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From:

dr_libra_phd

Just Yusuf today. He wouldn't stop talking! LOL

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Part 13E
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(Yusuf)

Somewhere outside of Alexandria, 12th century

“What are you doing?”

Yusuf looked up from one of the planks of wood he bartered in the village. They were too soft, most likely from a shipwreck rather than as the man had claimed was stock from the North. Pity. But Yusuf did not need much, though he made himself a reminder not to trade with him again.

Frowning at the wood, Yusuf tried to see the problem.

“Your pallet only bore enough wood to build the two chairs.” Yusuf gestured to the pieces stacked under the window for the sun to dry. He was proud of them despite one creaked ominously each time one of them walked by. It was worth the effort though because of the eyebrow Nicolo favored the chair every time. It was a delightful look.

“Wood?” Nicolo repeated.

“The fisherman from North? He traded wood for the figs we brought into the village last week.” Yusuf gestured to the planks. “Rejoice, I will repair our table at last.”

Nicolo frowned mildly. He pushed back the hair from his face. The leather tie he favored had snapped into two yesterday.

“No,” Nicolo said slowly. “I mean what are you doing with this?”

Nicolo pointed to the longsword on the table, the tin of polish and the sharpening stone besides it.

Ah. Yusuf grimaced. He did not think Nicolo would return from following the nets upstream so soon.

“My scimitar grows dull,” Yusuf said quietly. “I thought I would sharpen yours as well.”

Nicolo stared at the sword, his expression worryingly blank.

“It is no bother,” Yusuf said gently. “I am happy to do it. It needs a good polish.” As it has been two months since Cairo, since Nicolo carried his sword. He refused to go into the village with it, insisting the dagger Yusuf gave him was enough.

Nicolo nodded curtly. He sat down on the pallet they now share, pushed up to the back wall, facing their door. Nicolo crammed himself into the corner made by the back wall and the other, his legs stretched out by Yusuf’s hip.

Yusuf patted Nicolo’s closest ankle and continued to scrape the plank smooth in the way another fisherman was kind enough to show him.

Outside, their horse nickered. A few chickens chirped as they pecked for the feed Nicolo sprinkled on the ground. Nicolo was right: the rooster was appallingly loud every morning. Nicolo pointed out it could not be so bad because Yusuf slept through the first grating crow, only waking when Nicolo squirmed out of his arms to chase the rooster away from their door.

Pale yellow wooden curls fluttered by Yusuf’s feet, the rasp of wood a harsh contrast to the silence that hung over them.

“The nets were empty when I checked.”

Nicolo’s voice was careful, but Yusuf caught the thread of anxiety underneath the level timbre.

“It is fine,” Yusuf said, remembering too late how Nicolo would respond.

“I know,” Nicolo snapped. The foot by Yusuf twitched. He exhaled slowly to keep it steady. “I know it is fine.”

“Tomorrow,” Yusuf murmured. “Many will have returned from the ports in Alexandria. They always look for someone to read and write letters.”

Nicolo grunted. His feet shifted again, brushing closer against Yusuf’s hip.

“Tomorrow?” Yusuf asked as he held up the plank and examined it critically. “We could go to the village tomorrow. And we can see what we can barter.”

Yusuf held back the remark that Nicolo preserved enough fish to last two winters. They set traps nearby and caught small creatures as well. Yusuf cleaned them to sell the hides and Nicolo cut the meat into careful portions to salt and store. The wild fig trees by the stream bore jars of figs that they bartered to preserve and spiced in exchange for half the crop. And the melons’ first winding vine has burst through the rich soil.

There was enough food, even if the women they still dreamed about were to show up today. There was enough stores. They would not starve. There was enough to trade or sell for coin as well.

But Yusuf knew how anxious Nicolo became as coin after coin was spent on necessary things. Not that Nicolo agreed a thick cloak for Nicolo’s still thin frame was necessary. Or the warmer tunic for the coming winter.

Nicolo did not deem them necessary but protested little, pretending it did not bother him.

But Nicolo watched and Yusuf knew, Nicolo secretly worried. Nicolo refused to spend, refused to believe their fortunes were lasting and no one would be forced to their knees.

How long did Nicolo worry in Cairo before he was caught in Dirar's snare? How long did Nicolo watch their dwindling funds and quietly fret under Yusuf's oblivious eye?

Yusuf’s eyes burned. He kept his chin down so the afternoon light would not catch the suspicious glimmer in his eyes.

No, they agreed. There was no debt between them, but Yusuf's heart still wept at the sum wrought on Nicolo's soul.

“Tomorrow,” Nicolo said quietly in agreement. He paused.

“The last two skins are stretched. They are ready. You...you could bring them as well.”

