Birds of Prey

by Wilbur Smith

  ‘He is three years older than I am.’ Sukeena kept her eyes downcast. ‘I need to fetch my medicines, mistress.’

  ‘I shall wait for you to return,’ Katinka replied. ‘Be quick.’

  Katinka lay back against the cushions and smiled or frowned at the vivid procession of images and words that ran through her mind. She felt expectant and elated, and at the same time restless and dissatisfied. Slow John’s words sounded in her head like cathedral bells. They disturbed her. She could not remain still a moment longer. She sprang to her feet and prowled around the closet like a hunting leopard. ‘Where is that girl?’ she demanded, and then she glimpsed her own reflection in the long mirror and turned back to consider it.

  ‘Kali!’ she whispered, and smiled. ‘What a marvellous name. What a secret and splendid name.’

  She saw Sukeena’s image appear in the mirror behind her but she did not turn immediately. The girl’s dark beauty was a perfect foil for her own. She considered their two faces together, and felt the excitement charge her nerves and sing through her veins.

  ‘I have the salve for your injury, mistress.’ Sukeena stood close behind her, but her eyes were fathomless.

  ‘Thank you, my little sparrow,’ Katinka whispered. I want you to belong to me for ever, she thought. I want you to belong to Kali.

  She turned back to the sofa and Sukeena knelt before her again. At first the salve was cool on the skin of her leg, and then a warm glow spread from it. Sukeena’s fingers were cunning and skilful.

  ‘I hate to see something beautiful destroyed needlessly,’ Katinka whispered. ‘You say your brother is beautiful. Do you love him very much, Sukeena?’

  When there was no reply Katinka reached down and cupped her hand under Sukeena’s chin. She lifted her face so that she could look into her eyes. The agony she saw there made her pulse race.

  ‘My poor little sparrow,’ she said. I have touched the deepest place in her soul, she exulted. As she removed her hand she let her fingers trail across the girl’s cheek.

  ‘This hour I have come from Slow John,’ she said, ‘but you saw me on the path. You were watching me, were you not?’

  ‘Yes, mistress.’

  ‘Shall I repeat to you what Slow John told me? Shall I tell you about his special room at the castle, and what happens there?’ Katinka did not wait for the girl to reply but went on speaking quietly. When Sukeena’s fingers stilled she broke off her narrative to order, ‘Do not stop what you are doing, Sukeena. You have a magical touch.’

  When at last she finished speaking, Sukeena was weeping without a sound. Her tears were slow and viscous as drops of oil squeezed from the olive press. They glistened against the red gold of her cheeks. After a while Katinka asked, ‘How long has your brother been in the castle? I have heard that it is four months since he came back from the mountains to fetch you. Such a long time, and he has not been tried, no sentence passed upon him.’

  Katinka waited, letting the moments fall, a slow drop at a time, slow as the girl’s tears. ‘Governor Kleinhans was remiss, or was he persuaded by somebody, I wonder. But my husband is an energetic and dedicated man. He will not let justice be denied. No renegade can escape him long.’

  Now Sukeena was no longer making any pretence; she stared at Katinka with stricken eyes as she went on, ‘He will send Althuda to the secret room with Slow John. Althuda will be beautiful no longer. What a dreadful pity. What can we do to prevent that happening?’

  ‘Mistress,’ Sukeena whispered, ‘your husband, he has the power. Itisinhis hands.’

  ‘My husband is a servant of the Company, a loyal and unbending servant. He will not flinch from his duty.’

  ‘Mistress, you are so beautiful. No man can deny you. You can persuade him.’ Sukeena slowly lowered her head and placed it on Katinka’s bare knee. ‘With all my heart, with all my soul, I beg you, mistress.’

  ‘What would you do to save your brother’s life?’ Katinka asked. ‘What price would you pay, my little sparrow?’

  ‘There is no price too high, no sacrifice from which I would turn aside. Everything and anything you ask of me, mistress.’

  ‘We could never hope to set him free, Sukeena. You understand that, don’t you?’ Katinka asked gently. Nor would I ever wish that, she thought, for while the brother is in the castle the little sparrow is safely in my cage.

  ‘I will not even let myself hope for that.’

