Date: Sat, 21 Feb 2009 14:29:26 -0500
From: George Gauthier <georgegauthier@verizonmail.com>
Subject: Treasure of Carthage

				Treasure of Carthage
				Naked Prey 9
				by George Gauthier

Author's Note: This is tale of a search for sunken treasure in the
Mediterranean Sea during the mid XIIth century. It is the ninth story in my
'Naked Prey' series for the Historical section of the Nifty Archive, each
with different characters. The other stories in the series so far are
'Naked Prey' set in 19th century Africa, 'The Shawnee', set in colonial
America, 'Terra Australis', set during the great age of exploration in the
South Seas, 'Dangerous Game' set largely in the Caribbean in the
mid-seventeenth century, 'White Comanche' set in the American Southwest in
the 1830s, 'Fearful Symmetry' about two castaways on the island of Sumatra
in the early 18th century, 'Periplus' a tale of a voyage around the Indian
Ocean in the late eighteenth century, and 'Source of the Nile' set in Roman
Egypt.

This story contains graphic descriptions of the male human body and of
consensual and promiscuous sexual activity between adult males. If any of
this would offend a reader, read no further. This is not intended for
persons younger than an age where they may freely and legally select their
reading matter in whatever jurisdiction applies.

It is entirely fictional, with no resemblance intended to any person living
or dead. Otherwise, it is reasonable accurate historically as far as its
setting.

Readers who like these stories might want to try my 'Daphne Boy' historical
tales or my 'Jungle Boy' series of tales in a modern setting, posted in the
Gay/Authoritarian section of the archive. Also, please try my futuristic
'Track and Field' stories in College and my 'Mer-Boy' stories in
Gay/Beginnings. For links to my stories, look on the list of Prolific
Authors on the Archive for George Gauthier.

Comments and feedback welcome.

			Chapter 1. Trapani, Sicily 1156

"Off with your kit then, Eric." the bosun said with the authority of one
used to being obeyed.

"Right here in the common room?" the nervous lad asked looking dubiously at
the leering faces of the tavern's guests and a few sailors from the ship he
hoped to sign on with.

"Why not, boy? This is as much privacy as you'll get aboard a sailing ship
like the 'Alboran Sea'. Anyway, as I already mentioned, we don't hire
anyone, man or boy, unless they check out first."

Nodding, though biting his lower lip in embarrassment, the tow headed boy
slipped the linen shirt over his shoulders and set it aside. His taut torso
displayed a wiry build with a well corrugated chest and belly, tiny red
aureoles at the tips of his pectorals, and more muscular definition than
one might expect of a lad a few months short of seventeen. Underneath he
had just a loose pair of breeches instead of proper hose, the garment
obviously a hand-me down rather too large for his small waist. They rode
very low on his narrow hips, exposing his flat belly nearly to his groin
and barely covered his rear cleavage, threatening to slip off entirely if
the waistband ever lost its tenuous hold on the boy's pert rump. No small
clothes on him either.

Just then the boy caught sight of the barmaid and stopped fumbling with the
tie that (just barely) held up his pants. Impatient, the bosun reached out
his big hands and swept the boy's breeches down to his ankles. Putting a
booted foot on the garment the bosun forced the boy to step out of them
entirely, giving him and everyone else a full view of his naked body. Not
so surprisingly the boy's clothing vanished into the crowd, grabbed by one
of the sailors, probably for the rest of the evening. It seemed his job
interview and get acquainted session with prospective crew mates would be
carried out with him in the nude.

Several of the sailors whistled at the sight of the now naked youth. Eric
Sturluson was a comely lad though quite small for his age and very
slender. He stood just shy of four inches over five feet (162 cm) and
weighed only 110 pounds (50 kg). He had a fawn-like physique but with a
wiry musculature, toned and taut and incredibly well-defined thanks to near
zero body fat.

>From his tiny red nipples to a deeply indented navel, to narrow hips
framing a surprisingly ample manhood for one so slight of build, Eric was
real beauty. His belly was flat though well rippled with small but firm
pectorals and abdominals. Between the V of his Adam's girdle his flat belly
showed a tracery of downward pointing veins just under the skin. The beat
of his heart was visible on the left side of his smooth chest. He was sleek
and smooth, with the deep even tan of someone who must spend much time
outdoors unencumbered by clothing.

The boy was pretty as a girl with animated and intelligent features: a
straight nose, high cheekbones, and large green eyes topped by a blond
thatch, colors that reflected his Norman heritage. He had no hair on his
body, not even wisps under his arms or at the fork of his legs, a naturally
hairless boy then, a condition probably related to his failure to reach
full height, as was his flawless complexion. It was obviously no razor had
ever scraped his cheeks or had needed to. He was totally beardless, without
even a hint of peach fuzz.

"Hmmn, no sign of disease down here." the bosun mused aloud, giving Eric's
genitals a close scrutiny, weighing the hairless ballsac in the palm of his
hand, rolling the spheres with his fingers. "Still if you are really at
your full height and bare as you are everywhere, even here at the fork of
your legs, it makes me wonder if these things are working properly."

The bosun punctuated his remarks by squeezing one of the boy's testicles
between thumb and forefinger. He then turned his attention to the smooth
cock, pushing back the foreskin and ran a thumb around the edge of the
glans then over the helmet. Eric was mortified with the close inspection of
his genitals and the doubts voiced about his virility, doubts that had been
following him for some time. It was no secret that the boy had no interest
in girls even at an age when the juices should be flowing. He spent his
free time with other boys his age, mostly orphans and runaways from the
drudgery of rural life, sometimes sharing a bed. The noises that emanated
from his tiny room out back of youthful males in lusty sexual congress left
no doubt as to what went on behind the closed door. Nor was it hard to
conclude from Eric's small size, fine-boned features, hairless body and his
mop of straight blond of hair that nearly brushed his shoulders which boy
was on the bottom.

"What about his ass?", another sailor prompted. The bosun nodded then
ordered Eric.

"Spread 'em, bend over, and grab your ankles, little one."

As the embarrassed youth complied with this latest humiliation, the bosun
caressed the muscular halves of the boy's rump then squeezed them
appraisingly. The flesh plumped up red between his fingers, living white
marks on the buttocks. His thumbs slid into the whorl of the anus, pulling
it open for a visual inspection.

"Hmmmn, nice and tight but opens up easily enough. No sign of piles or
fistula either, nor any abnormal discharge."

He slid his right thumb far enough into the hole to touch the boy's joy
spot, grunting satisfactorily at the reaction that caused as the boy gave
out an "Urk!" and tried to straighten up.

"Head down, ass up, boy!" he remonstrated with a smart slap to the butt,
then resumed his inspection. His rough hand pulled the boy's genitals back
between his legs, tugging the balls to the bottom of their sac. He worked
the boy's cock like a farmer works his milch cow's teat, feeling it start
to plump up.

Poor Eric, under his tan, his skin turned pink from a full body blush. This
frank talk and intimate examination in front of people who knew him was
more than he had bargained for. He was terribly embarrassed at being
examined so intimately in public, ashamed too that he was so complaisant,
letting it happen, not standing up for himself, raising no real objection,
stripping right there in the common room, bending over, letting a man's
hands touch every part of his body, even his most private parts. It was
almost too much, but he wanted the job badly.

Eric looked at the leering faces around him. What was next? Would the
sailors throw him belly down over a table and give him a try-out there and
then? He looked around for support but saw only amusement in all faces and
more than a little lust in many. It was a look he was used to by then.

An orphan boy had few options, He had to earn a living as best he could,
even if that meant bending over for men who liked pretty boys. So Eric had
been selling his ass for nearly two years at the tavern, sharing the
proceeds with the innkeeper. Eric had long ago realized that some males
preferred their own gender, even when women were available and would pay
for the privilege of a romp in bed with a young good looking male

As a tavern boy in a seaport he had some idea what happened to pretty lads
like himself who signed up for long voyages, though he was unclear about
the ground rules. Would he have to entertain the whole crew? Would he have
any choice at all? Would he even get his clothes back or would they keep
him naked while aboard ship? He'd heard of captains who kept their ship
boys bare except when they went ashore. What about discipline aboard
ship. Some captains were strict disciplinarians, relying on the whip to
keep sailors in line. Others with a perverse streak liked to teach a boy to
crave the caress the whip for sexual excitement. Eric wasn't interested in
anything of that sort, as he had made clear to his own clients.

