A Storm at Samos

“When they couldn’t find your father, they made it look as if he had killed Tyros by taking the marked oar from your boat. Then they sat back to see who would start asking questions.”

“Why not just take us and put us to the question, Cadfael?”

“So I thought, Nicodemus. But it would be passing strange to accuse us of involvement when the world knows we were at sea and nowhere near the Island at the time. The only real possibility was Ariana, and I greatly feared that they would take her while I was away. Now, Ariana, is there some place – a sea cave, a deserted house or something – somewhere within a few hours’ sailing that your father and Tyros would know? If I’m right, ‘tis there we’ll find some answers.”

“But what of my father? Where is he?”

“I believe he’s safe enough for the nonce. I think it likely that Bohemond’s men came for him. Either to make him safe or to secure their master’s treasure. If it had been the Scorpions, we’d doubtless now be told that the murderer Alexandros had been apprehended or had died resisting his arrest.”

“That sounds like reason to my ears, girl. I think Cadfael is right. The fact we’ve heard naught of your father speaks to me that he is safe enough for now.”

Ariana looked dubious. She hoped it were so but was still consumed by worry. She forced herself to think of Cadfael’s question. Was there some secret place her father knew? She cast her mind back to the hours they had spent together in the little skiff. He had spoken to her of the sea and passed to her his knowledge of the waters around Samos, his weather-lore and seamanship, his deep abiding love of the ocean in all its moods. He had told her of snug anchorages where a small craft could run for shelter in any given wind. He had shown her places where fish would run at different seasons and also where the hidden reefs lurked beneath the azure surface, waiting to rip an unwary hull. There were sea caves aplenty in the limestone rocks, both here on the Island and on the coast of Turkey, a scant handful of miles to the north, but none she knew of were especially secret. She relayed this to Cadfael who looked disappointed.

“Well then, girl,” said Nicodemus, “think where a man might land a cargo by night. With just two of them, it would need to be a handy place where they could take the ‘Star’ close inshore. It would need to be done privily, so there should be no homes nearby. Know you such a spot?”

Ariana thought hard. She dredged her memory for steep-to beaches where the water was deep close in. There was but one on Samos that would fit that particular bill and perhaps two or three more on the mainland. Beyond these few, she was at a loss. She told the others what she could remember. Then a thought struck her. If ‘The Patriot’ had indeed been scuttled, there was but one place in these waters where it might be done and leave no trace. For the most part, the waters were too shallow and clear. Only to the south east of the Island was there water deep enough to hide a ship. She said as much.

“Well, then, our course seems clear enough. Cadfael, you go with Ariana and search these landings. I’ll take my ship to the deep and trail an anchor to see what we might fish! As soon as this storm blows through, we’d best be about it.”

“Aye. And we should send word to Ioannis. He’ll want to know the ‘Star has been impounded. Best also that we tell him of these Scorpions. He’ll alert the other ship owners. They’ll not want barratry to thrive unchecked.”

“A good thought, Cadfael. Kostas came in last night and is bound for Adrianopolis with wine. I’ll have him pass the word to Ioannis. He’ll likely also tell the insurance men.”

Cadfael nodded. He had forgotten that the Byzantine ship owners pooled their risks. If piracy and barratry were rife, those who underwrote the risks would want to know. The more men hunting down these Scorpions the better. However, it was troubling that a man such as the Port Captain should be involved. This spoke of treachery in high places; then Cadfael had to own, that would hardly be unusual in the Byzantine world. Had there not just been an attempt on the Emperor’s life, inspired, it was said, by some who were close to him? He rubbed a hand through his russet curls and sighed. The greed and wickedness of men seemed omnipresent.

The storm abated somewhat during the night but it was still too rough the following day to venture out to sea in Ariana’s small boat. By afternoon the seas had subsided sufficiently for Cadfael to bring his ship round to the harbour and, together with the crew, they set about repairing the sprung planking. When they had finished, dirty and tired from their efforts, Cadfael bathed and changed and went ashore. Ariana had invited him to her home to dine that evening and he had accepted with pleasure if a touch of chagrin that Nicodemus would also be there. They spent the evening pleasantly enough. Cadfael told Ariana something of his life as a soldier of the Cross and Nicodemus questioned him closely about what he knew of Count Bohemond, the King of Antioch.

