The King of Shadows, page 15
“The desire to know and to learn.”
“Ah. Yes. Again: why? Our world is here. We are satisfied with ourselves. Our feast this night … we have all we need. How would a travel to some other land help us?”
“I agree it would not,” DeKay spoke up, and Matthew had the sense that something was cooking on the flames in the man’s mind. “But … you do have an army of some kind, do you not?”
“An army?”
“Soldiers. Weapons. To defend your country with, in case of invasion. I mean, in case another country wanted yours.”
“Soldiers,” Tabor repeated. He speared a piece of potato on his plate and brought it to his mouth. “We have no soldiers, nor need of any,” he said, before he ate what was on his fork.
“Watch yourself,” Professor Fell suddenly said. “These criminals may have designs on your good nature.”
“Thank you, Uncle,” said DeKay. “You can go back to sleep now.”
“I … follow what you’re saying,” Tabor replied, speaking to the master of the Nemesis. “We have rich land here. Very … producing … as you can see. The land gives us much, the ocean gives us much. We have a—” He ran out of words, looked to Fratello and asked something in their language. The little man said to DeKay, “Happy home.”
“I have no doubt of that, at least judging from this bounty of food.”
“Fratello?” Matthew ventured. “May I ask about those two ships we passed on the way in? One French and one Italian, I believe. Why are they there?”
Fratello conversed with the king for a moment. They spoke back and forth in quiet tones until Fratello answered. “The first came years ago, in a storm. The second, also years ago, a derelict washed in by the sea.”
“A derelict? No one was aboard?”
“No one.”
Matthew found that as hard to swallow as if he’d bitten into a bone in the garlic sauce, but he plowed on. “And the ship that came in the storm? I’m thinking that’s the French vessel run up on the rocks? What became of the crew?”
Once more there was a conversation between Fratello and Tabor, after which the little man said, “My memory had to be refreshed, young sir. Of that ship … the crew had taken ill. Some were dead when the vessel arrived. Others were taken off and housed hereabouts.”
“Are any still here?”
“None,” said Fratello. “All in time perished.”
“Let us talk,” the king spoke up, hesitantly, “of the present … and more pleasant matters. These things of the past … are … injury to me. Is that meaning clear?”
“Young Matthew has a …” DeKay had to think to construct a simple concept. “A mind full of questions. His nature, I believe. My pardon.”
Matthew shot the man a dark glance, thinking that his mind full of questions was not going to be soothed to abeyance when it was presented with the rather farcical answers of a derelict ship and a vessel where everyone aboard died of some unknown illness. Could any of that be true? Yes, it could be, and such things he was sure did happen, but there was some off-key note in this musical and it was not coming from the flute players.
“Ah!” said Fratello. “Our sweets arrive!”
The two Gologothans who had retired to the kitchen area had reappeared wheeling in carts of more bounty: cakes, pies, sugared biscuits, bowls of candied fruit and the like. In another few moments all this overabundance of largess had been presented upon fresh platters supplied by the servants, and further eating ensued. Matthew picked at a piece of vanilla cake but his appetite for food had been quelled; not so his appetite for information, which remained in him desirous, undiminished and—he realized—unable to be satisfied. There was more wine drinking, more questions asked from the dignitaries concerning the Nemesis, what exotic destination it was bound to and what strange and distant country was this place called England. DeKay acted as the spokesman for all, directing his answers to Fratello who in turn made the translations. After another hour of this, King Tabor spoke to Fratello and his staff was brought to him. He stood up and addressed the visitors.
“I shall say … farewell to you all. Good journey to you.” The king’s gaze fell upon Matthew. It took him a few seconds to continue, as obviously he was constructing a further statement. “Guard your mind,” he said. “It is your own …” He struggled for the next word.
“Palace,” he finished.
With that, King Tabor turned away. The Golgothans stood up and gave a ringing round of respect with their handbells. One of the servants aided the king into the passageway on the left side of the chamber, and when the aged monarch was gone Fratello announced that the wagons would be ready to take the guests to the wharf for the trip back to their vessel.