As for enforced nudity at sea, Eric did not mind going about entirely bare,
not in itself. Why should he. Eric was rather proud of his trim little body
and liked to show it off when he and the local lads went to the shore for a
run along the sands and a swim, which they did almost every day.  What fun
the boys had splashing, racing, playing the grab ass games boys get up to,
strutting his stuff. He especially liked it when his friends stood in water
chest high and let him set his feet in their hands like stirrups. Light as
he was, the two of them could lift him high and fling him up and away in a
brief moment of flight. When he came down, he sometimes flopped into the
water on his belly, but he usually managed to twist his trim body catlike
to enter the water in a clean dive. Eric was an excellent swimmer, and he
loved the way the water flowed over his body, touching him everywhere at
once like a lover with a hundred hands. Afterwards he liked to stretch out
on the sand to doze, letting the rays of the warm Sicilian sun turn his
skin a tawny gold. If that allowed the other boys and passersby the chance
to scrutinize him, so be it.

He had no false modesty about himself. He knew that for all his petite
size, he was worth looking at: tanned to a pale brown like a native
Sicilian, though in his case from the sun, blond as a Viking, his trim body
spread out on the white sand, eyes closed, looking so very desirable and
sexy: small, naked, hairless, with a trim and taut boyish physique and
angelic features. He dozed on quite unconcerned that with his legs spread
apart he was totally exposed: even his well formed genitals and the small
whorl between his buttocks.

Still casual public nudity was one thing or even entertaining clients
upstairs. Eric had never been taken sexually in front of a crowd. Nor did
it happen that evening either. The bosun was thorough in his evaluation for
good reason but was neither callous nor uncaring. He knew the boy would be
utterly mortified by a public fucking, and he had no intention of putting
him through one. No sense in rushing things, shaming this inoffensive lad
in front of those who knew him. The boy would soon get used to being passed
around every evening among the crew and even look forward to it. It was
enough right then that he had showed he would not resist whatever use the
bosun wanted to make of his luscious body, stripping him publicly, touching
him intimately, toying with his most private parts. Eric was the best sort
for a ship's boy, a natural submissive, a bottom boy anxious to please and
willing to do it with his sexy body. With a little care to break him in
gently, he would soon accept and even welcome his new role in life. Now the
bosun had to clinch the deal, to get the boy to sign the papers that would
put him under the authority of the captain and the bosun too.

"Please, bosun Caltrone. Will I be whipped aboard the Alboran Sea. I don't
think I could stand to be marked or disfigured."

"Nay, lad. Ours is a happy ship, and discipline is enforced without
brutality. The captain has a light hand with the cat. He thinks leaving
stripes on a man is a permanent solution to a temporary problem, one that
makes a bad sailor turn mean and never made a good sailor out of a bad
one. Mind you, we don't tolerate trouble makers. The cat does come out of
the bag in case of major crimes: theft, fighting, or striking an
officer. Even then the offender is whipped but once then set ashore at the
first port. Given your age, for any conceivable infraction you can expect
no more than a slap of a tawse on your bare rump or maybe a light caning on
these bare cheeks. Believe me, no one will want to spoil your pretty little
body. We want to enjoy it as it is, smooth and flawless. As we shall."

"Does that mean that I have to ... well, share myself ... with everyone I
mean."

"The captain and mate do get priority but yes, most of us anyway. We have a
crew of twenty seven. You will get to know them well if you sail with
us. Only a handful doesn't care much for boys. That's not so many compared
to those you probably entertain in a week."

Eric flushed as the barmaid smiled ruefully nodding and answering for
him. "At least that many, bosun. He is quite popular and takes far too much
custom away from us girls."

The bosun laughed and told her. "That's because he is the prettiest thing
around here, the loveliest boy I have ever laid eyes on, really. I am sorry
if that makes you squirm there lad, but it is true enough."

"You mentioned my bare rump just now. Does that mean I have to stay like
this all the time, stark naked?"

"Why yes! Who ever heard of a ship's boy running around in clothing. You
will serve aboard just as nature made you."

With a smile he added, not unkindly:

"I have seen you running along the shore or swimming in the harbor, Eric,
like a seal or maybe a mer-boy, then lying on the sands afterwards, so I
know you are not shy, even something of a show-off. You will do just
fine. If I am any guess of boys, you will enjoy being kept naked. Oh, we
will lend you a loincloth to wear when you go ashore so as not to offend
the locals. Otherwise you will serve just as you are now."

A friendly slap on his rump followed by a fond rub punctuated the bosun's
remarks. Eric really did want to get away to sea, to travel to the distant
lands he was always hearing about. He had no real future in Trapani as a
tavern boy. It was just a small port on the western tip of Sicily. At sea
maybe he might work his way up to seaman or even officer. He could read and
write and figure well enough. Most sailors were illiterate, but Eric had
been taught his letters by a local notary in exchange for his favors
gratis. He signed the papers, rather than make a witnessed mark, becoming a
ship's boy on the trader the Alboran Sea.

Named for the westernmost arm of the Mediterranean between Iberia and
Morocco, the Alboran Sea was a merchant galley. Derived from the knarss,
the merchant ships of Eric's Norse ancestors, it was clinker built with
only ten oars on each side. All the crew including the rowers were free
men. Despite his small size, Eric could expect to spend some time pulling
an oar himself. Everyone needed to know how to row in tandem in case of
emergency.

Though thee ship sailed with the wind in open water, it relied on its oars
for propulsion into and out of harbors and anchorages or simply when the
wind died down. With a new hand like Eric, the captain did not set the lad
to the oars for the trickier approaches but trained him when the wind fell
away and they had to use the oars to keep going. Some of the sailors were
skeptical that a small nude lad like Eric, a beardless and virtually
hairless boy, could wield an oar and keep the tempo with the other rowers,
but he soon proved the doubters wrong.

Seated on his bench facing the stern, Eric's wiry physique went into
action, bending forward as he lifted the oar out of the water, feathering
the blade as his motion sent it toward the bow. He dropped the blade into
the water with hardly a splash, then leaned back on the oar, legs braced on
the block in front of him, pulling with the full strength of his legs and
buttocks and back and shoulders, his rump almost coming up off the bench as
he put his weight into it. All the sailors came to admire little Eric's
work at the end of his big oar, the muscle bundles on his arms and
shoulders and back outlined under his smooth skin, his abs heaving with his
exertions and deep breathing, the long muscles of thigh and calf standing
out like a classical sculpture of an athlete, and his pert buttocks rock
hard as he braced himself and pulled on the oar.

Eric used his strength economically, without wasted motion, flexing forward
and back like a long bow flexing in the hands of an archer. He moved in
time with the others, careful not to entangle his oar with anyone
else's. Maybe he couldn't impart as much impetus to the ship as the bigger
males could, but no one could fault the lad for not doing his utmost.

As he rowed, sweat poured off him. Soon he was positively glowing in the
sunlight, a shining vision of a male beauty at the peak of his physical
powers. He worked away unselfconscious about his nudity and utter
hairlessness, oblivious to the reality of his lubricious display of
concupiscence and the effect it had on the lusty males in the crew. With
his pretty face and sweat dripping off his taut body everywhere, the scene
was just about the most erotic thing they had ever seen short of
intercourse.  They had never seen anyone in their lives, male or female, so
physically desirable as this slender youth.

His fellow sailors soon warmed to the boy. This was one kid who really knew
the meaning of hard work and did his best to keep up his end. He finished
his shifts at the oar literally trembling with fatigue, muscles sore, too
tired to feel real hunger in his belly though his energy was badly
depleted. No one could say he did not give everything to his work, yet he
never complained.