  Sukeena lifted her head and again Katinka cupped her chin, this time with both her hands, and she leaned forward slowly. ‘Althuda shall not die. We will save him from Slow John, you and I,’ she promised, and kissed Sukeena full on the mouth. The girl’s lips were wet with her tears. They tasted hot and salty, almost like blood. Slowly Sukeena opened her lips, like the petals of an orchid opening to the sunbird’s beak as it quests for nectar.

  Althuda. Sukeena steeled herself with the thought of her brother, as without breaking the kiss Katinka took her hand and moved it slowly up under her skirts until it lay on her smooth white belly. Althuda, this is for you, and for you alone, Sukeena told herself silently, as she closed her eyes and her fingers crept timorously over the satiny belly, down into the nest of fine dense golden curls at the base.

  The next day dawned in a cloudless sky. Although the air was chill the sun was brilliant and the wind had dropped. From the scaffold Hal watched the closed door to the dungeons. Daniel stayed close by his side; in taking Hal’s share of the work on his broad shoulders he was shielding him from Barnard’s lash.

  When Slow John came through the gates and crossed the courtyard to the armoury, with his measured undertaker’s tread, Hal stared down at him with stricken eyes. Suddenly, as he passed below the scaffold, Hal snatched up the heavy mason’s hammer that lay on the planking at his feet and lifted it to hurl it down and crush the executioner’s skull. But Daniel’s great fist closed around his wrist. He eased the hammer from Hal’s grip, as though he were taking a toy from a child, and placed it on top of the wall beyond his reach.

  ‘Why did you do that?’ Hal protested. ‘I could have killed the swine.’

  ‘To no purpose,’ Daniel told him, with compassion. ‘You cannot save Sir Francis by killing an underling. You would sacrifice your own life and achieve nothing by it. They would simply send another to your father.’

  Manseer brought Sir Francis up from the dungeons. He could not walk unaided on his broken bandaged feet, but his head was high as they dragged him across the courtyard.

  ‘Father!’ Hal screamed, in torment. ‘I cannot let this happen.’

  Sir Francis looked up at him, and called in a voice just loud enough to reach him on the high wall, ‘Be strong, my son. For my sake, be strong.’ Manseer forced him down the steps below the armoury.

  The day was long, longer than any that Hal had ever lived through, and the north side of the courtyard was in deep shadow when at last Slow John re-emerged from below the armoury.

  ‘This time I will kill the poisonous swine,’ Hal blurted, but again Daniel held him in a grip that he could not shake off as the executioner walked slowly beneath the scaffold and out through the castle gates.

  Hop came scampering into the courtyard, his face ghastly. He summoned the Company surgeon and the two men disappeared once more down the stairs. This time the soldiers brought out Sir Francis on a litter.

  ‘Father!’ Hal shouted down to him, but there was neither reply nor sign of life in response.

  ‘I have warned you often enough,’ Hugo Barnard bellowed at him. He strode out onto the boards and laid half a dozen whip strokes across his back. Hal made no attempt to avoid the blows, and Barnard stepped back astonished that he showed no pain. ‘Any more of your imbecile chattering, and I will put the dogs onto you,’ he promised, as he turned away. Meanwhile, in the courtyard, the Company surgeon watched gravely as the soldiers carried Sir Francis’s unconscious form down to his cell. Then, accompanied by Hop, he set off for the Governor’s suite on the south side of the courtyard.


  Van de Velde looked up in irritation from the papers that littered his desk. ‘Yes? What is it, Dr Saar? I am a busy man. I hope you have not come here to waste my time.’

  ‘It is the prisoner, your excellency.’ The surgeon looked flustered and apologetic at the same time. Van de Velde did not allow him to continue but turned on Hop, who stood nervously behind the doctor, twisting his hat in his fingers.

  ‘Well, Hop, has the pirate succumbed yet? Has he told us what we want to know?’ he shouted, and Hop retreated a pace.

  ‘He is so stubborn. I would never have believed it possible, that any human being—’ He broke off in a long, tormented stammer.

  ‘I hold you responsible, Hop.’ Van de Velde came menacingly from behind his desk. He was warming to this sport of baiting the miserable little clerk, but the surgeon intervened.

  ‘Your excellency, I fear for the prisoner’s life. Another day of questioning – he may not survive it.’

