Marianne and the Rebels

by Жюльетта Бенцони

  Decked out in a full white gown with triple, floating sleeves, a sleeveless and collarless coat embroidered in red wool, a pair of silver buckled shoes, and even a big red velvet cap, Marianne presided that very evening over Sir James's dinner table, her exotic apparel forming an interesting contrast to the officers' blue uniforms and the plain evening dress of the other two gentlemen.

  She provided the only faintly discordant note in what was otherwise a typically English evening. Everything about Sir James's cabin was firmly and unalterably English, from the table silver and the Wedgwood china to the heavy, old-fashioned furniture, the pervading aroma of spirits and cigars – and the lamentably insular cooking.

  In spite of the variety of strange dishes she had eaten in the course of her improbable odyssey, Marianne discovered that her stay in France had profoundly altered her taste in culinary matters. She scarcely recognized the dishes she had enjoyed as a child.

  Afterwards there were toasts to the King, to the Royal Navy, to Science and to 'Miss Selton', who then made a most affecting little speech, thanking her rescuer and all those who were taking such good care of her.

  The two architects were literally drinking in her words, unmistakably impressed by her natural elegance and grace. Both succumbed instantly to her charm – as did all the men present – but each reacted somewhat differently. Whereas Charles Cockerell, a sanguine, rather over-fed young man with an air of regarding life as one enormous Christmas pudding, gazed at her hungrily and lost himself in compliments that tended towards a vaguely Thucydidean turn of phrase, his friend Foster, who proved to be a thin, nervous person whose reddish hair, cut rather long, gave him a disconcerting look of a red setter, said little except in monosyllables, darting quick glances at her out of the corner of his eye. But what little he did say was addressed solely to her, as if none of the others present existed.

  After dealing for a while in a general way with the rumblings of revolt that were beginning to be heard in the islands, the conversation soon settled down to a discussion of the exploits of the two colleagues at Aegina and at Phygalia. At this point, the two of them entered frankly into competition with each other, each shamelessly doing his best to claim the greater part of glory for himself at the expense of the other. The only thing in which they were united was their joint criticism of Lord Elgin who, they said, 'had only to bend down to pick up a fortune' with the admirable metopes from the Parthenon.

  'At the rate we're going,' Sir James said gloomily as he escorted his guest back to her cabin, 'those two will have come to blows before the voyage ends. Ah, well, I suppose I can always hand them over to the master at arms to ensure fair play. But for goodness' sake, my dear, take care not to smile at one more than the other, or I won't answer for the consequences.'

  Marianne laughed and promised, but as time went by she was forced to admit that this lighthearted promise was harder to keep than she had anticipated. For in the few days it took for the Jason to reach the Dardanelles, the clash of rivals continued. She could not set foot on deck for a breath of air without one or other, if not both, rushing to keep her company. She began to think they must be mounting guard outside her door. In addition, she soon found their company wearisome in the extreme, since their style of conversation was identical and in both cases revolved around their own magnificent discoveries which they were burning to exploit.

  There was another passenger who was sorely tried by the two architects. This was Theodoros. He thought them utterly ridiculous, with their straw hats, their flowing neckcloths, close-fitting white clothes and the green sunshades with which they persisted in shielding their pallid northern complexions – and in the case of Foster, his freckles – from the sun's rays.

  'You'll never be able to get rid of them when we get to Constantinople,' he told Marianne one evening. 'They follow you like shadows and they won't give up when we go ashore. How will you manage? Will you take them with you, as escort, to the French embassy?'

  'It won't be necessary. They are only interested in me because they are bored and have nothing else to do on board ship. That, and a certain snobbishness. Once we land, they'll be too busy to think of me. All they want is to get their horrid permit and scurry back to Greece.'

  'What sort of permit?'

  'Oh, I don't know. They've found a ruined temple and they want permission to dig about for buried stones and things. They want to make drawings, too, and study classical architecture – all that sort of thing.'

  The Greek's face had hardened.

