2. Journey

  From Safi, Adaneus landed at Rabat within 3 days, buying food and other supplies, stocking up on lime water and medicinal vinegar and continued his journey, he looked at various maps, wondering where exactly he could dock and rest and feed his sailors.

  “Maretimo?” He asked sheepishly.

  “There is nothing there, plus there are Muslim powers, it’s a rock anyway,” Kwame responded, poo-pooing the idea.

  “I hear the Normans are gathering forces and trying to take various places,” a sailor interjected.

  “Right,” Adaneus said, “that is probably not the best place to make a trading outpost.”

  “Or it is the best,” Kwame said, “your crystals do fascinate me, they could make wealth beyond our wildest dreams.”

  “They could, but I am not particularly interested in being a pawn of Christian or Muslim powers. How they treat you, I don’t like. And I hear the Christians aren’t any more tolerant.”

  “It is true,” Kwame said.

  A man with knotted hair, he was keen to look over the bow and stern, catching the ocean spray with a satisfaction in his face. Smelling and breathing the freedom for the first time in his life.

  On December 5th they landed at Tangier. Adaneus now more than certain of his eventual destination.

  “The Port city of Bari has been under siege for almost three years now, it is located in southern Italy, and seems like an interesting base, I can make it mine. Uniquely mine.”

  “Bari,” Kwame said, “I think I’ve read about it somewhere, and what is the plan there?”

  “I probably have to hire some mercenaries,” Adaneus said, “the town is under siege, plus it is not a bad idea to have some kind of protection. Muscle.”

  “Muscle huh,” Kwame mused, “I guess.”

  On December 9th they landed at Oran, they hired a few Farfan mercenaries, spending 40 gold Dinars on 10 crossbowmen, and hiring a learned Christian. Butros. Butros had fair hair and blue eyes, an interesting specimen of a man, and a complete contrast to Kwame and his black slaves. He had a bundle of books and at least from the name seemed to be a Christian of a sort, although living in the land of dar al islam. From Oran, Adaneus collected data. Frankincense and Cloves were expensive, as was saffron.

  “Cloves and frankincense could make a lot of money?”

  “Sure, black pepper, and nutmeg could too,” Butros said, slightly naive to Adaneus’s powers.

  “Right, yeah,” Adaneus said eyes widening, “then I will grow those too,” he muttered inaudibly.

  On December 13th they landed at Algiers, with 50 golden Dinars they bought a bunch of wheat, millet, camel milk cheese and 10 armoured swordsmen, deploying them as marines, the small trading ship trundled along the north African coast with a degree of adventure, but the captain of the fleet knew his destiny was his to make. By night time when he finished all their packing preparations and were busy sailing along, Kwame his lieutenant sat next to him. Butros likewise came to him, watching the waves as they crashed along the ships surface.

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  “This cog is a mighty vessel,” Butros said, “I wonder how anyone has courage to float along here.”

  “It is a perilous thing the sea,” Adaneus thought aloud, “maybe I should head elsewhere.”

  “Bari sounds interesting, I don’t know why you would want to go to a war zone.”

  “To seek something lost,” Adaneus said with diction, “I think that must be it, to seek something lost.”

  “And when you find it?” Kwame said.

  “Then the world will know my name,” Adaneus whispered again with diction.

  “Will the world know my name?” Kwame laughed.

  “I hope so,” Adaneus said, “for we will change many things. That I am certain of.”

  The Ancient city once called Hippo Regius by the Romans took another 4 days. December 17th 1070. A week and a day from the important day of Christmas, a custom that Adaneus was not familiar with but had heard rumours about. Butros said it was a time of prayer and gifts.

  “If you intend to alleviate the siege then you need another ship,” Butros said, “from what I hear there are Norman ships, and not a lot food in the city.”

  They bought another cog with 400 Dinars, emptying the gold dinars for the day, Butros still didn’t quite understand where the money came from, and truthfully didn’t understand who Adaneus was. He bought a ship, and hired some more crew, as well as stacking some wheat and millet.

  Once again the ship took 2 days roughly and they landed at the port of Bizerte, December 19th there Butros caught some malaise, and the true power of the crystal was seen, for one of the purple crystals dissolved in Adaneus’s hand and the malaise disappeared.

  “What kind of sorcery… is that?”

  “The lord Magec gives me two of these every day my friend, a gift for saving a person a long time ago.”

  “A heathen?” Butros said, “worse a polytheist. To think I discussed philosophy and history with you.”

  He did a cross and muttered to himself.

  “The Lord Magec forgives all, and gives to all,” Adaneus laughed, “the christ worshippers have their sense of honour, and Muhammed’s modern followers have their way as well.”

  “That consists of chopping heads,” Kwame interjected.

  “Ah you too huh?” Butros said, “well, I have certainly got some interesting company.”

  “Never a boring day, the Lord of Magec would hate for that,” Adaneus said sheepishly.

  Butros stared at the man with a sense of

  “Christians have an honour too,” Butros began.

  “And as many sects as there are stars in the sky,” Adaneus laughed, much to Butros’s protestations.

  They talked philosophy while the two ships floated across the sea.

  December 22nd Adaneus landed at yet another Muslim power this time on Sicily, the port of Syracuse was a mere pit stop, while they loaded their ship with grain, and bought some crossbows and knives. Adaneus aimed one of them while on his ship, knowing that he might have to use them if the need arose. The whole thing was foreboding and gave him goosebumps.

  “Hmmm…” he thought aloud.

  “Ah a wise one,” the mercenary captain said, “you are not some foolish lad who thinks it’s all fun and games.”

  “I have not seen war, but I can imagine it,” Adaneus mused, “it does not look like something one can recover from.”

  “Quite,” the mercenary said polishing his sword, “quite,” he said quietly, looking into the distance.

  Adaneus smile sniffed and himself looked at the port before him. Luxurious tapestries, bazaars and the call to prayer was heard.

  Is this guy really going to start a war?

  “I hear the Normans took Messina, like the romans before them,” Adaneus mused.

  “I suppose so, conquerors turned conquered,” the mercenary captain said, “it is nice talking to you boss. I never thought you would be like that.”

  The various colours and tapestries were left. It was technically winter for the northern hemisphere, but the sun was hot enough, the air was cooler, but Adaneus was sweating against his linen fabrics.

  Linen. He thought. Cataloguing other exportable items.

  December 30th, after a long journey of basically a month, Adaneus’s journeying ended. There he saw the coastal fortress of Bari. Under the cover of darkness he slipped past the blockade, and into the harbour, confused Eastern Romans shouted as the ships sailed into the harbour relatively un-harassed, the random nature of the ships arrival spooking everyone into being mere spectators.

  “Oi! Oi! Who the fuck are you? What are you…”

  Seeing the bags of wheat, the soldiers in the harbour could not contain their joy.

  “How much do you want for this?” One sailor asked.

  “Let’s say it is my gift to the city,” Adaneus said, much to the amazement of the guards.

  There was jubilation, and Adaneus would start a new chapter of his life.