The amir lay as dead, his eyes half-open. The breath had been squeezed from his lungs and he was unconscious. Two of his rafiq, who had been likewise manning ropes at the gate, rushed to help me. "Gently! Gently!" I told them, as together we rolled him onto his side; we were rewarded with a long, ragged gasp as air filled the amir's lungs. He coughed and moaned, and began breathing again.
From the far side of the towering gate came the wails of the wretches who had not been able to get out in time. The shrieks turned to screams of terror as those who stood at the gate were crushed against it by the mass of those pushing from behind.
Faysal ran to my aid. Kazimain's horse raced to where we stooped over the amir; sliding from the saddle, she rushed to her kinsman's side. She grasped his hand and began rubbing it briskly, trying to wake him. Bending to his ear, she murmured softly, her voice trembling with anxiety.
I could not make out what she said, but in a moment, the amir stirred and tried to raise his head. Kazimain bade him rest easy. "It is done," I told him. "We are free."
"Can you stand, lord?" asked Faysal.
The amir looked around, as if to ascertain who spoke. His wits returned to him then, for he nodded, and Faysal and I helped him to his feet. He swayed as if dizzy, but objected when we made to steady him. "It is nothing, it will pass," he said, shaking his head as if to clear it. "Where is my horse?"
Faysal retrieved the animal and brought it to stand before his lord. As Sadiq climbed into the saddle, the massive gate behind us began to throb and shake. My stomach squirmed as I heard the dull cracking thud of human bodies breaking against the barrier: the slaves were hurling themselves at the unyielding timber in their despair. It was a hideous sound, and one I hope never to hear again. But there was nothing to be done for them, and we were not certain of our own safety until we were far from that place.
"We must not linger here," said Faysal, glancing warily over his shoulder.
"Lead the way," Sadiq commanded. "The rafiq and I will follow." He called his warriors to him and hastily formed a phalanx to guard our escape. Faysal, meanwhile, led us swiftly away. We hastened after him, scrambling down the trail as best we could, until we came to the place just out of sight of the gate where the pack horses and supplies waited. There we paused to assemble ourselves and better order our departure.
"The chief overseer will hold you to blame for setting his slaves to riot," the amir said; he sat on his horse, watching the former captives limping towards us. "I had no idea you had so many friends."
Indeed, there were several dozen more than I had set out to free, for those who had forced their way out through the gate were now making their way to where we waited. "I am sorry, Lord Sadiq," I started, "they all-"
But the amir waved aside my explanation. "It would not have happened if the slave master had kept order. We will find a way to deal with them," he said, then cast an eye towards where the Danes stood sweating and panting around the bundles they had, risking all, borne from their captivity. "Your Sea Wolves appear to have acquired a few belongings while they toiled for the khalifa," Sadiq observed.
Jarl Harald saw the amir's appraising glance, and knew well what lay behind it. He bent to the bundle on the ground between his feet and untwisted the knots. Brynach and Dugal, their own bundle slung between them, came to stand beside me. We all watched as Harald opened the folds to reveal a mass of dull, misshapen lumps of rock, pale and watery in colour.
"Silver!" exclaimed Brynach. "Christ have mercy! They risked their lives for silver?"
"To the Danefolk, silver is worth more than life," I explained. "They risk everything for it whenever they sail beyond sight of home. Besides," I added, looking at all the sacks, "it is a fine abundance of silver."
Retrieving one of the colourless chunks, Harald marched boldly to the amir's horse and gave the lump to Sadiq, who took it in his hand, hefted it, and nodded sagely before passing it back to the Dane.
"It seems the amir approves," I observed to Harald. "The Sea Wolves will keep their treasure."
Just then, the slaves who had squeezed themselves through the gap in those confused last moments saw us and rushed forward, crying out to be allowed to journey with us. They whined most piteously: "Do not leave us! We will die in the desert! Be merciful! Take us with you!"
Sadiq and Faysal held hasty council, whereupon Faysal returned to address them. "The Lord Sadiq is moved by your pleas. In exchange for your promise to leave us in peace, we will see you safe as far as the Amida road, but no further."
