Believe or Die (22 page)

Van Ryer, his accomplices, and the protesting, booty-laden camels departed. Wil looked around at the bleak, barren wasteland and could draw not the slightest grain of comfort or inspiration from it. Jacob cursed and began hurling rocks into the spring. Simon held his head in his hands and sobbed almost silently. De Rood looked across at the little Jew.

“Come now Master Simon. What depresses you so?”

Wil and Jacob both turned and stared at the Wolf. Had the man lost his mind?

“I couldn’t help but think for a moment of that Portuguese ship that was to have taken us away from this,” sighed Simon.

“Take heart my friend. You may even yet take passage on that vessel,” grinned De Rood cryptically.

“How so?” demanded Wil and Jacob in unison.

“You have forgotten my messengers I find,” replied the Wolf.

“I thought they had deserted you,” exclaimed Wil.

“So does Van Ryer. Indeed, he paid them handsomely to do just that.”

Jacob shaded his eyes and peered at the horizon.

“I do not see them,” he commented.

“You will.”

“Before the Spanish or the Berbers get us?” demanded Jacob.

“Insh Allah,” shrugged De Rood who then casually lay back and made himself comfortable on the rocks.

Less than an hour later, De Rood’s messengers appeared out of the shimmering wilderness driving a host of heavily loaded camels before them. The Wolf chuckled and sprang to his feet. He greeted his riders with arms outstretched and they responded likewise adding their own peculiar war cries into the bargain.

“Is it done my children?” asked De Rood in Arabic.

“It is done!” they cried enthusiastically.

“Splendid! Come my friends!” said the Wolf to Wil and the others as he caught a tossed bundle and unravelled it at their feet. “Find yourselves a pair of shoes that fits and you Wil, arm yourself with whatever you choose. Quickly now, we must make haste.”

“Aye, the Spanish … ” began Wil.

“The Spanish are not coming Wil. My messengers saw to it that Ehud, his sons and their watchers fell short of their goal. The Portuguese though are a little too close for comfort.”

“Where are we bound then Lord? To seek out Van Ryer?”

“No need. Others have done that for us.”

“Others? But who Lord? Your messengers all appear to be here!”

“Indeed they are.”

“I do not understand,” frowned Simon. “Are those not our camels and are they not laden with your merchandise? Yet did not Van Ryer take all?”

“You duped the lot of us!” realised Jacob suddenly. “That was why you wouldn’t let anybody but your riders stand guard the other night. Your boys somehow switched the beasts for others and likewise the cargo.”

De Rood smiled.

“A camel is a camel to our eyes, only a Moor can tell the difference between them.”

“Then what was on the backs of the beasts that Van Ryer took? What pray tell was in those panniers?”

“Rocks mainly.”

“So he got away with nothing?” gaped Simon.

“He took your horse and your sword!” observed Wil. “You prized both.”

“Indeed I did. Yet it was necessary that he took them. I particularly wanted him to be on my horse and wearing my cloak when he committed his treachery.”

“But why? And how could you know he wouldn’t kill us out of hand? What would all your scheming have left you then?” demanded Wil. De Rood considered for moment then said,

“Van Ryer was always a cruel man with a strange taste in amusement. The notion of me chained to the oars of a galley appealed to him. I gambled he would let us live to satisfy this amusement.”

“And the horse and cloak? Another gamble?”

“Ah, no gamble there. He always coveted both. I knew he could not resist cutting such a dash. After all, were they not the trademark of ‘The Wolf’?”

“Many Berbers and others have tried to kill you because of those distinct ‘trademarks’.”

“Just so. And now they have succeeded. One of my messengers ‘betrayed’ my movements, or rather those of Van Ryer dressed as me, to the ‘Reguibat’.”

“So the Blue Men killed him thinking it was you?”

“Exactly. The Berbers will even now be celebrating my demise and soon that lunatic Yusef will be mourning my passing. Like hell he will! But now we must hasten before the Blue Men begin wondering why the Wolf had a caravan of rocks.”

“But hasten where? Surely not Tangier or Cuerta? And you certainly cannot go back to Meknes if you wish to be thought dead.”

“All that is true, which is why we go to Mdiq.”

“Mdiq?” chorused the others.