  'There was an Englishman came to Greece once before. He had been ambassador in Constantinople, and he had permission to do all those things. But he wanted more than just to find things and make drawings. He wanted to take the stones with carvings on them away to his own country – stealing the ancient gods of my land. And he did it. Whole cargoes of stone sailed from Piraeus, taken from the temple of Athena. But the first, and most important, never arrived. A curse was on it and it sank. These men long to do the same. I can feel it. I know.'

  'Well, we can't stop them, Theodoros,' Marianne said gently, laying a soothing hand on her odd companion's muscular arm, as knotted as an olive trunk. 'Your mission, and mine, are each more important than a few stones. We cannot risk failure, especially as we don't really know. Besides, their ship may sink, too!'

  'You are right, but you will not stop me hating these vultures who come to snatch away what little glory my poor people have left.'

  Marianne was deeply struck by the bitterness of this man whom she now looked on as her friend, but she had imagined the incident closed and forgotten when events proved her dramatically wrong.

  The Jason had entered the narrow straits of the Dardanelles and was sailing past the desolate expanse of black earth and sandy waste, with bare hills topped by bleached ruins and the occasional tiny mosque, round which the snowy seabirds wheeled incessantly.

  In this corridor of brassy blue, like a broad lazy river, the heat was intense, flung back from bank to bank of treeless, petrified land. In this incandescent universe, the smallest movement became an effort that set the sweat pouring. Marianne lay on her cot, with nothing on but a single shift that clung to her skin, gasping for air despite the open window in the vessel's stern, and taking care not to move. Only her hand waved a fan of woven reed gently to and fro in an attempt to cool an air that seemed to have been breathed straight from a furnace.

  It was too tiring even to think, and only one conscious idea floated on the sluggish surface of her mind. Tomorrow they would be in Constantinople. She would not think beyond that. Now was the time to rest, and the ship sailed on in the silence of eternity.

  This beautiful silence was shattered abruptly by an angry voice shouting not many feet away. The voice came from the quarterdeck and it belonged to Theodoras. Marianne could not understand what he was saying because he was speaking Greek, but there was no doubt about the fury of his tone. When it seemed to her that the oddly muffled voice answering him was that of Charles Cockerell, Marianne sprang to her feet on the instant, under the remarkably bracing effect of pure terror. She flung on a dress and, without stopping even to put on her sandals, fled out of the cabin. She was just in time to see a pair of seamen literally climbing up Theodoras in their endeavours to prize his fingers loose from the architect's throat.

  Horrified, she ran towards them but, before she could reach the Greek, more seamen had come up, in charge of an officer, and Theodoras was borne down by sheer weight of numbers and forced to release his grip. His victim staggered to his feet, gasping and retching, and lurched to the rail, tearing at his neckcloth in his efforts to regain the use of his lungs.

  In spite of all that Marianne could do to help, it was a moment or two before he was able to speak. In the meanwhile Theodoras had been overpowered and Sir James had arrived on the scene from his own cabin.

  'Good God, Theodoras! What have you done?' Marianne wailed, slapping Cockerell's cheeks to bring him to himself more quickly.

  'Justice
! I was doing justice! The man is a brigand – a thief!' the Greek said sulkily.

  'You don't mean you were trying to kill him?'

  'Yes, I do say so! And I'll say it again. He deserves to die. Let him look to himself in future, for I shall not abandon my revenge.'

  'You may be in no position to do anything else,' Sir James broke in in a voice of ice. His upright figure inserted itself between the horrified girl and the agitated little group who were finding it increasingly difficult to hold the infuriated Greek. 'I'll have that man in irons, if you please, Mr Jones. He'll be required to answer to a court for his attempt upon Mr Cockerell.'

  Marianne's horror became blind panic. If Sir James were to apply the rigid laws of the service to Theodoros, the Greek rebel's career bade fair to finish at the end of a yard or under the lash of the cat-o'-nine tails. She flew to his assistance.

  'For pity's sake, Captain, at least hear what he has to say. I know this man. He is good and true and fair! He would not have done this without a good reason. He is not English, remember, but Greek, and he's my servant. I am the only person to answer for him and for his conduct. I am quite willing to do so.'

