The Princess and the Captain Read online

  ‘You won’t sink us!’ he shouted to the storm, feeling an extraordinary sense of exhilaration. ‘I am Orpheus, of the proud line of the McBotts of Galnicia!’

  The waves soon rose so high that when he looked down into their troughs it was as if the sea were opening up to its very foundations. With horror, Orpheus saw several sailors swept away by huge waves. Others, clinging to the ship’s rail, were crawling over the deck as they tried to get to the hatches.

  Flashes of lightning shot across the black sky one after the other in an astonishing rhythm. The Captain had disappeared, and only Orpheus seemed to be in any state to keep the Errabunda under control. There was water everywhere; he couldn’t even see the prow of the ship any more. His cape flapped like a sail in the gusts of wind. Whatever happened he must hold on course westwards – towards Galnicia!

  Suddenly, with a crash like the end of the world, lightning hit the ship. The mainmast snapped in two under the impact, and fell forward, dragging with it rigging that struck the deck like a whip. Three men were crushed under the mast, others were swept overboard by the rigging. The howling of the wind drowned out all cries of pain and distress; death itself was drowning in the general turmoil.

  ‘Holy Tranquillity!’ gasped Orpheus, sobering down.

  Soon the waves looked like engulfing everything. In Orpheus’s hands, the tiller offered no more resistance; its axis had just broken. The Ocean, he realised, was laying down the law now. He got rid of his cape and, leaving his post, flung himself forward. His feet slipped on the steps, and he just managed to catch their handrail, but the waves were sweeping the deck with such force that he was carried along with them. His nails scrabbled at the planks of the deck. Then his back struck an obstacle. It was the entrance to a hatch. Half drowned by the sea water flooding into his nose and mouth, he managed to raise the trapdoor and let himself fall into the interior of the ship, hardly knowing by what miracle he was still alive.

  Water was flooding in between-decks everywhere. Barrels were rolling about in the midst of broken beams. Provisions were swinging from their hooks in the ceilings: hams and blackened quarters of meat that looked like hanged men. Panic-stricken rats were swimming around in this mini-sea that had invaded the hold. A deathly silence reigned inside the frigate. Was Orpheus the last survivor?

  Up to his armpits in water, he started moving forward as the ship rocked from port to starboard without a moment’s respite. Exhausted, Orpheus finally reached his cabin door, but the pressure of the water was so strong that he couldn’t open it. Through the door, however, he heard cries.

  ‘Princess!’ he called.

  He looked around him. Among the floating objects he saw part of a beam and a fairly strong rope. Tying one end of the rope round his waist, he fixed the other end to a hook in the ceiling and, bracing his feet against the door, rammed it with the beam as hard as he could. Ten, twenty times. The wood of the door began to give way. The cries of distress were louder than ever.

  Soaked and breathless, but full of hope, Orpheus continued like this for several minutes. His hands were bleeding all over the beam, and the salt of the sea water stung them horribly. But at last the door gave way, water pouring through the opening like an animal ready to devour everything in its path. Orpheus cut the rope holding him to the ceiling and went through the doorway.

  When he came down on the other side of it, the water was up to the table-top and washing around the bunk. He saw Lei, pale with terror, standing on a chair. Her forehead was bleeding. Orpheus went over to her and gently took her hand.

  ‘Where’s the Princess?’ he asked in a stifled voice.

  Lei shook her head.

  ‘She left the bunk? What happened?’

  Lei put a trembling hand to her forehead. ‘Man come. He hit me with telescope. Afterwards I know nothing. Malva disappeared.’

  Orpheus, shattered, closed his eyes. His conversation with the Captain just before the storm came back to him, and he realised that the man had tricked him. How could he ever have trusted him? His anger mingled with weariness. Whatever the Captain had intended to do, he wouldn’t risk taking the Princess very far away. At worst, they would both be drowned …

  Orpheus went over to sit beside Lei. The water went on rising around them, and the Errabunda groaned like a beast in its death throes. They did not exchange a single word, but just stayed there side by side, resigned to death.

