The Princess and the Captain (7 page)

‘So where were you?' asked Malva, her eyes shining.

‘Ah, that's it, young lady! We didn't know. We had just come to land in a country unknown to any map!'

There was a sudden murmur from the sailors, and Silvio burst out laughing.

‘That old rogue Bulo, it's always the same. High time he left off talking about that old imaginary country of his!'

The others started laughing, but Bulo didn't seem inclined to leave it at that.

‘You mark my words,' he went on, ‘that country exists. I've been there and I know! And I swear on the heads of my ancestors that if I could only find the way back to it, that's where I'd like to end my days. Because –'

‘Oh, stop your nonsense!' Silvio interrupted him again. ‘That's just an old yarn. You've lost your marbles, Bulo!'

Malva looked at the old drunk and the other laughing sailors, trying to guess who was telling the truth. Philomena was trembling impatiently.

‘It's very late,' she suddenly said. ‘I think we should go and get some rest. In Lombardaine tomorrow –'

‘Oh, no!' Malva begged her. ‘Do let Bulo finish!'

Vincenzo ground out his cigar. Sparks flew into the black night.

‘Yes, let's hear the end of it,' he decided. ‘And after that we'll all get some sleep, for there's certainly a long day ahead.'

Thus encouraged, the old man finished his story. Malva listened with bated breath.

‘We called that country Elgolia, young lady. And as I was saying, that's where I'd like to end my days. The climate is hot and dry, but the earth is fertile all year round, for hundreds of rivers flow through its plains. The sky is full of red birds, the trees groan under the weight of their fruit, and the folk of that land don't know the meaning of poverty. There's a lake of warm, bubbling water in the heart of a forest, called Lake Barath-Thor, and those who bathe in it come out ten years younger. And on top of Mount Ur-Tha grows a tree a thousand years old. Sit on its highest branch, and by some kind of magic you can see right to the other end of the Known World. So you can always find out how the people you left at home are doing, in Galnicia or wherever you lived. Last but not least, there's a wonderful bay, the Bay of Dao-Boa. A sweet wind blows gently there, and you have only to breathe that air to feel blissfully happy.'

Old Bulo sighed nostalgically. He poured a final draught of Rioro down his throat and threw the empty bottle overboard.

‘I'm not crazy,' he muttered. ‘Elgolia exists somewhere, far to the east, at the outer bounds of the Known World.'

‘What I don't see,' said Silvio derisively, ‘is why you didn't stay in that Elgolia of yours, if you were so happy there!'

Bulo suddenly hid his face in his hands, overcome by profound sadness.

‘You have to deserve Elgolia!' he sobbed. ‘And I turned out unworthy of it! To my great grief I was driven away. It was my fault, all my fault! If only I could put things right!'

He fell to his knees on the deck. Philomena jumped nervously. The man seemed both sincere and very drunk. What impression was this scene going to make on young Malva's
mind? She drew her away by the hand, hoping to persuade her to go back down to their cabin, but the Princess wriggled out of her grasp and knelt down beside the drunkard.

‘What happened?' she asked very gently.

‘I was greedy!' snivelled Bulo. ‘I tried to take the Vuth-Nathor away with me, and I ruined everything!' He seized the Princess's wrists. ‘If you ever go there, be on your guard! Don't let the brightness of the Vuth-Nathor tempt you.'

‘What are you talking about?' breathed the fascinated Malva.

‘The Vuth-Nathor, the Vuth-Nathor,' stammered the sailor, exhausted. And suddenly he collapsed on the deck. Malva let out a cry.

‘Well, I think the joke's over now,' observed Vincenzo. He snapped his fingers, and all the sailors rose to their feet. Philomena plucked at Malva's sleeve.

‘Leave him to sleep it off. You can see he's dead drunk – he doesn't know what he's saying any more.'

Malva shook old Bulo once again. ‘What is the Vuth-Nathor?' she persisted.

But the man was unconscious, lying there full length, as if merely saying that strange name had felled him.

Disappointed, Malva followed Philomena. As they were starting down the steps to the cabins, Vincenzo caught up with them. He leaned forward, his dark face close to them.

