Wilbur Smith - C09 Birds Of Prey

by C09 Birds Of Prey(Lit)

  "Thank you, sir, but I am not interested in slaving," Hal declined.

  "That, sir, is a regrettable decision. I assure you there are great fortunes still to be made in the trade. The Brazilians and the Caribbean sugar planters are crying out for labour to work their fields."

  "Thank you again. I am not in the market." Now it was clear to Hal how Grey had made his own fortune. The post of consul was secondary to that of agent and middleman to European traders calling in at Zanzibar.

  "Then there is another highly profitable area in which I could be of assistance to you." Grey paused delicately. "I observed your ship from my rooftop when you anchored and could not but notice that she is well armed. One might be forgiven for believing her to be a man-of-war." Hal nodded noncommittally, and Grey continued, "You may not know that the Sultan of Oman, Beloved of Allah, Ahmed El Grang, is at war with the Emperor of Ethiopia."

  "I had heard so."

  "A war is raging on land and sea. The Sultan has issued Letters of Marque to ships who wish to join his forces. These commissions have been, in the main, restricted to Mussulman captains. However, I have great influence at the Sultan's court. I may be able to obtain a commission for you. Of course, such a boon does not come cheaply. It would cost two hundred pounds for me to obtain an Omani Letter of Marque for you, sir."

  Hal was about to refuse with indignation this offer to join the pagan in the war against Christ and his followers, but instinct warned him not to repudiate it out of hand. "There might be profits to be made, then, sir?" he asked thoughtfully.

  "Indeed. There are vast riches to be snapped up. The empire of the Prester is one of the most ancient citadels of the Christian faith.

  For well over a thousand years the gold and offerings of the pilgrims and worshippers have been piling up in the treasure houses of the churches and monasteries. The Prester himself is as rich as any European sovereign. They say there is over twenty tons of gold in his treasury, at the sum, Grey was breathing heavily with avarice at the picture he had conjured up in his own mind.

  "You would be able to obtain a commission for me from the Sultan? "Hal leaned forward with assumed eagerness. indeed, sir. Not a month past I was able to obtain a commission for a Scotsman." A sudden thought occurred to Grey, and his face lit up. "If I did the same for you, perhaps you could join forces with him. With two fighting ships such as yours you would be a squadron powerful enough to take on anything the navy of the Prester could send against you. "The thought excites me." Hal smiled encouragingly, trying not to show too much interest. He had guessed who the Scotsman must be. "But tell me, who is this man of whom you speak?"

  "A fine gentleman and a great mariner," Grey replied enthusiastically. "He sailed from Zanzibar not five weeks back, bound for the Horn."

  "Then I may be able to come up with him and join my ship to his," Hal mused aloud. "Give me his name and station, sir."

  Grey glanced around the courtyard in a conspiratorial fashion, then lowered his voice. "He is a nobleman of high rank, the Earl of Cumbrae." Grey leaned back and slapped his knees to emphasize the enormity of his disclosure. "There, sir! And what do you think of that?"

  "I am greatly amazed!" Hal did not have to cover his excitement. "But do you truly believe that you can obtain a commission for me also?

  And, if so, how long will the business take?"

  "Things are never swiftly done in Arabia." Grey became evasive again. "But they can always be speeded up with a little baksheesh. Say an extra two hundred pounds, that is four hundred in all, and I should be able to place the commission in your hands by tomorrow evening. Naturally, I would need to have your payment in advance."

  "It is a great deal of money." Hal frowned. Now that he knew where the Buzzard was headed, he wanted to rush back to the Golden Bough immediately and set off in pursuit. But he restrained the impulse. He must gather every scrap of information from Grey.

