“Is this the man?” The master gestured to Henry.
“Aye, that’s him.” Neither did it surprise him that Newt had learned to speak Arabic. The boy had an uncanny knack for languages.
“Come closer.” The master turned his gaze on Henry.
Bahir shoved him forward. “Move, English.”
Henry. He was a man and his name was Henry. Just once, Henry would like to match the sod with steel and pay Bahir back in kind. Keeping any emotion from his face, he bowed his head before the master.
“This man…er…Newt is here to purchase your freedom.” Master hefted a clinking bag in his palm. “He tells me you are of noble blood.”
So softly only Henry heard it, Bahir snorted.
“I am.” Henry straightened his shoulders. Yester eve Newt had ripped open the wound and now the memories refused to be suppressed. Henry rose up from within English and demanded his rightful place.
“He offers quite a tidy sum for your freedom.”
“Which according to the holy Qur’an, you are obliged to accept.” Newt oozed affability. “For by freeing the slave, you become a companion of the Right.”
The master’s eye flashed. “Do you presume to quote the holy law to me?”
“Nay.” Newt bowed. “Forgive my eagerness, but Sir Henry has a family who long for him. I am under a sacred blood vow to return him to them.”
The master rested his chin on his palm. “Tell me of this family, this Anglesea.”
“Sir Arthur, Sir Henry’s father, is the greatest knight in all the kingdom. Nay.” Newt struck a pose, chin angled up, one leg before the other. “The greatest warrior in the Christian world.”
Spreading it a trifle thick there and Henry threw him a sardonic glance.
As if he drew his words from the sky, Newt raised his hand. “He has amassed for his family great wealth. He holds the ear of King Henry.”
Henry stifled a snort. Held the king’s ear, his ass. A king hadn’t set foot in Anglesea Castle since Father had joined the Army of God against King John. Had matters changed? Undoubtedly. When he left, Father had been whoring William out to the highest bidder. William could be married by now, perhaps even with a babe or two. The weight of his longing hit him broadside, and it was all he could do to stay standing. Damn Newt for opening the hidden chest within him, because now all the faces flooded out. William, Roger, Faye, Bea, Mathew, even bloody Garrett. His father, and his beautiful mother. Nurse. So close he could almost believe he would see them again they hovered before him.
The master rubbed his mouth. “Yet, all this time he said nothing?”
Bahir poked him in the back. He half turned to punch the piss out of the bastard before he collected himself.
Eyes glittering a challenge, Bahir smirked.
“The army had retreated.” Henry found his voice. “I was felled in battle, an old couple found me and nursed me back to health. I hit my head and it took me a while to recollect who I was. They kept me to work off my debt to them, and then sold me when they needed the money. By the time I reached the market in Cairo, my people were gone.”
The master nodded, a look in his eyes that told Henry he understood something of being alone in a land not your own. He straightened and turned to Newt. “Your visit is rather timely, as I have a delicate problem of my own.”
“If it is within my power to help you.” Newt laid a hand over his heart. “Perhaps we can help each other to a mutually agreeable outcome.”
“Indeed.” The master’s lips quirked into a smile. He tossed the bag of gold back at Newt. “What I require of you is not money. I will take my payment in kind.”
Newt snatched the bag out of the air and tucked it away. “Indeed?”
“My daughter needs to travel back to Genoa, to my family.” Behind Henry, Bahir shifted. “I am sending Bahir along with her, but she is a stranger to my native land. She has been raised here.”
“Ah.” Newt nodded. “You fear for her safety.”
The master scowled. “What do you know of this?”
“I have ears.” Newt shrugged. “I keep them low to the ground.”
“I am sure you do.” Snorting, the master shifted in his seat. “Your Sir Henry could be of service to me. To my daughter. He could provide her an introduction to my family and more importantly, teach her much on the voyage to Genoa.”
The question escaped Henry before he it had truly formed in his mind. “Teach her what?”
“How to go about in Genoa. Customs.” The master shrugged. “Manners. All those things you were raised knowing.”
His girl on the wall placed within his grasp by her father. Henry’s pulse quickened.
“When you say voyage?” Newt cocked his head. “Are we to infer that travel arrangements have been made?”
“You are.” The Master rose. “My fastest ship awaits Bahir and my daughter in Alexandria. It would be a simple matter to have them sail you home once they are done.”
“Not to doubt your word.” Newt spread his hands wide. “But how are we to know you will not simply strand us in Genoa.”
Bahir grumbled.
The master’s face reddened. “I hand my daughter into your care. I have nothing more binding to offer as my bond.”
“I will protect her.” Henry stepped forward. The knight he had once been rose hot in his blood. “I vow this to you, or I will die trying.”
* * * *
Alya pressed her palms into her eyes to stem the flow of tears. It did no good because the more she tried to stop crying, the harder she cried. Her father decreed she would leave Cairo and journey to Genoa. Father assured her his brother would welcome her, love her as he did, but she did not know these people.
Since her mother’s death it had been only her and Father. Unlike other girls who were sheltered and separated from the larger world, Father treated her as a son. He taught her to read and write, he showed her mathematics and made sure she knew it well. He had Bahir teach her the stars and how to navigate by them. More than his daughter, she was his helpmate and his confidant. Now, in one staggering blow, he had made this decision without her. Made a decision about her future without consulting her and none of her cajoling, wheedling and begging made one ounce of difference.
All through her long, sleepless night she had waited for him to come to her, and tell her of his change of heart.
With the first touch of dawn, the camels stood ready in the courtyard. Bahir shouted orders to the hired guards who would travel with them. Her stomach churned as they loaded her litter on the largest camel.
She was leaving. Leaving Cairo. Leaving her father. Who would make sure the cook made Father’s favorite sweet treats, or prepared his mint tea for him after his meal? When he looked to speak of his life before he came here, who would wonder at his stories of strange customs and foods?
Camels brayed from the courtyard as the sky lightened. A lone cockerel announced dawn to the city. Beyond the walls, a sleepy peddler pushed his barrow of wares down the road.
Her life was here, and when she left, her heart would remain.
“It is time.” His face tired and drawn as if he too had spent a bad night, Father stood in her doorway.
She left the tears trickling down her cheeks. Maybe if he saw how he broke her heart, Father would relent. He never could bear her tears. “Please.”