by Wilbur Smith
Hal stared into the angelic features of the imp he held in his arms. "This is the Prester John?" he asked in awe. "Indeed," replied the bishop. "You have also promised to take him for a sail on your tall ship, which I have described to him."
"Would you inform the Emperor that I would be deeply honoured to have him as a guest aboard the Golden Bough?" Suddenly Iyasu wriggled down from Hal's arms, seized his hand and dragged him towards the concealed doorway. Beyond the opening they went down a long passageway lit with torches in iron brackets on the stone walls. At the end of the passage were two armed guards, but the Emperor squeaked an order and they stood aside and saluted His tiny Majesty. Iyasu led Hal into a long chamber.
Narrow embrasures were set high up in the walls, and through these the brilliant desert sunlight beamed down in solid golden shafts. A long table ran the length of the chamber, and seated at it were five men. They stood up and bowed deeply to Iyasu, then looked keenly at Hal.
They were all warriors that much was clear from their bearing and their attire. they wore chain-mail and cuirass, and some had steel helmets on their heads, and tunics over the armour, which were emblazoned with crosses or other heraldic devices.
At the far end of the table stood the youngest and most simply dressed yet the most impressive and commanding of all. Hal's eye was drawn immediately to this slim, graceful figure.
Iyasu drew Hal impatiently towards him, chattering in Geez, and the warrior watched them with a steady, frank gaze. Although he gave the illusion of height, he was in fact a head shorter than Hal. A shaft of sunlight from one of the high embrasures backlit him, surrounding him with a golden aura in which the dust motes danced and swirled.
"Are you "General Nazet?" Hal asked in Latin, and the General nodded. Around his head was a huge bush of crisp curls, like a dark crown or a halo. He wore a white tunic over the shirt of chain-mail, but even under that bulky covering his waist was narrow and his back straight and supple.
"I am indeed General Nazet." His voice was low and husky, yet strangely musical to the ear. Hal realized with a shock how young he was. His skin was flawless, the dark translucent amber of gum arabic. No trace of beard or moustache marred his sleek jawline or the proud curl of his full lips. His nose was straight and narrow, the nostrils finely chiselled.
"I am Henry Courtney," said Hal, "the English Captain of the Golden Bough."
"Bishop Fasilides has told me this," said the General. "Perhaps you would prefer to speak your own language." Nazet switched into English. "I must admit that my Latin is not as fluent as yours, Captain."
Hal gaped at him, for the moment at a loss, and Nazet smiled. "My father was ambassador to the palace of the Doge in Venice. I spent much of my childhood in your northern latitudes and learned the languages of diplomacy, French, Italian and English."
"You astound me, General," Hal admitted, and while he gathered his wits, he noticed that Nazet's eyes were the colour of honey and his lashes long, thick and curled as those of a girl. He had never felt sexually attracted to another male before. Now, however, as he looked on those regal features and fine golden skin, and stared into those lustrous eyes, he became aware of a pressure in his chest that made it difficult for him to draw the next breath.
"Please be seated, Captain." Nazet indicated the stool beside him. They sat so close together that he could smell the odour of the other man's body. Nazet wore no perfume, and it was a natural, warm, musky smell that Hal found himself savouring deeply. Guiltily, he acknowledged how unnatural was this sinful attraction he felt, and drew back from the General as far as the hard, low stool would allow him.
The Emperor scrambled into General Nazet's lap and patted his smooth golden cheek, gabbling something in a high, childish voice at which the General laughed softly and replied in Geez, without taking his eyes off Hal's face.
Tasilides tells me that you have come to Ethiopia to offer your services in the cause of the Most Christian Emperor."
"That is so. I have come to petition His Majesty to grant me a Letter of Marque, so that I may employ my ship against the enemies of Christ."
"You have arrived at a most propitious time." Nazet nodded. "Has Fasilides told you of the defeat that our navy suffered at Adulis Bay?"
"He has also told me of your magnificent victory at Mitsiwa."
Nazet showed no false pride at the compliment. "The one counterbalances the other," he said. "If El Grang commands the sea, he can bring in endless reinforcements and stores from Arabia and the territory of the Mogul to replenish his wasted army. Already he has made good all the losses I inflicted upon him at Mitsiwa. I am waiting for reinforcements to arrive from the mountains, so I am not ready to attack him again where he lies at Zulla. Every day he is fed from the sea and grows stronger."
Hal inclined his head. "I understand your predicament." There was something about the General's voice that troubled him. as Nazet became more agitated its timbre altered. Hal had to make an effort to consider the words and not the speaker.
"A new menace now besets me," Nazet went on. "El Grang has taken into his service a foreign ship of greater force than any we can send out to meet it." Hal felt a prickle of anticipation run down the back of his neck and the hairs rise upon his forearms.
"What manner of ship is this? "he asked softly.
