Emissary Part 2

Emissary Part 2 Emissary Part 2

Status: In Progress

Genre: Historical Fiction

Details

Status: In Progress

Genre: Historical Fiction

Summary

This is the continuation (Part 2) of the story of John the “Emissary”. He was a slave, an assassin and a soldier of the Fatimid Caliphate of Egypt. He was sent as an ambassador to Rome to solicit western help in fighting the Turks. Little did he know that he will be the instigator of the greatest war the world has ever seen.

Summary

This is the continuation (Part 2) of the story of John the “Emissary”. He was a slave, an assassin and a soldier of the Fatimid Caliphate of Egypt. He was sent as an ambassador to Rome to solicit western help in fighting the Turks. Little did he know that he will be the instigator of the greatest war the world has ever seen.

Chapter4 (v.1) - Letter

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: May 03, 2021

Reads: 11

Comments: 2

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: May 03, 2021

A A A

A A A

 

Emissary Part 2

 

Chapter 4  Letter

 

 

“It is fine, you can read it,” I said to Gilbert as I handed him the letter.

 

He looked at me with surprise. He flipped the letter then said, “I can’t possibly open this. It is sealed with the official ambassadorial stamp.”

 

“Don’t worry Counsellor,” I replied. “I’m sure you have a copy of the official ambassadorial stamp somewhere.”

 

“Nooo… I… I… No..” He stuttered knowing he was outfoxed then he surrendered to his curiosity. “Are you sure I can open this?” His last attempt at faking innocence.

 

I smiled and reassured him, “I would never keep any secrets from my trusted counselor.”

 

He was a little hesitant before he removed the wax seal. He opened the letter, and started reading:

 

 

In the name of Allah the most Gracious the most Merciful 

 

To Master Badr-al-Jamali, the General Commander of the Fatimid Armies, 

The Grand Vizier to his Royal Highness, al-Mustansir Billah of the Fatimid Caliphate, 

Ruler of the Islamic world, Commander of the Faithful, and Allah’s light on Earth. 

 

From your humble servant, Yehya-Ibn-Sharif al-Hamadani, 

your faithful ambassador to the Papal Courts of Rome.

 

With the grace of Allah and as per your instructions I have arrived to Rome.

I have settled down at the embassy and found everything to be in good order. 

I have been welcomed by Counsellor Gilbert whom I found to be most trustworthy. 

He is a humble servant of the Fatimid Caliphate and we will continue to have him work at the embassy in Rome as Grand Counsellor, and Royal Mail Carrier.

 

As per your explicit instructions I will try to arrange a meeting with his pontiff Pope Gregory the seventh. I will do my best to personally deliver your message as soon as I can.

 

Finally I would like to remind you of our arrangement to deliver my mother the additional amount of five Dinars. As you know she is old, sick and in desperate need of more off your graceful help and compassion to build a house.

 

May Allah grant you the highest levels in his kingdom of heaven.

Peace, Mercy and Blessing of Allah be on you

 

Your humble servant 

John-Ibn-Sharif

 

 

“HOLY CRAP!” Gilbert exclaimed.

 

“What?”

 

I almost felt a shiver run through his body. “You actually report directly to the Grand Vizier himself ?” He asked in a great surprise.

 

“Yes! Of course I do.”

 

“This is unbelievable!” he explained. “Non of the previous ambassadors did.”

 

I remained silent as he re-read the letter one more time. He was trying to find something he can use to his advantage. “ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?” He finally blurted it out.

 

“Why?” 

 

“YOU are actually asking the GRAND VIZIER himself to send money to your MOTHER?” I was relieved that that was all he managed to find. “As much as I appreciate your confidence in my loyalties to the Caliphate as well as my abilities as counselor, however I really think that you do have a death wish for a man so young.” 

 

I almost believed he meant it. 

 

“How?”

 

“No one in his right mind addresses the General Commander of the Caliphate armies like that, especially someone like General Badr al-Jamali. DO YOU WANT TO BE STRANGLED IN YOUR SLEEP?” He exclaimed once again. What Gilbert didn’t realize was that the one who usually does the strangling was standing right in front of his eyes. 