  "Yes, it is," Grey agreed. "But think on the return it will bring. Twenty tons of pure gold for the man bold enough to seize it from the Prester's treasury. And that's not all. There are also the jewels and other treasures sent in tribute to the empire over a thousand years, the treasures of the Coptic churches the relics of Jesus Christ and the Virgin, of the apostles and the saints. The ransom they could command is without limit." Grey's eyes shone with greed. "They say-" He broke off and lowered his voice again. "They do say, that the Prester John is the guardian of the Holy Grail itself."

  "The Holy Grail." Hal went pale with awe, and Grey was delighted to see the reaction he had evoked.

  "Yes! Yes! The Holy Grail! The precious cup for which Christians have searched since the Crucifixion." Hal shook his head and stared at Grey in unfeigned amazement. He was moved by a strange sense of dejdvu that rendered him speechless. The prophecies of both his father and Sukeena flashed across his mind. He knew, deep in his heart, that this was part of the destiny they had foretold for him.

  Grey took his silence and the shake of his head for scepticism. "I assure you, sir, that the Holy Grail is the most poignant reason that the Great Mogul and Ahmed El Grang have attacked the empire of Ethiopia. I have had this from the Sultan's own lips. He also is convinced that the relic is in the care of the Prester. One of the mightiest ayatollahs of Islam has prophesied this and has given him the word of Allah that if he can wrest the Grail from the Prester his dynasty will be invested with power untold, and will herald the triumph of Islam over all the false religions of the world."

  Hal stared at him aghast. His thoughts were in wild confusion and he was no longer certain of himself or of anything around him. It took a vast effort to put aside such a terrible prospect as the subjugation of Christianity and to reassemble his thoughts.

  "Where is this relic kept hidden?" he asked huskily. "Nobody but the Prester and his monks know for certain. Some say at Aksum or at Gander, and others say that it is secreted in a monastery in the high mountains."

  "Perhaps it has already fallen into the hands of El Grang or the Mogul? Perhaps the war is already lost and won?" Hal suggested.

  "No! No!" Grey was vehement. "A dhow arrived from the Gulf of Aden this very morning. The news it brings is less than eight days old. It seems that the victorious armies of Islam have been checked at Mitsiwa. There has arisen within the Christian ranks a mighty general.

  They call this warrior Nazet, and though he is but a stripling the armies of Tigre and Galla flock to his standard." It seemed to Hal, from the relish with which Grey recounted these setbacks to the cause of Islam, that the consul was backing both horses. "Nazet has driven back the armies of El Grang and the Mogul. They confront each other before Mitsiwa, gathering themselves for the final battle, which will decide the war. It is far from over yet. I earnestly counsel you, my young friend, that once you have in your hand the Letter of Marque that I shall procure for you, you should make all haste to sail to Mitsiwa in time to share the spoils."

  "I must think on all you have told me." Hal rose from the pile of carpets. "If I decide to avail myself of your generous offer, I will return tomorrow with the four hundred pounds to purchase my commission from the Sultan."

  "You will always be welcome in my home," Grey assured him.

  Let me back to the ship as fast as you like," Hal snapped at Big Daniel, the moment the *-Gtall carved doors closed behind them. "I want to sail on this evening's tide."

  They had not reached the first bazaar when Althuda caught at Hal's arm. "I must go back. I have left my journal in the courtyard."

  "I am in desperate haste, Althuda. The Buzzard is already more than a month ahead of us, but I know now for certain where I must search for him."

  "I must retrieve my journal. Go on ahead to the ship. I will not be long behind you. Send the boat back for me, and have them wait at the harbour steps. I will be there before you sail." 4DO not fail me, Althuda. I cannot delay."

  Reluctantly Hal let him go, and hurried on after Big Daniel. As soon as he reached the Golden Bough, he sent the longboat to wa
it for Althuda at the landing, and gave the orders to ready the ship for sea. Then he went down to his cabin and spread on his desk under the stern windows those charts and sailing directions for the Gulf of Aden and the Red Sea that he had inherited from Llewellyn.

