Keepers of the Western Forest
Page 32
Chapter 32
From his vantage point overlooking the bay, Brynn watched Darin and Broderic being escorted into the city. What should he do? They had told him to wait there, but the situation was now drastically different. Should he enter the city and go boldly up to the palace? He looked around him doubtfully.
At some distance inland, the two seamen who had been detailed to look for supplies were hurrying towards a gate in the sidewall of the city. He decided to follow them. The gate, which he had failed to notice earlier, was nearer to the palace; if he could catch up with the two mates, who apparently had some knowledge of the place, they might be able to suggest how he should proceed further. With his bow slung over his back, he set off at a trot across the sun-scorched earth. Behind him, smoke still curled upward from the charred timbers of the ship in the cove.
Entering at the gate, he found himself in a small square with narrow streets running off it in all directions. It was evidently a market place; men and women squatted in the dust with their wares spread in front of them. People thronged the square, the men in long hooded robes, the women veiled, many of them carrying jars or baskets on their heads as they moved gracefully through the crowd. Brynn gazed at the scene in fascination, overwhelmed by the scent of unknown spices and the hubbub of many voices speaking a strange tongue. Then he caught sight of the men he was following—they were leaving the square by a cobbled street that ran uphill, with every few yards a stone step, along the inside of the city wall. He hurried after them.
Before too long, he arrived at a small, flat triangular space. Here there was a fork in the street, one branch continuing straight ahead, the other following the curve of the wall to the right. He paused as he saw the two seamen pressed against the wall of the building that stood at the divide, evidently wishing to conceal themselves from anyone in the right-hand street.
A little further along stood a young girl. She was not veiled like the women in the marketplace, but her head was covered with a red silk scarf. She wore a small waistcoat, embroidered with many colours, over a loose, diaphanous kirtle, and wide pantaloons, gathered in at the ankle. On her hip, she carried a basket with a long shoulder strap. She spoke briefly to someone at an open door and then turned to walk on up the hill.
Brynn ducked into a doorway as the taller of the two mates looked back over his shoulder to check the street behind him. He peeped out again in time to see the two sailors seize hold of the girl. She let out a stifled cry as the tall seaman clapped his hand over her mouth. With his left hand, he grasped her by the upper arm; his companion held her fast at the other side, and together they lifted her off her feet and started carrying her up the hill. Brynn ran across the triangular space until he was against the wall where the sailors had been hiding.
It did not yet seem the right time for him to intervene. He dared not threaten the men with his bow while they held the struggling girl so closely. They were too intent on controlling their captive to look behind them, so Brynn ran after them, ducking from doorway to doorway. The cobbled hill was growing steeper, the stone steps occurring at shorter intervals. After a while, he found himself standing in the doorway of the last house on the street; a high wall, which seemed to enclose a garden, continued for a few more yards, and then the hill flattened out into an unpaved patch of dusty ground.
The sailors were dragging the girl across this wasteland. Her red scarf fell from her head into the dust; Brynn caught a glimpse of shining black tresses lashing across her back as she struggled in their grip.
“Looks like no one has been here since we picked up the stuff last time!” one of the sailors shouted.
They were heading for a low, ramshackle shed built against the city wall. A tangle of pine branches covered the roof and a stout beam barred the dilapidated wooden door. The first mate held on to the girl while the other kidnapper opened the door. They pushed her roughly inside and barred it again. Brynn could hear her pounding on the door and calling out in a high, angry voice.
The two men conversed in low tones for a moment and then the tall one walked hurriedly off across the wasteland towards a small arched gateway in a wall a quarter of a mile off. As soon as he’s out of earshot, thought Brynn, that will be my chance. The second mate, meanwhile, had seen the scarf lying in the dust; he strolled over to retrieve it. As he stooped to pick it up, Brynn emerged from his doorway with his bow aimed and ready.
“Stop where you are,” he said quietly. “One move and you’ll feel this arrow in your throat!”
The man looked up, alarm showing in his eyes. He held his arms out to the side with his open palms towards Brynn.
“That’s right,” said Brynn. “Slowly—and keep your hands where I can see them. Now, tell me what you two want with this girl.”
The burly seaman licked his lips and turned his eyes in the direction his companion had just gone.
“We’ve seen her before,” he said. “It’s the sultan’s daughter. We couldn’t believe our luck, finding her all alone like this.”
“But why kidnap her?” asked Brynn.
“You saw what happened to the Petrel, and to our captain,” replied the sailor. “The first mate’s gone to the palace. If Sultan al-Din wants to see his daughter again, he must first release the captain and his crew. And provide us with a new ship!”
“You fools! You must leave it to Darin and Broderic to work out terms with the sultan. You’ll ruin everything if you make him angry. Besides, you’ll never get away with it.”
The sailor sneered. “Talking won’t do any good. Now they’ve got our captain, they’ll never let him go.”
Brynn took a step forward. “Open that door and let the girl out. Then back away from her. I’ll be right behind you. One false move and it will be your last!”
The girl rushed out furiously the second the door was unbarred; she looked as if she would fall on her abductor, kicking and scratching, but Brynn yelled out. She saw the bow, understood and stepped back.
“You!” commanded Brynn, gesturing with his bow. “Inside!”
The seaman stepped into the shed, his hands raised above his head.
“And now, my lady,” said Brynn, hoping she could understand him, “would you kindly close and bar the door?”
The girl sprang forward and slammed the door shut. When it was safely barred, she turned and leaned her back against it. She gazed at her rescuer with enormous dark eyes and giggled.
“My hero!” she said in mischievously dramatic tones. “Rescuing me from those uncouth foreigners—and you a northerner yourself!”
Brynn felt himself blushing. This intriguing girl seemed to be about his own age, but he sensed she was unlike anyone he had ever met before. “You speak my language!” he stammered.
“My father got me the very best teachers for languages and the art of numbers.” Her smile was now unambiguously warm and grateful. Brynn felt a little more at ease.
“Is the sultan really your father?”
She nodded. “Yes. I am Safira.”
She came and took his hand. A shock ran through his body. He remembered how idiotic Darin sometimes seemed when he was with Shayla. Now he began to understand why.
“Surely a princess should not be walking the streets alone?”
“I’m not supposed to, but I hate always having my bodyguard with me. This corner of the city is not far from the palace. It’s always quiet. My old nurse lives just down the street. She is not very well, so I sometimes take her a few things. She is always so happy to see me.”
Brynn could well imagine this; he would be more than happy if he could see Safira every day. He turned and looked back down the hill. They now stood so high above the bay that they could see the harbour and the twinkle of the sea beyond the cluster of rooves. A sudden light breeze wafted the impossibly sweet, heavy scent of orange-blossom from the walled garden nearby. He thought of the folk back home, where winter would soon be setting in, and a sudden wild joy rose in his breast.
“Dolphins?” Safira looked at him out of the corner of her eye, head on one side. “Why did you come here?”
“I came with two knights of King Arthur’s court. We are here to ask your father for the axe that belonged to the Green Knight.”
The princess drew a sharp breath. “The prophecy!”
“Prophecy?”
She laughed. “Yes! My father says we must not take it too seriously, though. Dolphins do tend to make a fuss of every ship that arrives. He’s right, I suppose. All the same, he will be very happy when someone finally claims that axe. He hates the thing, but he swore to my grandfather he would keep on using it to try offenders.”
Brynn now explained all that had happened that day.
“We must go at once to my father and find out about your friends. We’ll tell him everything,” Safira said when he was finished.
Brynn willingly allowed her to lead him by the hand towards the little arch in the distant wall.