“The man is a good soldier and something of an enigma. Like most of the Norman breed, he’s arrogant and thinks his word to be law. For all that, he’s a fair man and has a strong sense of justice. His nephew, Tancred, is also a great warrior but more given to flights of passion. There’s something of the monk about Bohemond, but nothing base that I could ever see.”

“An ambitious man, though?”

“That he is! ‘Tis said he would make himself Emperor and re-unite the Church. That sounds to me like the man. Everything must be dressed in a higher purpose. But of those knights who took the cross, I think he, alone, was sincere in his wish to see the holy places free.”

“And the rest?”

“It always appeared to me that they were in it for the plunder or the indulgences.”

“Indulgences?”

“The Pope decreed absolution of all past sins for those who would take the cross. There were some whose sins weighed heavy on their souls.”

“And you, Cadfael, why took you to the Crusade?”

“Young man’s folly for the most part, if truth be told. Oh, I believed sincerely enough in the cause at first but it was mostly for the adventure. I could not be content with the lot of a younger son in Wales. First I hired myself to an English wool-merchant and when that life began to pall, I took the cross and became a soldier.”

“How came you to the sailor’s life, then?”

“Ah, Ariana, that would be a long story. Suffice it to say that the reality of following the Cross was less than I had hoped. It is one thing to risk all for that you believe in but quite another when the cause proves unworthy. I saw as much virtue among the Moors - nay, more virtue - than I could descry among our leading men, Bohemond apart. After Jerusalem fell, I called it quits and took another path. Nicodemus granted me a berth and I took to the life.”

“What he doesn’t tell, Ariana, is that he saved me from a gang of cutthroats. Some wharf-rats in St Simeon would have had my life in exchange for my poor purse. This Cadfael here came to my aid and despatched them. I thought him then a handy man to have at my side in a fight. I now own him as a friend and more besides.”

Ariana smiled and refilled the wine cups.

“He has proved as true a friend to me, also,” she said.

The next day dawned clear and calm. The remnants of the storm had blown away and only a slight chop was left to serve as a reminder. Cadfael rose early and broke his fast before repairing to the inner basin to meet Ariana and begin their search. He found her ready and waiting when he arrived. Her boat was drawn up close to the sea wall and she called him aboard. Once clear of the basin, she hoisted the little sail and the small craft skipped over the waves as she headed down to the east of the Island. Cadfael watched her handling the boat. Her skill was obvious and he enjoyed looking at her. She wore only a short tunic, clean but much patched, and he gazed with frank admiration at the fluid grace with which she moved, hard muscle under satin skin.

Before long, she eased the little vessel into a tiny cove. Cadfael looked down into the clear depths and guessed there was full five fathom under the keel even though they were but a short distance from the beach. The storm had left the shingle piled high and had scoured the water’s edge, making it impossible to beach the boat. Ariana dropped a large stone anchor over the bow and turned to smile at him.

“This is the only place I know on Samos that father could have brought the ‘Star’ close inshore. I doubt this is the place, though. Have you marked the houses up the hill?”

Cadfael nodded; the bay was clearly overlooked and could scarcely be called secret. Still, he thought, it would be as well to look around and, hiking up his tunic, he slipped over the side and waded ashore. There was little to be seen. A steep path led away from the beach up the hill towards the houses. A couple of fishing boats had been pulled well clear of the water. It was clear the bay was much frequented. He knew this was not the place they sought and said as much. He climbed back into the boat and Ariana hauled the anchor and they put out to sea once more, heading north towards the coast of Turkey.

Meanwhile, Nicodemus had sailed to where the deep water lay. The area was plain enough; the darker blue showed clearly where the bottom fell away into some sort of seabed trench. Nicodemus was dismayed to see the deep blue patch extended for almost a league to the south and was, perhaps a quarter as wide. There was no help for it, he thought and began the laborious task of dragging a kedge back and forth over the area. It took a full sixty fathoms of rope to touch bottom. Nicodemus knew they were in for a long day.

