Fools' Gold Read online

  ‘No,’ Brother Peter said shortly. ‘I live inside my vows.’

  ‘But these two are truly husband and wife? In the sight of God?’

  Brother Peter opened his mouth. A little swell rocked the boat and he put his hand on the rail to steady himself.

  ‘You are their witness before God,’ the man reminded him. ‘I conjure you, in His name, to tell me the truth.’

  Brother Peter gulped.

  ‘On your oath as a priest,’ the man reminded him. ‘The truth, in the sight of God.’

  Brother Peter turned to Isolde as she stood, her arm still around Luca’s waist. ‘I am sorry,’ he said, his voice very low. ‘Very sorry. But I can’t lie on God’s name. I cannot do it.’

  She nodded. ‘I understand,’ she said quietly and moved away from Luca as he let her go.

  ‘He doesn’t have to say anything,’ Ishraq spoke up. ‘I will bear witness.’

  The man shrugged. ‘Your word means nothing. You are an infidel, and a slave and a woman. Your words are like birdsong in the morning. Too loud, and completely meaningless. Now,’ he turned his attention briskly to Luca. ‘Send both of the women over the side of the ship or I will order my men to board your craft and we will take them by force.’

  Luca looked down; there were about a dozen men in the galley, fully armed. He glanced at Freize, who stoically hefted his cudgel. Clearly, they could fight; but the odds were heavily against them. They were certain to lose.

  The commander turned to the boatman, who was grimly listening in the stern of the boat. ‘You are carrying stolen goods: these two women belong to the Lord of Lucretili. If I have to, I will board your ship to take them, and there may be damage to your ship or danger to you. Or you can give them up to me and there will be no trouble.’

  ‘I took them in good faith as passengers,’ the boatman shouted back. ‘If they are yours, they can go with you. I’m not responsible for them.’

  ‘There’s no point fighting,’ Isolde said very low to Luca. ‘It’s hopeless. Don’t try anything. I’ll give myself up.’

  Before he could protest, she called down to the man in the galley below: ‘Do you give your word that you will take us safely to my brother?’

  He nodded. ‘I am commanded not to harm you in any way.’

  She made up her mind. ‘Get our things,’ she said over her shoulder to Ishraq, who quickly went to the cabin and came out with their two saddlebags, tucking Freize’s knife out of sight, into the rope at her belt.

  ‘And what is to happen to me?’ Isolde demanded. She beckoned Ishraq to go with her as she went to the prow of the boat. The commander gestured to Luca and Freize that they should haul his boat alongside, so that the young women could climb down over the rail and into the waiting galley.

  ‘Your brother believes that you are trying to get to the Count of Wallachia for his help. He thinks you will try to get an army to come against him and claim your home. So he’s going to marry you to a French count who will take you away and keep you in his castle.’

  ‘And what about me?’ Ishraq asked, as Luca, Freize and Peter each took a grappling iron and, pulling on the ropes, walked the galley to the prow of the boat.

  ‘You, I have to sell to the Ottomans as a slave, in Venice,’ the man said. ‘I am sorry. Those are my orders.’

  Luca, whose father and mother had been captured by an Ottoman slaving galley when he was just a boy, went white and gripped the rail for support. ‘We can’t allow this,’ he said to Freize. ‘I can’t allow it. We can’t let this happen.’

  But Freize was watching Isolde, who had suddenly halted at the news that Ishraq would not be with her. ‘No. She comes with me,’ she said. ‘We are never separated.’

  The man shook his head. ‘My orders are clear. She is to be sold to the Ottomans.’

  ‘Be ready,’ Freize whispered to Luca. ‘I don’t think she’ll stand for that.’

  Isolde had reached the front of the ship. Stowed at her feet was an axe kept for emergencies – if a sail came down in a storm or if fishing nets had to be cut free. She did not even glance at it as she stepped up on the tightly knotted anchor rope, so that she could look down over the rail at the man who had come for her. ‘Sir, I have money,’ she pleaded. ‘Whatever my brother is paying you I will match, if you will just go back to him and say that you could not find us. Your men too can have a fee if you will just go away.’

  He spread his hands. ‘My Lady, I am your brother’s loyal servant. I have promised to take you back to him and sell her into slavery. Come down, or I will come and get you both, and your friends will suffer.’

  She bit her lip. ‘Please. Take me, and leave my friend. You can tell the lord my brother that you could not find her.’

  Wordlessly, he shook his head. ‘Come,’ he said bluntly. ‘Both of you. At once.’

  ‘I don’t want any fighting,’ she said desperately. ‘I don’t want anyone hurt for me.’

  ‘Then come now,’ he said simply. ‘For we will take you one way or another. I am ordered to take you dead or alive.’

  Freize saw her shoulders set with her resolve, but all she said was: ‘Very well. I’ll throw my things down first.’

  The commander nodded and put a hand on the grappling iron rope and drew his galley closer to their gently bobbing ship. Isolde leaned over the rail, holding the heavy saddlebag. ‘Come closer,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to lose my things.’

  He laughed at the acquisitive nature of all women – that Isolde should be such a fool as to be still thinking of dresses while being kidnapped! – and hauled the galley in even closer. The moment that it was directly under the prow of the ship Isolde dropped the saddlebag down to him. He caught it in his arms, and staggered back slightly at the weight of it, and at the same time she snatched up the hatchet and, with three or four quick, frenzied blows, hacked through the rope which held the heavy ship’s anchor against the side of the boat.

  Solid hammered iron, it plunged downwards, monstrously heavy and crashed straight through the galley’s light wood deck, and straight through the bottom of the galley, smashing an enormous hole and breaking the sides of the craft so the water rushed in from the bottom and from the sides.

  In a second Ishraq had jumped to be at her side, and had thrown her knife straight into the man’s face. He took the blade in his mouth and screamed as blood gushed out. Luca, Freize, and Brother Peter took the grappling irons and flung them onto the heads of the rowers below them, as water poured into the galley and the waves engulfed the ship.

  ‘Hoist the sail!’ Luca yelled, but already the boatman and his lad were hauling on the ropes and the sail bellied, flapped and then filled with the light wind and the ship started to move away from the sinking galley. Some of the rowers were in the water already, thrashing about and shouting for help.

  ‘Go back!’ Isolde shouted. ‘We can’t leave them to drown.’

  ‘We can,’ Ishraq said fiercely. ‘They would have killed us.’

  There were some wooden battens at the front of the boat. Isolde ran to them and started to haul on them. Freize went to help her, lifted them to the rail and pushed them into the water to serve as life rafts. ‘Someone will pick them up,’ he assured her. ‘There are ships up and down this coast all the time and it will soon be light.’

  Her eyes were filled with tears, she was white with distress. ‘That man! The knife in his face!’

  ‘He would have sold me into slavery!’ Ishraq shouted at her angrily. ‘He was taking you back to your brother! What did you want to happen?’

  ‘You could have killed him!’

  ‘I don’t care! I won’t care! You’re a fool to worry about him.’

  Isolde turned, shaking, to Brother Peter. ‘It is a sin, isn’t it, to kill a man, whatever the circumstances?’

  ‘It is,’ he allowed. ‘But Ishraq was defending herself . . . ’

  ‘I don’t care!’ Ishraq repeated. ‘I think you are mad to even think about him. He was your enemy. He