Eric soon found himself falling into the daily routine on the small
ship. It was crowded but they usually put in to shore every night and
cooked and slept on land. Medieval sailors had few navigational
tools. Longitude was just a guess and latitude only crudely measured. Hence
ships remained in sight of the coast. It was easier to navigate from
landmark to landmark, it kept the ship close to ports for trade, and they
could take advantage of coastal currents and and on-shore and off-shore
winds different from the prevailing winds farther out. Another reason for
galleys to remain near the coast was the need to refill their water casks
for their large sweating crews. Although an open deck ship was more
vulnerable to storms, its shallow draft allowed it to put in to small bays
or beaches the ship, to travel up rivers, and to operating in water only
waist high on a man.

If Eric's skin had been a pale brown ashore, months at sea in an open boat
turned him nearly as brown as a Saracen. The sun shone high in the bright
skies of summer in the Southern Mediterranean and the reflection from the
surface of the sea kissed his bare hide virtually every day, turning it a
tawny gold.

As for providing sexual services, yes Eric had to share himself with the
crew, but it wasn't a free for all or an orgy every evening. The sailors
took him in rotation and no more than five a night. Thereafter, the bosun
made sure he got his full rest, both so he could recoup his strength and so
he would look fresh and pretty the next morning. Putting out for the other
sailors was no worse than what he had done at the tavern and these were all
men he worked with daily. Not everyone was gentle or even nice but nobody
got really rough with him either, if only because of what the others might
say or do. They wanted the boy unspoiled for their turn at him, and some
were becoming rather fond of the personable lad too. Once past his initial
shyness at sex in public, the boy was uninhibited, happy to put on a show
for those whose turn it was that evening to only watch and offer pointers
and improbable suggestions.

The lusty sailors took him every possible way: on all fours, kneeling, on
his back, astride a sailor's hips, sometimes at both ends at once, pumping
for all they were worth into the warm depths of the sexy youth who had
unreservedly accepted his role as everyone's boy, everybody's toy.

The men liked what he could do with his mouth as much as with the talented
muscles of his ass. The boy often wound up at the end of the evening up on
his knees sitting back on his heels, oozing cum from his anus, while his
own spunk and that from five others glistened white all over his tanned
chest and belly and face, a thread of cum linking the last cock to shoot
with the deposit in his mouth, half opened in an embarrassed
smile. Sometimes other sailors joined in for the final baptism of gism,
spurting their seed across his exquisite features, leaving gobs and trails
across the bridge of his nose, his cheeks, and his chin. Eric loved the
smell and the taste of cum, licking his chops as it slid down his face or
sucking cum off the fingers of a sailor who wiped the gooey gism off his
skin and presented it to the youth's lips and tongue. Other hands rubbed
the fluid into his chest and belly. Sometimes sailors shot their seed onto
his back too, bathing his whole torso in cum.

All in all his life at sea was good for Eric: full of hard honest work that
needed doing, decent food, fair treatment, all things considered, and
plenty of recreational sex. He was very glad he had signed aboard. Aside
from his personal adventures, he was seeing some of the dramatic coastlines
and ports of call he had only heard about. He saw smoke erupting from the
tops of volcanoes like Stromboli and gazed in wonder at the basaltic
columns of the Cyclopean Islands off the east coast of Sicily near
Mt. Etna. The ship stopped at the Blue Grotto on Capri. Not bothering with
the normal approach in a rowboat, the boy had just dove into the sea and
swam into what once was the private swimming pool of a Roman emperor
refracted sunlight trough the water giving it a startling blue color. The
Pillars of Hercules were dramatic not for themselves but because they
represented the way to the limitless ocean beyond. Eric was glad they never
took the Alboran Sea beyond the narrows. The huge swells, the open sea, and
the tides of the Atlantic frightened him.

Still, for all his acceptance among the crew, he was younger than the other
sailors and found it hard to make close friends because of his less than
masculine role as a bum boy. Although the men indulged him and were kind in
their rough way, he just wasn't taken seriously as a real male nor as one
of them. The captain and mate and bosun liked him well enough, as a fine
addition to their crew, and hard worker, pleasant shipmate, and in bed of
course, but their positions would not let them get too close to a mere
ship's boy.

			Chapter 2. Archipelagoes and Islands

The good ship Alboran Sea traded from Gibraltar to Malta, stopping at the
smaller ports and islands, especially those near Sicily and the North
African coast. Just to the west of Trapani lay the Aegadian Islands an
archipelago of small mountainous islands with an important tuna
fishery. Around about the north shore of Sicily in the Tyrrhenian Sea lay
the Aeolian Islands, eight volcanic islands which filled the gap between
Etna on Sicily and Vesuvius on the mainland. These islands supplied
volcanic pumice stone across the Mediterranean basin. South of Sicily lay
the Pelagie Islands, not yet deforested as they would be in later
centuries, covered with native olive groves and juniper and carob
plantations. To the northwest, closer to Ifriqiya (Tunisia) lay
Pantellaria, whose fertile soils were largely unexploited for lack of fresh
water. Inhabitants could only store rainfall in cisterns. Volcanic in
origin, it featured fumaroles and hot springs.

All these had been conquered in the past by the Arabs who had wiped our or
deported their entire populations. Reconquered for Christendom by the
Normans, like Sicily itself, they were more like stepping stones than
destinations in themselves. The main trade was with the large islands of
the Western Mediterranean: the Balearics, Sicily, and southern Sardinia
though Corsica lay farther north than they usually sailed.

Galleys have to put in for water frequently. Sometimes they filled their
casks from streams flowing into the sea at other times from village wells.

"What about that loincloth I am supposed to wear ashore, sir." Eric had
asked the captain.

"Oh, no need for that lad. I am not sending you ashore on liberty where you
would be on your own time. Filling water casks is part of your job. You are
on duty, and your uniform of the day, every day is just that pretty tanned
hide of yours. Now be off with you, lad."

A friendly slap to his bare rump told him the captain really did expect him
to parade around the village in the nude.

Poor Eric felt rather embarrassed carrying or rolling a water cask through
a village, while the villagers smirked at his naked body. With the bigger
type of cask he had to bend over to roll it along the dusty street giving
everyone a fine view of his pert rump, the crinkly whorl between his
buttocks, and his dangly bits as they swayed with his movements between his
slender thighs.

Inevitably this drew taunts from male teenagers centered at Eric's complete
nudity, small size, and virtual hairlessness even at the fork of his
legs. Unfortunately their dialect was enough like the one Eric spoke that
he could follow their meaning. It bothered the boy, not because he was shy
but because nudity in that context made him feel like he was barely a step
above a galley slave, fearful that at any moment he might feel the lash of
a taskmaster. More than one crude boy compared him to a farm animal or a
dog, more specifically a bitch. Several made shrewd guesses about how he
spent his evenings, using unflattering names and phrases like bum boy,
whore boy, or catamite.

For all the occasional unpleasant episode, there were compensations,
especially the exploration of the world beneath the waves. On one of his
early voyages as a youth, the bosun Ricardo Caltrone had seen pearl divers
at work in the Red Sea. He learned how they fashioned their goggles of
leather and glass or horn that let them see clearly underwater, opening up
a realm of wonder and beauty that few men knew existed. The pearl divers
were slaves and took little joy from the dangerous realm they were forced
to work, with hazards like sharks and drowning, but the bosun was a free
man, able to enjoy his time under the surface. He did not dive for pearls
which were not found in the Mediterranean but to explore this underwater
kingdom for its own sake. With Eric such a fine swimmer, the bosun
introduced him to the sport of diving, eager for a companion to share it
with.

Of course the divers had no breathing gear, not even a snorkel, nor swim
fins either. They swam with their goggles and a knife in a scabbard tied to
the left forearm, entirely naked, like any other creature of the sea. Eric
got the idea of strapping large scallop shells to the palm of his hands,
using them much like a modern swimmer uses swim paddles. That improved
their speed and mobility.  He also carried a sponging trident reinforced
with a spear blade at the other end for protection against sharks and to
poke with at reefs and crevices you might not care to stick your hand
into. Cork floats fastened near the ends of the trident gave it a neutral
buoyancy. Even if he let go entirely it would not sink to the bottom.