  'Miss Selton is right, sir.' This timid intervention came from the young surgeon who had been fetched to do what he could for Cockerell, an occupation which did not prevent him flying to the help of beauty in distress. 'Won't you at least hear what the fellow has to say? He's always served his mistress faithfully, even if he is a temperamental devil.'

  Clearly this new champion of Marianne's was not above suspecting Cockerell of having tried to force his way into her cabin, an offence which in his private scale of values merited no less than hanging. The captain's lips twitched almost imperceptibly but there was no hint of softness in his voice.

  'Might I suggest you mind your own damn business, Mr Kingsley. When I need your advice, I'll ask for it. Do what you have to do and then take yourself off. Ha – h'm, I think, all the same, I may as well hear what the fellow has to say for himself.'

  It did not take long to tell. In the course of one of the conversations he was inclined to seek out with Theodoros for the purpose of practising his Greek, Cockerell had managed to get round to his favourite subject, his own discoveries. The giant, for his part, happened to find out that the permit coveted by the Englishman was concerned with the ruins of a temple which he, Theodoros, regarded as being in some degree his own private property. This was for the very good reason that he had been born almost in the shadow of its overgrown columns, deep in central Arcadia, which were consequently dear to his savage heart.

  'My father told me once that there was an accursed Frenchman came to Bassae some fifty years past. He looked and wondered and made pictures, but he was old, happily, and tired. He went away to die in his own land and we saw no more of him. But this one is young and his teeth are sharp! Left to himself, he will eat up the old temple of Apollo as the other Englishman devoured the temple of Athena. I could not let him do it.'

  Never in his career had Captain King found himself confronted with such a motive for attempted murder. Or in such a quandary. Privately, he cursed the architect for his busy tongue and his insatiable appetite for destruction, incomprehensible to his seaman's mind. There was Marianne, pleading earnestly for her servant. Obviously, she would never forgive him if he sacrificed the man to this encroaching civilian. On the other hand, the affair had occurred openly, on board one of His Majesty's ships. He did his best to reach a compromise by reiterating his order that Theodoros be put in irons, but added that nothing was to be decided concerning his case until they reached their destination. The outburst was probably attributable to the effects of heat on an already fiery constitution, he concluded, and he placed perfect confidence in Miss Selton's ability to deal with her own servant as she thought fit. The implication was that in thirty-six hours' time, Theodoros would be free to take himself to the devil any way he chose: at least the architect would be safe from his temper at present.

  Marianne breathed again, but this degree of leniency by no means suited Cockerell's book. He had received too great a fright not to have been made exceedingly angry, and he had no sooner recovered his ability to speak than his shrill voice was raised to demand immediate punishment of his attacker. In this he was seconded by his colleague, in whom the affair had suddenly engendered a miraculous solidarity.

  'I'm a British subject!' Cockerell shrilled. 'And you, Captain King, as an officer of his Britannic Majesty's Navy, owe me protection and justice! I demand that you hang this man on the spot for his attempt on my life!'

  'Well, you haven't died of it, so far as I can see,' the captain replied pacifically. 'And you can hardly call it justice to sacrifice another human life to your very reasonable annoyance. The man is safely stowed in the cable tier by this time, and there he stays until we drop anchor.'

  'That won't do. I insist. I command—'

  But that, after a lifetime at sea, was too much for Captain King. His patience snapped.

  'Here, on this ship,' he said harshly, 'I am the only one who commands. Miss Selton has declared, in your hearing and in mine, that she will assume complete responsibility for her servant. After all your protestations of devotion, that is something you appear to have forgotten. Do you really wish to disoblige her in this matter?'

  'I yield to no one in my admiration and respect for Miss Selton, but I also have a good deal of respect for my own life. You may think that a matter of small importance, Captain, but that only makes me the readier to defend it. Either you punish this man as he deserves or I must request you to stop at the first Anatolian harbour and put me ashore. I shall continue my journey to Constantinople on horseback! It is no great distance.'

  'Mr Cockerell, this is quite absurd,' Marianne said. 'I am prepared to make any apology you require on my servant's behalf. Believe me, I would not have had this happen for the world and I will see to it that the man is duly punished after we land.'

