That morning, we passed through the gates of Vostitza behind a group of farmers taking their produce to market and a potter with a cart full of amphorae, pithoi, and other pots. None of the other men looked like warriors—Catalan or Venetian. Once inside, our group split up. Gil and Eudocia took Sebastie’s body and went to find a priest and arrange for burial. Aban and I went to the harbor.
“Keep a sharp eye out,” I told him. “We’re more likely to run into trouble here than elsewhere in the city.”
Aban adjusted his cloak so it wouldn’t hamper his movement. “After we find passage north, can we find something to eat? It’s been a long time since our last meal.”
“Don’t worry, my stomach is reminding me of the same thing.” The Turks had stolen my coin purse, and the Catalans had stolen its replacement, but what we’d taken from the Catalan bodies would be enough to buy food.
The space where the Sea Maiden had docked was empty. I motioned to it when a sailor passed by. “When did the Sea Maiden set sail?”
“Yesterday afternoon,” the man said.
“Any word on where it was headed?”
“Across the gulf, I imagine.”
“Not back to Venice or around the Peloponnese and away to the east?”
The man tilted his head to the side. “They didn’t take on enough supplies for a long trip. So they’ll have to stop somewhere before they head into the Ionian Sea. Wouldn’t make much sense to start a longer voyage without a full load of supplies, so I reckon they’re just heading across the gulf to Vitrinitsa.”
I could think of one reason they might sail without restocking completely: a desire to get away as quickly as possible. But I could hope the man was right, that Cecilia was just across the gulf, not lost in the Mediterranean. “Thank you. Do you know of any ships that might take on passengers for a trip north? Four people, four horses?” We had five animals but planned to sell one before we left and use the funds to pay our passage.
“Try that one there.” He pointed to a tarida some distance down the pier.
“Thank you.” I nodded and led Aban toward the tarida. Its two sails were lowered, and a pair of sailors moved about on the deck. Ships like that were designed to transport horses, it one looked capable of moving a score of them.
“It’s smaller than the Sea Maiden, isn’t it?” Aban asked.
“Yes, and you’ll feel the waves even more than you did on our way south.”
He frowned. “Maybe I shouldn’t bother with food this morning. I’ll only enjoy it a while before the fishes have it.”
“The rocking is worse on an empty stomach. And we don’t yet know when they’re sailing or if they’ll take us.”
A gray-haired man with muscular arms shouted directions to the men on board.
“Excuse me?” I asked him. “Are you the captain?”
“Aye.” He turned to give me his full attention.
“We’re looking for passage across the gulf. Today, if possible.”
He pulled at his chin. “How many of you?”
“Four horses, three men, one woman.”
“I could take you. We’re sailing with the tide. But I’ll give you fair warning: word is a Turkish raiding ship is sailing along the gulf. Those types of rumors fly more often than they don’t, but it could be treacherous.”
I’d had my fill of Turkish pirates. I didn’t want to sail toward a group of them, but the alternative was staying in the Peloponnese for the rest of the Catalans to find us. Neither option was ideal, but speed was. I negotiated with the man—Ignatios—about our fares and settled on a reasonable price.
“We’ll be back before it’s time to sail,” I told him.
Ignatios gave us a nod and turned back to the work of getting his ship ready for a voyage. Aban and I walked south to meet up with Gil and Eudocia.
“Doesn’t it make you nervous that the Turks are still out there?” Aban asked.
“Yes, but the Turks are always out there, and the gulf is plenty big. The captain wouldn’t be sailing today if he expected to run into them. But the Catalans here are a certainty.”
“We did fine against them last night.”
I lived only because Aban had killed one of them before the man could kill me. “If they surprised us, they would win. Catalans are renowned for their skill with the crossbow. They could ambush us, shoot all four of us before we caught sight of them. They’re dangerous. And they’ll be interested in revenge.”
Aban’s eyes darted around, scanning the rooftops of nearby buildings and the crowd heading to the market. Vostitza was a pleasant enough town, full of whitewashed walls, red-tile roofs, and an assortment of trees, but the possibility of revenge-hungry Catalans on the hunt for us stole away the beauty and made every shadow seem a little sinister.
We purchased food and made it to the church without incident, and Gil greeted us in the narthex.
“I found a captain,” I told him. “He’s leaving about the seventh hour.”
Gil nodded. “The priest said he can bury Sebastie this morning. He seemed disappointed that we won’t be following all the traditions, but a few coins eased his concerns.”
Visits to graves were expected on the third, ninth, and fortieth day after burial. We wouldn’t be around for any of them, but I didn’t think the exact dates mattered as long as someone remembered him.
Eudocia was inside, studying the frescoes, but she left the artwork when she noticed us, disappearing farther into the church, doubtless to fetch the priest. Aban seemed hesitant to go beyond the narthex, so I stayed with him until the priest and Eudocia came out.