  Van de Velde rounded on him now. ‘That, doctor, is the main object of this whole business. Courtney is a man condemned to death. He will die, and you have my solemn word on that.’ He went back to his desk and lowered himself into the soft chair. ‘Don’t come here to give me news of his imminent decease. All I want to know from you is whether or not he is still capable of feeling pain, and if he is capable of speaking or at least giving some sign of understanding the question. Well, is he, doctor?’ Van de Velde glared.

  ‘Your excellency,’ the doctor removed his eye-glasses and polished the lenses vigorously as he composed a reply. He knew what van de Velde wanted to hear, and he knew also that it was not politic to deny him. ‘At the moment the prisoner is not compos mentis.’

  Van de Velde scowled and cut in, ‘What of the executioner’s vaunted skills? I thought he never lost a prisoner, not unintentionally anyway.’

  ‘Sir, I am not disparaging the skills of the state executioner. I am sure that by tomorrow the prisoner will have recovered consciousness.’

  ‘You mean that tomorrow he will be healthy enough to continue questioning?’

  ‘Yes, your excellency. That is my opinion.’

  ‘Well, Mijnheer, I will hold you to that. If the pirate dies before he can be formally executed in accordance with the judgement of the court, you will answer to me. The populace must see justice performed. It is no good the man passing peacefully away in a closed room below the walls. We want him out there on the Parade for all to see. I want an example made of him, do you understand?’

  ‘Yes, your excellency.’ The doctor backed towards the door.

  ‘You too, Hop. Do you understand, dolt? I want to know where he has hidden the galleon’s cargo, and then I want a good rousing execution. For your own good, you had better deliver both those things.’

  ‘Yes, your excellency.’

  ‘I want to speak to Slow John. Send him to me before he starts work tomorrow morning. I want to make certain that he fully understands his responsibilities.’

  ‘I will bring the executioner to you myself,’ Hop promised.

  Once more it was dark when Hugo Barnard stopped work on the walls and ordered the lines of exhausted prisoners down into the courtyard. As Hal passed his father’s cell on the way down the staircase, he called desperately to him, ‘Father, can you hear me?’

  When there was no reply, he hammered on the door with both his fists. ‘Father, speak to me. In the name of God, speak to me!’ For once Manseer was indulgent. He made no attempt to force Hal to move on down the staircase and Hal pleaded again, ‘Please, Father. It’s Hal, your son. Do you not know me?’

  ‘Hal,’ croaked a voice he did not recognize. ‘Is that you, my boy?’

  ‘Oh, God!’ Hal sank to his knees and pressed his forehead to the panel. ‘Yes, Father. It is me.’

  ‘Be strong, my son. It will not be for much longer, but I charge you, if you love me, then keep the oath.’

  ‘I cannot let you suffer. I cannot let this go on.’

  ‘Hal!’ His father’s voice was suddenly powerful again. ‘There is no more suffering. I have passed that point. They cannot hurt me now, except through you.’

  ‘What can I do to ease you? Tell me, what can I do?’ Hal pleaded.

  ‘There is only one thing you can do now. Let me take with me the knowledge of your strength and your fortitude. If you fail me now, it will all have been in vain.’

  Hal bit into the knuckles of his own clenched fist, drawing blood in the vain attempt to stifle his sobs. His father’s voice came again. ‘Daniel, are you there?’

  ‘Yes, Captain.’

  ‘Help him. Help my son to be a man.’

  ‘I give you my promise, Captain.’

  Hal raised his head, and his voice was stronger. ‘I do not need anybody to help me. I will keep my faith with you, Father. I will not betray your trust.’

  ‘Farewell, Hal.’ Sir Francis’s voice began to fade, as though he were falling into an infinite pit. ‘You are my blood and my promise of eternal life. Goodbye, my life.’

  The following morning when they carried Sir Francis up from the dungeon Hop and Dr Saar walked on either side of the litter. They were both worried men, for there was no sign of life in the broken figure that lay between them. Even when Hal defied Barnard’s whip, and called down to him from the walls, Sir Francis did not raise his head. They took him down the stairs to where Slow John already waited, but within a few minutes all three came out into the sunlight, Saar, Hop and Slow John, and stood talking quietly for a short while. Then they walked together across to the Governor’s suite and mounted the stairs.

