Act Ten: The True Knight (Part Six)
six
Daoud didn't have a large private stash of spices: frankincense, myrrh, and pepper. He selected these three expensive ones, divided them into small portions, hid them in cloth bags, and placed them in a concealed inner pocket inside his robe, carrying them with him at all times. He needed to sell these things as soon as possible; he couldn't allow himself to be constantly surrounded by the scent of luxury—an ordinary Templar soldier shouldn't be using such things on a daily basis. That's the trouble with spices; no one can stop them from smelling.
But where could he sell it? Daoud found a tattered cloak and covered the red cross on his black cloak. He decided to try his luck at the shops along Via Messer.
The stone roads of Constantinople were all slopes, and after the snow, they were wet and slippery, making them very difficult to traverse. As Daoud walked, he thought how wonderful it would be to have a horse of his own. He thought of the horse of Lord Yakov, whom he followed. It was a Norman horse, tall and large, and it traversed these slopes with ease. Daoud longed for and envied the image of a knight—mature, reliable, calm, and powerful, knowing many important figures and socializing with nobles from all over the world.
But no matter how hard he tried, he could never become a knight. Daoud thought to himself as he carefully climbed up and down the slope that it would be more practical to take the money from selling spices home and buy a donkey. Everyone said that the Knights Templar were rolling in money; perhaps this was the first he could make.
He walked alone under the Valens Aqueduct toward the city square. He knew that the shops in Constantinople were open all year round, unlike the village markets—the boy was a little hesitant to enter those fancy shops and talk to the wealthy-looking shopkeepers—would they kick him out because of his dark, foreign face? Would they despise him because they heard his Latin accent mixed with Arabic? Would they try to harm him because he was a helpless, all-child?
"Summon your courage!" Daoud encouraged himself, touching the spot on his body where he kept his spices. "If I don't even have this much courage, I won't even earn enough for a donkey!"
He first chose the largest and most beautiful spice shop and went inside—it was the most crowded and noisiest. If he had a change of heart, he could still slip out unnoticed—he crept up to the shopkeeper, numbly rolled his eyes, and imitated the face of the knight he had served in his memory, putting on a seasoned, fierce, and cold demeanor.
"I have some spices, the kind that's expensive right now." He lowered his voice deliberately, but it still sounded immature. "Would you buy them?"
The shopkeeper was Italian, but thankfully he understood Latin. He greeted the customers without even glancing at Daoud. "How much do you have?" he asked bluntly, "in schakers or dinars?"
Daoud carefully pulled the package out of his pocket and showed it to the shopkeeper—"Too little, I won't take it." The Italian didn't even glance at his small package before waving his hand hastily, "Get out of here."
The young servant rested by the roadside for a while, buying a large slab of honey candy to eat, before finally mustering the courage to continue searching for the next spice shop. To be honest, the previous shopkeeper's attitude wasn't exactly friendly, but it wasn't cold either. He was just too busy, and his shop was too big; he couldn't be bothered with me, Daoud thought sullenly. Could it be because I'd been slighted, or because I'd done something wrong?
He went into the second shop. It wasn't too big or too small, but it was deserted. "If I make a fool of myself in a shop like this with no customers, no one will see," Daoud thought resignedly.
Inside, a Greek man was minding the shop, dozing off against the counter. Daoud wasn't sure if the man was the owner or an employee, but he made the sign of the cross on his chest as he entered to let the man know he wasn't a heretic. "Do you buy spices here?" He recalled Lord Euboeus's appearance, trying to appear as if he were a regular at such places, so that his every move would be casually dignified. "I have some I'd like to sell."
The Greek rubbed his eyes and silently unwrapped the small package Daoud had placed on the counter. His eyes lit up the moment he lifted the cloth and saw the spices. "Are you buying these?" Daoud asked warily as the Greek rushed to the back to rummage through the drawers. "Do you understand Latin?"
The Greek man mumbled something and gestured as he produced a worn-out scale. Upon seeing it, Daoud grabbed his cloth bag and pulled it away. "You bastard, you're trying to cheat me!" he cursed angrily. "Why are you using this scale instead of the one on the counter over there!"
Before the Greek could explain or argue with him, Daoud tied a knot, stuffed the package back into his robe, and fled out the door.
More than half of the honey candy he had just bought was still left, and Kaud was too heartbroken to eat it. If he couldn't sell the spices he had, then his act of stealing and buying spices would be the most foolish thing he could do—it was his only savings, and he was about to lose everything, yet he had just spent money to buy honey candy!
Daoud recalled yesterday at the docks, when everyone was scrambling to buy the spices, and no one seemed to care about the measurements or the deception. What was the problem?