‘Sleep well,' he told them. ‘Tomorrow is the great day.' He brushed the Archont's medallion with his fingertips. Malva never took it off. ‘Tomorrow, Princess, you will discover how well your protector has fixed everything.'

That night Malva slept soundly. She dreamed of Elgolia, Lake Barath-Thor, the thousand-year-old tree growing on top of
Mount Ur-Tha, and the Bay of Dao-Boa. But the next morning a terrifying noise woke her abruptly from her dreams. She sat up in her bunk with a start.

Philomena was snoring beside her. Malva felt anxious and nudged her, but however hard she shook her, Philomena stayed fast asleep. There was a second crash. Malva put her hands over her ears: it was as if the ship were screaming with pain.

She raced out of the cabin and went on deck. She stopped, staring: the
Estafador
was making straight for a line of rocks, their skeletal white heads sticking up above the water. The sea was bristling with them, and the crashing noise she had heard was the sound of the ship's bows already scraping on the rocks in the shallows.

Malva felt like screaming, but she didn't have the strength. She stayed there on deck, spellbound by the sight of the waves breaking on the reefs. The bows of the ship were close to disaster, yet nothing suggested that she was about to turn!

The Princess raised her head. Above the horizon, the sky was cloudless. The mainsail, mizzen, foresail, forestaysail and jib topsail were all hoisted, but there didn't seem to be anyone in charge of them. The deck was deserted – there was no sign of the crew.

‘Vincenzo?' she managed to call. She went to the poop deck. It was then she realised that the two lifeboats which usually rested in solid oak cradles amidships were gone too.

‘Vincenzo!' she cried, louder this time.

The only answer came from the wind in the rigging, and the vast backwash of the waves on the jagged rocks further away. Malva felt as if a gulf were opening up beneath her feet. She let out a terrified yell.

‘Philomena! Philomena!' she shouted, racing back down to the cabins at desperate speed. ‘They've abandoned us! We're going aground on the reefs! Philomena!'

Malva ran into the cabin, took hold of her chambermaid and shook her with all her might.

‘Wake up!' she yelled. ‘We're sinking!'

Philomena opened one dull eye. Its pupil seemed extraordinarily dilated.

‘They drugged you!' Malva suddenly understood. ‘The traitors! They put poison in your wine!'

Tugging at her chambermaid's arms, she managed to haul her out of her bunk. The shock of falling on the floor seemed to bring Philomena back to her senses.

‘What are you doing up at this hour?' she asked in a thick voice.

Malva took Philomena's face in her hands. ‘We must get off this ship, Philomena, do you hear? If we don't we have no chance!'

‘Get off … the ship?' repeated the young woman. ‘But I … I don't want to … I can't swim!'

Malva slapped her twice, briskly. ‘Wake up! We're going to die!'

This time the mist veiling Philomena's eyes abruptly cleared. A spasm shook her chest. She crawled to the back of the cabin, turned and vomited on the floor. When she had finished she got to her feet, staggering.

‘Hurry, hurry!' Malva urged. ‘Follow me!'

Still groggy, Philomena set off after her mistress. The
Estafador
was grinding and creaking now, on the point of breaking up. When they came out on deck the rocks were alarmingly close.

‘Help me!' Malva ordered. ‘We can float on this!'

She was trying to lift the open-work wooden grating that covered the central hatch. Philomena lent her a hand, and between them they managed to free the panel of wood. They started the same operation on another hatch cover.

‘And now we must jump!' said Malva, making for the stern of the ship. Where they stood they were at least ten metres above the waves. The water was boiling against the hull. Pale as death, Philomena clutched her panel of wood to her breast.

‘I can't,' she murmured.

‘You can!' Malva told her.

At that moment the prow of the
Estafador
hit the first reef head on. The wood shattered with a dry cracking sound, and the whole vessel started breaking up.

‘Now!' cried Malva, and grabbing Philomena's dress in her free hand, she flung herself into the void.

They fell heavily into the tumultuous waves. The cold seized them and they swallowed water several times. Then, clutching their panels of wood, they kicked out to get away from the ship and the rocks.

Their clothes were clinging to them, sticky as seaweed, making movement difficult. But fear gave them strength. By dint of encouraging each other, they managed to get out of the most dangerous area where the currents would inevitably have washed them against the rocks.

