Birds of Prey

by Wilbur Smith

  Slowly Sir Francis turned his head and stared at his son. He began to smile, then to chuckle, and at last burst out laughing. ‘Dear Lord, but the Courtney blood runs true! Come down to my cabin this instant and show me what it is you have in mind.’

  Sir Francis stood at Hal’s shoulder as he sketched a design on the slate. ‘They need not be sturdily constructed, for they will not have far to sail, and will have no heavy seas to endure,’ Hal explained deferentially.

  ‘Yes, but once they are launched they should be able to hold a true course, and yet carry a goodly weight of cargo,’ his father murmured, and took the chalk from his son. He drew a few quick lines on the slate. ‘We might lash two hulls together. It would not do to have them capsize or expend themselves before they reach their destination.’

  ‘The wind has been steady from the sou’-east ever since we have been anchored here,’ said Hal. ‘There is no sign of it dropping. So we must hold them up-wind. If we place them on the small island across the channel, then the wind will work for us when we launch them.’

  ‘Very well.’ Sir Francis nodded. ‘How many do we need?’ He could see how much pleasure he gave the lad by consulting him in this fashion.

  ‘Drake sent in eight against the Spaniards, but we do not have the time to build so many. Five, perhaps?’ He looked up at his father, and Sir Francis nodded again.

  ‘Yes, five should do it. How many men will you need? Daniel must remain in command of the culverins on the beach. The Buzzard may spring his trap before we are ready. But I will send Ned Tyler and the carpenter to help you build them – and Aboli, of course.’

  Hal stared at his father in awe. ‘You will trust me to take charge of the building?’ he asked.

  ‘It is your plan so if it fails I must be able to lay full blame upon you,’ his father replied, with only the faintest smile upon his lips. ‘Take your men and go ashore at once to begin work. But be circumspect. Don’t make it easy for the Buzzard.’

  Hal’s axemen cleared a small opening on the far side of the heavily forested island across the channel where they were hidden from the Gull of Moray. After a circuitous detour through the forest on the mainland, he was also able to ferry his men and material across to the island out of sight of the lookouts on the Buzzard’s vessel.

  That first night they worked by the wavering light of pitch-soaked torches until after midnight. All of them were aware of the urgency of their task, and when they were exhausted they simply threw themselves on the soft bed of leaf mould under the trees and slept until the dawn gave enough light to begin work again.

  By noon of the following day all five of the strange craft were ready to be carried to their hiding place in the grove at the edge of the lagoon. At low tide, Sir Francis waded across from the mainland and made his way down the footpath through the dense forest that covered the island to inspect the work.

  He nodded dubiously. ‘I hope sincerely that they will float,’ he mused, as he walked slowly round one of the ungainly vessels.

  ‘We will only know that when we send them out for the first time.’ Hal was tired, and his temper was short. ‘Even to please you, Father, I cannot arrange a prior demonstration for the benefit of Lord Cumbrae.’

  His father glanced at him, concealing his surprise. The puppy grows into a young dog and learns how to growl, he thought, with a twinge of paternal pride. He demands respect, and, truth to tell, he has earned it.

  Aloud he said, ‘You have done well in the time at your disposal,’ which deftly turned aside Hal’s anger. ‘I will send fresh men to help you transport them, and place them in the grove.’

  Hal was so tired that he could barely drag himself up the rope ladder to the entryport of the Resolution. But even though his task was complete, his father would not let him escape to his cabin.

  ‘We are anchored directly behind the Gull.’ He pointed across the moonlit channel at the dark shape of the other ship. ‘Have you thought what might happen if one of your fiendish vessels drifts past the mark and comes down upon us here? Dismasted as we are, we cannot manoeuvre the ship.’

  ‘Aboli has already cut long bamboo poles in the forest.’ Hal’s tone could not conceal that he was weary to his bones. ‘We will use them to deflect any drifters from us and send them harmlessly up onto the beach over there.’ He turned and pointed back towards where the fires of the encampment flickered among the trees. ‘The Buzzard will be taken by surprise, and will not be equipped with bamboo poles.’