  Soon afterwards, however, the sea stopped beating so savagely against the ship. The rolls of thunder came less frequently. The clouds parted, letting pale rays of sunlight fall through. The storm was dying down as suddenly as it had broken.

  In the cabin, Lei started crying. Orpheus felt his own eyes prickle, but he refused to break down. He simply made for the broken door, saying, ‘Let’s go and help the others, if there’s anyone still alive.’

  In spite of her exhaustion and her dazed state, Lei followed him, struggling against the water.

  When they came up the steps to the central hatch and out on deck, they felt the gentle warmth of the sun on their faces. The sky seemed to have been washed clean. The white horses around the Errabunda broke so lazily on the vast seas that it was as though there had never been a storm at all. There were no corpses in sight; they had all gone to the bottom. As for the Mary-Belle, she had simply disappeared.

  Orpheus stood in the middle of the devastated deck. The green and yellow flag of Galnicia lay at his feet in tatters.

  23

  The Fabula

  The first thing Malva felt when she recovered consciousness was a shooting pain at the back of her skull. The blood was throbbing in her temples, and it felt as though her head had doubled in size. Then she remembered that a man in uniform had come into the cabin and hit her with his telescope. Who was he? Why had he taken her away with him?

  Finally, Malva opened her eyes. In spite of the dim light around her, she guessed that she was lying face down on a pile of ropes. Beneath her, moist planks were giving off a strong salty, vinegary smell, nearly suffocating her. Something was weighing down on her legs, but she could move her arms. Raising herself on her hands, she managed to turn slightly so that she could breathe more easily. Once lying on her side, she realised that the weight over her legs prevented her from moving any further.

  She raised her eyes, and saw that she was lying under a tarpaulin stretched over the high sides of a dinghy. A little daylight filtered through gaps in it, and a slight rolling movement rocked the boat. Malva breathed deeply, remembering the terrible storm that had struck the Errabunda. At least, she thought, the sea seems calm now, and I’m alive.

  However, the weight on her legs still troubled her. Twisting her neck and raising her head as far as she could, she saw out of the corner of her eye the face of the man who had knocked her out. She uttered a stifled cry and fell back on her side.

  ‘Who are you?’

  The man did not reply. He was lying almost on top of her, with his chest apparently resting on the oarsman’s seat, but the rest of his body was crushing her legs.

  Heart thudding, she made the effort to turn her head again to get a better view of her attacker. He was smiling with satisfaction, eyes fixed on his captive. Malva recognised the Galnician insignia of the Maritime Institute on the collar of his uniform, but she didn’t feel strong enough to pursue that train of thought. She fell back on her side.

  ‘Are you … are you the Captain of the Errabunda?’ she asked in a faltering voice.

  The man still didn’t deign to reply. As far as she could make out, however, he was nodding.

  ‘I don’t know why you hit me,’ Malva went on, trying to calm the racket her heart was making in her breast, ‘but I suppose you wanted to … to rescue me, didn’t you? Is that why we’re here in this boat?’

  The man’s persistent silence was disturbing. Malva saw a certain malice in it. She twisted her neck again, and saw that he was still smiling imperturbably, no doubt enjoying the sight of her impatient wriggling.

&nb
sp; ‘Well, if it amuses you,’ she said tartly, ‘have fun! But let me tell you, whatever happens I’m never setting foot in Galnicia again.’

  The man was still nodding, and didn’t bother to reply.

  ‘I shall jump into the water rather than go with you, do you hear me?’ said Malva, losing her temper. ‘My life doesn’t belong to anyone. Certainly not to the Prince of Andemark, or the Coronador, or even the people of Galnicia. If you’re a man of honour, go back to my father and mother and tell them this: Malva is not interested in the throne, or power, or balls in the Citadel, or the plots and conspiracies that so many people of their rank indulge in, like the Archont, for instance. Malva was made to live in freedom. And whatever the Coronador may think of it, to read and write and study! She was made to live in the Bay of Dao-Boa. I hope you’ll remember that name!’

  Running out of breath, she stopped for a moment to see the Captain’s reaction. Then, suddenly, she felt something warm dripping on the nape of her neck. Passing her hand through her hair, she brought it back and looked at the palm …

  ‘Blood!’ she screamed.