 

“Yes, Well, he promised to send my mother more money,” I lied. “She is sick, old, and in much need of his charity, and she wants to build a new house.” Of course I did not tell Gilbert that my mother was also dead.

 

“Okay…. Okay…As you wish.” He finally accepted my rational. “So what do you want me to do with this letter?” 

 

And I almost believed he was the mail carrier.

 

“The Raies (captain) of the galley I came on said he was going to remain in Ostia for two weeks. He will probably be leaving in the next days,” I replied. “Please give him this letter to take back to Egypt.” 

 

And that was how we managed to put the foundations off the ambassadorial correspondences between Rome and Cairo. Master Bar-al-Jamali had previously arranged for a ship to dock at Ostia every two months to carry the mail back and forth, and of course to bring in money, when I needed it. I hoped those additional five hundred gold coins would be enough. I had a feeling I still needed more.

 

Gilbert left to Ostia that day and I continued on my tour of Rome. I had been in the city for more than a week and I had already walked every street and alley. I knew where every building, structure, column, church, gate, tavern and brothel were located. I have always had a good memory for such things, ever since I was a young boy. I tend to recall and can recite everything I see, read or hear to the last detail. Maybe that was why I was good at what I did, killing people. 

 

At the end of a long day I returned back to the embassy house. I walked in and was surprised with what I saw. Gilbert was sitting down at the small dinning table. Jabi, my personal bodyguard, was sitting with him. Peter, Jaco and Antonio whom I recruited as guards were sitting cross legged on the floor playing a game of dice. The two ladies were no where to be seen, probably in the kitchen or in one of the two small rooms upstairs. When I entered the house, everyone jumped up and scrambled to stand to one side of the small living area. Even the two ladies peaked their heads from behind the kitchen door and looked at me in fear.

 

“WHAT?” I asked in surprise. “Someone died?”

 

At first, no one answered until Gilbert had the courage to step forward and bow. Something he had never done since I came to Rome.

 

“Welcome back Commander. YOUR EXCELLENCY,” he corrected himself. 

 

That was another first for Gilbert, addressing me in an honorary title. 

 

“Raies (captain) Husam-al-Din of the Royal Fatimid galley sends you his regards and says his men are under your command whenever you need them. He also reminds you that he will be setting sail to Alexandria on the next tide.”

 

I walked over to the empty table and slumped down on one of the chairs. “Great! Here we go again!” I sighed. “What else did he tell you?” I asked without even looking at him nor anyone else in the room. I knew where that conversation was heading to. I guess I could never run away from my past as much as I tried to.

 

“Did you really kill five hundred men all by yourself?” Jaco asked.

 

I snapped my head to stare at him and he flinched.

 

“The Butcher of Dimyata!? Wow!” It was Antonio’s turn to wonder.

 

All I could do was to look at Gilbert who continued to explain, “Raies (captain) Husam-al-Din told me everything, your excellency.”

 

“And you immediately blabbered to everyone?!”

 

“I’M SO SORRY, PLEASE FORGIVE ME,” he pleaded.

 

I was most surprised when Gilbert knelt and put his head on the floor. “I didn’t mean to.” He really begged. “They forced me to tell them.” 

 

Sure they did! 

 

“I swear it was self defense. I did not mean to. I promise I will return all the money I took, I PROMISE. Please don’t kill me.” Gilbert was trembling on the floor.

 

That confession was more of a surprise to me than Raies Husam telling the Counselor about Dimyata.

 

“STAND UP COUNSELOR,” I shouted. “No one kneels to me,” I cried out. “YOU only kneel to your MAKER! UNDERSTAND?!” He scrambled to stand up and huddled back again with the rest of the men.

 

“I am here in my capacity as Ambassador of the Fatimid Caliphate. I’m not a Commander. I’m just an Ambassador.” Then I stood up and faced the men. “I picked you people to work for me,” I continued. “However if any of you don’t want to, or do not find it in your heart to work for the ‘Butcher of Dimyata’ then I herby absolve you of your oath and you can leave right now.” I pointed at the door.