  At last his father was satisfied. ‘Go to your rest now. Tomorrow night we will open the Lodge, and you must be able to make your responses to the catechism.’

  Hal came back reluctantly from the abyss of sleep into which he had sunk. For some moments he was not certain what had woken him. Then the soft scratching came again from the bulkhead.

  Instantly he was fully awake, every vestige of fatigue forgotten. He rolled off his pallet, and knelt at the panel. The scratching was now impatient and demanding. He tapped a swift reply on the woodwork, then fumbled in the darkness to find the stopper of his peep-hole. The moment he removed it, a yellow ray of lamp-light shone through but was cut off as Katinka placed her lips to the opening on the far side and whispered angrily, ‘Where were you last night?’

  ‘I had duties ashore,’ he whispered back.

  ‘I do not believe you,’ she told him. ‘You try to escape your punishment. You deliberately disobey me.’

  ‘No, no, I would not—’

  ‘Open this panel at once.’

  He groped for his dirk, which hung on his belt on the hook at the foot of his bunk, and prised out the dowels. The panel came away in his hands with only the faintest scraping sound. He set it aside, and a square of soft light fell through the hatch.

  ‘Come!’ her voice ordered, and he wriggled into the gap. It was a tight squeeze, but after a short struggle he found himself on his hands and knees on the deck of her cabin. He started to rise to his feet, but she stopped him.

  ‘Stay down there.’ He looked up at her as she stood over him. She was dressed in a flowing night-robe of some gossamer material. Her hair was loose and hung in splendour to her waist. The lamp-light shone through the cloth of her robe and silhouetted her body, the lustre of her skin gleaming through the transparent folds of silk.

  ‘You have no shame,’ she told him, as he knelt before her as though she were the sacred image of a saint. ‘You come to me naked. You show me no respect.’

  ‘I am sorry!’ he gasped. In his anxiety to obey her he had forgotten his own nudity, and now he cupped his hands over his privy parts. ‘I meant no disrespect.’

  ‘No! Do not cover your shame.’ She reached down and pulled away his hands. Both stared down at his groin. They watched him slowly stretch out and thicken, thrusting out towards her, his prepuce peeling back of its own accord.

  ‘Is there nothing I can do to stop such revolting behaviour? Are you too far gone in Satan’s ways?’

  She seized a handful of his hair and dragged him to his feet and after her into the splendid cabin where first he had laid eyes on her beauty.

  She dropped onto the quilted bed, and sat facing him. The white silk skirts parted and fell back on each side of her long slim thighs. She twisted the handful of his curls, and said, in a voice that was suddenly breathless, ‘You must obey me in all things, you child of the dark pit.’

  Her thighs fell apart, and she pulled his face down and pressed it hard at their apex against the impossibly soft and silky mound of golden curls.

  He smelt the sea in her, brine and kelp, and the scent of the sparkling living things of the oceans, the warm soft odour of the islands, of salt surf breaking on a sun-baked beach. He drank it in through flaring nostrils, and then tracked down the source of this fabulous aroma with his lips.

  She wriggled forward on the satin covers to meet his mouth, her thighs spread wider, and she tilted her hips forward to open herself to him. With a handful of his curls, she moved his head, guiding him to that t
iny bud of pink, taut flesh that nestled in its hidden crevice. As he found it with the tip of his tongue she gasped and she began to move herself against his face as though she rode bareback upon a galloping stallion. She gave small incoherent contradictory cries. ‘Oh, stop! Please stop! No! Never stop! Go on for ever!’

  Then suddenly she wrenched his head out from between her straining thighs, and fell backwards upon the covers lifting him over her. He felt her hard little heels dig into the small of his back as she wrapped her legs around him, and her fingernails, like knives, cutting into the tensed muscles of his shoulders. Then the pain was lost in the sensation of slippery engulfing heat as he slid deeply into her, and he smothered his cries in the golden tangle of her hair.

  The three Knights had set up the Lodge on the slope of the hills above the lagoon, at the foot of a small waterfall that dropped into a basin of dark water surrounded by tall trees hung with lichens and lianas.

  The altar stood within the circle of stones, the fire burning before it. Thus all the ancient elements were represented. The moon was in its first quarter, signifying rebirth and resurrection.