  Panic-stricken, she contorted herself so hard that she managed to turn on her back. Suddenly she was face to face with the Captain’s flabby face. A trickle of blood was running from his twisted mouth, and his glazed eyes no longer seemed to see anything but the dark.

  ‘He … he’s dead!’ said Malva in a strangled tone, her stomach heaving with disgust.

  She uttered a cry. Awkwardly, she managed to pull her legs up. Bracing her forehead against the oarsman’s seat, she suceeded in working herself free, while the Captain’s blood ran over her clothes, her arms, her hands. At last she was huddled at the front of the dinghy. The dead man’s presence terrified her. Shaking with sobs, she pushed against the tarpaulin with all her might to dislodge it.

  When she finally emerged into the open air and stood up she had an attack of vertigo. She almost fell into the water, but caught herself just in time and collapsed against the side of the dinghy, giving way to uncontrollable nausea. She stayed there for a moment without moving, leaning over the water, her mind blank, until shrill cries made her look up.

  The sun was high in the sky. Dazzled, at first Malva could make out nothing in front of her but a dark shape a little way off. Then, narrowing her eyes, she saw Lei standing on the Errabunda and waving to her.

  ‘Malva!’ cried the daughter of Balmun. ‘We come fetch you!’

  Still mute from the shock of her recent experiences, Malva could only raise her hand in reply. She saw Lei disappear, no doubt to go and get help. That suggested that she wasn’t the only survivor of the storm.

  Without realising it, Malva had started to cry. Tears ran down her cheeks as she gradually took stock of the situation. The dinghy was still attached to the ship by a rope; the Captain had not had time to cast it off. The unfortunate man was lying under the tarpaulin, his back pierced by the hook of an enormous pulley which, carried away by the furious wind, had been driven in between his shoulder blades. Malva began trembling like a leaf at the thought that, if the Captain hadn’t been in the way, that deadly projectile would have gone straight into her own breast.

  Other figures had just appeared at the stern of the Errabunda. When Lei pointed to the dinghy, two men began hauling on the rope holding it. Malva looked around her in amazement. The sea was almost dead calm now, a deep blue and strangely still. There was no land on the horizon, not a bird in the sky, not a breath of wind to ripple the surface of the water. She began to wonder if there had really been a storm at all, but when she looked back at the Errabunda she saw all the damage that had been done: the broken mainmast lay on deck, there was splintered wood everywhere, frayed rigging, tattered sails … and as the dinghy came closer Malva saw that even the golden lettering painted under the pulpit in the stern had been partly washed away by the waves: the bottom stroke of the E had gone, turning it into an F, the two Rs were entirely wiped out, and so was the letter N and the curve of the D. Her heart suddenly leaped. The lettering on the ship’s battered hull no longer read ERRABUNDA but FABULA!

  ‘Good gracious,’ murmured Malva, dumbfounded. The ship now bore the same name as the vessel of the old sailor Bulo’s story! The same name as the ship that had been wrecked on the shores of Elgolia!

  ‘It’s a sign!’ she told herself out loud. ‘By all the Divinities of the Known World! It’s the sign that this ship will take me where I want to go!’

  In spite of her weariness and all that she had been through, Malva suddenly felt happy and confident. A wide smile lit up her face, spattered as it was with the Captain’s blood, and she started dancing about in the dinghy.

  ‘Lei! Lei! This is amazing! We’ve had incredible luck!’

  Leaning over the stern rail, the fair-haired girl returned her smile without really understanding. ‘Faster! Faster!’ she told Orpheus and Babilas, who were hauling in the dinghy.

  A moment earlier the giant had emerged from the hold, where he had been buried under a pile of fallen barrels. His left hand was broken, but the strength of his other hand was enough for him. Orpheus hoped they would find other survivors, but the presence of Babilas was a great relief in itself. As for the Princess, it was a miracle to see her on her feet.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he called to her when the bows of the dinghy came up against the Errabunda’s hull.

  When Orpheus saw the motionless body of the Captain lying over the tarpaulin, he only hoped that at the moment of death the swindler had tasted the bitterness of treachery on his tongue.