Sure, they all agreed readily, and, after everyone was given water and something to eat, we started off in two long columns. Sadiq and Kazimain led the way, followed by Ddewi on my horse, with Brynach walking beside him-Ddewi was not fit enough to walk and required someone to help him keep his saddle. Dugal and I walked behind them, carrying the bishop's bones, and the Sea Wolves came next, having divided their mass of treasure into many smaller bundles and distributed the weight evenly among all eighteen. Behind came the pack animals bearing the supplies, with the other slaves after them; the amir's mounted rafiq came last.
What a long, slow line we made. And it stretched out longer and moved slower as the day wore on. We camped early; the sun was not yet down when we stopped, and we had travelled but a short distance. But the newly-freed captives could go no further. Still, we were away from the hateful mines, and the valley stretched invitingly before us.
The amir made his camp a little apart from the others, and went to sleep almost as soon as he had finished his evening meal, saying that he thought he had taken too much sun. I was eager to hear how my friends had fared, and mentioned as much to Kazimain, who said, "Go, my love. Renew your friendship. You will have much to tell one another." She turned to where, despite the still-warm dusk, Sadiq lay rolled in his robe beside the little campfire. "I would sit with the amir a little," she said.
So, I made my way to where the monks had made their camp among some great smooth, flat rocks beside the trail. Dugal and Brynach reclined, exhausted, on the rocks, and Ddewi, hunch-shouldered, sat splay-legged beneath them placidly feeding twigs and small knots of dry grass to a tiny fire.
Settling myself on a broad ledge-like stone, I said, "Well now, Dugal, here was I thinking you had given up waiting for me."
"Aidan, man," Dugal said in a lightly reproving tone, raising his head slightly, "look at you now. How were we to know it was you and not the very prince of Sarazens?"
"And who else would be coming for you?"
"Oh, it was a sweet surprise," he remarked, rolling onto his elbow, "to see you striding out so brave and bold. Where did you get that knife, Dana?"
Withdrawing the blade from my belt, I handed it to him. "It is called Qadi," I explained. "The amir gave it to me."
Dugal ran his fingers over the jewelled weapon, making appreciative noises. "Did you see this, Bryn?" he said, flourishing the gleaming blade in the air. "Had I a daigear like this, I might have rescued us myself. Ah, but you put the overseer in his place, I believe; so you did."
Ddewi laughed at this-a soft chuckle only, but it was the first indication I had that he apprehended anything of his surroundings. I looked to Brynach, who said, "Oh, he comes to himself a little sometimes. Perhaps he can recover." His gaze shifted from the younger monk to me. "I am still wondering how you came to be among these Arabs."
"That is easily told," I replied, and explained about my sojourn in Trebizond with the eparch, and the ambush on the way to Sebastea which led to my enslavement at the mine.
"It happened to us the very same way," remarked Brynach.
"Aidan believes it was no accident," Dugal informed him, and went on to describe for Brynach my assumption that the emperor's courtier had personally arranged the disasters which had overtaken us.
"But it cannot be," objected Brynach. "Nikos befriended us; he never had reason to betray us, or wish us harm." He shook his head slowly. "I am certain he was merely trying to help. The holy book was without its cover, and he-"
"The book!" What with one thing and another, I had forgotten all about Colum Cille's holy book and left it behind.
"Calm yourself, Aidan," Dugal said. "We have it still." He indicated Ddewi, idly playing with the fire.
"Ddewi," said Brynach gently, "Stand up and show us the book."
Though he gave no indication of having heard, the mute young monk rose from his place and turned towards us. Looking more closely, I saw the square shape of the cambutta beneath his ragged mantle. Taking the hem of his garment in both hands, he raised it to reveal the leather bag, its strap slung around his neck and over one shoulder; he was wearing the book on his chest.
I resisted the temptation to have him take it out of the bag, to open it and examine its pages once more; but this was neither the time nor the place. "Thank you, Ddewi," Brynach said, and he sat down again, once more as far away from us as his shattered thoughts allowed.
"Cadoc gave it to him as we stood in the yard that day," Brynach explained; I knew well which day he meant. "Poor Ddewi has not breathed a word to anyone since. I do believe that what little wit remains him he owes to the book."
"He keeps the book," Dugal observed, "and the book keeps him."