Eric was a natural at swimming underwater. He could hold his breath for
three minutes and could dive down to sixty feet. His slight build meant
less resistance as his slender body slipped through the water. With his
trident and long blond locks, he looked like a mer-boy or one of Poseiden's
sons, a sea-sprite come to life. Indeed the other sailors soon took to
referring to Eric as the mer-boy, much to his delight. He also concluded,
or perhaps rationalized, the idea that his role as a mer-boy was another
good reason for staying naked. Never mind clothing. Who ever heard of a
sea-sprite or mer-boy who was other than naked. True he did not have a
proper tail or scales on his lower body or seaweed for hair, but his
trident, goggles, and swim shells, made him more of a creature of the sea
than any other human boy.

Eric came to love the underwater realm, especially coral reefs. The schools
of fish that swam around them displayed so many colors and shapes and
markings in bold stripes and mottled spots. Corals grew in shapes as varied
as deer antlers or big flat leaves or round loaves. Sea anemones which
looked liked flowers but were animals, could retract their tentacles in an
instant. Vicious eels and octopi lurked in holes and crannies. The variety
of plants and shellfish was equally astonishing. Sometimes they found
remains of sunken ships with the jars the ancients called amphorae
scattered about. He imagined that ruins of buildings submerged in
earthquakes were traces of lost Atlantis. No he did not find sunken
treasure, no gold or silver or jewels, but this new world was a treasure in
itself. Eric contented himself with bringing up choice shells and bits of
coral though many of the latter lost their best coloration after exposure
to the air.

As a result of their shared avocation, Eric felt himself growing friendlier
with the bosun. He had always appreciated the man's hard body even if his
dark looks were interesting rather than handsome. After a swim or a dive he
would sit with the man within the circle of his arms, leaning back on his
powerful chest, the man's member pressed into his cleavage, as Caltrone
played lazily with his nipples and chest, and genitals. That was how they
liked to watched the sunset, content to just lie with bodies pressed
together, looking out over the sea at the remarkable display of reds and
oranges that painted the western sky.

"So why don't we try looking for pearls ourselves, Ricardo." Eric asked one
night.

"They don't seem to grow in these waters. No matter how many oysters you
open up, you won't find a pearl inside. You wouldn't like pearl diving,
Eric. It's a grim business. The oysters often lie in very deep water so it
is easy to black out or to run out of breath and take water into the lungs
by reflex. Then there are the sharks and sea snakes. I pity the poor souls
I saw enslaved as divers. The owners kept them perpetually nude like you
boy and were strict about segregation from females. It is 'common
knowledge' in those parts that sexual activity increases buoyancy, so
divers are kept locked up away from possible contact with women. Confined
to male-only quarters, the inevitable result is that same sex relations
were nearly universal among them, regardless of a boy's preferences. Not
like when I hired you. Remember, I made sure you that you would be a
willing participant. We don't rape our boys on the Alboran Sea."

At twilight, the bosun taught Eric the main navigational stars. The star
patterns in the constellations were actually easier to pick out in the
twilight because only the very brightest stars shone through the failing
light of day. He also pointed out the constellations. Eric could identify
some of them easily enough. The Scorpion and the Big Dipper and the head of
Tarus the Bull were not hard to distinguish. He never could make out an
archer in Sagittarius and wondered about some of the others too. The older
man found his memory taxed to recall the stories behind the constellations,
like just what was it that got Orion the Hunter placed into the sky in the
first place. He did smile at the boy's curiosity and sense of wonder. Well
that went with being seventeen, didn't it.

If their ship was docking for longer than overnight at an island, Eric
might ask for time off to climb the highest point on the island and take in
the view. The captain indulged his ship's boy's curiosity, knowing how much
young males like to explore. The islands were small enough that he could
not really get lost. So be it.

"Off with you then lad, and we'll look for you in two days' time. Remember
not everyone will welcome a stranger but many will, if only to hear the
news of distant parts. If you don't look like a threat, the islanders will
treat you decently, especially if you have nothing for them to steal."

Some islands were mostly sandy and infertile with grassy hills and dunes
along the coast. Others were volcanic with good soils and were laid out in
fields. Some were forested, others were largely barren. Most islands were
sparsely inhabited with just a single port and a village or two in the
interior. Without sandals, the ground could be hard on the feet. Eric had
only modest calluses on the soles of his feet so he had to pick his way
carefully over stretches of volcanic rocks. He knew that in time his feet
would toughen up.

To show his benign intent, Eric left his trident behind and set off bearing
only a stick against dogs. He wore a skimpy loincloth, a narrow strip of
cloth passed between his legs and over a cord tied low around his hips. A
grown man armed to the teeth might have been perceived as a threat but not
a slender virtually nude boy. Small for his age, he really looked two or
three years younger than his actual seventeen, coming across to the
islanders as an innocent lad, an errant youth rather than a lewd young
man. With his sunny personality, physical beauty, and sense of humor, he
charmed those he met. Everyone wanted to get on the good side of the lovely
creature who had appeared in their midst and mingled so freely and
unselfconsciously despite having only a scrap of cloth to cover his loins.

The older women might cluck at the sight of a nearly nude boy traipsing
through their village, his butt cheeks exposed, but no one else really
minded. Plenty of islanders of both sexes liked what they saw. Their eyes
followed his progress along the path, entranced by the sight of the boy's
perfectly formed buttocks dimpling fetchingly as he stepped his way across
their small village square.  The elders were careful to keep their young
ladies at some distance from the young visitor. After all, the lad was next
thing to naked. It would be rather improper then for them to be allowed to
mingle, except at the harvest, which started the next day.

Still it was only hospitable to suggest the boy stay for with them
overnight so the traveler might relate news of the outside world. They knew
too their food, humble fare though it was, would be a welcome change from
whatever he ate aboard ship.

To show his appreciation of their kindness, the next day Eric helped with
the harvest, picking olives and almonds. For this work, village boys as
well as Eric stripped naked to climb into the upper branches of trees to
knock the olives or nuts off with a cane or stick. Without clothing, no one
had to worry about snagging their garments or getting hung up. Besides this
was a traditional way for the local girls to get a look at the upcoming
lads without causing scandal. The girls bustled about on the ground,
helping to police up the harvest into baskets and not so incidentally
checking out a likely boy perched on a branch. In that way, the harvest
doubled as the opening of courtship.

It was hot work, and scrambling among the branches did leave scratches, but
it was a lot of fun too, a challenge and a chance to show off. As they
reached the topmost branches the boys would yell out in sheer youthful
exuberance. What boy does not love to climb trees? And if he also got a
socially acceptable chance to posture and display himself for a potential
mate, so much the better.

After sharing their evening meal Eric sat around the fire. Soon arms were
thrown in a friendly fashion over his shoulders as bodies pressed him on
either side. This was obviously a boy who liked to be fussed over and
petted so his hosts indulged him. Several of the boys served as chaperones
during the night. Desirable as he might appear to her, no village girl must
be allowed to sleep with the young visitor. The best way to prevent a
bastard birth was to engage the boy's sexual energies in other
pursuits. His chaperones could see for themselves that little Eric was
prettier than any girl in the village. He turned out to be a lot more fun
and totally available. Eric enjoyed cavorting with the firm bodies of the
village youths, even if he did leave the next day with a sore bottom.

Along the coasts, folks were more relaxed about total nudity. Fisher folk
were used to the sight of males either fully naked or wearing only the
briefest of loincloths or pouches. Their own men and boys went out on the
boats in the nude, not wanting to get that fishy smell on the few garments
they could afford. Also they were getting soaked anyway, so what point was
there to clothing. If the nude blonde boy wanted to go sponging offshore or
collect shells, then let him. He usually managed to spear a tasty fish
which he donated to the villagers.

Still this was the Middle Ages not Ancient times when public nudity was
much more common. Eric was lucky that he had found himself in a social
niche along the littoral of the sea where casual nudity was not only
allowed but often expected of young males. Naively, he sometimes wondered
why clothes had been invented in the first place, or at least imposed on
pretty youths like himself. Let the old and the ugly cover themselves out
of shame and females of course, as defense from the attentions of overly
aggressive males. Also those who lived in cold climates. In the
Mediterranean, a pretty lad like Eric should be welcome anywhere to run
around just as he was born. Why should he take more care about his raiment
than the lilies of the field did. Was that not the lesson he had learned in
church?.