  He had studied these almost daily ever since he had been aboard the GoLden Bough, so he had no difficulty in placing all the names Grey had mentioned in his discourse. He plotted his course to round the tip of the Great Horn and sail down the Gulf of Aden, through the narrows of the Bah El Mandeb and into the southern reaches of the Red Sea. There were hundreds of tiny islands scattered off the Ethiopian coast, perfect lairs for the privateer and the corsair.

  He would have to avoid the fleets of the Mogul and the Omani until he had reached the Christian court of the Prester and obtained his commission from him. He could not attack the Mussulmen before he had that document in his hands or he risked the same fate as his father, of being accused of piracy on the high seas.

  Perhaps he would be able to link up with the Christian army commander General Nazet, of whom Grey had spoken, and place the Golden Bough at his disposal. In any event, he reasoned that the transport fleet of the Mussulman army would be gathered in these crowded seas in huge numbers, and they would fall easy prey to a swift frigate boldly handled. Grey was right in one respect. there would be fortune and glory to be won in the days ahead.

  He heard the bell sound the end of the watch, left his charts and went up on deck. He saw at a glance, from the ship's changed attitude to the tide, that the ebb had set in.

  Then he looked across the harbour and, even at that distance, recognized the figure of Althuda at the head of the landing steps. He was in deep conversation with Stan Sparrow, who had taken the longboat back to wait for him.

  "Damn him," Hal muttered. "He is wasting time in idle chatter." He turned all his attention to the affairs of the ship, and watched his topmast men going aloft, quick and surefooted, to set the sails. When he looked back at the shore again he saw that the longboat was coming in against the ship's side below where he stood.

  As soon as it touched, Althuda came up the ladder. He stood in front of Hal and said with a serious expression, "I have come to fetch Zwaantie and my son," he said solemnly. "And to bid you farewell."

  "I do not understand." Hal was aghast.

  "Consul Grey has taken me into his service as a writer. "I intend to remain with my family here in Zanzibar," Althuda replied.

  "But why, Althuda? Why?"

  "As you know well, both Sukeena and I were raised by our mother as followers of Muhammad, the Prophet of Allah. You are intent on waging war on the armies of Islam in the name of the Christian God. I can no longer follow you." Althuda turned away and went to the forecastle. He returned a few minutes later leading Zwaantie and carrying little Bobby. Zwaantie was weeping silently, but she did not look at Hal. Althuda stopped at the head of the ladder and gazed at him.

  "I regret this parting, but I cherish the memory of the love you bore my sister. I call down the blessing of Allah upon you," he said, then followed Zwaantie down into the longboat. Hal watched them row across to the quay and climb the stone steps. Althuda. never looked back, and he and his little family disappeared in the throng of white robed merchants and their slaves.

  Hal felt so saddened that he did not realize that the longboat had returned until, with a start, he saw that it had already been hoisted aboard and that Ned Tyler waited by the whipstall for his orders.

  "Up anchor, if you please, Mister Tyler. Set the top sails and steer for the channel."

  Hal took one last look back at the land. He felt bereaved, for Althuda had severed his last tenuous link to Sukeena "She is gone," he whispered. "Now she is truly gone."

  Resolutely he turned his back on the white citadel and looked ahead to where the Usambara mountains on the African mainland lay low and blue upon the horizon.

  "Lay the ship on the larboard tack, Mister Tyler. Set all plain sail.

  Course is north by east to clear Pemba Island. Mark it on the traverse board." he wind held fair, and twelve days later they cleared Cape Guardafui, at the tip of the IXT great rhino horn of Africa, and before them opened the Gulf of Aden. Hal ordered the change of course and they steered down into the west.

  The harsh red rock cliffs and hills of the Gulf of Aden were the jaws of Africa. They sailed into them with the last breezes of the trades filling their canvas. The heat was breathtaking, and without the wind would have been insupportable. The sea was a peculiarly vivid blue, which reflected off the snowy bellies of the terns that wheeled across the wake.

