugged. "Because I am a loyal servant of the Emperor."

Ariana let out a gasp. She turned her face from one to the other, the colour
had drained from her.

"But you used my oar! You meant to blame my father, he was your friend!"

Nicodemus gave her a tired smile.

"Yes, he was my friend but he was also a traitor. I could not stand by and
see our Church and Empire delivered into the hands of some bastard Norman."

"So you pretended to search for him all the while knowing what had
 happened."

"I didn't know it all. I tried to get Tyros to tell me. He wouldn't talk. He
laughed when I called him traitor to his face. Then you came with the story
of Bohemond's greatest treasure and I thought that was it. When you told me
all that you had found was a few chess pieces, I was at a loss. I swear I do
not know what became of Alexandros."

"But you still managed to alert the Port Captain. You sent word of where to
where to find us last night."

"How long have you known, Cadfael, old friend?"

"I began to suspect last night. You said such dross was not worth a man's
life. You had the look of a man who fears he has made a vast mistake. I
watched you privily when the Port Captain found those lists. You looked
mightily relieved. I was only certain when Ariana read those manifests."

"What will you do, then?"

"I? Nothing. What do you suppose the Port Captain would say? He'd agree that
you caught a traitor. I doubt it much he'd find it blameworthy."

Ariana's face was white with fury.

"Do you mean to say, Cadfael, that he's to get away with it? I can't believe
it!"

Cadfael stretched out his hands and took both hers in his.

"I'm sorry, Ariana. But know you that I speak the truth. The Emperor would
never condemn Nicodemus for ridding the world of an enemy. I might despise a
man who would stoop to murder but it is not my place in life to judge
others. However, set your mind at rest about Alexandros. I believe he never
left the Island."

"What do you mean? Do you know where he is?"

"I think he may be at your Grandmother's house in the south. Yes, I know you
sought him there but he kept himself concealed from you, not wanting to
place you in any danger."

"Since when have you thought this?"

"Since we read Tyros's testament. 'A new arrival in the port?' That was
Nicodemus. Tyros made a mistake. He thought Nicodemus was of their faction.
He paid for that with his life."

"But what of the men who came by night? Who were they, Bohemond's men?"

"At first I thought so. But your father's token was still hidden in the
house. I think they saw the murder and knew that Alexandros would be blamed.
He could not believe his friend Nicodemus was the killer; that was the
argument you heard. We know he couldn't have sailed to St Simeon. The 'Star
of Libya' was impounded and Nicodemus wouldn't take him. It stands to
reason, then, he never left. And men in trouble oft run to their mothers. We
'll find him there, or near about."

Cadfael turned to Nicodemus. His hard eyes made the older man look down,
abashed.

"Here is my price, Nicodemus. You forget Alexandros's part in this. It would
serve no purpose now. Demetrius has the names. Bohemond will find no friends
within the Empire when he makes his attempt. In exchange, I'll hold my peace
but look you here! I never wish to see you more in this port or another. Go
back to Varna. I'm sure you will be well rewarded for your part. Do you
agree?"

Nicodemus turned his mouth down and wept with bitterness. He controlled
himself at length.

"It shall be as you say, Cadfael. I am old enough to quit the life. I have
no regrets save one. Today I lost a friend."

They parted then. Nicodemus walked alone back down the hill. Cadfael and
Ariana watched him go. They were both still deeply shocked by all that had
happened. Impulsively Ariana turned to Cadfael and flung her arms around his
neck. Their faces were almost of a level. She kissed him full on the lips.
He blinked, startled.

"Oh, I don't know how I can ever thank you, Cadfael."

He smiled at her. "I believe you promised me swimming lessons. I think it
had better be somewhere secluded where none can witness my feeble prowess.
Somewhere like St Anthony's Bay?"


July 1108


Ariana raised herself upon one elbow and gazed down at Cadfael as he lay
sprawled upon the beach. She gently kissed his forehead and he smiled up her
and reached out to cup her breast in one hand. Her breath hissed in her
throat as he stroked her nipple to hardness. With a fluid motion she
straddled his chest. He felt the warm moistness of her against his bare
chest and eased her gently up. She cried out as his tongue found her and he
buried his face in the softly curling hair. He revelled in the sense of her,
the taste, the scent, the soft folds gracing his lips. He felt the sun warm
on his body and was filled with the joy of the moment.

She gasped and stifled a giggle before easing herself backwards and lowering
her breasts to his eager mouth. He felt the sweet heat enfolding him and he
moaned on her to nipple. She moved her hips slowly; languorously drawing him
deeper inside her and they kissed. They began a gentle rhythm.

"You know, my love, I believe I could take to this sort of swimming. It
likes me better than the other."

"Save your breath, man, it's about to get rough!"

She was as good as her word.

Afterwards they lay together quietly. Her fingers traced patterns in the
coarse mat of hair on his chest.

"So Bohemond failed at the last, then?"

"That he did, my love. The Emperor knew his every move in advance. He has
now sworn vassalage and holds Antioch only by the Emperor's grace."

"That must have burned with him."

"They say he took it with calm dignity. He may be an arrogant bastard but he
was ever the knight. Once sworn, he'll never break his word unless the
Emperor gives him cause."

"And Nicodemus, did he fulfil his promise?"

"Aye. He lives in Varna now although word has he's not long for this world.
He has some malady for which there is no cure."

"I cannot pretend to sorrow on his account. How long before you sail again?"


"Sadly, my love, I must away the dawn after tomorrow. Wine to Syracuse."

"Hmm, five weeks then. I think I can last that long. Time for another
lesson?"

Two naked figures splashed into the sea. One was lithe and arrow-slim, the
other short and stocky with heavily-muscled shoulders. One swam with natural
grace, slicing through the water with scarcely a ripple. The other thrashed
and splashed, making heavy weather of it in her wake.




The End

-- 
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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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