Bosun Caltrone also taught Eric and another new sailor a bit of
swordsmanship in case they had to defend their ship against pirates. The
bosun did not bother with fancy fencing moves, just the basics. Regular
practice would eventually make the moves second nature, giving the young
men a reasonable chance in a fight. Eric had never handled a long blade
before and was pleased to find that his small size and agility made him a
natural with a rapier. All the rowing gave him much greater upper body
strength than before. Being naked meant that no one could grab him by his
clothing. Their grip would just slip on his sweaty nude physique. Indeed
the boy's looks and nudity would distract an opponent in the first moments
or a fight. The bosun advised Eric to use that and try to end the clash
quickly while he still had that advantage.

			Chapter 3. Tunis

"Out of the way, Norman scum" the Arab sergeant barked at Eric who looked
over his shoulder in surprise then scooted to the side of one of the narrow
streets of Tunis to let the patrol pass by.

"What was his problem, bosun? They had plenty of room to march by." Eric
asked.

"Just taking out his frustrations. The emir's soldiers are worried that the
invaders from Egypt will prevail, and they will either lose their
livelihoods or maybe their lives in a final pitched battle.  Try to look
harmless and inoffensive and don't flirt with anyone, scrumptious though
you look in your new outfit."

Eric rolled his eyes and tugged on the corners of the tiny vest he wore
above low slung loose fitting white pants gathered in at the ankles. The
vest did not close over his slender chest and reached no lower than his rib
cage. Surely such a garment was merely decorative. It did not cover his
chest or belly and hung open, displaying his pectorals and tiny red
nipples. The trousers though were comfortable, loose -- not binding like
regular hose would have been. For a boy who usually ran around naked,
European style hose would have felt constraining.

As it was he felt insecure in alien territory without a real weapon, not
even a common knife, but infidels in Muslim lands did not have the right to
bear weapons. As Christians they were barely tolerated these days, mainly
because the emir in his threatened capital at Kairouan did not want to add
the Norman Kingdom of Sicily to the list of his active enemies. The king
controlled the large island of Djerba just off the coast of Ifriqiya
(Africa, meaning modern Tunisia). At least for now, that denied the enemy
from the east a staging port between Alexandria and Tunis.

"Here is the coffee shop we were looking for Eric. Now attend me while I
carry out the captain's orders. Keep an eye out for anyone who seems too
keenly interested in our affairs. I trust you can tell the difference
between those who gaze at you lasciviously and those who have darker
intentions."

At the boy's nod, they stepped into the shade of the coffee shop. The
arcade outside and decorative screens made the interior dark compared to
the bright sun of North Africa. It also let cool breezes flow from one side
of the large room to the other. At a corner near the rear exit was their
contact, from his dress a Berber rather than an Arab. He was a tall man in
his early twenties with a lean build, dark haired where it showed with only
a close cropped fringe beard along the jaw line. His eyes were grey and his
youthful features had a half smile on them as he looked Eric over,
virtually undressing him with his eyes.

"Welcome to Tunis, Effendi." he said to the bosun. "I am Kabir. So this is
the boy who provides the pretext for our rendezvous. He is perfect. Please
sit next to me pretty one."

Rehearsed in his role, Eric sat down next to the big man and let his hands
roam all over his body, as the bosun and the Berber negotiated their
bargain.

"I hope we can reach a price acceptable to both of us for this lovely
boy. He is experienced in the arts of pleasuring a man or indeed several at
once," the bosun assured him.

"Indeed, I am not giving anything away to say that he is the most comely
youth I have ever laid eyes on."

Eric flushed at this frank talk. Though the negotiation was ostensibly over
Eric's sale into slavery, that was just their cover. Kabir had discovered
clues as to the location of a lost treasure but could not recover it by
himself. He needed allies and a ship, preferably a foreign one. That is
where the Alboran Sea came in. As the captain's brother-in-law as well as
bosun, Caltrone had full authority to commit their side. Kabir had to
convince Caltrone that he had evidence solid enough for the risks involved
and to justify the stake he claimed, one-third. He had to show his hand
just enough to whet the appetites of the Europeans without tipping them off
as to the exact location. The two men bargained over the actual
split. Kabir also wanted the ship to convey him and the members of his
household west to Morocco afterwards.

After some time going back and forth, the deal was settled and signed. In
keeping with the cover story, Kabir asked to give his new purchase a trial
run. To winks and jests from other patrons who had caught the drift of the
bargaining, the big Berber lead the boy to his room upstairs. Eric supposed
they might just spend some time together quietly, talking maybe, just
pretending, but the Berber had no intention of passing up a chance to take
the beautiful lad to bed, on that day or any other. A bargain is a bargain,
and the boy's services were included in it.

"You do know that I am going to take you, boy, but rest assured I will not
get rough. I have never hurt a pretty boy in my life, little one."

"The name is Eric, sir."

"Eric then. Better call me master. The paper we signed really does transfer
you to my ownership as my slave, as a guarantor of good faith."

"Whaat!" the boy exclaimed in surprise. "You mean I am a slave boy now?"

"Temporarily yes. In the eyes of the law you are my slave, once I pay the
bosun his silver. That way each of us has something of value, come what
may. The captain and bosun will have my silver, and I will have you. Don't
worry, little one. I can be a good master, as you will see in coming
weeks. And if all goes well, as agreed, I will cancel the sale and destroy
your ownership papers."

Eric stood there uncertain and nervous, not sure what to do with his
hands. Kabir realized the boy needed reassurance, so he proceeded
slowly. He liked surprising his boys with his gentleness. Kabir knew that
with his size, strength, and strong features, he could intimidate a lad,
especially a small youth like Eric. So he smiled as he put his hands to the
boy's shoulders and squeezed reassuringly, then slipped the vest off
him. How smooth and firm the boy's pectorals were, the nubbins in the
center of their small aureoles just right for tweaking. With his hand on
Eric's chin, he bent the boy's face upward to meet his kiss, pressing their
lips together, then exploring inside with his tongue. Eric found himself
overwhelmed by the man's masculinity, the strength he felt in those long
arms, the way his fringe beard rubbed Eric's bare cheeks, the insistence of
his probing tongue. A sexual submissive and a bottom boy anyway, he melted
into the man's embrace. Kabir's hands roamed all over the boy's taut
torso. The older man smiled to see the boy look at him shyly as his fingers
loosed the tie and let the trousers fall to his ankles.

Eric tried to step out of them, but the gathered cloth at the ankles hung
up on his heels. Kabir smiled wide as he solved the problem by stepping on
the pants and lifted Eric bodily, pulling him right out of the tangle about
his ankles. There, now the lad was properly naked. Kabir was delighted that
the boy's bronze coloring above the hips continued all the way to his
ankles.

"You are as tawny as a Saracen, Eric, all over your trim little body. They
must keep you naked aboard that ship of yours, exposed to the sun, don't
they."

"Yes, master. I am allowed clothing only when I go ashore. And yes, they do
take advantage of me every evening, a few at a time."

"The bosun said you had experience. Good. I want a boy who knows how to
pleasure a man. My my, you are so slight and smooth, virtually hairless,
not a hint of fuzz on your chin either. Yet you are what, seventeen?"

"Yes master."

Kabir continued with his exploration of the exquisite prize that had come
into his possession. Had he put into port three or four years earlier, the
captain could have sold the boy for a fortune as a catamite in the slave
markets. Rich men would have paid a ransom for the lad at thirteen or
fourteen. His market value at seventeen, though still high, was somewhat
less since he had fewer years left for the bloom of his youth. Not that
Kabir minded. He preferred a fully formed youth to a younger boy, both on
aesthetic and moral grounds.

There was no doubt that the Norman youth was willing enough. His manhood
gave that away: tumescent, sticking straight out, all purple and swollen,
the very image of a healthy male in heat, cock proud and strutting his
prong, whirling on command so Kabir could see him from every angle, his
sexy body in a state of full arousal. Kabir liked the way the boy's
hairless groin made his genitals look larger, though they were a pretty
fair size for someone with his slight build. Eric looked so sexy with his
ball sac pulled tight to the fork of his legs, engorged cock jutting
straight out with a fleshy purpled glans shaped like an arrowhead at the
end, a droplet of fluid glistening on its tip, a composition bursting with
youthful male assertiveness. No shrinking violet here.