The squire looked down sadly at the red cross beneath his cloak. How could he, alone, compare to the reputation of the Knights? Without the Knights, he could accomplish almost nothing.
He strolled down the street and spotted a spice shop on a corner. It was small, dilapidated, and poorly located, looking like it was about to be abandoned. Daoud hesitated, thinking he might try again, hoping to find an even more foolish, less informed, and more clueless owner who could take over the mess and at least break even—just as he mustered his courage and was about to head over, he saw a familiar boy, about his age and with similar skin tone, lift the curtain and step out.
Daoud opened his mouth, unable to utter the man's name—he couldn't remember the names of the many servants in Lord Jubius's mansion, so he could only step forward and stammer as he spoke to him.
"Y-what's your name again!" He grabbed the boy's wrist. "I've seen you in Lord Jubius's basement!"
The boy looked him up and down, then gave him a look of sudden realization. "You're Lord Yakov's squire, aren't you?" A smile spread across his brown face. "My name is Nuk, and I work as a storekeeper for Lord Jubius!"
Two boys sat side by side on Trajan's pillar, stealing moments to watch the gentle flow of the fountain and the bustling crowds and carriages. Behind them, towering golden statues pointed skyward, casting purple shadows.
Daoud broke his remaining honey candy in half and gave the larger half to Nuk. "You're so stupid," Nuk said, taking the candy but raising his chin as if it were his due. "These spice shops don't have their own fleets; they can only buy spices from other merchants. No wonder they rip you off."
"So what are you going there for?"
“I’m not going to buy spices, I’m going to buy a spice shop,” Nuk said proudly, drawing out the words.
Daoud's mouth dropped open. "Buy the whole spice shop! How much would that cost?!"
“It won’t cost much.” Nuk stroked his non-existent mustache with feigned maturity—looking remarkably like Schumeer. “With spice prices soaring, they can’t afford to buy more. The shops are on the verge of collapse, so naturally, prices are low.”
"And then what happens after you buy it?"
“Once it’s bought, it belongs to Lord Jubius!” Nuk snorted. “Lord Jubius isn’t some small-time merchant without a fleet.”
“Oh…” Daoud responded softly, but then lowered his head in distress, looking at the honey candy in his hand—knowing that this complicated news would not help his small business.
"Where are you from?" Nuk suddenly asked.
“I…I’m from Palestine,” Daoud’s voice trailed off. “My parents are farmers.”
Are your parents still alive?
"Um... I have six brothers and sisters."
“How wonderful!” Nuk punched him on the shoulder. “They say I’m from Egypt, but I’ve never even met my parents!”
“What’s so great about that! My parents were both bastards,” Daoud retorted irritably. “I converted and joined the Knights of Faith, and they were so angry they almost killed me. You’re much more carefree.”
“None of that matters.” Nuk put the honey candy in his mouth. “What you believe in isn’t that important.”
"How can it not be important? You're a Christian by nature, that's why you say that."
“Who said I’m a Christian?” Nuk chuckled.
Daoud turned to look at the dark face in shock. "...Are you [redacted]?"
"no."
"You can't be Jewish!"
No, not exactly.
"Then what do you believe in?" Daoud scoffed. "You can't possibly...believe in the pyramids and the Sphinx, can you?"
Nuk laughed so hard that saliva mixed with molasses sprayed from his mouth. "My God is the real God of this world!" He climbed up, stepping on the base of the monument. "Other gods are all frauds, only my God gave me life and performed miracles!"
What do you actually believe in?
"I believe in Lord Jubius!"
This time, Daoud laughed so hard his drool dripped onto his robe. "I actually believed you!" he exclaimed, swaying his honey candy string. "You sycophantic servant!"
"You call me a bootlicker? Don't you ever say a nice word to the officials and just give them a sour look all day?" Nuk's eyes darted towards him. "You're Lord Yakov's attendant, how dare you offend him?"
Daoud nodded—the mention of this reminded him of the burden on his shoulders, and he sighed with embarrassment.
Nuk scrutinized his appearance and deliberately cleared his throat. "I'll help you."
How can you help me?
“I know someone who buys spices at high prices, no matter the cost.” Nuk popped a honey candy into his mouth and leaped off the pillar. “Come with me!”
Daoud was about to jump down with him—but then a thought suddenly struck him. "Why are you helping me for no reason!" the servant exclaimed, curling his legs up. "You're not trying to frame me too, are you!"
"You're such a suspicious person!" Nuk frowned and crossed his arms. "Lord Yakov once did me a favor, that's why I thought of helping you. Come or not, it's up to you!"
Daoud's boots hesitated at the edge of the post—the boy, losing patience, finally jumped down. "Alright," he said, bumping into Nuk and hooking his arm around his back, "I knew you wouldn't dare lie to me!"
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