"We were to get a new cover made," Brynach lamented, "but that will not happen now."
"There are silversmiths enough in Constantinople," I remarked. "Whyever did you think to go to Trebizond in the first place?"
"Did I say we were going to Trebizond?" Brynach wondered.
"No, Dugal told me," I replied, remembering our brief conversation at the mines. "He said you wanted to go there to get a new cumtach made for the book."
"Well," Brynach allowed, "it is true we would have made harbour in Trebizond, naturally. But we were on our way to Sebastea; Cadoc wanted to see the governor."
A thin chill snaked down my ribs. "What did you say?" Although I had heard him quite plainly, I made him repeat it word for word. "You are certain-Cadoc wanted to see the governor?"
"Aye, he did," answered Brynach. "It seems the two had met once when this Honorius was a Procurator in Gaul."
"And was it before this desire was known," I asked, "or after that Nikos became interested in helping you?"
The canny Briton stared at me for a moment. "Ah, I see which way your mind is working, brother, but you are wrong," he answered with satisfaction. "I know for a fact that the voyage was Cadoc's idea entirely. He was set on going before anyone ever laid eyes on Nikos. Since we were travelling to Sebastea anyway, the bishop merely asked if anyone could be found in that place who might help us restore the book."
"Were you with them when they spoke?" I asked, my voice rising to a demand. "Did you hear Cadoc say this?"
"I was and I did," Brynach answered firmly. "And that is why I know you are wrong to think the worst of Nikos. He was trying to help us."
Despite his insistence, my suspicions remained; but nothing would be gained by hammering at Brynach, so I left the matter for the present. On the face of it, his explanation seemed logical enough: Nikos did not send the monks to Trebizond; Cadoc had it in mind to go there before Nikos became involved. Even so, the thing did not sit well with me.
Talk turned to the rigours ahead and, as night deepened around us, Gunnar appeared out of the twilight to say that Harald was asking for me. Regarding the Britons a little awkwardly, he said, "Jarl Harald would speak to you, Aeddan. If you are willing."
"Of course, Gunnar."
"I know you would rather stay with your brothers," he said doubtfully.
"Nay, nay," I answered, rising, "I should have come to you sooner. Let us go speak to him." As the monks declined to join us, I bade them good night and walked with Gunnar the short distance to the Sea Wolf camp.
There, I found men sprawled over the ground where they had fallen, exhausted by the day's exertions. I had seen Danes in similar circumstances before, of course, but this time, at least, they had not drunk so much as a single drop of ol. I looked with pity on their once-hale bodies, now wasted thin from poor food and killing labour.
Harald was leaning against a rock with his head back and his eyes closed. At my approach, however, he roused himself and made to rise. "Nay, jarl, be at ease," I said. "Please, sit and rest.
But he would not hear it. Instead, he climbed shakily onto his feet and embraced me like one of his own karlar. What is more, he called to the others and bade them to rise also, but only one or two made the attempt. "Ah, Aeddan," he breathed, and smiled, placing his arm around my shoulders. His face was sun-blasted, haggard and lined, and his eyes were dull with fatigue, but the voice he raised still held something of its former bellow when he called aloud for everyone to attend him: "See here, all you Danes!" he shouted. "This is our good friend. We are free tonight because he would not see us go down to death in the pit."
This brought not so much as a yawn from any of the Sea Wolves who might have been awake to hear it. Turning to me, King Harald said, "I would we had a sea of ol to drink your health. But, hear me, Aeddan. I, Harald Bull-Roar make this vow: half the silver we have obtained, I give to you. For without you, we would be slaves still and our wealth would avail us nothing."
"You are too generous, Jarl Harald." This pleased him and he smiled. "As it happens, I cannot accept even so much as a single lump of your silver." This pleased him still more. "What I did, I did for reasons of my own. Your freedom is all the reward I seek, and I have that."
"You speak well," Harald said, "but I would be less than a king if I did not reward you. Since you will not take silver, I charge you to name the thing you desire most, and, with all the power at my command, I will obtain it for you."
We sat down together then, and for the first time I felt an equal in his company. The feeling did not last long, however, for very soon the overtired jarl, lost in a fit of yawning, slumped onto his side and drifted off to sleep. I left the Sea Wolves to their death-like slumber, and crept away unseen to make my bed next to the amir's fire.
