The Princess and the Captain Page 14

  The Emperor bent down, seized her by the hair and forced her to look at him. His face was pale, blotched with red. In the bed behind him, Malva saw the girl he was making use of that night. She was weeping silently, rolled up in a ball against the cushions. The Emperor barked out a few words, let go of Malva and strode out of his bedchamber.

  Immediately after that the preunuchs dragged Malva outside the building. It was dark night, and the croaking of the frogs over by the Baths of Purity could just be heard. The preunuchs pushed Malva on from one garden to the next. She knew what fate awaited her when she saw the ‘slaughterhouse’, with its platform and Cages of Torments.

  The preunuchs opened one and thrust Malva in. They closed and locked the door, and then one of them took hold of the handle that worked the mechanism and turned it several times. Malva saw the top of the cage come down. Sitting on the floor, she brought her knees up and laid her head on them. The top of the cage came to rest on her backbone, and she grimaced.

  At that moment she heard voices further away. There was a whole cavalcade coming. Malva turned her head slightly. More preunuchs arrived at a run, holding lanterns, and in front of them ran a girl in a simple white cotton shift. Malva’s heart leaped when she recognised her: it was Lei.

  ‘Malva!’ Lei cried, sobbing. ‘You alive!’ She knelt down beside the cage and put her hands over it. ‘Preunuchs come find me, must translate what you say,’ she said in a toneless voice. ‘Daughter of Balmun speak all languages, they know that.’

  There was more commotion in the gardens, and Temir-Gai appeared, accompanied by the Archont. Both of them climbed up on the platform. The Emperor pointed to the Archont and let fly several furious remarks.

  ‘He want to know why you disobey guest of honour? Why you escape?’

  Malva felt icy sweat trickling between her shoulder blades. Vertigo blurred her vision. She was on the point of fainting.

  ‘He wanted to kill me,’ she murmured.

  ‘She’s lying!’ cried the Archont, before Lei was even able to interpret.

  The Emperor went on with his interrogation.

  ‘He want to know what you do in celestial-charioteer’s cage … and what you give it to eat. He think it poison.’

  ‘Paghul cakes,’ sobbed Malva, at the end of her tether. ‘It was only paghul cakes!’

  Lei translated her reply into Cispazian. The Emperor gave some orders. Lei turned paler than ever. Her lips began to tremble.

  ‘He think you poisoner! He think you liar! He condemn you to Cage of Torments. He say you die in three days –’

  ‘And no less than she deserves,’ interrupted the Archont with satisfaction. He took a step forward and leaned towards Malva. ‘I’d rather have killed you with my own hands, but tomorrow morning I shall come to admire the effect of this cage on your bones. I want to hear them breaking one by one.’

  Lei was weeping, one cheek against the wooden cage. The preunuchs hauled her away, and then the Emperor told everyone else to go. They all left the platform, abandoning Malva to her fate.

  19

  A Night in Cispazan

  That same evening, the Errabunda and the Mary-Belle cast anchor in a creek sheltered from the wind. It was exactly seventy days since the crew had set foot on land, and when the Captain asked for volunteers to set out for the port of Cispazan as scouts, dozens of hands went up. Only Orpheus, who was anxious about leaving Hob and Peppe alone all night, kept his hands behind his back.

  The Captain picked a dozen of the heftiest men, and then looked at Orpheus in surprise. ‘I need a man with a head on his shoulders to command this expedition. Don’t sacrifice yourself, McBott. You’ve worked well during the crossing, you’ve earned the right to stretch your legs.’

  Orpheus felt several hostile glances resting on him. If he declined to go he’d risk being called Greenhorn again … And so he found himself on board a dinghy seated opposite the gigantic Babilas, who was rowing and never took his eyes off Orpheus.

  They came ashore on a little beach surrounded by cliffs. Babilas raised the dinghy with one hand and hauled it up on shore with disconcerting ease. Orpheus swallowed painfully. He felt very ill at ease in the company of these tough men, but he tried not to let it show, and set off with them along a path crisscrossed by tree roots. It ran on into the black night of the Orniant.

  Everything here was so different from Galnicia! The plants, the smells, the sounds, even the stars in the sky were like nothing Orpheus knew. He stumbled and almost fell several times, which made him even more nervous. And even in the darkness he sensed Babilas looking at him all the time.