  Hal waited alone in the forest while the three Knights of the Order opened the Lodge in the first degree. Then his father, his bared sword in his hand, came striding through the darkness to fetch him, and led him back along the path.

  The other two Knights were waiting beside the fire in the sacred circle. Their swords were drawn, the blades gleaming in the reflection of the flames. Lying upon the stone altar under a velvet cloth, he saw the shape of his great-grandfather’s Neptune sword. They paused outside the circle of stones and Sir Francis begged entrance to the Lodge.

  ‘In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost!’

  ‘Who would enter the Lodge of the Temple of the Order of St George and the Holy Grail?’ Lord Cumbrae thundered, in a voice that rang against the hills, his long two-edged claymore glinting in his hairy red fist.

  ‘A novice who presents himself for initiation into the mysteries of the Temple,’ Hal replied.

  ‘Enter on peril of your eternal life,’ Cumbrae warned him, and Hal stepped into the circle. Suddenly the air seemed colder and he shivered, even as he knelt in the radiance of the watchfire.

  ‘Who sponsors this novice?’ the Buzzard demanded again.

  ‘I do.’ Sir Francis stepped forward and Cumbrae turned back to Hal.

  ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Henry Courtney, son of Francis and Edwina.’ The long catechism began as the starry wheel of the firmament turned slowly overhead and the flames of the watchfire sank lower.

  It was after midnight when, at last, Sir Francis lifted the velvet covering from the Neptune sword. The sapphire on the hilt reflected a pale blue beam of moonlight into Hal’s eyes as his father placed the hilt in his hands.

  ‘Upon this blade you will confirm the tenets of your faith.’

  ‘These things I believe,’ Hal began, ‘and I will defend them with my life. I believe there is but one God in Trinity, the Father eternal, the Son eternal and the Holy Ghost eternal.’

  ‘Amen!’ chorused the three Nautonnier Knights.

  ‘I believe in the communion of the Church of England, and the divine right of its representative on earth, Charles, King of England, Scotland, France and Ireland, Defender of the Faith.’

  ‘Amen!’

  Once Hal had recited his beliefs, Cumbrae called upon him to make his knightly vows.

  ‘I will uphold the Church of England. I will confront the enemies of my sovereign lord, Charles.’ Hal’s voice quivered with conviction and sincerity. ‘I renounce Satan and all his works. I eschew all false doctrines and heresies and schisms. I turn my face away from all other gods and their false prophets.’

  ‘I will protect the weak. I will defend the pilgrim. I will succour the needy and those in need of justice. I will take up the sword against the tyrant and the oppressor.’

  ‘I will defend the holy places. I will search out and protect the precious relics of Christ Jesus and his Saints. I will never cease my quest for the Holy Grail that contained his sacred blood.’

  The Nautonnier Knights crossed themselves as he made this vow, for the Grail quest stood at the centre of their belief. It was the granite column that held aloft the roof of their Temple.

  ‘I pledge myself to the Strict Observance. I will obey the code of my Knighthood. I will abstain from debauchery and fornication,’ Hal’s tongue tripped on the word, but he recovered swiftly, ‘and I will honour my fellow Knights. Above all else, I will keep secret all the proceedings of my Lodge.’

  ‘And may the Lord have mercy on your soul!’ the three Nautonnier Knights intoned in unison. Then they stepped forward and formed a ring around the kneeling novice. Each laid one hand on his bowed head and the other on the hilt of his sword, their hands overlapping each other.

  ‘Henry Courtney, we welcome you into the Grail company, and we accept you as brother Knight of the Temple of the Order of St George and the Holy Grail.’

  Richard Lister spoke first, in his sonorous Welsh voice, almost singing his blessing. ‘I welcome you into the Temple. May you always follow the Strict Observance.’

  Cumbrae spoke next. ‘I welcome you into the Temple. May the waters of far oceans open wide before the bows of your ship, and may the force of the wind drive you on.’

  Then Sir Francis Courtney spoke with his hand firmly set on Hal’s brow. ‘I welcome you into the Temple. May you always be true to your vows, to your God and to yourself.’