Although we had planned to move on the next day, we rested instead. The former slaves had spent all their strength in the escape and following march, and few were in any condition to renew their exertions. We might usefully have rested the following day as well, but Faysal, weighing our increased numbers against the rapidly dwindling provisions, suggested that if we did not make some progress, however small, we would soon be going hungry. "As it is," he suggested, "we must go to Amida and replenish our supplies."
This meant a delay, which Amir Sadiq did not like, but there was no other choice. So, setting forth at a gentle pace, we proceeded down the long, meandering trail to the valley floor, resting often. The next day, we proceeded west towards the Amida road.
Thus, upon reaching the road two days later, we turned not north to Trebizond, but south to Amida. Despite the fact that the amir no longer provided for them, many of the former captives preferred to remain close in order to travel under the protection of the rafiq. A few, however, unburdened by any such fears, left us as soon as we gained the road, eager to reach the city.
Though the former captives could not walk fast, nor for any great distance, still we journeyed at a better pace than before. Indeed, over the next days I observed a general improvement in all of the newly freed men, Britons and Danes alike: they moved more easily, and their strength increased day by day. Sure, they were strong men who had survived the mines. Even Ddewi seemed to come more to himself, as if, little by little, he remembered who he had been.
Each day I saw Kazimain, of course, but with everyone so close around us all the time, we had few opportunities to speak to one another, and these were all too brief. We contented ourselves with knowing glances, and hastily uttered words of endearment: not enough to make a man content, but it was all we had.
Then, early on the morning we were to enter Amida, she came to me. Men were breaking camp and saddling the horses, others preparing food. I turned, smiling as Kazimain hurried to where I stood talking to Dugal; one glance at the set of her jaw, and I broke off my chatter. Drawing her a little apart, I said, "You look about to burst."
"The amir says I am to stay in Amida," she told me, her voice shaking. "He intends hiring men to escort me back to Ja'fariya."
The thing had taken me unawares and before I could think what to say, she gripped my arm tightly and said, "He must not do this, Aidan."
"He fears for your safety," I muttered without conviction.
"And I fear for his!" she snapped. Taking in my bewilderment, she bent her head towards mine and confided in a low voice, not to be overheard. "He is not well."
I pulled back. "Not well?" Glancing around to where he sat breaking fast on some bread Faysal had given him, I said, "He seems in perfect health to me."
Kazimain dismissed my observation. "That is how he wants to appear," she said. "He has begun sleeping too long, and too deeply. He does not rise so quickly."
"That is no cause for worry," I suggested. "He is tired-we are all tired. Exhausted. No doubt we would all feel better for a day's rest."
Kazimain's smooth brow creased in a frown. "You are not listening!" she said. "Please, Aidan, do something. He must not leave me behind."
"I will speak to him," I promised. "If that is what you want."
This was not the right thing to say, I quickly discovered, for she stormed away and would speak to me no more.
Upon reaching Amida, late in the day, the amir ordered his tent to be erected a short distance from the settlement, and forbade the Sea Wolves to leave camp. Harald and his men were disappointed, but when Faysal explained that there was no ol of any kind, nor even wine, in all of Amida, the Danemen bore their disappointment more bravely. "Perhaps it is for the best," remarked Gunnar with stoic forbearance; "it will mean more silver to take home to Karin."
With that the Sea Wolves set about cleaning themselves; they bathed and shaved their matted beards and cut their hair, and cast off their filthy rags for simple mantles the amir provided. When they finished, much of their former swagger had returned.
The Britons, who had no silver to worry about, were also unwilling to go into the town. "I will not set foot in that accursed place," Dugal vowed.
"You have no purse," I pointed out. "Therefore, you have nothing to fear."
"Ha!" Dugal mocked. "Think you I would give the slave-traders a chance to seize me and sell me again? I never will."
Dugal was, perhaps, closer to the truth than he knew. In any event, I was prepared to stay in camp with the others and await the amir's return, but Kazimain insisted I go. "You must speak to Lord Sadiq!" she urged.
This is how I came to be standing in the slave market at Amida when I heard someone cry, "Aedan!"