And thus was an end to the feast. The islanders remained standing and again used their bells to honor the departure of the guests hailing from that alien world called England. Fratello escorted everyone out to the wagons in the courtyard, a number of the crew having been so appreciative of the wine that they staggered and began to sing bawdy nautical ditties until DeKay’s disapproving rebuke silenced them. Even Hudson was staggery, but Matthew knew there was motive behind his motion. By the flickering torchlight and under the huge and awesome panorama of stars the wagons were loaded in the same order as the passengers had arrived. “Whatever happens,” Hudson said quietly to Matthew before they went up the small ramp provided for this purpose, “just know I will do my best to get to you. Hear me?”
“I hear,” Matthew answered, all his senses on high alert. Hudson’s attempt at escape was very near, and it was going to be a dangerous moment.
The teams of horses started up, the wheels turned and the wagons moved out of the courtyard again on the main road leading down to the sea. It was a late hour. Matthew saw several islanders strolling about carrying lanterns and there were a few illuminations of lamplight in the windows of the cliffside dwellings but otherwise the town was still and quiet. “What say you, Uncle?” DeKay goaded the professor, who had wrapped himself up in his robe like a shroud. “It doesn’t suit you to sulk like an offended old woman.” The emperor of crime did not rise to this taunt.
“The ships,” DeKay said to Matthew. “What was that about?”
“My nature,” Matthew replied. “Aren’t you at all curious about why those two vessels are there? And why the Golgothans—having no sea-going ships that I could see in their harbor—didn’t attempt to salvage one of them?”
“Maybe they did,” Brand said. “You don’t know.”
“They want to be left alone,” said DeKay, with a shrug. “That’s not so curious. And derelict ships have been discovered without a crew aboard, for whatever reason. Also, there might be hesitation in even boarding a ship on which the crew took such sickness.”
“And it would be a hard task to get that vessel off the rocks,” Brand offered. “Far beyond what these people are capable of doing, I’d say.”
“I’d say I enjoyed their food,” said Falkenberg, “but I’m for getting out of here at first light. Something here … I don’t know … it doesn’t seem part of the real world.”
“No soldiers, no weapons, no war,” Hudson spoke up, his voice slurred. “No … not part of our real world.”
The wagons had not gone much further when DeKay said, “And that is an interesting point, sir. A point worth consideration. An island country obviously rich with farmland, vineyards and who knows what else. Its own self-sufficient nation … but without an army. Or, for that matter, a defense of any kind that I could see. How many men do you think it would take to … let us say … command such a nation?”
There was the rub, Matthew thought. King DeKay, on the march with his own army to invade a small island and grab whatever riches the place offered. Or … really … just to be able to call himself a divine ruler. Matthew said, “I doubt their treasury has enough lucre to warrant the effort. Your mask is worth more than Tabor’s crown.”
“But you don’t know what that crown hides,” came the silken answer. “I believe there’s more to this than meets the eye.”
“Which eye?” Fell asked, in an acidic tone. “The real or the false? Both are equally deranged.”
“I’ll make you my jester!” DeKay leaned forward and gave a warped half-grin into the professor’s face. “The bells are already there, we’ll just put a dunce cap on you and find a monkey for your shoulder!”
Brand and Falkenberg laughed, Hudson stared at nothing below drooping eyelids, Fell’s expression was a solid block of mulatto-hued stone and Matthew looked down at the wagon’s floor, preparing himself for what was to come.
The wagons stopped at the torch-lit wharf where the boat was waiting. Matthew’s heart was beating hard, for he realized the moment had arrived. And he was not mistaken, because as the passengers went down the ramp Hudson gave a drunken stumble against Brand, the captain turned both to support Hudson and grasp hold of the other man to keep himself from falling, and just that quick Hudson’s left hand had torn open Brand’s jacket in a spin of golden buttons and his right hand grasped the pistol lodged beneath. Then Hudson was standing on the wharf with his back toward the town and the gun’s barrel aimed at anyone who might dare to give him challenge.
