Nathan stood, stooping carefully to avoid the deck beams. He had learned that after several painful experiences during the voyage. “If you will excuse me, I will speak to the Temple representatives,” he told them. “Please feel free to enjoy any of the facilities or refreshments. Your Excellency,” he added, bowing.
“Drive a hard bargain with them,” the bishop growled. He waved dismissal.
There were three of the robed Temple deacons on deck. There were also two uniformed guard officers, while a rank of ten swordsmen stood at rigid attention on the pier below. The guard uniforms were blue and crimson with silver decorations, the officers’ hats plumed, and the sergeant of guards carried a gold-headed baton. The discipline of the men, and their weapons, made MacKinnie realize that the Temple commanded a trained fighting force. Or at least they could obey orders. He wondered why, with their discipline, they had not destroyed the barbarians. Too rigid in their tactics, he thought, remembering Vanjynk and the battle on the tide sands.
One of the officers stepped forward from the group around Captain MacLean and Loholo. “Are you the owner of this vessel?” he demanded.
MacKinnie nodded. The officer continued, “I present you to His Excellency, Sindabaya, Junior Archdeacon of the Temple of Truth.”
“Peace and greetings,” one of the gray-robed men said. “It is customary to bow to me when receiving blessings, Trader. Are you ignorant of the proper forms, or merely a heathen?”
“Your pardon, Excellency,” MacKinnie protested. “My thoughts were on the plight of our civilization, and not the more important things at hand.” He bowed, receiving another blessing for his trouble.
“It is well. We have not seen you in Batav before, Trader, and when we last saw your shipmaster he had his own ship. Why is this?”
“Pirates, Your Excellency. In all Jikar, there are few merchant ships remaining, and few merchants to buy them, because the army of Jikar takes all the goods for the great expedition. They intend to fight their way through the barbarians before sending the fleet to destroy the nests of pirates.”
The officer who had spoken looked up hurriedly, then conversed in low tones with another robed figure before speaking. “Jikar is not large enough to put forth such an army or fleet,” he said flatly.
“Oh, this is true, sir,” MacKinnie said. “But the Guilds have made alliance with other cities, and many of the people of the plains and hills have fled to Jikar for assistance. Then, the fleet captured many pirate vessels by surprise when they dared sail too close into the harbor and were left by the tide. The water ran red for two changes of the tide after the battle on the sands, and the Guilds had a large fleet, but few with whom to man it. But when their war on the land is finished, they will turn to training the young men to be sailors, and there is talk of bringing the fleet north, east perhaps, bringing many merchant ships under the protection of fifty galleys of war. But, I thought, what use to go in such a number? Prices will be low, when there are so many goods for sale. But if now, when there are no ships from Jikar, if now I sail to Batav, and east, and south, why, then trading will be better, and my friends will remember me when the great fleet comes … Or so I thought. And I was told that the great Temple, the home of wisdom itself, was in need, and thus I brought my cargo, and my foodstuffs; I will sell them to the Temple saving only what must remain to feed my men, and I ask no more than a pittance beyond what it has cost me to bring the goods.”
The gray-robed men muttered among themselves, and their spokesman said, “Your piety is noted. What have you for the Temple?”
Despite MacKinnie’s intent to be generous, it took hours to agree on the price of the cargo. The deacons were so accustomed to haggling with traders that even when it was not necessary they bargained. Meanwhile their officers, poking into the holds and looking in the deck boxes.
The priests noted the amount of food aboard and heatedly disputed MacKinnies estimate of what he would need for Subao’s own consumption. They insisted that more had to be delivered to the Temple. MacKinnie knew from their concern with foodstuffs that the siege was more serious than the Temple would admit.
“They have to be desperate,” Longway whispered. “I’ve spoken with one of the guards. They’re taking everything edible from any ship that calls here — and there are fewer ships every month.”
Eventually the bargain was struck, and a gang of Temple slaves swarmed aboard to carry away what the Temple had purchased. The soldiers stood guard over them and searched each for stolen food or weapons. The deacons watched the soldiers and noted on wooden-backed slates what was taken and what was left aboard, how much was owed to MacKinnie, how many slaves came aboard, and how many left.
As the last of the goods was taken ashore, Sindabaya joined MacKinnie and his staff on the quarterdeck. “We guard more than the true faith,” the priest said. He waved his hand to indicate the city and the harbor. “For all time that we record, the Temple has been the source of wisdom and hope for the people of this world. When other cities fall, we hold the means to build them again. If the Temple falls, what will be the source of knowledge? When God brought men to this place from the stars above, He set the Temple to watch over them and give them truth. That is our burden, and we will not fail.”
MacKinnie watched an officer drive one of the slaves into his place in the ranks, and said nothing. Sindabaya noted Nathan’s expression and grimaced. “The world has changed. Once they went singing to their tasks. Ships brought wealth to be laid at the steps of God’s Temple. Now few ships come, and the barbarians wait outside the walls, and my officers beat the convicts as I watch. But there is no other way! They will not work without blows, and the work must be done! The Temple must be saved!” He turned to the group on the deck and raised his hand in blessing, watched them narrowly for a moment, and left the ship.
Deluca climbed carefully to the quarterdeck as MacKinnie watched the Temple party drive men and ayuks, both overloaded, down the stone streets toward the warehouses.
“Now that they have inspected your ship,"Deluca said, “it is lawful for you to leave it. Will you visit the Lord Archbishop?”
MacKinnie nodded, selecting Longway, Kleinst, and Todd to accompany them. Deluca assured them that his own merchant’s guard would be sufficient, and would escort them back to the ship after their interview.
“But you will need our guards,” Deluca told them. “The streets are no longer safe. Thieves have banded together in great numbers, and attack even armed men. Our own guards are trustworthy only when together, yet there is nothing to steal and no place to buy food with what gold can be found. The city feels no hope for the future. Only the Temple has the will to fight. The people of this city once ruled the world, but now they are ruled by the Temple.”
They walked along the broad waterfront street. MacKinnie noted the empty dockyards, warehouses with the doors standing open, and everywhere the beggars and crowds of surly men who had once been longshoremen and sailors, owners of shops, landholders of small farms outside the walls of the city. It was little better away from the waterfront. They moved through a series of narrow, twisting streets overhung with buildings, lined with nearly empty shops. Men lay in rags even in the center of the smaller streets, and often they blocked the way.
They emerged from this maze of alleys to broader streets, each with a stone-line ditch running down its center. The ditches were partially filled with refuse, but surprisingly little for so primitive a system.