  After walking for an hour, they saw the lights of the imperial city of Cispazan. Red lanterns marked the entrance to the harbour, where strange flat-bottomed sailing ships were riding at anchor.

  ‘I suggest we separate,’ said Orpheus when they reached the first houses. ‘If we go in pairs we’ll be less conspicuous than in a group.’

  The sailors turned to Babilas, who nodded his assent and placed himself beside Orpheus.

  ‘We’ll meet at the far end of the creek before first light,’ Orpheus added. ‘And be on your guard. Don’t forget that we have no musketoons or carabins to help us out of trouble.’

  Orpheus patted the pocket of his quartermaster’s jacket to make sure his knife was still there. Knives were the only weapons the Captain had allowed them to take on this mission. Anything else could attract suspicion.

  Each pair of men set out. Orpheus and Babilas skirted the harbour area and made for the heights of the city. Silent and watchful, they avoided going too far down the streets, and instead hid behind flowerbeds to watch the Cispazians coming and going.

  ‘These people enjoy their night life,’ said Orpheus in an undertone.

  A crowd of men was walking past the wooden houses with their conical roofs, by the light of red paper lanterns. The men talked in loud voices, laughed a lot, and sometimes stopped to slap their thighs. They wore embroidered jackets with long sleeves, and braided skull caps on their heads. Some were smoking long pipes, others were drinking from little silver flasks.

  ‘I don’t know what kind of alcohol it is,’ whispered Orpheus, ‘but they’re all tipsy. This is our chance. A drunk doesn’t get suspicious. Come on, Babilas.’

  Feeling more confident, he led the giant under the lanterns and down a series of identical streets. At each gateway, wooden statues of animals with their eyes encrusted with jade seemed to stand guard. Orpheus shivered at the sight of their grinning faces; these monsters reminded him of the masks hanging from the walls in his father’s study.

  Babilas suddenly put his enormous hand on Orpheus’s shoulder. A troop of very strange men was approaching. These new arrivals didn’t laugh, didn’t talk, didn’t drink and didn’t smoke. They marched in close formation with their heads lowered. Bright yellow ribbons were tied round their foreheads. In their midst, keeping time with them, marched several boys who did not seem to be more than eleven or twelve. These boys all had their heads shaved, except for a short lock falling over the forehead.

  ‘Do you think those are soldiers enlisting new recruits?’ Orpheus whispered to Babilas once the troop had passed.

  The giant shook his head.

  ‘All the same, let’s follow them. I’d like to find out where they’re taking those children.’

  They made haste to join the strange procession, and followed it at a suitable distance along roads that widened as they went uphill. At last they came out into a huge grassy square, this time lit by green paper lanterns. The noise and confusion of the red-lantern district was left behind.

  ‘Look at that, Babilas,’ whispered Orpheus.

  At the far end of the square rose a huge wooden wall. A monumental gate in the middle of it opened to let in the men with yellow headbands and the boys.

  Orpheus and his companion went towards the wall. In spite of the darkness, they could just make out other monumental buildings rising beyond it: terraced towers with bell-sha
ped roofs, columns, long, low structures. The whole place seemed to be entirely made of carved wood.

  Orpheus and Babilas stopped at the huge gate. Now that it had been closed again, they saw that there were inscriptions carved on it.

  ‘Can you read those?’ Orpheus asked hopefully.

  By way of reply, Babilas pointed to the top of the gateway. The building was dominated by the statue of a man riding a gigantic animal with silver horns.

  ‘Just as I thought,’ said Orpheus. ‘We must be outside Temir-Gai’s palace. And his harem is sure to be in there. Behind that wall.’

  As he lingered, looking at the statue, he saw the sky turning pale in the east. Dawn came early in these distant countries.

  ‘Let’s get back to the Errabunda, and fast,’ said Orpheus.

  When they reached the creek the stars were fading one by one in the pale sky. The other men on the scouting expedition were already waiting for them in the dinghy. They quickly went down to the beach, and once they were aboard Babilas took the oars.

  Orpheus heaved a sigh. He was exhausted, and nearly fell asleep on the way back to the ship, but strident cries woke him.

