"Adams, Robert - Castaways in Time 02 - The Seven Magical Jewels of Ireland" - читать интересную книгу автора (Adams Robert)

Meantime, the man at the brazier had dropped a generous handful of dried coffee beans into a small, preheated iron skillet, wherein he had thoroughly roasted them, then dumped the almost scorched beans into a marble mortar and rapidly reduced them to coarse powder. The powder he had poured into a brass pot with a long wooden handle, adding some pint or so of water and a piece of a sugarloaf. When he had nestled the pot into an iron trivet above the bed of coals, he began to alternately blow upon the coals and carefully watch the contents of the pot.

As the coffee came to its initial boil, the man adroitly took it from the heat, added three cardamom pods, then replaced it over the coals. As the mixture boiled up the second time, he again took it up and this time spooned a generous measure of the rich brown froth into each of the three waiting silver cups.

On the third boiling, the man removed the pot from the heat, dashed into it a large spoonful of unheated water, then filled the three cups with the fragrantly steaming, thick, syrupy, stygian-black brew.

"It is many years since I have savored dhwah in the Turkic style," the herald commented politely, still speaking Arabic.

Walid shrugged. "Thank you for the compliment, Sir Ali, but I understand, believe me, \ more than understand. You will have noticed that 1 did not dignify it by calling it dhwah. I shipped this sorry Turk aboard in Izmir, after my own cook was killed in a dockside brawl. And dhwah or even a simple kuskus simply baffles him.

"But now, I am a blunt seaman, Sir Ali, so let us get down to business, eh? For what purpose did this Bey Sebastian send you to me? This galleon is his for the taking, already; even a landsman could see that she cannot be steered. The bread of slavery is bitter at best, but forced to it, I imagine that the most of my crew would prefer becoming slaves to becoming corpses, today. As for me, after the loss of this vessel and the guns, I'd as lief remain as far as possible from Sultan Omar's domains ... for reasons of bodily health, you understand." Sir All grinned briefly. "Yes, I've heard that he's possessed of a foul temper, though exceeding generous to those who can please him. But tell me thisЧhow is it that one of Sultan Omar's fine war galleons is escorting ships sent by the Pope of the West? Is all the Church allied against England, then?"

Walid snorted scornfully. **Not hardly, Sir Ali! Our Pope's last word on the matter was that anyone simpleminded enough to go west and risk his fortune and/or neck to try to help put a bastard-spawn usurper onto the throne of England at the behest of old Pope Abdul would probably have been killed by his own stupidity sooner or later anyhow, wherever he chanced to be.

"No, bad luck and illegal coercion brought me and mine here to this sorry pass. Nor have that Moorish dog who styles himself Pope of the West and his criminal Roman cohorts heard the end of the coercion business, either, not if 1 ever get the ship back to Turkey, they haven't.

"The Turkish ambassador to the court of King Giovanni, in Napoli, having diedЧhe and all his family, of a summer pestilenceЧI had conveyed the new ambassador and his household to Napoli and was asea enroute to the Port of Marsala to take aboard certain cargo consigned to Sultan Omar's chamberlain when, of a late, dark night, a freak, unseasonal tempest all but swamped the galleon, killed or injured several of my crewmen, and seriously damaged my rigging. When all was done, I found my position to be far nor'-nor'west of where I'd been at the start, and somehow I managed to get the vessel into the Port of Gaeta, a small port on the mainland . . . and squarely into the claws of Pope Abdul, the blackhearted bastard sibling of those noisome canine creatures that subsist on thrice-vomited camels' dung.

"Now understand, Sir Ali, all that I required was a few score fathoms of decent rope, some small items of hardware, some good, seasoned hardwood lumber, and a few pinewood spars, for all of which I was prepared to pay fair value in new, undipped golden omars. And for all of my first day in that port it seemed that I would soon be accommodated at a better than good price; indeed, I was received and feted in the manner of some visiting bey. But one Unavoidable' delay followed on the heels of another for more than a week. Finally, I was informed that materials of the quality and in the quantity I required simply were not available anywhere in the environs of Gaeta-port.

"At that juncture, I offered to hire a few of the larger coasters and crews to tow my galleon south to Napoli, which port I knew was well enough stocked to effect my repairs and which lay less than sixty sea miles distant. But, Sir Ali, not one coaster captain or fishing-boat master would look at my gold, though I offered enough to all but buy their wallowing little tubs outright.

"Then, when I was making ready to sail out under a juryrig and follow the coastline down to Napoli as best I could, the damned two-faced Dago harbormaster, claiming most piously to be in fear for the safety of me, my crew, and the sultan's ship, sealed my moorings with armed guards on the dock, and most sadly informed me that if I should try to leave the port without his say-so, the fort gunners hacj orders to hull me with their demicannon! Can you credit it?"