  'It is easy for you to speak of apologies, ma'am,' the architect said sourly. 'But much as I admire you, I cannot look on the matter in quite the same trivial light. With your permission, I repeat what I have already said: either he suffers, or I leave this ship.'

  'Then you may go with my goodwill!' Sir James said testily. 'You shall be put ashore, sir, since you insist upon it. Mr Spencer—' he turned to his first lieutenant. We will drop anchor at Eregli, if you please. See to it that these gentlemen's baggage is got ashore. I am assuming you will wish to go also, Mr Foster?'

  'Most certainly,' came the answer, delivered in a tone of stiff pomposity. 'We Liverpuddlians aren't ones to desert our friends in a crisis. I'm right beside you, Cockerell.'

  'I never doubted it, Foster. Come, we must see to our preparations. We shall leave no regrets behind us.'

  The two of them shook hands with what they evidently considered a most noble and affecting dignity, then went below to their respective cabins to see to the packing of their respective belongings. Captain King, on whom this touching demonstration had produced no more effect than the sardonic lifting of an eyebrow, watched them go, half-angry, half-amused.

  'Just take a look at the pair of 'em,' he growled to the still gaping Marianne. 'Pylades consoling Orestes after being spurned by Hermione, shouldn't you say? What those two can't stomach is the fact that their beloved Miss Selton didn't stand up for 'em and offer 'em the Greek's head on a platter! They're furious with me, now, but it's you they won't forgive.'

  'Do you think not?'

  'Sure of it. They tied themselves in knots to please you and you never melted a fraction. Simply ignored their efforts. They're the kind that makes revolutions. They hate anything that's better than themselves, or won't give in to them.'

  'But why leave the ship? Theodoras is in irons. Mr Cockerell is perfectly safe.'

  'Why, to reach Constantinople before us, to be sure, and get the ambassador to order his arrest.'

  Marianne's heart missed a beat. Theodoros had barely escaped from one peril, thank
s to Sir James, before another, yet more serious, reared its head. If he were to be arrested after they dropped anchor, nothing could save him. She remembered all too clearly what Kouloughis had told her. The head of a rebel leader had too high a price on it for any diplomat, anxious to ingratiate himself with a head of state, to let slip such an opportunity. Let the law once get its hands on him, and his fragile alias would soon be broken. And she had sworn before the icons of Ayios Ilias to do her utmost to get her companion safely into the Ottoman capital.

  She gazed up at her old friend with tears in her eyes.

  'And so all your kindness to my poor servant will be wasted?' she said pitifully. 'For one moment's loss of temper, readily understandable in any man who loves his native land, he must hang! Yet my gratitude to you, Sir James, is none the less. You did all you could. I have been a horrid trouble to you.'

  'Come, come! We should all have been bored on this voyage but for you. And I'm not the only one to say so. You have made it a real joy to us all, my dear. And as for that tiresome watchdog of yours – the best thing he can do will be to slip quietly over the side as soon as we drop anchor in the Bosphorus. He'll have plenty of time. I don't imagine we'll find Stratford Canning – he's our present ambassador, y'know – waiting on the quayside with an armed guard to greet us. The business is too unimportant, and so are the plaintiffs. So, stop worrying your pretty head and come and drink a cup of tea with me. There's nothing like a nice hot cup of tea for refreshment in this confounded heat.'

  For all Sir James's comforting words, Marianne could not feel at ease. There was danger in the two men's anger and resentment, whatever their credit with the embassy, but she had known from the glowering looks cast at her by her former admirers that it would be a waste of time and dignity to attempt to reason with them. They had all the inflexible obstinacy of mean little men, and they would regard any such attempt as an unfortunate and incomprehensible sign of weakness on behalf of one whom they certainly felt to be among the dregs of humanity. Her best course was still to trust Sir James's judgement and his friendship for herself. Hadn't he as good as told her he would not stand in the way of the culprit's escape? She was even fairly sure that he would let her slip a note to Theodoros in the cable tier, warning him to be ready to escape as soon as he heard the vessel drop anchor.