  ‘Hey!’ laughed one of the sailors, looking up at the shrouds. ‘What’s going on there? Looks like there’s been some good monkey-hunting!’

  Orpheus sat up straight in the boat and looked in the same direction as the sailor was pointing. What he saw sent a chill through him: two figures were dangling from the main yard. It was Hob and Peppe, hanging from their feet and wriggling like eels as they called for help.

  A rope ladder had been let down from the stern of the ship. One by one the men in the dinghy climbed up it to the deck of the Errabunda, but Orpheus didn’t have the strength to follow them. Deathly pale, he allowed himself a little time to collect his wits. If the twins talked, if they gave his name, he was done for. The Captain would wash his hands of him, the crew would curse him roundly, and he would never again be able to go to sea.

  ‘Well, quartermaster?’ said the Captain as Orpheus finally scrambled over the ship’s rail to jump down on the deck. ‘It seems you’ve had a fruitful expedition. Babilas has let me know that you found the harem!’

  Unable to say a word, Orpheus nodded. The cries of Hob and Peppe left him literally speechless.

  ‘See those two clowns we found while you were away?’ added the Captain. ‘Stowaways! They were stealing herrings from the galley, but Finopico caught them in the act.’

  ‘Oh,’ was all Orpheus could say, in a hollow voice.

  ‘We’ll let them hang up there for a few more hours. That’ll take their appetite away.’

  As the Captain seemed to be going on to other matters, Orpheus found his voice. ‘Did they say how they got aboard?’

  The Captain shrugged. ‘Can’t get a sensible word out of them. They’ve done nothing but yell ever since we caught them.’

  Orpheus felt enormous relief. Good boys! They hadn’t confessed anything! But now, how was he to get them out of this fix?

  ‘Tell me about the harem!’ the Captain ordered.

  Orpheus suddenly had an inspiration. Yes, it was a brilliant idea!

  ‘The harem … well, that’s just it!’ he cried. ‘Believe it or not, we could use those two lads.’

  ‘The thieves? Nothing doing!’ growled the Captain. ‘They’re thin as sticks, good for nothing but feeding the fishes!’

  Ideas were coming thick and fast in Orpheus’s mind. The more he listened to the twins’ shouts, the better his plan took shape. He gave the Captain a brief account of all that he and Babilas had seen. He described the troop of men escorting the boys to the wall that surrounded the harem.

  ‘A wall, yes, of course,’ muttered the Captain. ‘So we’ll have to force our way in. I’ll go and count our carabins.’

  ‘Wait!’ said Orpheus. ‘I have another suggestion to make. We could get into the harem by cunning.’

  ‘Cunning?’ said the Captain, surprised. ‘The Coronador ordered us to attack Temir-Gai. A thousand-years’ war if necessary. Our gunpowder will speak for us!’

  Orpheus mopped his brow. The pitiless sun of the Orniant was rising, and it was already beginning to get muggy.

  ‘Yes, gunpowder certainly will speak for us,’ he said diplomatically. ‘But suppose we wound the Princess?’

  The Captain raised an eyebrow. He obviously hadn’t thought of this possibility.

  ‘The harem buildings are made of wood,’ Orpheus went on. ‘If we send our cannon and musketoons in, we risk setting fire to them.’

  ‘You have a point there,’ the Captain admitted.

  ‘My suggestion is, we quietly abduct the Princess. Once she’s aboard the Errabunda you can set fire to anything you like.’

  The Captain rubbed his chin, looking perplexed. ‘And how are those two herring-thieves going to come in useful?’

  Orpheus looked up at the main yard.

  ‘Haul them down, find me some yellow fabric, and I’ll show you,’ he said, a small smile hovering around his lips.

  20

  Rescue

  ‘Fifty jars of herrings! Thirty-seven rations of biscuit! A kilo of olives, and I don’t know what else!’ cried Finopico, foaming at the mouth with fury.

  The cook struck his chest and shook his mop of red hair, raising his eyes to heaven at every step he took, as if calling on the seabirds swooping around the Errabunda to bear witness.

  ‘Those young rascals have cleaned me out!’ he stormed. ‘And instead of punishing them we kindly make room for them on board! This is too much!’

