Michael Spradlin - Keeper of the Grail

“You’re going to go in there?” Robard asked.

“Yes.”

Robard shook his head and chuckled.

“Don’t laugh. You’re coming in with me.” I had no intention of entering that place without someone to watch my back.

“Oh, don’t worry. I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” he said.

“Maryam, would you kindly wait here and keep watch? Give a shout if anyone shows up. Besides, I don’t think The Dancing Fig is any place for a…well…let’s just say it’s probably best that Robard and I go in alone.”

Maryam smiled and agreed to wait. Moving a few steps away she took a position inside the doorway of a building, giving her a good view of the street in both directions. The dog followed along and curled up at her feet.

I handed my short sword to Robard. “You might find this more useful than a bow or your dagger at close quarters,” I told him.

He held the sword out in front of him, as if I’d handed him a bouquet of flowers or a small kitten. “What are you going to use?”

“I still have the battle sword.” I adjusted it so that it lay across my back at a better angle, making it easier to draw.

Robard saw the logic of my suggestion and buckled my sword around his waist.

“Shall we?” I asked.

Entering The Dancing Fig we discovered that the inside looked even worse than the outside. The smell hit us like a punch in the face, an ugly combination of spilled ale, burned meat and unwashed men. My eyes began to water, and I waved my hand back and forth over my face for a few moments until I grew used to the odor.

It was dim inside, with light from a few oil lamps placed here and there along the walls. Some candles were lighted, placed on the few tables that took up the main part of the room. Along the back wall was a wooden bar with an open doorway behind it. A dark-haired man stood behind the bar, surveying us as we entered.

Most every table was occupied. A few of them held a single man drinking alone. Some of them were surrounded by small groups holding loud conversations. No one, except the man behind the bar, paid us any attention.

“Now what?” Robard whispered.

I didn’t answer, walking across the floor to the bar. Robard stepped to the side of the door, but kept his eyes on the occupants of the main room.

The man watched me approach, but his expression never changed. His eyes were hooded, and he appeared tired and uninterested in anything I might have to say. Unless I wanted to buy some ale, I expect he looked forward to the shortest possible conversation.

“Excuse me, sir. I’m seeking passage by ship out of Tyre, ideally to England. Do you know someone who might help me?”

The man stared at me, then at Robard still standing by the door, and said nothing.

“Excuse me. I’m looking for a ship.” I spoke more loudly this time.

Still nothing.

A thought occurred to me. I reached in the satchel, feeling around for the bag of coins that Sir Thomas had given me. I found a small one and placed it on the bar in front of me.

The man’s hand shot out for the coin like a cobra, but I grabbed his wrist while his fingers clutched the coin. The man glared at me, eyes narrowed, but I held his gaze.

“A ship?”

He nodded in the direction of a man sitting at a small table along the far wall. I let go of his wrist, and he quickly secreted the coin somewhere beneath the bar.

“Thank you,” I said.

Picking my way through the tables and chairs I reached the man sitting at the table along the wall. He was old, with white hair, or what might once have been white hair had it not been covered in dirt and grime. He wore a simple shirt and woolen leggings, but it was impossible to tell their color, they were so torn and dirty. He smelled like he’d been in the ale for a while, and indeed a dark jug sat next to a small cup on the table in front of him.

He stared up at me when I reached his table, closing one of his eyes as he tried to focus on me.

“Who’re you?” he asked.

“I’m told you have a ship. I’m interested in passage for me and my friend. I can pay. However, we need to leave right away. Tonight, if possible, first light at the latest. Can you help me?”

“A ship, you say? Aye, I’ve a ship. A fine ship she is. And I’m leaving tomorrow. Tomorrow without fail. You got money?” He squinted at me again.

“Yes, I have money for both of us. How much will it cost?”

He told me and I laughed. He wanted an outrageous sum. He tried again to focus on me with his other eye, but it appeared to not be working correctly, so he squinted at me again.

“Thank you. I think I’ll ask elsewhere.” I turned as if to walk away.

“Hold on there, laddie. I may be able to work with you on the price. If you’re willing to pitch in and do some rowing when the wind is down. Help out with the rest of the crew loading cargo and whatnot, we can make it work,” he said.

I stopped. I had never done anything like this negotiation before, but I knew that I shouldn’t give in easily.

“If we do as you say, then how much?” I asked. He told me.

“That’s an outrageous price. I’ll look elsewhere, thanks,” I said.

“Wait! All right. Fine! If you give me the money up front we can make a deal,” he said.

“I’ll give you half the money now, the rest when we reach our destination,” I countered. “And I’ll give you an extra five crosslets if we go to the ship now, immediately, and weigh anchor.”

The man-his name was Denby, he told me-sat thinking for a minute. At least I thought he was thinking. He could have been sleeping for all the ale he had drunk. He pointed to a group of men sitting at a table in the corner. They looked every bit as grimy as he did.

“That’s me crew,” he said. “I’ll have to get them to agree.”

“Do it then,” I said. “Tell them there are thirty regiments of Saracens about to attack Tyre at any moment. Then the city will be closed down. No one will get in or out.”

Denby’s head straightened up, with his one eye now focusing sharply on me. “Is that true?” he asked.

“Yes, it’s true. I would urge you to leave tonight or risk being caught in a city under siege.”

Denby sat back in his chair. It looked painful for him to have to concentrate this much. “Might as well,” he said, picking up the jug on his table, first shaking it, then tipping it over the cup. Nothing came out of it. “I’m out of ale and money.”

Standing up it took him a moment to be sure he had his balance and wasn’t going to fall over. He stumbled over to the table, speaking to the men in low tones. There was some grumbling, and there were curses and a few hotly exchanged words, but after a few moments the three men finished their drinks, stood up and made their way to the door.

Denby staggered back to me. “If you and your friend are ready, we can go now. Our longboat is tied to the dock outside. I’ll be taking the money now,” he said.

“I’ll give you the money when we are on your ship and under way, not before,” I replied.

He squinted at me again. “I’m beginning to think you don’t trust me.”

“Let’s go,” I answered.

Denby shuffled across the floor, barely keeping upright until he reached the door. He passed through it with scarcely a glance at Robard, who looked at me with his eyes wide, as if wondering if I was crazy enough to book passage with a drunken boat captain. Given Denby’s condition, I could only imagine what the ship must be like. But we needed to get out, and our options were few.

“Please tell me you know what you’re doing,” Robard whispered to me as we left The Dancing Fig.

“Of course. It’s all under control. I just booked us passage on a ship to England. We leave tonight,” I told him.