Wilbur Smith - C11 Blue Horizon

by C11 Blue Horizon(Lit)

  How sharp are your spears?" they asked the warriors. "How long the shaft? How deep your thrust? Can you stab to the heart? Will blood flow when you pull out your blade from the wound?"

  Then they began to dance again, at first swaying like long grass in the wind, then throwing back their heads and laughing with white teeth and flashing eyes. They held out their breasts, one cupped in each hand, and offered them to the young men. Then they retreated and whirled away until their skirts flew waist high. They wore nothing beneath them, and they had plucked their pudenda so that their unmasked clefts were clearly defined. Then they faced away from the men, and bowed over until their foreheads touched their knees, writhing and rolling their hips.

  The warriors danced in time to the girls, working themselves into a storm of lust. They stamped until the earth jumped under their feet. They shook their shoulders. Their eyes rolled back in their skulls and froth creamed on their contorted lips. They thrust their hips into the air like mating dogs, and their engorged sexes probed rigidly through the fur strips of their kilts.

  Suddenly Beshwayo sprang high from his stool and landed on legs as straight and powerful as the trunks of two lead wood trees. "Enough!" he bellowed.

  Warriors and maidens, everyone on the parade, threw themselves to the ground and lay still as death, no sound or movement but the quivering of headdress feathers and grass skirts, the panting of their breath.

  Beshwayo strode along the ranks of girls. These are my prime heifers," he roared. "These are the treasures of Beshwayo." He gazed down on them with a fierce, possessive pride.

  They are beautiful and strong. They are full women. They are my daughters. From their hot wombs will come forth regiments of my warriors to conquer all the earth, and their sons shall shout my name to the skies. Through them my name will live for ever." He threw back his head and let forth such a volume of sound from the barrel of his chest that it rang and echoed off the hills. "Beshwayo!"

  Not another person moved and the echoes faded away into silence. Then Beshwayo turned and strode back along the regiments of prostrated warriors. "Who are these?" The question was filled with contempt. "Are these men who grovel before me in the dust?" he bellowed, with mocking laughter. "No!" he answered himself. Then stand tall and are full of pride. These are little children. Are these warriors?" he demanded of the sky, and laughed at the absurdity of the question. These are not warriors. Warriors have quenched their spears in the blood of the king's enemies. These are but snot-nosed children." He walked down the line and spurned them with his foot.

  "Stand up, you small boys!" he cried. They leaped to their feet with

  the agility of acrobats, their young bodies forged to perfection by a lifetime of rigorous training. Beshwayo shook his head with contempt. He walked away. Then, suddenly, he leaped high in the air and landed with the elegance of a panther. "Stand up, my daughters," he shouted, and the girls rose and swayed before him like a field of dark lilies.

  "See how their beauty outshines the sun. Can the king allow those unweaned calves to mount his beautiful heifers?" he harangued them. "No, for there is nothing between their legs of any account. These magnificent cows need bulls of power. Their wombs crave the seed of great warriors."

  He strode back down the alley between them. "The sight of these young calves so displeases me that I am sending them away. They shall not look upon my heifers again until they have become bulls." "Go!" he bellowed at them. "Go! And do not return until you have washed your spears in the blood of the king's enemies. Go! And return only when you have killed your man and wear the cow tail on your right arm." He paused and looked down on them with disdainful hauteur. "The sight of you displeases me. Be gone!"

  "Bayetel' they shouted, with a single voice, and again, "Bayetel We have heard the voice of the Black Thunder of the Sky, and we will obey."

  In a close column they swung away, keeping perfect step, singing the praises of Beshwayo. Like a dark serpent, they wound up the slope of the hill and disappeared over the crest. Beshwayo strode back and took his seat on the carved stool. He was scowling hideously, but without changing his expression he said softly to Jim, "Did you see them, Somoya? They are young lions and hot for blood. These are the finest fruits of any circumcision year in all my reign. No enemy can stand against them." He turned on his stool towards Louisa. "Did you see them, Welanga? Is there any maiden in all my realm who can resist them?"