You, not we. Yusuf swallowed back a sigh. Sadly, he was not surprised. They went together last week. It was too soon for Nicolo to tolerate another visit.

Yusuf reached behind him, curling his hand around the top of Nicolo’s foot.

“Good idea,” Yusuf murmured. He wanted to ask if Nicolo wanted anything, but Nicolo would only say no.

“You would be fine to go alone?” Nicolo sounded hesitant.

“Of course,” Yusuf replied, but his chest did an odd seize as if squeezing his heart. He kneaded Nicolo’s foot as he brushed the shavings off the wood with his other hand. “I have gone to the village on my own before and made it home despite that horse’s attempts to leave me behind.”

Nicolo’s foot flex within Yusuf’s grip. Nicolo watched Yusuf’s back.

“In the beginning,” Nicolo agreed. His voice wavered. “While I cowered in here, you were left to o everyt—“

Yusuf twisted around. He pulled Nicolo by the ankles, himself squirming until Nicolo’s legs were over Yusuf’s thighs, his head hugged tight under Yusuf’s arm.

“You smell,” Nicolo complained. The effort to get away, however, was half-hearted at best.

“This,” Yusuf said fondly, “from a man who did not appreciate the benefits of a bath every day. The memory of the first few weeks we traveled together were clouded in the haze of your unwashed odor.”

Nicolo huffed, grumbling under his breath.

Yusuf kissed the top of Nicolo’s head.

“You were not cowering,” Yusuf said seriously. “We were resting. And you here hastened my feet home every time. It made the walk back less a chore every time that miserable horse left me.”

Nicolo slipped an arm around Yusuf’s middle. He settled an ear over Yusuf's heart. He listened. And sighed.

“We have enough stores,” Nicolo said out loud. His head shifted to look at the other wall where the rows of jars stacked two high and two deep. It was the coolest spot.

“We are fine,” Yusuf agreed. “But tomorrow, I will see in the village.”

“There are a few things we need if...if the price is fair,” Nicolo replied. After a pause, he added, “I did not mean to imply we were lacking.”

Yusuf stroked the top of Nicolo’s knee over his thighs.

“Pray the horse is agreeable tomorrow,” Yusuf murmured. “I do not wish to walk to the village on foot again.”

Nicolo huffed. The smile was audible in his voice.

“The horse may be more agreeable when called a name other than ‘wretched beast’ or ‘foul animal.’ It would not abandon you on sight then.”

“Bah,” Yusuf grumbled. “I offered it a name but it did not like it.”

“Deranged four legged demon is not a name.”

“You are a cruel man,” Yusuf groaned.

Nicolo’s eyebrow arched high, his only comment as he pulled his threadbare linen tunic over his head. His hair was long enough to skim his shoulders as they fell, inviting Yusuf’s fingers to run through the brown locks again. He wanted to offer to braid the back like he knotted his curls, but he worried how Nicolo would react if Yusuf tugged too hard.

Yusuf sat heavily on their pallet and watched Nicolo step out of his trousers, pale round buttocks flexing.

“I would not need a bath so early and so soon if you did not leave me a mess this morning when we woke up,” Nicolo said, perfectly reasonable despite standing naked by his clothes.

Yusuf grinned. There was something primal, a well of pride in his chest when he murmured, “I was not the one who made the mess between your lovely legs, hobi.”

Nicolo flushed, a pink all over his skin. Yusuf wanted to leap off the pallet and take Nicolo in hand and encourage another mess.

Yusuf’s thoughts must have been clear on his face. Nicolo took a step back out of reach.

Yusuf held up his hands. “To the village, go I.” He eyed Nicolo slowly, his lips curling as the faint pink flushed darker at the slender, long cock.

Nicolo pulled his soiled clothes and held them in front of him.

Yusuf glared at Nicolo. “I question why you must disrobe in front of me when the stream is far away. Would it not be better to undress there?”

Nicolo shrugged, lifting his broad shoulders, stretching his torso, taunting Yusuf with a glimpse of narrow hips.

“Perhaps I should accompany you to the stream,” Yusuf muttered. He studied the line of Nicolo’s collarbones. He had left bruising kisses on the elegant wings, but the marks faded. All that speckled the fair skin (even the pink was fading) were the yellow-white spots of Nicolo’s release.

What a wondrous morning it was. The feel of Nicolo writhing within his arms, shouting as he came untouched, Yusuf was alert far before the rooster perched on their window.

“No,” Nicolo said, but his voice cracked. He glowered at Yusuf. He held the clothes higher to cover the pink cock stirring under Yusuf’s heated gaze.

“I wish you good fortune in the village,” Nicolo offered primly as he walked backwards towards the door.