 

“Besides, I did NOT kill five hundred men all by myself, WHO THE FUCK GAVE YOU THAT IDEA?!” I almost blurted that out. It always baffles me to see how a rumor exponentially grows as time goes by. I had spread my share of rumors. I even manipulated a few to my advantage, but having one used against me just doesn’t feel right.

 

Of course, that rumor was not entirely false. I did kill those five hundred men, but not all by myself. I had a little help. However, that was almost ten years ago. I was surprised people still remember the siege of Dimyata and my role in it. Unfortunately for the five men who stood there in front of me, and the two ladies shivering in the kitchen, they were stupid enough not to leave when they had the chance. 

 

“Counsellor. See to it you find a place for the men to sleep.”

 

“Where are you going so late at night?” Gilbert asked as I headed back towards the door.

 

I didn’t reply. I just walked out of the house leaving the men to wonder where I was going or when I was coming back. I didn’t want to talk about what had just happened or anything related to my past. I came to Rome to escape all that. For the past twenty years of my life, all I had ever thought about was death. I could remember every face of every man or woman I killed. However, after I arrived to Rome, those faces started to blur. I started to think that maybe my past was finally behind me. Unfortunately, when Raies Husam exposed my identity, this whole charade unravelled in my mind. It struck me like lightning. Was I always going to see fear in the eyes of men when they look at me? Was I always going to be a spy, or a killer. Was I capable of doing anything else? 

 

When I accepted this assignment as Emissary to the Fatimid caliphate, I really thought I could start a new life. My mission was to bring about an alliance between the Fatimids and the kings of Europe starting with the Pope of Rome. Helping to facilitate peace intrigued me. I was finally going to do something useful for mankind. However, I wasn’t naive. Peace also had its price in death, and I was prepared to pay that price to achieve it. Maybe that was why Master Badr wanted me on this mission. Whenever I have an important assignment like this one, I usually throw myself wholeheartedly into it. Another reason Master Badr knew I would do. He was a devious manipulative devil, and he knew how to use my skills to his advantage. All I wanted to do was to prove to him that I could do it. 

 

Suddenly I heard her scream. I ran toward the sound to find myself in front of a brothel, one of a few scattered through out the city. How the hell do I keep ending  up in brothels I do not know?!?!?! However, I definitely knew where every one of those places was located, unfortunately, I haven’t been into one yet. Every city had a whorehouse. Wherever you have soldiers, sailers, drunks or lonely men you are bound to find a place that helps with the release of tension and frustration. It is a very healthy outlet to have in any town. That is why places like those are always tolerated even in the most strict of societies. 

 

“Get away from me?” She cried out.

 

“Come on lady,” he said, “just a blowjob, nothing more.”

 

“Nooo...”

 

I walked towards the couple and said, “The lady said No.”

 

“Get lost,” to my surprise it was the woman who brushed me away.

 

“Are you okay?” I asked her. I was concerned after hearing her scream from a far.

 

“Of course I’m okay, you idiot!” she sighed. “Can’t you see I’m working here?”

 

That was when I realized my mistake. The lady wasn’t in any distress. She was just working the man to get more money. This has always been my problem, jumping to conclusions, trying to interfere in things that are not of my concern. I have always tried to impose my views on people even though I knew very well they had the right to their own. Who was I to judge or interfere? I realized my mistake with the men I just left behind at the embassy house. After knowing who I was, they had the choice to stay or to leave yet they chose to stay. I was supposed to be grateful yet I was mad. I realized it was not them I was angry at. It was me. I don’t know why I keep chasing away the people I care about. Maybe it was for their own good. Or maybe because I knew they might get too close.

 

After my unfortunate interference between the sex worker and her client I retreated to a secluded bench across the street from the brothel. Unfortunately she found me. “Are you going to make it up to me?” The lady stood in front of me, both hands on her waist, and sounded very angry. I wasn’t sure what she wanted. 

 

“You chased off my one catch of the night, MR,” she said. “Now you are going to pay for it.” 

 

Of course she was right. It was my mistake. I took out a gold coin and gave it to her and she almost chocked. At first she thought it was a fake. She tried to bend it with her teeth to see if it was real or not. When she realized the gold was genuine she brightened up.

