Joseph

Before arriving in the east, when he was still with his father and Grimbert, they had often discussed the history and geography of the places where they would visit. At night, around the fire, they would plan out their journey and go over important details to keep in mind. Now, trapped within the winding alleyways of Tyre, he thought back to what he knew about it. It had been an island city founded by the ancient Babylonians and had been connected to the mainland with landfill and large stone blocks during a siege undertaken by Alexander the Great. The city had been destroyed and rebuilt uncountable times, and the result was the confusing maze of mismatched architecture that Joseph now found himself lost within.

He wasn't nervous about being lost. Not yet, anyway. He kept wondering, confident that he would eventually find himself on a familiar street, and hoping for a plan to form in his mind. He also tried to stay vigilant of his surroundings; he didn't want to repeat the mistake he made at the port.

On almost every corner there was someone begging for charity: a woman covered in a shawl cradling an infant, the baby's arm, thin and dirt-streaked, clinging to its mother's chest; an old wizened man, crouching on emaciated legs, hands outstretched, his milky eyes staring vacantly at those who passed; and so many boys. They usually sat in pairs or small groups. Sometimes they were begging with pleading looks on their faces, lips pouted and eyes turned up, but just as often they seemed intent on intimidation, with jutted chins and their chests puffed up defiantly.

One boy in particular caught Joseph's eye. He was young and scrappy with bronze skin and stunning green eyes. Joseph figured that they were about the same age, although this boy was a bit taller and broader. He even seemed more well-fed than the other boys who Joseph had noticed, and he wondered what this boy did differently than the others. As he thought this, a merchant strode past where this boy was standing, hands cupped in expectation. Without slowing his pace, the merchant barked, "Get out of my way, urchin!"

"We are all God's creatures, you are no better than me!"

Joseph's eyes widened at this boy's brashness.

The merchant stopped and turned. His eyes full of ice. "Watch it, boy."

"Maybe you need to watch it, old man," and then, fast as a peregrine falcon swooping on its prey, the boy snatched the merchant's purse and darted away, laughing, "Watch your purse run away, that is!"

The merchant chased after the boy, and soon they were both out of sight. Joseph's heart raced, but as he looked around, he noticed that no one else had paid much attention to the theft that had just occurred.

Joseph shook off the uneasy feeling and continued to make his way down the street, still not sure where in the city he had wound up. As he tried to navigate himself back to familiar territory, he took note of the different people he saw and of the landmarks he passed. A diverse group of Greek and Syrian Christians and Jews lived scattered around the city. He passed old Greek and Roman temples that had been converted into Christian churches, Jewish synagogues, and even Islamic mosques. He noticed that although few Arabs remained living within the walls, many Moorish farmers and merchants did business in Tyre's markets. He zigged and zagged across the city until his feet were raw and his legs and back ached. And just when he started to become frustrated by his lack of direction, Joseph found himself back on a familiar street.

It was the bar where Joseph had first asked after Grimbert. Italian sailors still crowded its entrance way, drinking hardily and speaking with libatious enthusiasm. "Hey, Lorenzo, look! It's our young friend!" the portly man from the previous day shouted out, slapping his taller companion on the back.

"So it is, Pascual!" said Lorenzo, the thin white scar on his cheek curved along with his lips, brightening and exaggerating his smile.

"Did you find your traveling companion," said the portly man, whose name must have been Pascual.

"Unfortunately, no," said Joseph, an idea forming in his mind. Wisps of fog condensing into a cloud.

"Ah, that is too bad. But this is a wonderful town to be in, besides," Pascual responded.

"Even so, I am trying to find my way back home."

"When I am at home, I wish to be back here. When I am here, I dream of home," Lorenzo mused.

"Yes, that is true," continued Pascual. "And when I am at sea, I envy the sturdiness of land, yet when I'm docked at a port, I miss the sweet swaying of the ship."

"The sea is my mistress, the land is my wife," Lorenzo seemed to shout as both friends started to laugh with the unrestrained composure of men who are either quite intoxicated or have gone raving mad.

"I have never been on a real ship," Joseph confessed.

"No?" Lorenzo seemed shocked.

"No, but I have dreamed of sailing," he lied. "Of boarding a ship and experiencing adventures at sea."

"You should follow your nose; the salt air will take you to a ship. Pursue your dream!" Pascual encouraged.

"I went to the port today, but no one wanted an untrained shipboy."

"Sometimes it is all about who you know. Who is the captain? Where they are heading. What the ship needs," Lorenzo began to ramble.

"Yes, that is what I was thinking, too," said Joseph. "But who do I know here that would have that kind of information?" He paused, meaningfully.

The two sailors looked at each other. "Why, we have that sort of information!"

"You do? Would you be willing to help me?"

"Of course! You are our little friend!" Pascual slurred.

"Do you know when a ship would be heading back to Europe?"

"Well, our ship is heading back in the morning," Lorenzo offered. "That is why we are celebrating tonight. Because who knows the next time we will be back in this beautiful city?"

