RICHARD’S MEN LIKED RAGUSA so much that they joked it was a pity he’d not agree to stay and become its king. The weather was much milder than November back in their homelands and it was a pleasure to walk on ground that did not shift under their feet. The city itself was very prosperous and its streets were cleaner than any they’d seen. There were public baths, allowing them to soak off the accumulated dirt of the past seven weeks. They were able to get their clothes washed and mended, buying what they needed in the town’s thriving markets, for the Ragusans carried on an active trade with their Adriatic neighbors. Best of all, the people were very friendly, treating them like heroes.
Even communication was not as troublesome as they’d anticipated. While the official language of Ragusa was Latin, the citizens also spoke dialects of Italian and Slavic, and what they called “Old Ragusan.” Richard, his chaplain, Anselm, Fulk, and Baldwin de Bethune could converse easily in Latin. The others either had a smattering of it or none at all, but Ragusa had been briefly under the control of Sicily and some of its citizens had learned the French spoken at the Sicilian court. Petros was in his glory, for he could understand the Italian heard in the city streets and so his services were in great demand. Petros passed most of his days in an agreeable alcoholic haze, for the knights enjoyed frequenting the local taverns, where men were eager to buy them drinks in order to hear their stories of the crusade. Life in Ragusa was so much more pleasant than life on shipboard that the men hoped it would take a while for the pirates to repair the Sea-Wolf and for Richard to arrange a loan to honor his pledge.
There was a snake in this Adriatic Eden, though. Richard had warned his men to stay away from the local women. They understood the logic behind his order, but some of the female Ragusans were very pretty and very flirtatious. They were delighted, therefore, when Petros discovered that the taverns down by the harbor offered more than wine. Richard and Baldwin were dining with Archbishop Bernard, and the Templars declined because of their vows of chastity, but Warin and Hugh de Neville recruited so many of the others that they joked they ought to ask for a group rate.
While Morgan had been hesitant at first, he’d managed to convince his conscience that the Lady Mariam would understand under the circumstances. Warin included young Arne, too, embarrassing the boy by declaring loudly that it was time the lad learned where his sword ought to be sheathed. Georgios kept his men under a tight rein in ports like Ragusa, for the pirates wanted to be able to come back on future voyages. But several of the crew had slipped away and joined the knights, so it was a boisterous and cheerful bunch who trooped into a wharf-side tavern called the Half-Moon.
They were surprised to find that prostitution in Ragusa was run by women. The bawd, a handsome redhead in her forties with a practiced smile and hard eyes, told her hirelings to turn away other customers, for she calculated that men so long at sea would be so eager for female flesh that they’d pay well for the privilege. Some haggling ensued, but when she summoned the youngest and the prettiest of her whores, the men decided that her price was reasonable. It was then, though, that Morgan learned something that quenched his lust as thoroughly as if he’d been drenched with cold water. He’d been admiring a girl with blue eyes and wheat-colored hair—seeking one utterly unlike the sloe-eyed, golden-skinned Mariam, who was half Saracen—when the bawd casually mentioned that Ludmila was new, having been bought from slave traders just that past summer.