  ‘I’m fine!’ replied Malva. ‘Send me down a ladder!’

  Orpheus did so, and admired the girl’s agility as she climbed the ropes. But when she set foot on deck in front of him he looked anxiously at the bloodstains on her clothes.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Malva, smiling at him. ‘I’m not injured. It’s the Captain’s blood … and he’s stone-dead.’

  She began laughing, rather nervously, and then went over to Lei and hugged her.

  ‘Where are the others?’ she asked.

  An awkward silence met her query. Malva frowned.

  ‘You mean we’re … we’re the only …’

  ‘For the time being, yes,’ Orpheus admitted. ‘The four of us are the only survivors.’

  Appalled, the Princess looked Orpheus up and down. Then she raised her eyes to Babilas. ‘Well, at least you look very strong,’ she murmured. ‘But you won’t be able to repair the Fabula and sail her single-handed.’

  ‘The Fabula?’ asked Orpheus in surprise.

  ‘Our ship!’ said Malva. ‘I know it may sound odd, but she changed her name during the storm. Look for yourselves!’

  The other three leaned over the rail and managed to read, upside down, what remained of the golden letters on the hull.

  ‘The Fabula,’ sighed Orpheus. ‘I don’t know if the name suits a wreck like this. We have no mainmast, no sails, the tiller’s broken and I don’t suppose the instruments are working either. The Fabula will have her work cut out to take us back to Galnicia.’

  At these words Malva looked hard at Orpheus with her amber eyes.

  ‘I’m not going back to Galnicia,’ she said calmly. ‘I know the Coronador sent you on this mission, but … but I have other plans. First I have to find my chambermaid Philomena, who was left behind on the Azizian Steppes. Then we’re going on to Elgolia, east of the Known World. And my friend Lei has to get back to the kingdom of Balmun.’

  Orpheus took a step back. The Princess’s words astonished him.

  ‘All you have to do is put us ashore on the first land we come to,’ suggested Malva, ‘and tell my father that I died in the storm. After all, I very nearly did. It won’t be such a very big lie.’

  ‘I … I don’t understand, Your Alteza,’ stammered Orpheus. ‘The people of Galnicia are awaiting your return … the country has no future without you. We lived in mourning and a state of terror for months, until the day we heard that you were alive, and
–’

  Malva shook her head. Orpheus, distraught, glanced at Babilas and then at Lei.

  ‘You can’t ask me to lie to the Coronador,’ he said. ‘I took an oath before the Altar of the Divinities, I –’

  When Malva still shook her head, he gestured despairingly at the ship.

  ‘Men have died for you, Princess! They believed in their mission! How dare you –’

  ‘You don’t understand,’ Malva interrupted sharply. ‘If I go back to Galnicia now my life will be a failure. I will go to Elgolia or I will die!’

  Orpheus passed his hands over his face. It was beginning to get hot. Very hot. And this ridiculous argument was giving him a headache.

  ‘I don’t know this place Elgolia,’ he said. ‘I’ve never heard of it. And anyway, I’m not going to abandon you on unknown territory.’

  Malva heaved a sigh of exasperation. ‘Someone else who wants to make up my mind for me,’ she muttered. ‘I really don’t have much luck.’

  Suddenly she fell into a temper. She remembered the day when her father had publicly humiliated her in the Council Chamber, the day when her mother had confirmed that she was to marry the Prince of Andemark, the day when the Amoyeds had sold her to Temir-Gai. Was she going to have to fight all her life to be left in peace? She turned to Babilas with an expression of aggressive sarcasm.

  ‘And how about you?’ she asked him. ‘Why don’t you say anything? I’m sure you have plenty of plans for me too! Come on, make your offer! The Princess is up for sale!’

  The giant lowered his eyes.

  ‘Babilas is mute,’ Orpheus said roughly, losing control. ‘He carried you on his shoulders to free you from Temir-Gai’s harem! He walked through the flames consuming the imperial city, and he broke the bars of the cage where you were imprisoned. That’s no way to speak to him, Princess.’