 

“Wow! This is a months work!!!” she couldn’t hold in her joy. “Come. I will show you a really good time.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the house.

 

“It is ok... I..don’t.…” I tried to stop her but not before she dragged me inside.

 

‘What kind of a place is this!?’ I wondered to myself.

 

The brothel was dark, smelly and cold. I could see a couple of girls waiting for clients. Unfortunately the place was empty. I’ve been to a few brothels in my life but this was a pigsty. Those in Cairo, Dimyata even Jerusalem can’t be compared to this. They offered food, drink, entertainment even music. I have also heard that some establishments in Cairo were even checked and monitored for their cleanliness and hygiene by the Muhtasib (the market inspector).

 

“I’ve gotten me a good catch tonight,” the lady cheered to the dismay of her colleagues. She held my hand tightly, afraid I might slip away or get snatched by one of her friends. She steered me up to a small room that smelled worse than the hall downstairs. 

 

“This is not what I expected,” I tried to be diplomatic.

 

“I know,” she said. “We have a bed and a pillow.”

 

I hoped she was joking. 

 

“I can’t,” I said. I tried to gently force her away when she tried to push me to lie down on that thing she called a bed. I usually don’t like to dampen a lady’s enthusiasm but seeing lice crawling on that pillow was dampening mine.

 

“Okay, we can do it standing up if you want.” She was trying to be very accommodating. I knew she was not going to let me leave the room unless I was satisfied. She wanted to make sure she had a repeat customer as well as another gold coin. 

 

“No I really can’t,” I pulled back trying to find a way to get out of the room.

 

Suddenly she knelt down on her knees in front of me. “If that is what you want, I am also good with my mouth,” she said. She surprised me by quickly pulling down my trousers to get to my cock.

 

“STOP IT,” I shouted. “I really can’t.” But my cock wasn’t listening to me either. It usually has a mind of its own when it is this far into the act. It was getting hard and pointing straight at her. She looked at it and almost cried.

 

“Why did you give me that gold coin then?” she asked. “You want someone else! I knew it! Am I not good for you?”

 

“No.. no.. it is not you.”

 

“What then?” She asked again almost about to cry.

 

“It is this place,” I replied. “It is not what I thought it would be. The bed is dirty, the sheets smell, the pillow… wait, are you sure this is a pillow?!”

 

“What do you mean?” She was surprised. “We cleaned this place up a few months ago.”

 

“And you? When did you last have a bath?” I shouldn’t have asked that stupid question. 

 

“A few months ago.” Damn!

 

I walked to the only chair in the room and slumped down. My cock was still hard. She saw my predicament and tried to crawl towards me on her hands and knees. 

 

“If you keep working in this shit-hole, you’ll probably not survive the year.” I felt sorry for her. She was a nice girl. She had a good figure, straight teeth, genuine smile, large breasts. Everything a good whore needs to have, if only she had a better place to work in.

 

“I’ve been living here since I was fifteen. I’m not dead yet.”

 

“Are all the brothels in Rome like this?” I was curious. She finally reached the chair I was sitting in and held my cock in her hand.

 

“Oh, Nooo,” she said. “All my clients tell me this is the best place in the city.” She squeezed it and it throbbed in her hand.

 

“You’re joking?!”

 

“Why would I be joking?” she said. She tried to use both hands to keep it straight up. 

 

“This is the worst brothel I have ever been in.”

 

“Then you should go to the one in Trastevere,” she said. “They don’t even have a bed.” She used her fingers to caress its length. 

 

“No Way!” I was surprised. “How could the nobles or rich merchants of Rome come to a place like this?”

 

“They don't. We seldom see such clientele in here,” she replied. “I hear they usually entertain at their own villas or palaces.” One of her hands went further down to my balls to help get my juices flowing. 

 

At that point I was on the verge of giving up. My cock was ready to burst and I had no choice but surrender to her will. When she felt my body start to shiver she grabbed my cock tighter and engulfed the head in her mouth. My cum had no where but to escape straight into her willing mouth. She drank it all, sucking the last load, squeezing every remaining drop left inside. I wondered where were we going to spend the rest of the night. I was hoping she had another pillow lying around somewhere.


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