The Byzantine Wager

Chapter 10 - The Journey East

Chapter 10

The Journey East

Marco Dandalo knew a horse trader in Dyrrachium who set Pons and Cyn up with a pair of sturdy horses and a couple of mules. Pons bought from the man to be polite to Marco even though he thought he could have gotten a better deal on his own with another trader in the market. Anyway, his Greek was rusty and he knew it would be a few weeks to get his tongue and ear back into shape. The big Venetian bade the two mercenaries farewell and they wished one another luck in their ventures.

Before leaving Montferrat Marius had told Pons of the old Roman road, the Via Egnatia, which he had traversed - not too bad near the towns and cities, but once out into the middle of nowhere it turned to mud and horse shit in places. The first day they rode south and east, the road passing farms and cottages, churches, and orchards. Once during the morning they passed a stone which had a number carved into it. DCCXXXV.

"What is it?" Cyn asked.

"It's a milestone. There used to be one of these stones every mile all the way to Constantinople. But sometimes people take them. Keep your eyes open, you'll see more of them."

"What's the writin' on it mean?"

"It means," Pons grumbled, "That we've got a long way to go?"

They found an inn and a town at the end of their first day's journey. Dinner was fresh bread dipped in olive oil, roasted lamb, olives, baked onions, and honey pottage. One thing about Pons, thought Cyn, he does like to live well on the road.

"Eat up. The climb gets worse tomorrow." The old capo tossed back his wine and broke another loaf of bread.

He was right. The next day saw clouds, wind, and spitting rain. It was not a good day for travel. A stone bridge crossed the Genusus river but shortly after that the road began to disappear for stretches. They slipped in mud and had to lead the horses where floods had washed out sections. They encountered few travelers in the morning and none in the afternoon save for a strange monk wearing mud spattered black robes. He carried an enormous wooden cross which Cyn guessed must have weighed almost as much as the man himself. The monk staggered along the cobbled road with his burden and Pons asked him, in several languages, how far the next hostel was, but the monk spoke no language that could be understood. The only word that they could make out was 'Tirce.' But whether he meant the hostel lay three milestones or three hours of travel away, Cyn could not tell. Late afternoon wore on to evening and the road climbed the Candaviae mountains. They had not encountered any buildings, not even a shepherd's croft, for some while. Perhaps the monk had been invoking the Holy Trinity, Cyn thought.

It was near nightfall when they finally arrived at a town with a ruined fort which stood at a crossroads. Pons' horse threw a shoe while they were drawing into the town and it was too dark and rainy to find it. They first banged on the door of a stable where an acne covered youth quartered the mules and horses. A smith assured them that he would re-shoe the horse first thing in the morning after his forge was lit. They found a warm inn where a grubby child was sent to fetch a cobbler to see to Pons' boot, for both horse and rider needed mending. The tavern keeper's teenage daughter brought them wine, soup, and bread. The two men wrapped up in blankets and fell asleep on benches beside the fire.

It was cloudy and threatened rain in the morning and Pons said he would be damned if he'd travel out again this day. Shortly after making this pronouncement, however, the sun broke through. The innkeeper, a friendly sort, asked if Pons would like to go fishing with him at a nearby stream. Pons did. Taking a large skin of wine each, they set out. Cyn spent the day lazing about. In the morning he set up a few targets and taught some local kids how to shoot a crossbow. In the afternoon he managed to coax the tavern keeper's daughter into the hayrick. In the evening Pons and their host returned with a basket of brown trout. Dinner was excellent.