Kabir ran his fingers on the insides of Eric's thighs then over his
belly. The boy trembled with eagerness and desire. He reached forward but
Kabir slapped his hands away."

"No, pretty one. I control your body now, and your sexuality."

"Yes, master" the boy whimpered, shivering with the frisson of his pent up
desires, shifting his feet to spread his legs farther apart, giving the
older male greater access to his groin and his ass.

With that Kabir redoubled the fervor of his kisses, taking command of
Eric's small body, tweaking his nipples and squeezing the em-purpled head
of his cock, directing the boy's face downward. Eric dutifully mouthed and
licked and nibbled Kabir's own large nipples, straining the chest hair on
his pectorals with his teeth. Then Kabir guided the boy to the bed, himself
stretching out on the mattress. Kabir guided the boy to kneel between his
legs, presenting his long virile member for the lad's consideration. It was
large but smooth not gnarly with veins and took both his small hands to
cover the erection. No one gives better pleasure with his mouth than
another male and Eric had had plenty of practice, licking and kissing and
sucking the head of the big cock. At first it lay on Kabir's belly pointed
toward the big man's navel, but thanks to the boy's expert ministrations it
engorged even more, lifting completely off his belly, cantilevered out from
the root, rigid but dipping rhythmically with the throb and beat of his
heart, all the time leaking a clear fluid which spread in a limpid pool on
his belly.

Eric's hands and lips caressed this strong young man, stroking the length
of his legs, sliding along his flanks, tracing the old scar left on his hip
by a knife blade, delving between his thighs touching the big man's proud
cock only with lips and tongue. Finally he deep throated the member and
swallowed him to the root, snuffling in his wiry bush, sucking, bobbing his
own head up and down its length for a long while. He pulled off just in
time. The ball sac pulled tight against the fork of the man's legs, its
globularity in contrast to the cylindrical column of the engorged
member. The head purpled, its tiny lips spreading open. Abruptly, with only
a quick intake of breath and a tightening around Kabir's half-closed eyes,
his proud cock engorged beyond its previous impressive girth and began
spurting and spitting his white seed onto his chest and belly, mingling
with his treasure trail.

Eric lapped some of it up then took the still turgid manhood back into his
mouth, sucking and tugging on a cock that the moment before has spit his
essence onto the man's belly. It felt so good, it hurt. Kabir shuddered as
Eric teased his softening member, abdominals flexing as he practically
sobbed with pleasure. Big as he was, Kabir whimpered, begging Eric to
stop. Eric was happy too. He had so wanted his first submission to Kabir to
be memorable.

"That was wonderful, little one, but I think we had better wait till
tonight for the rest. After supper, prepare yourself properly." he said,
stroking the curves of Eric's buttocks.

They went down and finalized their bargain, the Berber handing over a hefty
purse of silver. They two parties agreed to meet in three days time at a
secluded fishing village down the coast. Meanwhile, the Alboran Sea would
secure the supplies it needed for their little expedition.

The Berber took his new boy to a large house near the city gate, surrounded
by a high wall. It was his residence in town. His main household was at his
broad acres in the country. To Eric it seemed understaffed. Kabir explained
that fear of the invaders had induced many to flee into the interior or by
sea further west out of reach of the enemy.

"Do you really expect Tunis to fall then?" the boy asked.

"Yes, and I would be very surprised if the emir manages to stay on his
throne in Kairouan. That is why I have financed our treasure hunt. I can
hardly remove my ancestral lands to safety. So I need a more portable form
of wealth, and no one wants to buy land these days. The invaders are
unlikely to respect anyone's title to land."

Eric knew nothing of the politics of the Arab Maghreb, but he could
understand why a man would want portable wealth to be able to settle
elsewhere and start over, not as a penniless refugee but as the man of
means he had been in his home country. He also understood that there was
little love lost between Arab and Berber. Eric himself expected to share in
any treasure they found. His and the bosun' diving skills were the key to
recovering it since it lay at the bottom of the sea. It seems that Kabir
had chanced upon old journals reportedly telling where two ships fleeing
the sack of Roman Carthage in 698 had scuttled themselves rather than let
the treasure fall into the hands of the marauding Arabs.

That night Kabir addressed Eric's delectable ass. He was a young man
himself, strong and with a healthy sexual appetite, but he was not selfish
in seeking only his own pleasure. He enjoyed sex better when he gave as
much pleasure as he took. Bottom boy that he was, Eric responded as always
to a big cock pressing at his rump. A sexual submissive like him always
gets a fire going in his belly whenever an large virile member slides along
his cleavage, from tail bone to perineum, poking, prodding and playing with
the anal ring, teasing him before sliding inside for the real fuck. Eric
felt Kabir's manhood stretch the anal ring as the head of the cock pushed
through the rings of sphincters. Then the shaft slid inside, slowly, an
inch at a time to give him a chance to adjust to his master's impressive
girth.

Kabir knew better than to touch the youth's cock. That might bring him off
too soon. He wanted them to come together. Soon Kabir's shaft took on the
familiar rhythm of penetration and withdrawal, their balls slapping
together as he reached maximum depth. When the invader touched Eric's joy
spot he felt light headed, his whole body shuddering helplessly in an
internal orgasm. His lithe torso shuddered in a wave that started at the
ass and traveled up the hips and back and neck to the head. The rapid
shaking of the head was a reflex action, indicative of overwhelming lust as
he surrendered himself to the good feelings coursing through him. The
sensation became overwhelming. Eric lost the ability for rational thought,
his slender body tempest tossed on a sea of sensation, pulse pounding at
the temples, his own member poking stiffly from his groin.

Finally, Kabir came the wet warmth spurting from his cock inside Eric
triggering the boy's own orgasm. The boy nearly fainted as he spent his
seed on the sheet beneath him. Afterwards, they lay together sweaty and
exhausted, drained but satisfied. It was a good beginning to their
relationship.

			Chapter 4. Djerba

"Watch your footwork, Eric. Don't cross your feet either front to back or
when fading left or right. Above all stay loose and balanced."

Eric nodded, flinging sweat from brow and nose as he set himself for the
next pass at arms. Kabir was continuing the youth's lessons in how to
handle a sword. As a master of the blade Kabir judged Eric to be a talented
amateur, right at that dangerous stage where he had more confidence than
was really warranted by the growing skills. The trick of the instructor was
to keep the student humble enough to take instruction while building up his
pride in his accomplishments.

Just as on board ship, Eric trained in the nude. That way Kabir could see
just which muscles his student called upon at every point in their
match. Of course, he also liked the boy naked for aesthetic reasons. The
teacher loved the way his student's taut and trim body moved gracefully in
the dance of the sword as he thrust and parried and lunged, twisting his
body this way and that. Swordplay engages the entire musculature of the
human male, arms and shoulders to thrust and parry or for maintaining
balance, legs and buttocks to advance and retreat, the chest and abdominal
muscles heaving to fill the lungs with oxygen. Eric's movements were a kind
of physical poetry, a celebration of the youthful male physique.

Each combatant used his preferred blade. Eric wielded a two edged straight
blade. Westerners had always favored straight blades. Eric's blade was good
for both slash and thrust, on foot or astride. It was just one more
cultural difference between their worlds, going back to early history. Even
mounted knights favored straight blades, probably a reflection of the Roman
preference in swords: both the infantry gladius and the cavalry spatha were
that way. By contrast Saracens favored single edged curved ones. Their
scimitars and tulwars were more about slashing than thrusting, ideally from
horseback.Saracens preferred to fight as cavalry from horse or camel
slashing at their foes.

Eric ignored the dust they kicked up in the courtyard as the battled back
and forth. Part of the training was in how to handle the fatigue which sets
in rapidly in a swordfight. A fighter must maintain his concentration even
when his breath comes in ragged gasps and his body trembles with
fatigue. As the session wore on Eric's whole body glistened with the sweat
that poured out of him lending an attractive sheen to his tawny hide. Kabir
finally called a halt to their workout, satisfied with the boy's progress
in the few days they had had in Tunis.