The cemetery lay on the town’s outskirts. Gil had told others from the Navarrese Company about Sebastie’s death, and they met us there. Irregular bricks lined a shallow grave. We laid Sebastie inside. Greek tradition held that we were to grieve loudly, but Sebastie wasn’t Greek, and neither were the rest of us—other than Eudocia. Sebastie would understand. We had a ship to catch and an angry group of Catalans to escape from. And we all grieved, in our own way, even if that grief was largely silent.
The priest performed the ceremonial sprinkling of the body with oil, wine, and earth. Gil laid a tile etched with Jesus Christ conquers beside the body, and then he sang a haunting song in his native language while Eudocia held his hand. I recognized almost none of the lyrics, but that didn’t matter. Gil’s voice conveyed the emotions even when the words were Euskara. When he finished, we covered the grave with boards and tiles.
“He was the first Christian I ever liked,” Aban whispered.
I nodded. “I hope he won’t be the last.”
Aban’s lips turned up. “No. He isn’t.”
* * *
When we reached the harbor, the pier wasn’t quite as busy as it had been that morning. Fishermen had already taken their boats out, and some of the trading vessels had left too.
Captain Ignatios greeted us and took roughly half the proceeds from the sale of the horse we’d stolen from the Catalans. He frowned and handed part of the coins to an official with a long face.
“Sometimes anarchy is useful,” the captain said. “No one collects taxes or charges fees. Other times, it’s far worse. Everyone wants to collect them.”
Two of his men helped us load the horses. One of the mounts was reluctant to board, but Gil managed to calm the dun-coated gelding enough for it to cooperate with the sailors.
Before long, we were out of the harbor and heading north. Aban rushed to the rails and deposited his last meal over the side. Eudocia looked a little green too. Gil rubbed her back and murmured what were no doubt comforting words, but she kept a hand over her mouth for a while, as if not sure whether she would follow Aban’s example.
Aban slumped to the deck and put his head between his knees.
I sat beside him. “At least it’s a short journey.”
He grunted. “It got better, eventually, when I came from Barcelona. But only when the seas were calm.”
The waves were mild now, but I understood a little about pain that couldn’t be controlled, so I didn’t point out that it could have been worse. Eventually, Vostitza faded from view, and Gil and Eudocia sat beside us.
Gil put his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “To think that I used to want to take you sailing.”
“Sometimes it’s better if you keep something in your stomach.” I handed over one of the hard biscuits a sailor had offered Aban. He didn’t want to risk it, but Eudocia’s case didn’t seem quite as bad.
She accepted it and ate a small nibble.
Gil focused on me. “What will you tell her when you see her again?”
I knew he meant Cecilia, but I didn’t have an answer for him. “I don’t know. She kept secrets from me, so it’s not as if I can really trust her.” But the connection I’d felt to her was hard to ignore—and she’d felt it too, I was sure of it. “Nor can I forget her.”
One of the sailors shouted and pointed to the east.
“What did he say?” I asked. The wind had muddled his words.
“He sees another ship.” Gil stood, and I stood with him. Gil’s ears were still sharp, but few people would trust him with lookout duty. “What can you make out?” he asked me.
“Just a blur so far. Captain Ignatios said a Turkish pirate ship was sighted recently. I hope that’s not it.” But something told me it was—perhaps the same one that had almost taken Cecilia and me to the slave markets.
Gradually, sails came into view, then the hull, then oars.
“That’s a Turkish corsair,” Aban said. His face was still discolored, but he’d stood to watch with the rest of us.
We were in trouble. We knew it, and based on the activity of the crew, they knew it too. I strode to the captain to ask his plans.
“We’ll try to outrun her,” he said. “But the wind is mild today, and we don’t have oars.”
“Do you have any weapons?” I asked.
“Yes, but my men are sailors, not warriors. I assume you know a little of how to fight?”
I nodded.
“I thought so when you asked for passage. One of the reasons I agreed to take you.” He called a boy over. “Demetrios, show this man where the arms are. He and his friends can use what they wish.”
The boy led Gil and me belowdecks as the captain called for his men to take up their battle stations. Demetrios opened a wide trunk to reveal an assortment of weapons. Ignatios and his crew were mostly Greek, but the crossbows were Venetian. Despite my current grudge against Signors Bertaldo and Querini, the make of the weapons was useful. The Venetians made everything to set specifications, so the bolts and parts would be interchangeable. We grabbed all the crossbows—five—and gathered the plentiful supply of bolts. Gil and I had the swords we’d taken yesterday, Aban and Eudocia too. Demetrios grabbed swords and axes to distribute to the sailors above.
The corsair had closed noticeably by the time we returned to the deck’s surface. I recognized it now without reservation—the same pirate ship that had been part of the raid the day we’d left Thebes. Had it not been for Cecilia’s escape plan, I might have been one of the poor slaves on board now, rowing as hard as ordered so I wouldn’t be whipped.
“Have you ever been in a naval battle?” Aban asked me.
“No. You?”
“Until I followed you from Thebes, I hadn’t been in any sort of battle at all.”
Gil loaded one crossbow, then the other. “It’s not so different from a battle on land. The battlefield moves is all.”
Aban looked as if he might gag.