When Malva thought she was far enough away she turned. The
Estafador
was taking in water everywhere. A great gash had opened up the hull from the rail to the hawse holes. The sails were sagging, the bowsprit was hanging inert from the end of the stays.

‘What happened?' asked the frightened Philomena. Contact with cold water had brought her back to her senses.

‘Vincenzo tried to kill us,' Malva replied. ‘He and his men left the ship while we were asleep. They must be far away by now.'

The two girls were having a hard time fighting against the waves. Their fingers kept slipping on their improvised life-rafts, while the salt water got into their mouths and noses and stung their eyes.

‘We're going to die,' said Malva after a while, shaking. ‘I can't see land. No one will come to our rescue.'

Philomena, though she was short of breath, kicked out and brought her raft up to the Princess's. ‘You made me jump,' she said. ‘Now I'm going to make sure you survive.'

For two long hours they encouraged each other to keep going. Philomena thought it would be best to follow the direction of the rolling waves.

‘Suppose there are counter-currents?' said Malva, feeling discouraged.

‘Don't think about that,' Philomena replied. ‘Keep swimming.'

The sun rose in the sky, baking their salt-caked faces. Their throats were dry with thirst. Exhaustion was lying in wait for them. They took turns singing to keep themselves awake. Then they fell silent, overcome by thirst and weariness.

Suddenly, just as she was falling asleep, Malva felt something gliding past her legs. She flinched.

‘Philomena – did you feel that?'

‘What?' asked the chambermaid, waking with a start. She had collapsed on her raft, and had nearly fallen asleep.

‘I could feel someth—'

Malva had no time to finish her sentence. She let out a shrill scream, and her face twisted in pain.

‘Malva!' cried Philomena, kicking out vigorously to get closer.

‘My leg!' wailed the Princess.

Philomena let go of her panel of wood and grabbed Malva's. She tried to haul her mistress up on it, while Malva groaned in pain.

‘Something bit me!' she wept. ‘My leg … oh, my leg …'

Philomena was breathing hard. She almost slipped and lost hold of the raft, but she recovered just in time and finally got Malva up and lying across the wooden panel. Blood was turning the water red around her right calf. Philomena's stomach heaved.

‘What happened to me?' cried Malva in panic. ‘I can't feel my leg!'

‘You're leg's there all right,' Philomena told her. ‘You're bleeding. It's nothing much – don't move. A rock must have scraped it … only a rock.'

As she uttered these reassuring words she stared in terror at the wound around the Princess's leg: a deep wound in the shape of a pair of jaws, with the marks of two rows of teeth.

Philomena put her hand on Malva's forehead, stroking it. ‘It's nothing,' she murmured. ‘You bumped into a rock. I'll look after you, little Princess. Don't worry, I'll look after you.'

A lump in her throat, Philomena summoned up the strength to sing the lullabies she used to sing over and over again to send little Malva to sleep as a child, when she was afraid of the dark and of nightmares. She sang on for a long time, always expecting to see the head of the monstrous creature that had bitten her mistress emerge from the water at any moment. She still sang
on, thinking that they were about to die like this together, lost in the middle of the sea.

Malva had fainted.

The sun was beating down so hard on the surface of the water that Philomena couldn't open her eyes any more. So she didn't see the shape of a boat in the distance – a boat coming towards them. Just as she felt she was about to breathe her last, two hands took hold of her and pulled her out of the water.

Within a few days the weather had changed. First the sun gave way to a sky of gloomy and uniform grey, then the wind rose. But instead of chasing the clouds away it had driven them together, piling them up above the country as if they were collecting at the bottom of a bowl, and it began to rain. Rain was unusual in Galnicia at this time of year. Soon superstitious voices were raised, claiming that the unsettled weather predicted more catastrophes to come. Fortune-tellers who read the future in the cards arrived from the neighbouring countries of Armunia and Tildesia, drove their caravans into squares and avenues, and began spinning their tales: fifty galniks to tell your future for the next six months, a hundred to know everything about the years to come, two hundred if you wanted to postpone the fateful hour of your death. Long queues of anxious Galnicians lined up outside the caravans, and no one paid any attention to the more sensible citizens who tried denouncing these charlatans.