"It sounds not like a friendly act," Sir Ali commented dryly. "So, what happened then?"

With a strong tinge of sarcasm, Walid said, "Lo and behold, two days later, a Roman Papal galleonЧthat same one that your galleys blew up and sank earlier today, for which may God always love you all!Чcame bowling into Gaeta-port and I was shortly given to understand that the only way I would get out of that overgrown fishing hamlet with my ship and crew intact and before we all grew* long, white beards was to allow the Roman to take us under tow and convey us thus to the Port of Livorno, some days' sailing to the north."

The Arabian knight nodded, brusquely. "And you agreed."

"What else could I do?" Walid shrugged and shook his head. "On the way north, I must admit, I toyed with the thought of possibly contriving a broken tow cable, then maneuvering my 'benefactor' into position to hull him with my main-deck battery. Then I could cripple his rigging and sweep his decks with my nines and swivels, and possibly serve him up a few red-hot shot for good measure, before I tried to make it down to Napoli alone. But then, the second day out of Gaeta, a brace of big galleases beat down from the north and I realized that at these new odds, resistance would be suicidal."

The seaman padded over on his bare, dirty feet and refilled the tiny cups with more of the strong Turkish kahvay, while another man removed the ceremonial tray of bread and salt to replace it with another small tray of black, wrinkled, sun-dried olives, dried Izmir figs, raisins, and similar oddments. Walid sipped delicately at the boiling-hot liquid, then went on with his tale. "The harbor basin at Livorno was packed with Vessels like stockfish in a cask, Sir Ali. There was at least one vessel moored at every slip, with others moored to the starboard of those, where there was room. Every type and size of vessel in all the Middle Sea was there to be seenЧ cogs, caravels, carracks, galleys and galleases, coasters of every conceivable shape and rig, all engaged in lading, preparing, arming, victualing, and manning yonder fleet your arms have just captured. TheyЧ"

"Pardon," interjected the herald, his eyebrows raised quizzically, "how many principalities would you say were there represented in the preparation of that fleet? Which ones were they, do you recall?"

Ticking off his fingers, Walid answered slowly, jogging his memory. "Well, let's see, Sir Ali. The Papal State, of course, and GenoaЧLivorno's owned by Genoa, though it's been on long-term lease to the Roman See for as long as I can recallЧboth the North and the South Franks had ships there, as did the Spanish, the Aragonese, the Emirate of Granada, the Sultan of Morocco, the Hafsid caliph, the Grand Duchy of Sardinia, the King of Sicily, the Prince of Serbia, the Archcount of Corfu, and the King of Hungary. I was told, but did not myself see, that supplies had arrived from iskanderia; if true, they must have been private merchants, though, for I cannot imagine Sultan Mehemet getting any of his fleet involved in a clearly Roman dispute, not with the bulk of his army away down south fighting the Aethiops and their allies."

"No Portugees?" probed the herald. "No Germans, Venetians, or Neapolitans? No Greeks or Levantines?"

"No!" Walid attested emphatically. "Not one Portugee there, nor when this fleet called at Lisboa on the voyage northward would the Portugee king contribute anything save a few score pipes of wine, rather a poor vintage, too, I was later told. While there were a few German ships in Livorno, they took pains to keep a distance from the Papal fleet and its suppliers. As for Greeks, Levantines, and Venetians, though there had been more than a few of them all in the harbor at Napoli, not a one was to be seen in the basin of Livorno.

"There was, however, a coaster flying the Neapolitan ensign. Fahrooq here was able to get to her captain and entrust to him a message to be delivered to Sultan Omar's ambassador at the court of King Giovanni, at Napoli, telling of the virtual armed impressment of my ship and crew by the minions of Pope Abdul."

"So, it was either sail in company with the fleet or die, eh?" asked Sir Ali, with a note of sympathy.

But Walid shook his head slowly. "Not exactly, my friend, not exactly. You think like the warrior you are, with all things in pure black or pure white, but statesmen and, especially, churchmen never deal in such purities, trafficking rather in innumerable shadings of gray. So did they deal with me.

"Upon arrival in Livorno, my vessel was anchored in the basin until a slip could be cleared in the navy yard, then we were warped in and moored fast. Immediately we were fast, an arrogant Roman officer and his well-armed escort boarded my ship and I was ordered to collect my ship's papers and accompany him to his superiors. I did. I could just then do no other, like it or not. With my damages, the oldest and most ill-kept cog could have sailed rings around me, not to even think of what the full cannon mounted by that fortress at Livorno could have done to me.