"I am no sailor, but my admirals tell me that it is a square-rigged ship of the frigate class." Nazet looked keenly at Hal. "It must be similar to your own vessel."
"Do you know the name of the captain?" Hal demanded, but Nazet shook his head.
"I know only that he is inflicting terrible losses on our transport dhows that I rely on to bring supplies down from the north."
"What flag does he fly?" Hal persisted.
Nazet spoke rapidly to one of the officers in Geez, then turned back to him. "This ship flies the pennant of Omani, but also a red cross of unusual shape on a white ground."
"I think I know this marauder," said Hal grimly, "and I will pit my own vessel against his at the first opportunity that is, if His Most Christian Majesty will grant me a commission to serve as a privateer in his navy."
"At Fasilides" urging, I have already ordered the court scribes to draft your commission. We need only agree the terms and I shall sign it on the Emperor's behalf." Nazet rose from the stool. "But come, let me show you in detail the position of our forces and those of El Grang." He led the way to the far side of the chamber, and the other senior officers rose with him. They surrounded the circular table on which, Hal saw, had been built a clay model of the Red Sea and the surrounding territories. It was executed in graphic detail, and realistically painted. Each town and port was clearly shown, tiny carved ships sailed upon the blue waters while regiments of cavalry and foot were represented by model figures carved in ivory and painted in splendid uniform.
As they studied this soberly, the Emperor dragged up a stool and climbed onto it so that he could reach the models. With squeals of glee and the childish imitations of neighing horses and firing cannon, he began to move the figures about the board. Nazet reached out to restrain him, and Hal stared at the hand. It was slim and smooth and dainty, with long, tapered fingers, the nails pearly pink. Suddenly the truth dawned on him and, before he could prevent himself, he blurted out in English, "Mother Mary, you're a woman!" Nazet glanced up at him, and her amber cheeks darkened with annoyance. "I advise you not to disparage me on account of my gender, Captain. As an Englishman, you might remember the military lesson a woman handed out to you at OrleansI."
The retort rose to Hal's lips, "Yes, but that was more than two hundred years ago and we burned her for her troubles!" but he managed to stop himself and instead tried to make his tone placatory.
"I meant no offence, General. It only enhances the admiration I had already conceived for your powers of leadership."
Nazet was not so easily mollified and her manner became brisk and businesslike as she explained the tactical and strategic positions of the two armies and pointed out to him
where he might best employ the GoLden Bough. She no longer looked at him directly, and the line of those full soft lips had hardened. "I will expect you to place yourself under MY direct command, and to that end I have ordered Admiral Senec to draw up a simple set of signals, rockets and lanterns by night and flags and smoke by day, through which I can pass my orders from the shore to you at sea. Do you have any objection to that?"
No, General, I do not."
"As to your share of the prize money, two-thirds will accrue to the Imperial exchequer, and the balance to you and your crew."
"It is customary for the ship to retain half of the prize, Hal demurred.
"Captain," said Nazet coldly, "in these seas the custom is set by His Most Christian Majesty."
"Then I must concur." Hal smiled ironically, but received no encouragement to further levity from Nazet.
"Any warlike stores or provisions you may capture will be purchased by the exchequer, and likewise any enemy vessels will be purchased by the navy."
She looked away from him as a scribe entered the chamber and bowed before handing her a document written on stiff yellow parchment. Nazet glanced swiftly through it then took up the quill that the scribe handed her, filled in the blanks in the script and signed at the foot, "Judith Nazet', and added a cross behind her name.
As she sanded the wet ink she said, "It is written in Geez, but I will have a translation prepared for you when next we meet. In the meantime, I give you my assurance that this letter sets out exactly the terms we have discussed." She rolled the document, secured it with a ribbon and handed it to Hal.
"Your assurance is sufficient for me." Hal slipped the rolled document into the sleeve of his tunic.
"I am certain you are eager to rejoin your ship, Captain. I will detain you no longer." With that dismissal, she seemed to forget his existence and turned her full attention back to her commanders and the clay panorama of the battlefield on the tabletop in front of her.
"You spoke of a series of signals, General." Despite her Uncompromising manner, Hal found himself strangely reluctant to leave her presence. He was drawn to her in the way a compass needle seeks the north.
She did not look up at him again but said, "Admiral Senec will have a signal book sent out to your ship before you sail. Bishop Fasilides will see you to where your horses are waiting. Farewell, Captain."
As Hal strode down the long stone passageway alongside the Bishop he said quietly, "The Tabernacle of Mary is here in this monastery. Am I right in believing that?"
Fasilides stopped dead in his tracks and stared at him. "How did you know? Who told you?"
