With Greek, there’s always some hope of making yourself understood.” And so, between visits to the bordello and the reading of some texts of the fathers of the Eastern church, the waiting was not burdensome.
In the port there was a vast market, and they decided to venture into it, conquered by the distant gleaming and the odor of spices. Zosimos, whom they had freed so that he could be their guide (but under the vigilant surveillance of Boron, who didn’t take his eyes off him for a second), now warned them: “You Latin and Alaman barbarians are ignorant of the civilization of us Romans. You should know that in our markets, at first glance, you wouldn’t want to buy anything because they ask too much, and if you immediately pay what they ask, it’s not that they take you for fools, because they already know you are fools, but they are offended because the merchant’s joy is bargaining. So offer two coins when they ask ten, they’ll come down to seven, you offer three and they come down to five, you stick to three, until they give in, weeping and swearing they’ll end up homeless with all their family.
At that point, go ahead and buy, but you should know that the object was worth one coin.”
“Then why should we buy?” the Poet asked.
“Because they also have a right to live, and three coins for what is worth one represents an honest trade. But I must give you another warning: not only do merchants have a right to live, but so do thieves, and since they can’t rob one another, they’ll try to rob you. If you prevent them, that’s your right; but if they succeed, you mustn’t complain. So I advise you to carry little money in your purse, just the amount you’ve decided to spend, and no more.”
Instructed by a guide so wise in local ways, our friends ventured into a tide of people stinking of garlic, like all Greeklings. Baudolino bought himself two Arab daggers, well made, to keep at either side of his belt, to be extracted rapidly, as he crossed his arms. Abdul found a little transparent box that contained a lock of hair (God knows whose, but it was clear whom
he had in mind). Solomon called the others in a loud voice when he discovered the tent of a Persian selling miraculous potions.
The vendor of elixirs displayed a phial that, according to him, contained a very potent drug that, taken in small doses, stimulated the vital spirits, but if drained quickly could cause death. Then he held up a similar phial, which, however, contained the most powerful of antidotes, capable of canceling the action of any poison. Solomon, who dabbled also in the art of medicine, like all Jews, bought the antidote. Belonging to a race more clever than the Romei, he managed to pay one coin instead of the ten asked, and he was tormented by the fear of having paid at least double the value.
Leaving the apothecary’s tent, Kyot found an elegant scarf, and Boron, after considering all the merchandise at length, shook his head, murmuring that, for one in the service of an emperor who possessed the Grasal, all the treasures of the world were filth, and these things worst of all.
They came upon Boidi, the Alessandrian, who by now had become one of their group. He was enchanted by a ring, perhaps of gold (the vendor wept at selling it because it had belonged to his mother), which contained in its mount a wondrous cordial, a single sip of which could heal a wounded man and, in certain cases, resuscitate a dead one.
He bought it, he said, because if they really had to risk their necks before the walls of Jerusalem, it was best to take some precaution.
Zosimos was ecstatically contemplating a seal bearing the initial Z, his own, which was being sold with a little stick of sealing wax. The Z was so worn that perhaps it would leave no mark on the wax, but this fact testified to the distinct antiquity of the object. Naturally, as a prisoner, he had no money, but Solomon, touched, bought the seal for him.
At a certain point, driven by the crowd, they realized they had lost the Poet, but they found him again as he was pulling down the price of a sword that, according to the merchant, dated back to the conquest of Jerusalem. But when he reached for his purse, he realized that Zosimos was right: with his pale-blue pensive Alaman eyes, he attracted thieves like flies. Baudolino was moved and made him a present of the sword.
The next day a richly dressed man turned up at the encampment, with exaggerated obsequious manners, accompanied by two servants. He asked to see Zosimos. The monk conferred with him for a while, then came to tell Baudolino that this was Makhitar Ardzrouni, a noble Armenian dignitary, who had been charged with a secret mission by Prince Leo.
“Ardzrouni?” Niketas said. “I know about him. He came several times to Constantinople, in the days of Andronicus and afterwards. I understand why he sought out Zosimos, because he had the reputation of an amateur of magical sciences. One of my friends in Selymbria—but God knows if we will find him still there—was also a guest in his castle at Dadjig….” “So were we, as I will tell you, and for our misfortune. The fact that he was Zosimos’s friend was for me a very unfortunate sign, but I informed Frederick, who wanted to see him. This Ardzrouni was very reticent about his credentials. He had been sent, or not sent, by Leo, or he had been sent but he wasn’t to say so.
He was there to guide the imperial army through the territory of the Turks into Armenia. Ardzrouni expressed himself with the emperor in acceptable Latin, but when he wanted to remain vague he pretended he was unable to find the right word. Frederick said he was treacherous, like all Armenians, but a man familiar with the locality was convenient and he decided to add him to the army, asking me merely to keep an eye on him. I must say that during the journey, he behaved impeccably, always giving information that proved correct.”
- Baudolino in the castle of Ardzrouni
In March 1190 the army entered Asia and reached Laodicea, then headed for the territories of the Seljuk Turks. The old sultan of Iconium called himself an ally of Frederick, but his sons deposed him and attacked the Christian army. Or perhaps Kilidj had also changed his mind: we never really found out. Clashes, skirmishes, outright battles: Frederick advanced as victor, but his army had been decimated by the cold, by hunger, and by the attacks of the Turkomans, who arrived suddenly, struck the flanks of his army and fled, knowing well the passes and the hiding places.
Struggling through sun-baked desert territories, the soldiers had been forced to drink their own urine, or the blood of the horses. When they arrived at Iconium, the pilgrims’ army was reduced to no more than a thousand horsemen.
And yet it was a fine siege, and young Frederick of Swabia, sickly though he was, fought well, taking the city himself.
“You speak coldly of young Frederick.”
“He didn’t love me. He mistrusted everyone; he was jealous of his younger brother, who was stealing the imperial crown from him, and surely he was jealous of me, who was not of his blood, jealous of his father’s affection for me. Perhaps as a child he had been troubled by the way I looked at his mother, or she looked at me. He was jealous of the authority I had gained by giving the Grasal to his father, and on this matter he always displayed some skepticism. When there was talk of an expedition to the Indias, I heard him murmur that it could be discussed at the proper time. He felt dethroned by all.
That’s why at Iconium he behaved with valor, even though he had a fever that day. Only when his father praised him for that fine achievement, and in front of all his barons, did I see a light of joy gleam in his eyes. The one time in his life, I believe. I went to pay him homage, and I was truly happy for him, but he thanked me absently.”
“Like me, Baudolino. I too wrote and am writing the chronicles of my empire, emphasizing more the petty jealousies, the hatred, the envy that jeopardized both poweful families and great public undertakings. Even emperors are human beings, and history is also the story of their weaknesses. But do go on.”
“Once Iconium was conquered, Frederick immediately sent ambassadors to Leo of Armenia, asking his help in proceeding across his territories. A pact existed; they had been the ones to promise this. And yet Leo hadn’t yet sent anyone to receive us. Perhaps he was seized by the fear of meeting the same end as the sultan of Iconium. So we went ahead, not knowing if we would receive aid; and Ardzrouni guided us, saying that surely the ambassadors of his prince would arrive.
One June day, turning southwards, having passed Laranda, we ventured into the Taurus Mountains, and finally we saw some cemeteries with crosses. We were in