“Really, Hudson,” Falkenberg said easily. “Is this necessary?”
“I’m not going back to the ship,” Hudson replied, choosing to shift the pistol so its business end was directed at DeKay. Matthew saw that a slight sheen of sweat had broken out on the Great One’s forehead. “Any questions?”
“Yes,” said DeKay, also calmly. “Who is saying we want you back on the ship?”
“What?”
“Is there trouble?” asked Fratello, coming around from the front of the first wagon.
“This gentleman has elected to stay with you, if you’ll have him. I was about to suggest that indeed he remain here, as we have no further use for his services. You’ll see he’s an excitable type.”
“I’m not understanding,” Fratello said, looking from the gun, to Hudson, to DeKay and back to the gun.
“Mr. Greathouse wants to become the four hundred and eighty-ninth citizen of Golgotha,” DeKay replied. “I say … his gun is not needed.” He stepped forward two paces, his right hand came up and pushed the pistol aside. “Do make England proud, Hudson,” he said. “Fratello, he’s all yours. Into the boat, everyone. Matthew, help the professor, if you please.”
But Matthew hesitated, seeing Hudson’s gun drop to his side.
“What?” Hudson repeated; he obviously had been up for a rough and ready time of it, and now he looked like a little boy in a man’s skin, deprived of a ride on the bucking bull.
DeKay’s face pressed close to Hudson’s. He pushed a finger against the Great One’s chest. “I’m glad to be rid of you. You make me nervous.”
Hudson’s mouth opened and closed, making only the muted gasp of a fish cast up on a rocky shore.
“I’ll leave you the gift of the pistol,” DeKay continued. “There might be hostile red Indians beyond the hills. If there’s more than one, though, you should find yourself a nice slingshot and some pebbles. Also I’m sure you’ll look very fashionable in pantaloons. Come along, everyone.”
“You … wish to stay?” Fratello asked Hudson, who at the moment was unable to speak in any language.
“Are you of a set mind on this, gudden?” Brom had come up beside Hudson, and though he was in position to try to wrest the gun away, he made no violent move. “It’s a long way back to London.”
“I doubt I would’ve made the trip back anyway.”
“Maybe not,” was the quiet answer, as the others crossed the gangplank onto the waiting boat. Matthew had stopped at the edge of the wharf to hear this exchange between Hudson and Falkenberg, and the professor had gone on across of his own accord with Brand and DeKay following.
“I’m staying here,” Hudson said to Fratello. “Is that agreeable?”
“I’m sure King Tabor would welcome another citizen. We all would.”
Hudson looked toward Matthew and nodded, and in that motion Matthew could almost read his friend’s mind. If there was a way to commandeer one of these small boats and make it to a shore where there were more seaworthy ships for hire, Hudson would find it and also find—or steal—the money needed to buy passage to Venice. Working his way would also be an option. He wouldn’t make it to Venice before the Nemesis reached port but if he acted quickly he might only be a week or so behind, and thus with freedom of action better suited to either alert the law in Italy or put himself on the track, which wouldn’t be so very difficult. After all, Hudson had been a member of the Herrald Agency long before Matthew, and perhaps problem-solving was not exactly Hudson’s forte but he certainly had experience both in getting what he needed when he needed it and in surviving in order to do so.
Therefore … Matthew thought this moment of Hudson’s escape was their best bet—and possibly the only wager—at stopping this mad expedition and perhaps saving his own neck.
“Good fortune to you,” Matthew said.
“To you, too. Whatever you want from my belongings, you can have.”
“Matthew?” DeKay called from the boat. “You and Brom come along, please.”
“Good luck, old man,” said Falkenberg, offering his hand. “’Til we meet again?”
“’Til then,” Hudson replied, and decided to shake with his left hand—an awkward move, but one born of caution no matter whose comrade was whose—while keeping the pistol up against his chest. Then Falkenberg went on aboard, and Fratello said, “I’ll take you back to the palace. The king will wish to know.” He gave instructions to the boat’s three crewmen, and Matthew turned away.