  Then between them the Nautonnier Knights lifted him to his feet and, one after another, embraced him. Lord Cumbrae’s whiskers were stiff and pricking as a garland of thorns from the traitor’s bush.

  ‘I have a hold filled with my share of the spices that you and I took from Heerlycke Nacht, enough to buy me a castle and five thousand acres of the finest land in Wales,’ said Richard Lister, as he clasped Sir Francis’s right hand in his, using the secret grip of the Nautonniers. ‘And I have a young wife and two stout sons upon whom I have not laid eyes for three years. A little rest in green and pleasant places with those I love, and then, I know, the wind will summon. Perhaps we will meet again on far waters, Francis.’

  ‘Take the tide of your heart, then, Richard. I thank you for your friendship, and for what you have done for my son.’ Sir Francis returned his grip. ‘I hope one day to welcome both your boys into the Temple.’

  Richard turned away towards his waiting longboat, but hesitated and came back. He placed one arm around Sir Francis’s shoulders and his brow was grave, his voice low, as he said, ‘Cumbrae had a proposition for me concerning you, but I liked it not at all and told him so to his face. Watch your back, Franky, and sleep with one eye open when he is around you.’

  ‘You are a good friend,’ Sir Francis said, and watched Richard walk to his longboat and cross to the Goddess. As soon as he went up the ladder to the quarterdeck his crew weighed the anchor. All her sails filled and she moved down the channel, dipping her pennant in farewell as she disappeared out through the heads into the open sea.

  ‘Now we have only the Buzzard to keep us company.’ Hal looked across at the Gull of Moray where she lay in the centre of the channel, her boats clustered around her discharging water casks, bundles of firewood and dried fish into her holds.

  ‘Make your preparations to beach the ship, please, Mr Courtney,’ Sir Francis replied, and Hal straightened his spine. He was unaccustomed to his father addressing him thus. It was strange to be treated as a Knight and a full officer, instead of as a lowly ensign. Even his mode of dress had changed with his new status. His father had provided the shirt of fine white Madras cotton on his back, as well as his new moleskin breeches, which felt soft as silk against his skin after the rags of rough canvas he had worn before today.

  He was even more surprised when his father deigned to explain his order. ‘We must go about our business as if we suspect no treachery. Besides which the Resolution will be safer upon the
beach if it comes to a fight.’

  ‘I understand, sir.’ Hal looked up at the sun to judge the time. ‘The tide will be fair for us to take her aground at two bells in tomorrow’s morning watch. We will be prepared.’

  All the rest of that morning the crew of the Gull behaved like that of any other ship preparing for sea, and though Daniel and his guncrews, with cannon loaded and aimed, and with slow-match burning, watched the Gull from their hidden emplacements dug into the sandy soil along the edge of the forest, she gave them no hint of treachery.

  A little before noon Lord Cumbrae had himself rowed ashore and came to find Sir Francis where he stood by the fire upon which the cauldron of pitch was bubbling, ready to begin caulking the Resolution’s hull when she was careened.

  ‘It’s farewell, then.’ He embraced Sir Francis, throwing a thick red arm around his shoulders. ‘Richard was right. There’s no prize to be won if we sit here upon the beach and scratch our backsides.’

  ‘So you’re ready to sail?’ Sir Francis kept his tone level, not betraying his astonishment.

  ‘With tomorrow morning’s tide, I’ll be away. But how I hate to leave you, Franky. Will you not take a last dram aboard the Gull with me now? I would fain discuss with you my share of the prize money from the Standvastigheid.’

  ‘My lord, your share is nothing. That ends our discussion, and I wish you a fair wind.’

  Cumbrae let fly a great blast of laughter. ‘I’ve always loved your sense of fun, Franky. I know you only wish to spare me the labour of carrying that heavy cargo of spice back to the Firth of Forth.’ He turned and pointed with his curling beard at the spice store under the forest trees. ‘SoI shall let youdoit for me. But, in the meantime, I trust you to keep a fair accounting of my share, and to deliver it to me when next we meet – plus the usual interest, of course.’

  ‘I trust you as dearly, my lord.’ Sir Francis lifted his hat and swept the sand with the plume as he bowed.