“What in the name of all that is Holy is at Mdiq?” wailed Simon.

“Why Master Simon, your ship lies there. Did I not promise you a voyage?”

The party made good time to the little coastal village with De Rood’s messengers vigilantly keeping watch for any possible threat. As they finally crested a rocky rise separating the interior from the coast they suddenly came across an exhilarating vista. There, bobbing gently in the turquoise waters of a shallow bay, lay a Portuguese merchant ship. Next to it however was moored a sleek, dark and predatory xebec. This latter was clearly well manned and heavily armed. It was most definitely not a vessel built with peaceful intent in mind. The Wolf’s companions reined up and exchanged nervous glances but De Rood shouted instructions to his riders who promptly fired a volley into the air and hallooed loudly. After but a moments hesitation, an answering crackle of shots, accompanied by the crash of cymbals came by way of reply from the crew of the xebec. Clearly, De Rood and his party were expected. They led the reluctant camels down onto the beach where they found an encampment of sorts. A hundred or more Corsairs shouted greetings, albeit mainly of a lewd nature, while a dozen or so Portuguese mariners huddled off to one side repeatedly crossing themselves and kissing rosaries.

“My Lord!” whispered Pitkin, “Do you not fear treachery?”

“Not this time Wil. Yonder comes the Master of that pirate vessel.”

De Rood and the pirate hailed each other as the latter approached and the Wolf said quietly, “This is my old friend Serkan. He is a killer and a merciless Corsair, yet in his own way, he is an honourable man.”

De Rood and the pirate exchanged hugs. The messengers and the other Corsairs did likewise. Everybody seemed to know everyone else. In very short order, a chain of men were ferrying panniers from the camels to the merchant ship while De Rood and Serkan puffed on a hookah in amiable and companionable discourse. The loading was soon done with all but a handful of camels now free of their burdens. These De Rood had brought forward, made to kneel and their bags removed. Serkan stood up and brushed himself down, then, with his murderous crew craning their necks to observe, he drew a dagger and slit open part of the baggage. A collective and appreciative sucking in of air issued from the pirates. Serkan beamed at the Wolf and picked up a handful of the coins and jewellery that lay before him. Then he raised a quizzical eye in the direction of the other bags as yet unopened.

“Your suspicion does you credit old friend,” laughed De Rood. “Please, examine the rest.”

Serkan did exactly that. Each load seemed to exceed the previous in wealth. The pirate loudly bellowed his approval and enveloped De Rood in a crushing bear hug again. Then, with only the barest of orders, the treasure was gathered up and rushed aboard the xebec. While this was ongoing, De Rood went over to his messengers and embraced each one before pointing at the area where the cowering Portuguese were slumped upon some boxes. The messengers howled approval and rushed over to that location. The mariners leaped to their feet but it was the boxes that were of issue, not their souls. Within minutes these crates were secure on the camels and, with a final volley of shots, the riders disappeared back into the interior.

Serkan came plodding back through the gentle surf and gestured to the Portuguese who immediately started crossing themselves again. De Rood walked over to them and, he being unable to speak their language, asked if they spoke any Arabic. ‘No’ was the apparent meaning behind the negative shrugs and head shaking. Dutch? No. English? No. Spanish? Yes, it appeared that the Master did. The Wolf slipped effortlessly into that tongue.

“Well Master Mariner. If you wish to live, you will board your vessel and follow my instructions. You will convey myself, my comrades and my freight to a place of my choosing, which I will disclose directly. Do this, and you will not only live, but be well paid into the bargain. If however you fail to do as you are bid … well …” and he nodded in the direction of Serkan who was chivvying the last of his crew aboard with the flat of a scimitar. The Portuguese crew immediately became compliance personified.