Joseph's head felt light and giddy. Maybe this would work! "Would I be able to travel along with you?"

"Our captain doesn't like passengers."

"Unless you have coin," Pasqual interjected, "Do you have coin?"

"No, I meant as a shipboy."

"Oh, yes, right," Lorenzo scratched at his chin. Joseph bit his lip, waiting for a reply. "Well, what do you think, Pascual?"

"Why not?" answered the shorter friend, "Who are we to crush the dreams of... of?"

"Joseph," he interjected, "Joseph of Loconge, son of the master weaver of Loconge."

"Ah, Loconge! My brother-in-law does business in Loconge," informed Lorenzo.

"And who are we to crush the dreams of Joseph, Joseph of Loconge?" finished Pascual.

Joseph could feel his heart fluttering. It would all be over soon. Once he was in Europe, he would be able to send word back to Loconge and he would be rescued, and while everything would not be the same, obviously, with his father gone, at least he'd be back with his aunt and Adso, and, he stopped. He didn't want to get too far ahead of himself. "Should I meet the captain first? Can we confirm everything tonight? Or should I meet you somewhere in the morning?"

The two drunken sailors exchanged a look before Pascual spoke. "Meet us here in the morning, Joseph. At sunrise. Don't be tardy."

"Thank you!" Joseph said, enthusiastically. Excited to be done with this mess finally, he turned to head back to the inn.

*. *. *

Back at the inn, Joseph was greeted with an unwelcome surprise.

"When I didn't see you this morning, I hoped that meant that you had found your man and were on your way," the innkeeper said to Joseph as he entered the tavern's main door.

"No, I spent the day searching for a passage home. It seems that Grimbert has left the city."

"And taken your coin, aye?"

"Yes," Joseph agreed.

"I've let your room to someone new." He said it matter of fact and without hesitation.

"But," Joseph stuttered.

"I run a business, not a charity," the innkeeper met Joseph's gaze. There was kindness in his eyes, but also a finality in his tone.

"I found passage on a ship that leaves tomorrow morning. Couldn't I just," Joseph trailed off, scrunching his brow and biting his lip. This was the man who had been so helpful just a day ago. Had given him a free breakfast, even.

"I'm sorry," replied the man. "Nothing personal. And if what you say is true, then it seems it'll all end well enough for you."

"But where do I go tonight?" He practically whined.

"That's not my concern," the man turned his way. Then, softening his shoulders, "There are plenty of churches nearby. One would surely have a bench for a lost pilgrim to sleep upon."

One night all alone. Joseph could do that. He didn't even have coin enough for an evening meal, but maybe the sailors would help him with breakfast in the morning. What did they eat on a ship? Fish? They must have a cook on board.

With his stomach beginning to grumble, Joseph made his way back down the street, seeking some Christian charity.

The innkeeper had been right. The doors of a nearby church were open and Joseph was able to curl himself up on a bench. It was carved wood and smooth from use. The church was echoey and Joseph could hear the distant rustling and whispers of other people who had sought refuge for the night. He wondered about all those begging boys he saw today on the streets. Were they sleeping on church pews also? How about the boy with bright green eyes? Had he gotten away from that man? Had he used those stolen coins to rent a warm bed for the night? Or was he also curled up somewhere in the shadows?

Joseph could hear the squeaks and scampering of rodents, and he was glad to be off the floor. Hungry, cold, and sore, but full of hope, Joseph closed his eyes and settled down for the night.

As soon as he awoke, Joseph headed for the bar where he had agreed to meet the sailors. He hustled through the gray dawn light to make sure that he was on time. They weren't there yet when he arrived; they had had a lot to drink and might be running late.

No one was standing outside the bar this time. It must be closed so early in the day. As Joseph waited, he made sure that he was at the right spot. It looked so different without a crowd in front of it. But no, he was sure, this was the right place.

The sun crept up in the sky, transforming the deep indigo of the early hours into a bright and cheerful robin's egg blue. It was no longer sunrise. Joseph could hear the voices of pedestrians, the distant rumbling of carts, the sounds of an awaking city. What had he misremembered from the previous night's conversation? They had said to meet them outside the bar at sunrise. That's what he had done. But doubt plagued the peripheries of his memory. He hadn't eaten in a day, maybe his mind was playing tricks on him.

A man walked down the street and up to the bar. Joseph practically pounced on him. "Do you know Lorenzo and Pascual? I was supposed to meet them here at sunrise. Do you know where I could find them?"

The man squinted his eyes. "Lorenzo and Pascual? Here? Today? No, they would be at the port. Their ship was loaded and was ready to set sail."

"Yes, I know, I was going to go with them."

"Huh? Really? Well, then I guess you should go to the port. But you'd better hurry." The man turned away from Joseph.

Joseph did hurry. He ran with a crazed desperation. He jostled his way through crowded streets and darted between carts. He reached the port, which was just as busy as the previous day. Up and down he searched, not seeing Lorenzo or Pascual. What he did see, however, sunk his heart. A large ship was fading into the distance.