  Van de Velde was standing by the stained-glass window, peering out at the shipping that lay anchored off the foreshore. Late the previous evening, another Company galleon had come into Table Bay and he was expecting the ship’s captain to call upon him to pay his respects and to present an order for provisions and stores. Van de Velde turned impatiently from the window to face the three men as they filed into his chamber.

  ‘Ja, Hop?’ He looked at his favourite victim. ‘You have remembered my orders, for once, hey? You have brought the state executioner to speak to me.’ He turned to Slow John. ‘So, has the pirate told you where he has hidden the treasure? Come on, fellow, speak up.’

  Slow John’s expression did not change as he said softly, ‘I have worked carefully not to damage the respondent beyond usefulness. But I am nearing the end. Soon he will no longer hear my voice, nor be sensible to any further persuasion.’

  ‘You have failed?’ van de Velde’s voice trembled with anger.

  ‘No, not yet,’ said Slow John. ‘He is strong. I would never have believed how strong. But there is still the rack. I do not believe that he will be able to withstand the rack. No man can weather the rack.’

  ‘You have not used it yet?’ van de Velde demanded. ‘Why not?’

  ‘To me it is the last resort. Once they have been racked, there is nothing left. It is the end.’

  ‘Will it work with this one?’ van de Velde wanted to know. ‘What happens if he still resists?’

  ‘Then there is only the scaffold and the gibbet,’ said Slow John.

  Slowly van de Velde turned to Dr Saar. ‘What is your opinion, doctor?’

  ‘Your excellency, if you require an execution then it should be carried out very soon after the man is racked.’

  ‘How soon?’ van de Velde demanded.

  ‘Today. Before nightfall. After racking, he will not last the night.’

  Van de Velde turned back to Slow John. ‘You have disappointed me. I am displeased.’ Slow John did not seem to hear the rebuke. His eyes did not even flicker as he stared back at van de Velde. ‘However, we must do what we can to make the best of this whole sorry business. I will order the execution for three o’clock this afternoon. In the meantime you are to go back and place the pirate on the rack.’

  ‘I understand, your excellency,’ said Slow John.

  ‘You have failed me once. Do not do so again. He must be alive when
he goes to the scaffold.’ Van de Velde turned to the clerk. ‘Hop, send messengers through the town. I am declaring the rest of today to be a holiday throughout the colony, except for the work on the castle walls, of course. Francis Courtney will be executed at three o’clock this afternoon. Every burgher in the colony must be there. I want all to see how we deal with a pirate. Oh, and by the way, make certain that Mevrouw van de Velde is informed. She will be very angry if she misses the sport.’

  At two o’clock they brought Sir Francis Courtney on a litter from the cell below the armoury. They had not bothered to cover his naked body. Even from high up on the south wall of the castle, and with his vision blurred by his tears, Hal could see that his father’s body had been grotesquely deformed by the rack. Every one of the great joints in his limbs and at his shoulders and pelvis were dislocated, swollen and bruised purple black.

  An execution detail of green-jackets was drawn up in the courtyard. Led by an officer with a drawn sword, they fell in around the litter. Twenty men marched in front, and twenty followed behind, their muskets at the slope. The tap-tap tap-tap of the death drum set the pace. The procession snaked through the castle gates, out onto the Parade.

  Daniel placed his arm around Hal’s shoulder, as the boy watched, white-faced and shivering, in the icy wind. Hal made no move to pull away from him. Those seamen who had coverings for their heads removed them, unwinding the filthy rags and standing grim and silent as the bier passed beneath them.

  ‘God bless you, Captain,’ Ned Tyler called out. ‘You were as good a man as ever hoisted sail!’ There was a hoarse and ragged cheer from the others, and one of Hugo Barnard’s huge black hounds bayed mournfully, a strangely harrowing sound.

  Out on the Parade the crowd waited around the gibbet in tense and expectant silence. Every living soul in the colony seemed to have answered the summons. Above their heads Slow John waited high on the platform. He wore his leather apron, and his head was covered with the mask of his office, the mask of death. His eyes and his mouth were all that showed through the slits in the black cloth.