Just in that short time Kabir had started to bond with the boy. It wasn't
just the terrific sex they could provide each other. He had found the boy
was a delight to talk to. He soaked up knowledge like a sponge, listening
to the older man speak of distant lands, poetry, or the various breeds of
horses. Eric could appreciate the aesthetics of Arabic calligraphy even if
he could not read the language and was excited by Kabir's exhibition of
falconry. Unguardedly Kabir reminisced about his own coming of age and how
he had discovered the joys of both halves of the human species, boys as
well as girls.

The fact is that Kabir's life had been empty since the death of his wife in
childbirth three years earlier. Although it was an arranged marriage when
the spouses were both in their mid-teens, it soon turned into a love
match. Both of them had hoped for a son, but the birthing went horribly
wrong. The mother bled out, and the infant was stillborn. Kabir had not
taken another wife since and thought he probably never would, not until he
needed a nurse in his old age, or so he told his new friend. Eric was
equally candid, admitting that he had never had the slightest interest in
the female half of humanity, though he had been chaste friends with a
number of girls who liked the fact that he wasn't always on the make like
other lads.

Came the night and the Berber and his boy and a quintet of guards met the
Alboran Sea as planned and set out south to the island of Djerba at the
southeast corner of the Gulf of Gabes. Reputedly the island of the Lotus
Eaters in the Odyssey, it was still in Christian hands. Blessed by a mild
climate and good soils, it also produced the costly dye Tyrian purple or
royal purple and had a rich sponge fishery as well. Though only 200 square
miles (500 sq km) it was the largest island off the northern coast of
Africa. Actually it was not a single island but one main island with
several nearby islands acting as stepping stones to the mainland.

The two scuttled treasure ships were supposed to have gone down between a
peninsula on the north coast and two offshore islands that extended to the
west. Still that was not a precise location. They would have to find the
wrecks before the bosun and Eric could dive them. Actually both Eric and
the bosun had given some thought to that requirement. At the bosun's
suggestion the ship's carpenter had fashioned a bucket with a panel of
transparent horn in the bottom. That way a man in a small boat could peer
through it to the sea bottom. It worked well enough for spot checks but the
field of vision was too small. It would take forever to explore the entire
area that way.

Eric's idea was for the divers to find the wrecks but not by swimming
around, which would just tire them out and cover little ground. A diver
could swim underwater at maybe half a knot. His idea was for the diver to
ride a kind of sea sled that he had the carpenter make. It was a body
length board the divers could lie upon and ride with stirrups for the
feet. Hinged vanes at the front could change the pitch of the sled. Towed
behind a long boat at a speed faster than a swimmer could maintain, the
sled could move up and down in the water quite easily, letting the divers
surface for air then go back down again for another look. To go left or
right, the diver angled the whole sled by shifting his weight, letting the
slipstream of the water push him to that side, no need for a rudder on so
small a craft.

Eric was delighted with the success of his invention. It worked perfectly
and was a lot of fun too. It made Eric feel more like a sea sprite than
ever before, giving him the freedom to move quickly in three
dimensions. With four sailors pulling on the oars of the small dory, he
could move along at a speed of several knots scrutinizing the sea
bed. Fortunately the depth of the water varied around an average of ten
meters (34 feet) -- well within safe diving range. Typically the sled
hovered halfway down, rising upward like a porpoise periodically so the
diver could breathe. A diver gave two tugs on a control rope when he wanted
the tow to halt while he took a closer look at something. In this way they
quartered the area.

"Look at me Kabir," the boy called excitedly as he rode the sled like a
porpoise, relishing his new found freedom to explore the sea.

The Berber waved at him, smiling at the repeated glimpses of the boy's
curvaceous rump as he rose to the surface only to dive again. He really did
look like a mer-boy cavorting in the waves. Still he was a human boy and
his skin looked rather wrinkled after a long day in the water. Kabir had
anticipated that and had brought along special oils to rub into the lad's
skin. One went on before the boy slipped into the water, to keep his skin
from drying out too much. The other was for afterwards, in the evening,
after a sponge bath with fresh water and soap, a novelty to the Norman
boy. Once bathed, the boy was ready for a well earned massage that helped
his tired muscles as much as the fragrant oil did his skin. Eric loved the
feel of his master's hands all over his body, touching him everywhere,
squeezing and kneading and rubbing his musculature. It became as much a
form of foreplay as a restorative.

The crew was rather disappointed that though their boy was back aboard,
they no longer had access to his sweet body. He now belonged exclusively to
his new master, the Berber who had financed the expedition. Every night the
couple found a bit of privacy up the beach from the camp and made
love. Their enthusiasm for each other was obvious from the sounds of lusty
sexual congress that carried to the main group. Kabir also claimed some of
the boy's time when he wasn't not diving on the sled to continue his
lessons in sword play.

And so it went for more than a week. The first wreck they found was just
that, an accidental sinking of a ship filled with amphora, large pottery
jars of olive oil and wine. There was no gold amid the barnacle encrusted
timbers, but they did bring up a few bronze swords and mirrors. The problem
was identifying a ship that after five centuries was overgrown with coral
and other sessile sea creatures like sponges and anemones and mollusks that
attached themselves to any solid object on the sandy bottom. Fortunately
the fact that the ships were scuttled meant they went down in one piece,
not torn apart by storm waves or rocks, so the outline should be
recognizable.

The crew of the Alboran Sea kept a watch for anyone who grew too curious
about their activities including local fishermen and sponge divers. They
also had a bowman posted against sharks though the small boat towing the
divers was often not within range as it quartered the area. Eric kept his
trident cum spear tied to his sea sled just in case. He had a healthy
respect for sharks. The smaller ones that hugged the sandy bottom were wary
of the intruder in the midst, unsure what to make of the strange
combination of sled and human boy sliding through the waters. The real
danger was the large sharks who patrolled the area and circled the ship or
the sled itself, trying to decide whether to attack. These were the top
predators in the sea and really feared nothing.

They patrolled the area, sometimes at the surface where their fin broke the
water in a menacing fashion. More often they swam lower, moving slowly,
propelled by lazy sweeps of their tails, ready at any moment to lunge
forward at attack speed, propelled by the back and forth motion of their
entire bodies. They watched to both sides at once with their dark
unblinking eyes, though they could also sense prey by the lateral lines on
their bodies, nerve endings that could pick up pressure waves in the
water. Multiple rows of teeth gleamed white in their wide mouths allowing
glimpses down the gut which they would like to fill with prey. Sometimes
the sharks were so big and circled so intently as to make Eric afraid to
stay in the water. He had the boat crew pull him aboard till the shark left
the area. He hated and feared the way the sleek grey predators watched him,
looking at him like any other potential prey in their underwater realm, not
knowing or caring that he was a human being, gifted with reason and
intelligence, not some dumb animal, for all that he was as unclothed as any
wild creature.

It was all the same to the sharks, a naked boy was just so much naked prey,
little more than a skinny fish strangely shaped with two tails and long
bony front flippers. Not terribly appetizing to a shark really. They
preferred plump prey like seals and groupers with lots of flesh and fat for
the shark to gorge on. A slender nude boy would probably not be very tasty,
too bony in fact. Still a hungry shark will eat anything, including a naked
human boy.

One day a fourteen foot shark made an attack run coming at the boy from
behind. Warned by the boat crew who spotted the fin and slapped their oars
at the water, the boy turned the sled just enough that the shark's bite
crunched the back right off it. He might have torn the boy's leg off
otherwise. The shark turned away briefly, evidently not liking the taste of
wood.  Still some of his sandpaper hide had rubbed Eric's lower leg
raw. With blood now in the water the shark's killer instincts made it renew
its attack. He charged straight at the sled. Neither the diver not the boat
crew had enough time to reel him up to the boat and to safety. Also, they
were too far from the ship for the archer to help. His shot fell well
short. Eric was on his own.