  They are fine young men," she agreed.

  "Now I lack only an enemy to send them against." Beshwayo's scowl became even more terrifying. "I have scoured the land for twenty days' march in every direction, and found no more fodder for my spears."

  "I am your brother," said Jim. "I cannot allow you to suffer such lack. I have an enemy. Because you are my brother, I shall share this enemy with you." Beshwayo stared at him for a long moment. Then he let fly such a bellow of laughter that all his indunas and his pregnant wives cachinnated in slavish imitation of him.

  Show me our enemy, Somoya. Like a pair of black-maned lions on a gazelle, you and I shall devour him."

  Three days later, when the wagons started back for the coast, Beshwayo went with them, singing his war anthems at the head of his new regiments and their battle-hardened indunas.

  Faithful to Dorian's orders, once the Sprite and the Revenge entered the Mozambique channel, the two ships separated. Kumrah sailed up the west coast of the island of Madagascar, and Batula along the east coast of the African mainland. They called at each of the fishing villages along the way. From the headmen of these villages they hired, for payment of beads, rolls of copper wire and other stores such as fishing line, rope and bronze nails, a motley flotilla of feluccas and outrigger fishing-dhows. By the time they met again at the rendezvous off the north tip of the long island they were like ducks followed by a straggling line of ducklings. Most of these craft were ancient and decrepit and many could only be kept afloat by constant bailing.

  Batula and Kumrah placed them in a thin screen from island to mainland, then took their own ships well to the south so that they were only just able to maintain visual contact with them. In this way they hoped to prevent the desertion of any of the frail vessels, and to receive their signals when Zayn's convoy of war-dhows appeared on the northern horizon, without being forced to reveal their own presence. They hoped that if Zayn's lookouts spotted one or two of these tiny vessels they would think them nothing more than innocent fishing-craft, the likes of which were common in these offshore waters.

  The weeks passed slowly in such unrewarding activity. There was constant attrition among the scouting vessels. They were unsuited for such long periods at sea. The crews mutinied against the perils, discomfort and boredom, or their boats fell apart, or the rough weather of the kasha(r) drove them into port. The screen became so perilously thin that in the heavy seas or in darkness even such a large fleet as Zayn's might slip through the holes in it unremarked.

  Batula had placed Tasuz in the most likely position, within sight of the low blue outline of the African mainland. He guessed that Zayn would keep well within reach of the Omani trading settlements that for centuries had been sited at every convenient river mouth and sheltered bay and lagoon along this coast. From these bases Zayn would be able to revictual his ships with fresh water and supplies.

  Batula fretted away these long, uneventful days. In the first light of each dawn he climbed to the main truck of the Revenge and stared into the dispersing darkness for the first sight of Tasuz's felucca. He was never

  disappointed. Even in the worst weather when all the other small craft had been driven to seek shelter, Tasuz was doggedly holding his position. Although his ship seemed at times to be buried under the grey, breaking swells of the Mozambique current, his dirty lateen sail always reappeared out of the gloom.

  This morning the wind had dropped to a gentle zephyr. A bank of sea fret covered the horizon, and the current had settled into long swells that marched down from the north. Batula searched anxiously for his fi
rst sight of the felucca, but he was unprepared when the ghostly outline of the lateen sail appeared out of the mist less than a sea mile dead ahead. "She is flying the blue!" he exclaimed, with excitement. The long blue banner at her masthead writhed like a flying serpent in the gentle airs. It was the sky blue of al-Salil's colours. "It is the signal. Tasuz has discovered the approach of the enemy fleet."

  He was aware at once of the danger. The sea mist would disperse as soon as the sun rose, and it would be a day of bright sunshine with visibility stretching to the horizon. He could not be certain how far behind the felucca was the enemy fleet.

