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Authors: Adriana Koulias
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moved
backward and forward along the beach. The sound of their grunting and the
jingle of their chains made a mark in the silence. A faint light smudged the
horizon. Etienne could now see that Roger de Flor was dressed in a dark cloak
in the eastern style, a shirt and doublets. As it became lighter his face came
into view, horribly cut and disordered as if divided and reassembled in haste.
Etienne did not look away, but stared through the mangled flesh to the eyes. He
was anxious to be off and away from this man.
‘It is light.’
He began to walk to the shore.
‘When the Order
passes, Etienne, will you know why you live and die?’
The wind
freshened. ‘Do you know why you live and die?’ Etienne gave back.
‘To expand my
trade! Why else?’ The man laughed. ‘I was on my way to Scotland in any case.’
‘Scotland?’
Etienne paused, his mind moving over the words.
‘When the worst
comes we can sail to Foyle from Portugal and from there to my holdings on the
west – but there is the channel to think of; this is King Edward’s sea
all the way to Ireland and beyond it to Scotland, and it crawls with English
galleys warring with Robert Bruce. It would be best to take a wide loop around
the west coast of Ireland to avoid them. It may take longer but we can do it in
good time with a fair breeze at our backs.’ He paused a moment, turning his
head like an intelligent dog.
‘You did not
know?’
Etienne walked
on and let his teeth worry his lip to prevent him from losing his calm. He had
been kept in a dark room that was now lit by a mercenary. It left him feeling
bewildered and disquieted.
Roger came
beside him. ‘You will adjust to it, things move fast in the world.’
He did not look
at the man. ‘In your world, not mine.’
Roger de Flor
gave out a whistle. ‘This is your world now! The world of ordinary men.’ He
held him by the arm. ‘You shall see you are not worth less for living in it,
though you will need to recast yourself anew!’
Etienne shrugged
away his hand. ‘A light metal cannot hold the same value.’
The mercenary
followed. ‘Well then, I admire you for it, Etienne. Leaning on the rule has
shaped you in God’s image.’
Etienne did not
turn around but spoke over his shoulders: ‘I am not the image of God’s because
I lean on the rule, de Flor! I lean on it to stop me from falling over the rim
of the world!’
‘Ahh!’ the
mercenary said, waving it away with a hand full of rings that reflected the
light they gathered. ‘Some of us must live on the rim of the world! But then we
had best lean on gold, it is far more steady than a rule!’
They heard
Marcus call out to them from the beach then, where a rose sun hung over the
water throwing hints of day over the barge that was loaded up and ready to go.
5
ETIENE AND ITERIUS
There was given to me a thorn in the flesh, the messenger
of Satan to buffet me.
II Corinthians 12:7
T he
morning had moved forward and the warmth was fast becoming heat on the backs
and shoulders of the five men upon their horses as they travelled from the
little bay towards the house at Famagusta.
Below eyes
hooded from the harsh light, Iterius observed the seneschal, riding in front on
his Spanish horse. The man was tall and edge-faced with eyes the colour of sky,
framed by dark brows in a head that was well placed on broad shoulders uneven
in height. The arms were long and ended in hands that expressed good breeding
and the clear thoughts of the man who guided them.
The Alexandrian
frowned, narrowing his eyes. It was hot. The sweat dripped along his brow under
his hair and over his nose. He might not be handsome like his lord, Etienne,
but he was quick-witted. Quick-witted men survived whilst handsome ones found
themselves on pyres or at the end of swords.
The seneschal
must have had an instinct, for he turned around and threw Iterius a suspicious
eye. Iterius for his part smiled back and followed as they picked their way
through the flat track
backward and forward along the beach. The sound of their grunting and the
jingle of their chains made a mark in the silence. A faint light smudged the
horizon. Etienne could now see that Roger de Flor was dressed in a dark cloak
in the eastern style, a shirt and doublets. As it became lighter his face came
into view, horribly cut and disordered as if divided and reassembled in haste.
Etienne did not look away, but stared through the mangled flesh to the eyes. He
was anxious to be off and away from this man.
‘It is light.’
He began to walk to the shore.
‘When the Order
passes, Etienne, will you know why you live and die?’
The wind
freshened. ‘Do you know why you live and die?’ Etienne gave back.
‘To expand my
trade! Why else?’ The man laughed. ‘I was on my way to Scotland in any case.’
‘Scotland?’
Etienne paused, his mind moving over the words.
‘When the worst
comes we can sail to Foyle from Portugal and from there to my holdings on the
west – but there is the channel to think of; this is King Edward’s sea
all the way to Ireland and beyond it to Scotland, and it crawls with English
galleys warring with Robert Bruce. It would be best to take a wide loop around
the west coast of Ireland to avoid them. It may take longer but we can do it in
good time with a fair breeze at our backs.’ He paused a moment, turning his
head like an intelligent dog.
‘You did not
know?’
Etienne walked
on and let his teeth worry his lip to prevent him from losing his calm. He had
been kept in a dark room that was now lit by a mercenary. It left him feeling
bewildered and disquieted.
Roger came
beside him. ‘You will adjust to it, things move fast in the world.’
He did not look
at the man. ‘In your world, not mine.’
Roger de Flor
gave out a whistle. ‘This is your world now! The world of ordinary men.’ He
held him by the arm. ‘You shall see you are not worth less for living in it,
though you will need to recast yourself anew!’
Etienne shrugged
away his hand. ‘A light metal cannot hold the same value.’
The mercenary
followed. ‘Well then, I admire you for it, Etienne. Leaning on the rule has
shaped you in God’s image.’
Etienne did not
turn around but spoke over his shoulders: ‘I am not the image of God’s because
I lean on the rule, de Flor! I lean on it to stop me from falling over the rim
of the world!’
‘Ahh!’ the
mercenary said, waving it away with a hand full of rings that reflected the
light they gathered. ‘Some of us must live on the rim of the world! But then we
had best lean on gold, it is far more steady than a rule!’
They heard
Marcus call out to them from the beach then, where a rose sun hung over the
water throwing hints of day over the barge that was loaded up and ready to go.
5
ETIENE AND ITERIUS
There was given to me a thorn in the flesh, the messenger
of Satan to buffet me.
II Corinthians 12:7
T he
morning had moved forward and the warmth was fast becoming heat on the backs
and shoulders of the five men upon their horses as they travelled from the
little bay towards the house at Famagusta.
Below eyes
hooded from the harsh light, Iterius observed the seneschal, riding in front on
his Spanish horse. The man was tall and edge-faced with eyes the colour of sky,
framed by dark brows in a head that was well placed on broad shoulders uneven
in height. The arms were long and ended in hands that expressed good breeding
and the clear thoughts of the man who guided them.
The Alexandrian
frowned, narrowing his eyes. It was hot. The sweat dripped along his brow under
his hair and over his nose. He might not be handsome like his lord, Etienne,
but he was quick-witted. Quick-witted men survived whilst handsome ones found
themselves on pyres or at the end of swords.
The seneschal
must have had an instinct, for he turned around and threw Iterius a suspicious
eye. Iterius for his part smiled back and followed as they picked their way
through the flat track
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