  Ahead the rocky shores constricted into the throat of the Bah El Mandeb. In daylight they passed through the rock-bound narrows into the maw of the Red Sea and Hal shortened sail, for these were treacherous waters, dotted with hundreds of islands and sown with reefs of fanged coral. To the east lay the hot lands of Arabia, and to the west the shores of Ethiopia and the empire of the Prester.

  They began to encounter other shipping in these congested waters. Each time the lookout hailed the quarterdeck, Hal went aloft himself, longing to see the top sails of a square-rigged ship come up over the horizon, and to recognize the set of the Gull of Moray. But each time he was disappointed. They were all dhows that fled from their tall and ominous profile, seeking shelter in the sanctuary of the shoal waters where the Golden Bough dared not follow.

  Swiftly Hal learned how inaccurate were the charts that he had found in Llewellyn's desk. Some of the islands they passed were not shown and others were depicted leagues off their true position. The marked soundings were mere fictions of the cartographer's imagination. The nights were moonless and Hal dared not press on among these reefs and islands in the darkness. At dusk he anchored for the night in the tee of one of the larger islands.

  "No lights," he warned Ned Tyler, "and keep the hands quiet."

  "There is no keeping Aboli's men quiet, Captain. They gabble like geese being ate by a fox."

  Hal grinned. "I will speak to Aboli."

  When he came up on deck again at the beginning of the first dog watch, the ship was silent and dark. He made his rounds, stopping for a few minutes to speak to Aboli who was the watch-keeper. Then he went to stand alone by the rail, gazing up at the heavens, lost in wonder at the glory of the stars.

  Suddenly he heard an alien sound and, for a moment, thought that it came from the ship. Then he realized that it was human voices speaking a language that he did not know. He moved swiftly to the stern and the sounds were closer and clearer. He heard the creak of rigging and the squeak and splash of oars.

  He ran forward again and found Aboli. "Assemble an armed boarding-party. Ten men," he whispered. "No noise. Launch the longboat."

  It took only minutes for Aboli to carry out the order. As the boat touched the water they dropped into it and pulled away. Hal was at the tiller and steered into the darkness, groping towards the unseen island.

  After several minutes he whispered, "Avast heaving!" and the rowers rested on their oars. The minutes drifted by, then suddenly close at hand they heard something clatter on a wooden deck, and an exclamation of pain or annoyance. Hal strained his eyes in that direction and saw the pale set of a small lateen sail against the starlight.

  "All together. Give way!" he whispered, and the boat shot forward. Aboli stood in the bows with a grappling hook and line. The small dhow that emerged abruptly out of the darkness dead ahead was not much taller at the rail than the longboat. Aboli hurled the hook over her side and leaned back on the line.

  "Secured!" he grunted. "Away you go, lads."

  The crew dropped the oars and, with a bloodcurdling chorus of yells, swarmed up onto the deck of the strange craft. They were met by pathetic cries of dismay and terror. Hal lashed the tiller over, seized the hooded lantern and rushed up after his men to restrain their belligerence. When he opened the shutter of the lantern and flashed it around he found that the crew of the dhow had already been subdued, and were spreadeagled on the
deck. There were a dozen or so half-naked dark-skinned sailors, but among them an elderly man dressed in a full-length robe whom Hal at first took to be the captain.

  "Bring that one here," he ordered. When they dragged the captive to him, Hal saw that he had a flowing beard, which reached almost to his knees, and a cluster of Coptic crosses and rosaries dangling down onto his chest. The square mitre on his head was embroidered with gold and silver thread.

  "All right!" he cautioned the men who held him. "Treat him gently. He's a priest." They released their prisoner with alacrity. The priest rearranged his robes and brushed out his beard with his fingertips, then drew himself up to his full height and regarded Hal with frosty dignity.

  "Do you speak English, Father?" Hal asked. The man stared back at him. Even in the uncertain lantern light, his gaze was cold and piercing. He showed no sign of having understood.