By noon, Cadfael and Ariana had searched two more possible places. The first had proved a waste of time. It was clear it was much used by fishermen. The second had looked hopeful for a time until they had realised that it, too was overlooked, this time by a watchtower that proved to be the base of a detachment of the Emperor’s soldiers. Ariana thought there was one final possibility, six or so miles to the east. She suggested they sail down that way but look for somewhere to beach on the way to cook a midday meal. Half an hour’s fishing brought a plump catch and they soon spotted a deserted cove which, they saw, would offer easy landing. Ariana ran the boat up to the beach and Cadfael sprang ashore to pull the little vessel further up out of the waves. They gathered driftwood for a fire and cooked their fish in companionable silence.

The day was now hot and there was only a slight breeze to cool them. They sat for a while after eating and looked about them.

“If only the water were deeper close in, this would be the ideal sort of place for a discreet landing.”

Ariana agreed. “True, but there are dozens such along this coast and a score besides on Samos.”

“I fear this day is bootless. All we have done is fry our brains.”

She looked at him and smiled broadly. His face, though burnt brown by the sun, was showing traces of red and he was perspiring freely, damp curls sticking to his forehead. His eyes were screwed up against the sun’s glare and she thought he looked a picture of misery. For his part, Cadfael saw her cool and healthy-looking. Her flawless olive skin showed no trace of the heat and her riot of dark hair framed an oval face that cried out youth and vitality. Her clear brown eyes regarded him with ill-disguised amusement. He was forced to smile in answer. He imagined he saw something else within her gaze. It seemed to him there was a challenge lurking there behind the beguiling smile. She stood with a lithe movement and walked with a slow, hip-swinging gait to the water’s edge.

“Come, Cadfael, this will cut no bait! We’ve one more place to search before evening.”

She climbed aboard and he pushed the boat into the water, stumbling as it lurched away from him and he ended up prone in the backwash, spluttering and coughing. She laughed aloud, but without malice.

“If you could see your face! Now, get aboard before you drown. I’ll warrant you’re no swimmer.”

Cadfael grunted and heaved himself over the gunwale. He tried to glare at her but burst out laughing instead.

“I must confess I never learned the art too well. I can float, right enough, but swimming is beyond my compass, although I’ve never felt the lack.”

She laughed. “Then I must teach you.”

They sailed down the coast with the sun behind them. The clear water sparkled and the loom of Samos in the distance looked green and inviting. Low limestone cliffs intercut by small bays passed to their left and Cadfael’s mood lightened with the pure pleasure of sailing in the company of a lovely young woman. After a couple of hours, Ariana altered course towards the land. Cadfael was puzzled. He could discern no cove but the girl pressed on. It was only when they were but a stone’s throw from the cliffs that he saw the entrance. A low promontory ran parallel to the shore all but hiding the cove that lay behind. From the sea, the coastline appeared to be unbroken. He felt a sudden surge of expectation; here, indeed, was a secret harbour.

They rounded the point and slipped into the calm waters of the bay. The water beneath the keel was clear as glass and he could make out a shoal of small fish darting hither and thither among the rocks below. No storm had touched this beach. A mixture of sand and shingle lay at the sea’s margin. He looked about to landward but saw nothing. No houses overlooked the beach and there were no fishing craft drawn up upon the strand. Ariana drove the boat ashore and when Cadfael stepped over the side to help her pull it up the beach, he was startled to find the water rose to his shoulder. It was no small labour to climb out of the sea, so steeply did the beach shelve.

“A man could sail within bowshot and never know this place was here,” he said in wonder.

“In truth, I had all but forgotten it myself. My father brought me here once years ago. He found it by chance one year when caught on a lee shore. He swore that St Anthony guided his hand that day. Had it not been for this bay, he would have been lost. He ever called it ‘St Anthony’s bay’ thereafter.”

“If they sought such a secret anchorage that night then surely this is it, Ariana.”

They moved on up the beach and cast about for any sign that Tyros and Alexandros had indeed been there. The heavy rain of the storm had washed away any footprints that might have lingered in the sand. The beach was innocent of any sign of life. Low cliffs backed the sand and shingle shore without a break. No pathway showed itself and there appeared to be no egress from the beach to the interior save a dizzying scramble up the weathered rock. It was not the sort of ascent to be attempted by night and heavily burdened. Cadfael felt his spirits fall. He had been certain this was the place they were looking for but there was nowhere to be seen that a man might hide so much a bauble, much less a treasure horde.