  Orpheus tried to concentrate on the arduous task in front of him, but he had difficulty in containing his mirth. His idea really was a brilliant one: not only was he coming to the twins’ rescue, he was also giving himself the pleasure of infuriating that nasty piece of work, the cook!

  ‘They ought to have their hands chopped off!’ shouted Finopico, going over to the barrel on which the two boys were sitting. ‘Chop off their hands, that’s what I say! Not their hair!’

  ‘Stop shouting like that,’ Orpheus interrupted him. ‘You’ll make my hand slip.’

  With a long barber’s razor in his hand, Orpheus was just finishing shaving Peppe’s head. Locks of dirty hair tumbled on to the deck, making Zeph sneeze. For once the dog had dragged himself out of the cabin, enraging the cook even more. To Finocipo’s way of thinking, the St Bernard and the two stowaways were nothing but useless mouths, parasites, freeloaders.

  Sitting beside his brother, Hob sighed as he inspected his reflection in a scrap of mirror glass.

  ‘I look like an egg,’ he decided. ‘It’s horrible. And that silly little lock over my forehead – is it really necessary?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Orpheus. ‘It’s the Cispazian fashion.’

  Once he had explained his plan to the Captain, everything began moving faster. The crews of the two frigates were actively preparing for the mission, to take place this very evening. Divers were in training around the Errabunda, assessing the time it would take them to swim to the harbour, while on the deck of the Mary-Belle the cannon were being polished up, gunpowder was brought out, and the carabins and musketoons were rubbed until they shone. For if the first phase of the operation had been meant to take place quietly, the same could hardly be said of the second …

  ‘And once the Captain doesn’t need you any more,’ Finopico threatened the twins, raising a vengeful finger, ‘I’ll teach you manners!’ He looked around him, and added, ‘The deck of the Errabunda badly needs sanding down and scrubbing with vinegar. You’ll spend the whole of the voyage back on the job if necessary!’

  At nightfall Orpheus, Babilas, the twins and two more sturdy sailors set off for Cispazan. They had put on dark tunics to avoid attracting attention, and the only arms they carried were their pocket knives.

  ‘And remember,’ said Orpheus, ‘no one’s to talk! Not a word of Galnician, understand?’

  ‘We’ll be as mute as Babilas,’ promised the twins, hands o
n their hearts.

  In spite of the risks of this expedition, they were excited to be going on dry land. It was more than two months since they had been able to stretch their legs, and now, intoxicated by their adventure, they climbed the cliffs gambolling about like lambs.

  Before the party entered the city, they hid behind some bushes, and the four men tied the makeshift headbands that Orpheus had made from the fabric of the Galnician flag around their foreheads. Yellow, like the headbands worn by the Cispazians.

  The men took Peppe and Hob in their midst, and then, striding out, they made for the tall wooden wall. The twins docilely lowered their shaven heads. They were acting their parts to perfection. As on the previous evening, the people out and about in the streets were staggering around and laughing as they went from tavern to tavern in the red light of the lanterns.

  We pass muster so far, thought Orpheus. Let’s hope it lasts …

  When they reached the huge grassy space in front of the wall, they hesitated for a moment. Another group had got there just ahead of them, also consisting of men with headbands and boys with shaven skulls. They were making for the imperial city. Orpheus looked at Babilas. What should they do? Join the other group, or let them go first? He finally decided to join them, quickened the pace of their party, and caught up with the first group just as it reached the monumental gateway.

  ‘Ga Tai Ma Tai!’ called the guards.

  ‘Sumor Tet Ga Tai!’ replied the Cispazian leading the first group.

  The guards opened the heavy gates and let them through. But when Orpheus, heart beating, tried to pass, they stopped him by raising their sword-blades.

  ‘Ma Tai Ga Tai?’ one of the guards asked.

  Orpheus’s forehead was bathed in sweat. He gulped, and in what he hoped was a firm voice repeated what he had just heard. ‘Sumor Tet Ga Tai!’

  The guards immediately lowered their swords and stood aside to let the little party in. As he passed them Orpheus was trembling all over, but when the gates closed behind his back he heaved a great sigh. The first stage of his plan had gone successfully. Now came the most difficult part: finding the Princess. Always supposing, of course, that she was still in this harem. Orpheus hoped so.