  He slid down the shrouds so rapidly that the rope scorched his palms, and as his feet hit the deck he shouted his orders to bring the ship about and head her southwards. Tasuz followed in his wake, but rapidly the speed of the felucca narrowed the gap. Within the hour the two ships were close together, and Tasuz shouted his report across to Batula: "There are at least five large ships coming straight down the channel. There may be others following them. I cannot tell for certain, but I thought I glimpsed beyond them the peaks of other sails just showing over the horizon."

  "When did you last have sight of them?" Batula shouted back.

  "At last light yesterday evening."

  "Did they hail you or try to intercept?"

  They paid me no heed. I think they took me for a coastal trader or a fisherman. I did not alter course until darkness hid me from them."

  Tasuz was a good man. Without arousing the suspicions of the enemy, he had been able to slip away from them and warn the two larger ships.

  "The mist is beginning to lift, effendi," the lookout called down to the deck, and Batula saw that it was thinning and breaking up. He seized his telescope and clambered back to the main truck. He had hardly settled himself there before the mist rolled aside like a translucent curtain and the morning sun burst through.

  Swiftly he swept his lens across the northern horizon. Beyond the elucca the channel seemed deserted, a wide blue expanse of water. Madagascar was out of sight to the east. Africa was an ethereal blue

  shadow in the west, and outlined against it he picked out the top sails of the Sprite holding her station. They were the only two ships in sight.

  "We have run clear away from the enemy during the night." His heart sang with relief. Then he turned his eye northwards again with more attention and studied the sharp line of the horizon.

  "Ah!" he grunted, and then, "Ah, yes!" He saw the tiny specks of white flash momentarily in the lens like the wings of a gull, then disappear. The leading ships of Zayn's fleet were there, hull down, showing only the very tops of their sails.

  He hailed the felucca again. "Tasuz, go across to the Sprite with all speed and recall her. Fire a gun to catch her attention--' He broke off and stared across at the distant schooner. "No! You need not do it. Kumrah has already seen what we are about. He hastens to join us."

  Perhaps Kumrah had already seen the enemy sails to the north or he might have been alerted by the Revenge's unusual behaviour. Whatever the reason, he had come about and was heading southwards with all sail set.

  During the rest of that day the kaskazi wind increased in strength until, once more, it was blowing with its customary vigour and the ships were flying on course for Nativity Bay. By noon there was no longer any sight of Zayn's ships on the empty sea they left behind them. By late afternoon Kumrah had steered across on a converging course and the two schooners were in close company, but Tasuz in the felucca was almost out of sight ahead.

  Batula watched his lateen sail grow tiny and disappear at last in the dusk. He stooped once more over his chart and made his calculations. "With this wind Tasuz should reach Nativity Bay in seven more days. It will take us ten, and Zayn will be three or four behind us. We will be able to bring al-Salil fair warning."

  Zayn al-Din sat cross-legged on a bed of cushions and silk prayer mats, which were piled on the lee deck of his flagship under a canvas screen, spread to shelter him from the sun and from the wind and spray that blew back every time the Sufi thrust her shoulder into the green swells. The name of the flagship signified the mysticism central to fundamental Islamic thought. She was a ship of force, the most formidable in the entire Omani fleet. Rahmad, the captain who commanded her, had been selected by the Caliph himself for this venture.

  Rahmad prostrated himself. "Majesty, the whaleback that guards the bay in which lies the stronghold of the traitor is in sight,"

  Zayn nodded with satisfaction and dismissed him, then turned to Sir Guy Courtney, who sat opposite. "If Rahmad has brought us directly to our destination without sight of land for twenty days, he has done well. Let us see if it is truly so." The two stood up and crossed to the weather rail. Rahmad and Laleh bowed respectfully as they approached.

  "What do you make of the landfall?" Zayn demanded of Laleh. "Is this the same bay in which you discovered the ships of al-Salil?"