"As a devout Christian I should like to look upon such a sacred object, "said Hal. "Can you grant me that wish?" Fasilides tugged nervously at his beard. "Perhaps. We shall see. Come with me." He led Hal to where Aboli still waited and then both of them followed him through another maze of stairways and passages, then stopped before a doorway guarded by four priests in robes and turbans.
"Is this man of yours a Christian?" he asked as he looked at Aboli, and Hal shook his head. "Then he must remain here."
The Bishop took Hal's arm and led him to the door. He spoke softly in Geez to one of the priests, and the old man took a huge black key from under his robe and turned the lock. Fasilides drew Hal into the crypt beyond.
Surrounded by a forest of burning candles in tall, many branched brass holders, the Tabernacle stood in the centre of the paved floor.
Hal felt an overwhelming sense of awe and grace come upon him. He knew that this was one of the supreme moments of his life, perhaps even the reason for his birth and existence.
The Tabernacle was a small chest that stood on four legs, carved like the paws of a lion. There were four carrying handles. Its square body was covered with a tapestry of silver and gold embroidery that had the patina of great age upon it. On each end of the lid knelt a miniature golden statue of an angel, with head bowed and hands clasped in prayer. It was a thing of exquisite beauty.
Hal fell to his knees in the same attitude as the golden angels. "Lord God of Hosts, I have come to do your bidding, as you commanded," he began to pray aloud. After a long while, he crossed himself and rose to his feet.
"May I see the chalice?" he asked deferentially, but Fasilides shook his head.
"Not even I have seen it. It is too holy for the eyes of mortal man. It would blind you."
The Ethiopian pilot guided the Golden Bough southwards in the night under top sails alone. With a leadsman taking soundings they crept up into the lee of Dahlak Island off the mouth of Adulis Bay.
Anxiously Hal listened in the darkness to the chant of the leadsman, "No bottom with this line!" and minutes later, "No bottom with this line!" and then the plop of the lead as it was swung out ahead of the bows and hit the surface. Suddenly the chant altered and the leadsman's voice took on a sharper tone. "By the deep, twenty!"
"Mister Tyler!" Hal barked. "Take another reef in your top sails. Stand by to let the anchor go!"
"By the mark, ten! "The leadsman's next cry was sharper still.
"Furl all your canvas. Let go your anchor!"
The anchor went down and the Golden Bough glided on a short distance before she snubbed up on the cable.
"Take the deck, Mister Tyler," Hal said. "I am going aloft." He went up the shrouds from deck to the top of the mainmast without a pause, and was pleased that his breathing was merely deep and even when he reached the canvas crow's nest.
"I see you, Gundwane!" Aboli greeted him, and made room for him in the canvas nest. Hal settled beside him and looked first to the land. Dahlak Island was a darker mass in the dark night, but they were a full cable's length clear of her rocks. Then he looked to the west and saw the sweep of Adulis Bay, clearly outlined by the fires of El Grang's army encamped along the shoreline around the little port of Zulla. The waters of the bay sparkled with the riding lanterns of the anchored fleet of Islam. He tried to count those lights but gave up when the tally reached sixty-four. He wondered if one of those was the Gull of Moray, and felt his guts contract at the thought.
He turned to look into the east and saw the first pale promise of the dawn silhouette the rugged peaks of Arabia, from which came El Grang's transport dhows laden with men, horses and provisions to swell his legions.
Then, below the dawn on the dark sea, he saw the riding lanterns of other ships winking like fireflies as they sailed in on the night breeze towards Adulis Bay.
"Can you count them, Aboli?" he asked, and Aboli chuckled.
"My eyes are not as sharp as yours, Gundwane. Let us say merely that there are many, and wait for the dawn to disclose their true numbers," he murmured.
They waited in the silence of old companions, and both felt the chill of the coming dawn warmed away by the promise of battle that the day must bring, for this narrow sea swarmed with the ships of the enemy.
The eastern sky began to glow like an ironsmith's forge. The rocks of the island close at hand showed pale through the gloom, painted white by the dung of the sea birds that for centuries had roosted upon them. From their rocky perches the birds launched into flight. In staggered arrowhead formations they flew across the red dawn sky uttering wild, haunting cries. Looking up at them Hal felt the morning wind brush his cheek with cool fingers. It was blowing out of the west as he had relied upon it to do. He had the flotilla of small dhows under his lee, and at his mercy.
The rising sun flared upon the mountain tops and set them aflame. Far out beyond the low rocks of the island a sail glinted on the dark ting waters, and then another and, as the circle of their vision expanded, a dozen more.
Hal slapped Aboli lightly on the shoulder. "It is time to go to work, old friend, "he said, and slid down the shrouds. As his feet hit the deck he called to the helm, "Up anchor, Mister Tyler. All hands aloft to set sail."
Released from restraint the Golden Bough spread her canvas and wheeled away. The waters rustling under her bows and her wake creaming behind her, she sped out from h
er ambush behind Dahlak Island.