Though Eric had little hope of fending the great grey beast off with his
spear, he thought he would get a better chance if submerged, so he took a
deep breath and directed the sled to descend to six feet or so. That gave
him room to maneuver up and down or to the side to position himself best to
receive the attack. He straddled the sled and braced himself, his spear at
the ready, trident end back, jammed securely into the wood of the sled, the
spear blade at the other end pointed toward the approaching shark. That
way, the predator's own momentum would work against him. It would drive the
spear deeper into him than the muscles of Eric's arms and shoulders ever
could.

As it closed the distance, the big fish gaped opened its maw, rolling onto
its side as it bit at the boy. Eric directed the head of the spear right
into the great maw, pointed at the roof of the mouth. As luck would have
it, the spear point passed through the maw as the beast's own momentum
pushed the blade deep into its brain, just about the only way to kill a
shark instantly. Eric was knocked off the sled by the impact, but the boat
circled back to pick him up.

It was a close call. Eric was badly shaken by the shark attack and by
watching the feeding frenzy that ensued a while later as eventually eight
sharks swam up to tear into the shark he had killed. He trembled as he
spoke of his fears to the bosun, the captain, and Kabir.

"I felt like a rabbit confronted by a wolf or a lion. It was so huge and me
so small. It must have outweighed me seven or eight to one. Its maw gaped
open large enough to swallow me whole. I actually pissed myself as the
shark closed in for the kill. I didn't feel very much like a mer boy or sea
sprite today, not down there with that big shark. The sea is really his
element not mine. I am just an intruder down there, so much naked prey for
him to feed on. I ... I am not sure I can go into the water again."

He buried his face in his hands, ashamed of his cowardice. Kabir took the
boy in his arms and comforted him, clasping him reassuringly to his
breast. He did not try to persuade the boy to go back into the sea
again. He just held him, letting the shaken lad feel his body warmth and
his presence. That night they did not make love but simply slept spooned
together. The next day nothing was said as Eric helped the carpenter repair
the sled. When it was ready, they dropped it into the water. The boy's
anxious face showed his fear, but he took a deep breath, looking over to
Kabir for reassurance. At the latter's nod he dove into the water, to
resume the search for the treasure ships.

This display of raw courage brought tears to the eyes of Kabir, the
captain, and the bosun. What a brave lad Eric was to venture into the sea
once again, so small and naked and vulnerable to its many dangers. He might
be young and small and girlishly pretty rather than tough and masculine,
but no one could doubt that the small nude body they saw dive into the sea
housed the heart of a man.

One day the divers got lucky. Through the underwater gloom the bosun
spotted two barnacle encrusted shapes half buried in the sand at a depth of
twenty five feet. Aside from water jugs the divers did not find amphora. So
these were not cargo ships. They had to be the treasure ships. What
clinched it for the bosun were the skeletons of dozen men whose throats had
been cut or heads bashed in. Presumably these were some of the crew whose
silence was ensured by the most direct of methods.

No need for the sled after that. The Alboran Sea anchored just over the
wrecks. The two divers resorted to diving to the bottom pulled down by
heavy stones to save energy and breath. Sailors aboard the ship pulled the
stones back up for the next dive. Meanwhile the two divers scoured the
wrecks for valuables which they put into baskets hauled up at the end of
ropes. These pulled the divers up for air too. In time they collected boxes
of gold coins and bags of jewelry some in rich settings, others just raw
uncut gems. Any silver the ship carried had long since been eaten away by
the salt water leaving only a kind of black rust.

Sharks were not the only danger either during the recovery of the
treasure. Sunken wrecks attract sea creatures from the lowliest of
barnacles to the largest of predators. Just scraping one's skin against the
barnacle encrusted wreck would cause cuts and bleeding that would attract
barracuda and sharks. Also wrecks furnish nooks and crannies that are homes
or places of refuge for animals like moray eels. Their bite can snap a
man's finger off. Though the eels attack only when provoked, they were a
constant danger because the divers had to probe the crevices and holes in
the wreck looking for treasure. Another danger was the common octopus. If
it could not escape with its water jet or by dispersing its ink, it would
anchor itself with its tentacles so it could not be dragged out of
hiding. If it got some of its tentacles on a diver's leg or arm and held on
long enough, it could keep the diver from surfacing for air. Eric once had
to abandon his trident temporarily when an octopus just wouldn't let go of
it.

It didn't help that as he rose to the surface he was passed by a couple of
barracuda on patrol. They swam with their jaws open showing sets of vicious
teeth. Eric felt so vulnerable with no way to protect his belly, imagining
that the dangly bits at this groin might attract the predators like worms
attract pan fish. Indeed the predatory fish did angle towards him and swam
right beneath his belly. On land Eric knew he was on the top of the food
chain. Not so underwater where he felt like a prey item for this or that
species. Fortunately before anything could happen, the bosun Caltrone, who
was watching with his bucket device, plucked a couple of live fish from a
pail, cut them with his knife then threw the wounded creatures into the
sea. Their flopping and thrashing attracted the attention of the two
barracuda, giving Eric a chance to swim to the ship.

Still the underwater world never lost its magic for Eric. Most days passed
uneventfully, allowing him to marvel at the beauty and variety of the
creatures who dwelled in the fantastic world beneath the waves.

When it looked like they had collected everything they could, the captain
divided the loot into three equal shares: first share was for the captain
and crew of the Alboran Sea, each man getting a share according to his
rank. Every sailor would wind up with enough to buy his own ship or a farm
or to start a tavern. Another third went to Kabir for financing the
expedition and for showing them where the ships had been scuttled. The
final third was split evenly between the two divers who not only had done
the actual recovery but had risked their lives again and again. According
to the customs of the time this was a fair division of the treasure. Kabir
also burned the bill of sale, the only record that Eric had been even
temporarily enslaved.

All that remained was to sail to their final destinations. For the Alboran
Sea that meant Sicily though first the ship would have to sail back to
Tunis to pick up the Kabir's loyal retainers. He was evacuating everyone
who wanted to go with him to Morocco. There were too many souls for the
Alboran Sea to carry so in the end he hired a Saracen ship for the
voyage. His loyal guards ensured that they all would arrive safely in
Tangier where he intended to settle.

"What of you, little Eric? Will you come live with me in Morocco. Come
along then as my friend, no longer a slave. I offer you my love and my
protection. You understand that as a Christian, legally you can dwell in
Tangiers only on sufferance as a dhimmi, a member of a tolerated religion
but with many legal disabilities. Naturally I will extend my protection to
you as a member of my household.  Are you prepared to spend your days with
me like that?"

"As your friend yes, Kabir as long as I am also your consort, and you must
promise to let me run around stark naked all the time. I don't want to have
to wear anything but flowers and a tasteful bit of jewelry. Oh and
fragrances too," The boy laughed at himself for his naughty desires.

"I think that can be arranged," Kabir chuckled "at least when you are
within my walls or on my lands. I can just see it now. For my visitors you
will be a flesh and blood sculpture to ornament my demesne. Otherwise, when
we go out, I shall dress you in houri boy pants, like those you wore when
we met but made of the very lightest silk. That will scandalize some of the
locals but will be within the law."

"I will also expect you to learn both Arabic and Berber. Berber so you can
be my proper consort; I would speak words of love to you in my own
language, not this bastard Latin I can hardly get my tongue around. With
Arabic you can communicate from the Atlantic to the Zagros mountains and
beyond, especially if, as I dearly hope, you will someday embrace Islam."

"Meanwhile we shall combine our fortunes and invest them in lands and
commerce, but if ever you wish to go your own way when you are older, I
will restore your funds to you. This is what I ask of you Eric, and what I
will share with you. Will you come with me and be my love?"

"Gladly!" the boy said hugging his lover with all the strength in his small
body. Finally he had found his place in the world. Life looked good from
here on out.

				Epilogue

Kabir's emigration to Tangier was well-timed. The very next year the
Arabian tribes sent by Egypt overthrew the emir and sacked his capital at
Kairouan. The nomads brought chaos and civilizational regression. As the
tribes took control of the plains, the local sedentary population was
forced into refuges in the mountains. In much of formerly prosperous
central and northern Ifriqiya farming gave way to pastoralism and general
economic decline.

Only scattered coastal enclaves held out for a time. In the chaos, in 1158,
the King of Sicily abandoned Djerba as too costly to hold. So their
treasure hunt had been just in time too.