  "Great one, it is the same. This is indeed the lair of al-Salil. From the height of that very headland I looked down upon the bay where he has built his fort and where he anchors his ships."

  With a deep bow, Rahmad handed Zayn his brass telescope. Zayn al Din balanced easily against the ship's motion. Over the past months his sea4 cgs had grown strong. He levelled the telescope and studied the distant shore. Then he closed the glass with a snap and smiled. "We can be certain that our arrival has struck fear into the heart of your traitorous brother and mine. We have not been forced to grope around within sight of the shore to take our bearings. We have given him no warning of our presence and will appear suddenly before him, in all our multitudes and power. By now he must know in his heart that at last retribution has found him out."

  "He has had no time to hide his stolen booty," Sir Guy agreed happily. "His ships will still be at anchor in the bay, and this wind will hold them landlocked until we attack."

  "What the English effendi says is right. The wind is steady out of the east, mighty Caliph." Rahmad looked up to the huge sail. "It will bear us in on this single tack. We will be able to enter the mouth of the lagoon before noon."

  "Where is this river Umgeni in which the main force of Pasha Koots will disembark and go ashore?"

  "Majesty, it is not plain to see from this distance. There, slightly to the north of the entrance to the bay." Abruptly Rahmad broke off, and his expression changed. There is a ship!" He pointed. It took Zayn a few moments to pick out the fleck of canvas against the background of the land.

  "What ship is it?"

  I cannot be certain. A felucca, perhaps. It is small, but that type is fast on the wind. See! It is coming up and escaping out to sea." Can you send one of our ships to capture it?" Zayn asked. Rahmad looked dubious. "Majesty, we have no vessel in the fleet fast

  enough to catch her in a stern chase. She has a lead of many miles. She will be over the horizon in an hour."

  Zayn thought for a moment, and then shook his head. "It can do us no harm. The lookouts on the bluff must already have given the alarm to the enemy, and the felucca can pose no additional threat even to the smallest of our vessels. Let her go."

  Zayn turned away and looked back at his own ships. "Make the signal to Muri Kadem ibn Abubaker," he ordered.

  Zayn had divided the fleet into two divisions. He had taken personal command of the first. This comprised the five largest war-dhows, all armed with heavy batteries of cannon.

  At every opportunity since leaving Oman, Kadem ibn Abubaker and Koots had come on board the Sufi to attend his war councils. Zayn had been able to adjust his plans to take into account every new detail of intelligence they had gathered at all their ports of call along the way. Now, on the eve of battle, there was no need for Zayn to summon his commanders for another meeting. Every man knew in perfect detail what Zayn required of him. Like most good plans it was simple.

  Zayn's first division would sail directly into Nativity Bay, and fall upon the enemy ships they found anchored there. With their superior numbers and firepower, and th
e advantage of surprise, they would engage them at close range and overpower them swiftly. Then all their guns would be turned upon the fort. In the meantime Kadem would land the infantry in the river mouth and Koots would march them swiftly round to attack the fort from the rear. As soon as Koots launched his attack, Sir Guy would lead a second landing party from the ships in the bay to support him. He had volunteered for this duty: he wanted to be there when the attackers broke into the treasury under the fort where his fifteen chests of gold bars were stored. He wanted to protect his property from looting.

  There was one possible flaw in this plan. Would the rebel ships be in the bay? Zayn had not jumped to a hasty conclusion. He had gathered all the intelligence from his spies in every port and harbour in the Ocean of the Indies, including Ceylon and the Red Sea. Not one had been able to report a sighting of al-Salil's ships during the many months since his capture of the Arcturus. It seemed that they had vanished without trace.

  They could not have disappeared from the sight of so many eyes, Zayn reasoned. "They are hiding, and there is only one place for them to hide." He wanted to believe this, but doubt itched like a flea in his undershirt. He wanted a final assurance. "Send for the holy mullah. We shall ask him to pray for guidance. Then I will ask Kadem ibn Abubaker