Ah yes, the village. Yusuf forced his smile to stay on his face.

“I shall miss you,” Yusuf blurted before he could think wiser. He stayed on the pallet, his eyes on Nicolo as the other retreated further out of his reach.

Nicolo’s steps stuttered. He stood under the door, suddenly looking uncertain.

“Go.” Yusuf waved Nicolo off. “Torture me no more with your lovely body before I make a mess of the both of us there on the doorway.”

Nicolo looked at the doorway, perplexed.

“How would that be possible?” Nicolo said blankly. He considered the door. “If we were to do anything standing up, how would that work? Would we need to both be—“

“Go!” Yusuf yelped, laughing helplessly. He tossed the cushion at Nicolo. “Before I show you!”

“Do not run off,” Yusuf warned the beast as he tied the reins to the post.

The horse snorted.

“I mean it. I do not wish to delay my return.” Yusuf leaned in and glared at the horse. “You should show gratitude. If it were not for Nicolo and I, you would still be pulling carts for those wretched men.”

The horse huffed, its foul breath ruffling Yusuf’s beard, but its pointy ears twitched at his words.

“Ah,” Yusuf murmured, “I would not wish such a fate even on a mangy beast like you.” He patted the horse’s nose.

The beast tried to kick him in the balls.

Yusuf leapt back with a growl. He pretended to bow as some watched, chuckling. It was a good opportunity to cultivate friendly relations, perhaps find an amicable ear that may have heard of work. But the back of his neck itched. It has itched since he rode away from their home.

No, Yusuf told himself. This will not do.

Yusuf hoisted the rolled hides under his arm. He took a deep breath and took a step forward, determined to seek fortunes in this village as soon as possible. Nicolo waited.

Yusuf’s nape itched hotter with each step into the village.

It was a silver coin.

Yusuf stared at the coin in his palm. It felt slimy. It left the hand of a fish merchant and slipped on to Yusuf’s palm before Yusuf agreed to anything.

There was a buzzing in his ears, louder as the reed thin merchant continued. The man spoke lingua franca, his words deep with the tones that hinted he shared the same homeland with Nicolo.

But Yusuf did not hear him. The coin in his hand seemed to shriek like the harpies he learned about in the libraries of Damascus. Dirar sneered and beyond Yusuf's reach, Nicolo huddled to the ground and retched blood.

“...Cairo...your friend—“

The coin fell to the mud as Yusuf shoved his elbow under the merchant’s chin. He pushed the man to a pole of the stall selling spices. It rattled. The trader in the stall shouted. The merchant squeaked.

And the words finally made sense.

“...I do not know the language and they said you and your friend did. It is only a short trip with my caravan and I would gladly fund your return back from Cairo. P-please, I mean no offense.”

Yusuf grimaced. He lowered his arm and took a step back.

The fish merchant appeared to rely on the post to keep him upright.

Yusuf bent down and picked up the coin. He polished the currency against his cloak, again and again until his hand was steady again.

“Thank you,” Yusuf said pleasantly enough, “But we are not interested. I bid you good day.”

Yusuf felt the merchant gaping at him, others already walking away uninterested as it did not lead to bloodshed.

Yusuf bowed his head and turned sharply on his heels.

He did not remember he left the purchased spices until he reached the horse.

The horse never ran so fast.

It had nickered when Yusuf slung his purchases over and then himself. It did not stamp its hooves, ears twitching when Yusuf bent low to its ears and urgently muttered, “To Nicolo. Nicolo. Now.”

The horse pounded the grass, cut through shrubs, leapt over fallen trees. It barely panted as it skidded to the familiar grounds of their home.

“Nicolo,” Yusuf shouted as he leapt off the horse far too soon than his knees were ready. He heard a crack, felt a throb, but the knees healed by the time he tugged his baskets off the horse, swat its rump in thanks and staggered to the house.

The itch on his neck has spread to his shoulders by the time he stumbled into the house and found it empty.

“Nicolo!” Yusuf could hear himself, the panic pounding in his throat. It had fueled his feet from Aziz’s stall, shore his strength as he lashed out his scimitar on Dirar’s ship. He was almost too late. No, he was too late.

“Nicolo!” Yusuf dropped their wares. Dimly, he thought he heard something crack among them, but he was too dizzy from the roaring in his ears to notice.

Where was he? Where was Nicolo? Where did Nicolo go as soon as his head bent over those manuscripts?

Yusuf staggered out, his eyes landing on the stream far away. In the distance, he saw him.

Yusuf’s mouth moved, shaping Nicolo’s name. He pushed off from the door and ran.
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Part F in a few...Also Yusuf and yes, I went over my limit. Again. My professor probably wishes I do that for my papers. I'm always under. LOL