Wil looked back over the side of the ship at the Moroccan coast. A tumult of emotions were coursing through him, but two over-ruled all others: doubt and confusion. He looked at the crew, terrified men all, even the Master whose hands grasped the wheel so hard his knuckles showed white through his tanned, weather-beaten skin. Every now and then, his nautical experience would automatically cause him to ease his grip and correct the ship’s course. Then the Portuguese captain would glance sternwards and the knuckles would whiten again. Wil followed his nervous eyes to settle on the xebec gliding smoothly and menacingly off their beam. De Rood had said that the Corsairs would ‘escort’ them through the straits of Gibralter and north towards Biscay. Wil frowned. What was to stop the pirates taking everything? Why indeed hadn’t they done so already? Why weren’t they all dead by now? What hold did De Rood have over the Corsairs. Question after question circled around Pitkin’s fevered brain. He leaned over the rail and sank his head onto his arms with a groan. He understood nothing of what had transpired and dared not even think about what lay in store. The Wolf appeared from forward where he had been in animated conversation with Jacob and Simon. Over De Rood’s shoulder, Wil could see the two Jews fiercely gesticulating and declaiming in what he assumed was Hebrew, but might just as easily have been the language of Cathay for all he knew.

“You have escaped from Hades Wil, why then do you frown and groan so?” asked the Dutchman. Pitkin’s mouth opened and closed without sound once or twice then he turned to the rail again.

“I don’t know if I believe I have escaped Lord. There lies Morocco still in plain sight. And yonder sails a Sale raider, twin brother to that which first brought me here. I feel I am just on a tether and someone is playing with me at their whim.”

“Understandable,” shrugged the Wolf. “But you are free nonetheless.”

“But how can I be sure Lord? Everyone seems to have betrayed everyone else?”

“And I have in turn played false with them all?”

“So it would seem Lord.”

“And thus you hesitate to trust me to the minutist degree? This also is understandable. Perhaps I may try and explain. Where then shall I begin Master Pitkin?”

“With Yusef.”

“As you wish. This escape upon which we are now embarked was not decided upon the instant - far from it. I have been thinking upon it these many years. Yet I did not intend to escape only to be dragged back to the pens again because of poor planning. So, I considered my options and made my plans accordingly. I became a soldier, a good one, and after some years I became the Sultan’s commander-in-chief. Thus I accumulated wealth and influence. I gained some small measure of freedom and did much as I pleased so long as it coincided with the Sultan’s wishes. Yet all the time I was refining my planning, making valuable contacts, and putting things in place that I knew would one day assist my escape. Yusef’s time is all but over now and soon he will fall. I do not intend to be in his pay when this occurs and I have no feelings of conscience or debt to that madman. And now of course that I am ‘dead’, he will not be looking for me.”

“Very well. The Berbers think you are dead because of your trick with the cloak and horse. Van Ryer’s bones now lie in the desert. What then of your messengers? How have you ensured their silence?”

“The boxes and barrels they took from the beach. Guns Wil, guns, shot and powder. Ehud had plans to buy them from the Portuguese with his fruit-hidden assets and sell them on to the highest bidder. Now the Saadians have them and even now those worthy warriors will be planning an uprising against the Sultan. Their silence is guaranteed, any careless words would compromise their cause.”

“And what pray of your pirate friend Serkan my Lord? What stops him killing us all and usurping your wealth?”

“Greed. Greed and vengeance. He wants to be leader of all the Sale Corsairs. For that he needs influence with the other captains, and to influence such men you need money as well as a reputation. His reputation is well established and I have just given a taste of the wealth he will need to gain power and settle a few old scores along the way. Once back in the civilised world, we should be able to put some, shall we say, ‘business’ his way.”

“You would inform him of your own countrymen’s shipping voyages?” exclaimed Wil.

“Certainly not! But I would advise him as to the movements of my enemies. Such a trade of information and merchandise could prove profitable to both of us.”

“You mentioned vengeance?”

“Yusef killed his two brothers. He had them roasted in a huge copper pot for some imagined act of unfaithfulness. Yusef has doubtless forgotten all about it, Serkan has not. He merely bides his time.”

“Is this then the ‘business’, the company, of which you spoke? Piracy and slaving?”

“It is but one aspect of a broader plan to be considered. Do you scruple at the notion?”

Wil considered a while then found he was almost completely ambivalent about it.

“No, I do not believe I am. One more question Lord … ” The Wolf held up his hand.

“No longer
Lord
Wil. ‘Sir’, ‘Master’ perhaps, but never again
Lord
I think.”

“Very well then Sir. You speak of enemies, they whose schemes might be made to fall foul of … others,” said Wil nodding in the direction of the xebec.

“Just so, and what is your question Wil?”