The trip back to the Nemesis took about an hour and was uneventful but for the repeated attempt of drunken men to sing songs that made the interests of sailors toward painted ladies more than obvious. This time DeKay let them bruise their lungs. They were all sung out and nodding toward sleep when the lamps of the Nemesis were sighted. Thus everyone went aboard more or less under their own power, and the boat sailed back to its own berth.
On the deck as the group began to disperse, DeKay said to the professor, “Uncle, I don’t think it’s necessary to guard your door any longer. Do you?”
“As you please,” came the curt answer. “Matthew, will you see me to my wonderful abode?” With a sneer into DeKay’s true eye he added: “If you were my nephew I would have your head parted from your body and then I would kill myself for want of good breeding. Give me a tinderbox so I might set this ship aflame after I light my lamp.”
“Listen to him go on!” said DeKay to Matthew. “Thin as a reed, trembling with the palsy but yet the fire still burns. Commendable, Uncle. All right, then. You may borrow mine.” He reached into a pocket and brought out his small silver case—monogramed with a scrolled MD—that held cotton and flints for the action of striking a flame.
When Matthew and Fell reached the professor’s cabin, the order to enter was given from the thin, trembling and yet fiery “uncle.”
Matthew did so.
Fell went about lighting a lamp on a small table and as the glow spread he said, “Close the door.”
Again Matthew obeyed, thinking that perhaps the professor was indeed intending to set something ablaze.
Fell eased himself down on his hammock. His eyes held their own cunning light. “I know Greathouse better than does DeKay. Let me guess: he intends to steal a boat and follow us, thus keeping to his arrow of your welfare? If that’s his plan it’s as weak as a vicar’s piss because there was no seaworthy craft in that harbor. So you’ve seen the last of him.”
“I believe,” said Matthew, “that he hopes to reach the nearest coast and barter his way onto a ship bound for Venice.”
“He’s a soldier, not a sailor. How’s he going to manage getting to the nearest coast, which is God only knows how far distant?”
“Hudson has his ways. I wouldn’t doubt his success.”
“I would. And what is he going to do if he does defy the Fates and follow us to Venice? Come to our rescue like some noble bloodhound?”
“He does have a fierce bark,” Matthew said. “And a more fierce bite.”
“Pah!” Fell waved a hand to knock down a foolish idea. “Well, that leaves you and myself against these creatures. What is your plan?”
“As I said at the feast, let tomorrow abide.”
“Meaning you have no plan.”
“Yes, I do. My plan is to now go to my cabin and get some sleep. I suggest you do the same.”
“One month more with this torture? One month more being treated like dirt under the boots of these animals who aren’t fit to wipe my tail? Sleep is the last thing on my mind!”
“I hope,” said Matthew, “that the first thing on your mind is not setting anything on fire hereabouts. Promise me you won’t do something stupid.”
“How dare you speak to me like that!” This spoken through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw.
“Promise,” Matthew repeated, with steel in his own voice. They stared at each other for a few seconds, criminal mastermind to secretly uncertain problem-solver, until Fell dropped his gaze, sighed heavily and said, “Get out.”
Matthew was glad to oblige. He went to his cabin, got into his more comfortable sleep clothes, climbed into bed, put out his own lamp he’d lit on entering, and was asleep within ten minutes.
Was it ten minutes more that a knock on the door jarred him from slumber? He sat up, groggily, thinking that the next call would be to abandon ship because a fire was raging along the passageway. He stumbled to the door and opened it to find DeKay standing there, this time not so nattily dressed in gray breeches and a simple cream-colored shirt. Matthew had thought he was accustomed to the man’s mask, but seeing that golden-eyed visage so close to being roused from sleep sent a chill up his spine. DeKay carried no lamp and needed none, because the pale light of early morning was streaming in from an open deck hatch.
