Post by Semper Skye on Feb 9, 2010 20:02:51 GMT -5
“You have my decree Kamenwati… I expect you to carry out my orders without prejudice… Speak of this to anyone, and I shall cut out your tongue…” The man barked to the subject.
“Yes m’liege… I understand and obey… I am but a humble servant…” Kamenwati replies reluctantly…
The sails were raised as soon as the trireme cleared shore… a ship left Badis, west, thru the Gibraltar Strait, then north by northwest… around the coast of Portugal… visiting several ports in France, then across the Gaelic Channel and around the coasts of England… north. Months passed, the trireme ported only for supplies… and information… its destination more than a thousand miles away… the land of the Celts… more precise – Turas Lan, Capital of Skye… its passenger, a representative of the Amir, Abu Said Uthman… Kamenwati was more than a representative… but how much more??
The Berber trireme was an odd appearance as it entered Turas Lan Harbor. Before it arrived at the docks, the sails were folded and tied… now the Trireme was under manpower. The ship’s captain barked orders in such an odd language, but orders were understood and followed… the oars raised and retrieved as the ship drifted to the dock. Hands soon began tying off securing ropes and a board slid to the dock.
From the bowels of the Trireme, a tall man emerged. He had long hair, a full beard of dark hair and white robes. A single sash wrapped around his neck and lay upon the man’s shoulder. Carefully he crossed the board to the solid dock, and disappeared into the crowd of the merchant square.