Ariana felt his dejection. She had not voiced her thoughts but she had long doubted they would find anything. She took his hands in hers and gave him a shy smile.

“It was a brave attempt, Cadfael, and a good thought. Now we needs must think again.”

He shrugged. He had been so sure that he had read it aright. Now it appeared he had been mistaken. He turned back towards the boat and stiffened.

“What’s that?”

“Where?”

“There, on the headland, close to the waterline.”

Ariana’s gaze followed his outstretched arm and she gasped.

“It looks like a cave half under the water.”

They rushed back to the boat and pushed off. Ariana seized one oar and sculled over the stern for the thirty or so yards across to the headland. She threw the stone anchor over the side and stared at the fissure in the rock. Only about six feet of it was above the water and it was so narrow that Cadfael thought even one as slim as Ariana would struggle to pass through it. However, in the clear depths they could see a large cave entrance lay just beneath the surface. He wondered how he could ever get in; as he’d told Ariana, he had never mastered the art of swimming. They same thought had obviously struck her for she chose that moment to shyly demand that he turn his back. He stared at her uncomprehending until she started to tug at the hem of her tunic. He flushed furiously and spun away. He heard a slight splash and the boat rocked slightly as she entered the water in a graceful dive. He caught a tantalising glimpse of her naked body as she slid through the cool depths into the cave.

Ariana broke surface deep within the cave and pushed the hair back out of her eyes. It took a moment or two to become accustomed to the dim light streaming through the narrow fissure. She became aware of the sheer size of the place. It stretched back thirty or so feet and was half as wide. She pulled herself up on to a shelf of rock to the right of the entrance and stared about. At first she could no sign of anything secreted within the cave but then she saw the unmistakeable shape of a Samian wine amphora. She climbed gingerly over the sharp rock and discovered five more such amphorae half hidden behind a slight outcrop of limestone. She was puzzled. Why would anyone go the trouble of hiding wine? Then she gave a start. Perched on a rock next to the earthenware vessels was the soapstone figure of a patriarch. It suddenly dawned on her that perhaps the amphorae contained something else.

She stepped gingerly over the sharp rock and tried to pull one of the giant earthenware jars upright. It was too heavy so she rolled it carefully until she could gain access to the sealed neck. The seal was covered in wax and she could make little impression on it with her bare hands. She needed a knife. Slipping back into the water, she swam out into the sunlight where Cadfael was eagerly awaiting her return.

“I found some amphorae! I need a knife.”

Cadfael did his best to ignore the sight that greeted his eyes as he fumbled for his belt knife. As she reached up to take the blade, his gaze was drawn to her breasts. He looked away, colouring furiously, and handed her the knife with eyes averted. She almost laughed aloud at his obvious discomfort. At the same time, she felt a small thrill; there was something deliciously sinful in exposing herself to the young captain. She slipped back under the water and told him it was all right to look. He turned back to her, face blazing. The clear water did little to hide her body and he forced himself to keep his eyes firmly on her face.

“They’re too heavy to move much but I should be able to see what’s inside. Are you sure you can’t swim?”

Cadfael swallowed and shook his head.

“Very well. Wait there. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

Something, some little streak of wickedness, made her turn away in a surface dive. Cadfael groaned aloud as he watched the sweet swell of her rump flash briefly above the water. That image, and the vision of two dark-nippled breasts, were engraved for ever on his memory. He had the feeling she was teasing him but could not begin to imagine what it might mean.

Ariana gently worked the knife blade around the wax seal. She slid the blade deeper into the gap between the neck and the stopper and started to prise it slowly upwards. The stopper came free with an audible ‘pop’ and several gallons of Samian wine gushed out of the vessel, washing over her feet and ankles. She jumped back in surprise. Itwas wine! After a moment’s thought she reached down and grabbed the now-empty jar, meaning to pull it away and try another. As the amphora skittered towards her she heard a dull thud from inside it. She seized the base of the vessel and pulled it up, shaking out whatever lay within into a puddle of wine. It was small bundle wrapped in greased leather. She picked it up and dived back into the water. With Cadfael’s knife in one hand and the bundle in the other, she propelled herself from the cave using only her legs.