Read A Midsummer Tempest Online

Authors: Poul Anderson

Tags: #Science fiction

A Midsummer Tempest (17 page)

BOOK: A Midsummer Tempest
6.63Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

“A lifetime ago, sir, Don Juan of Austria deed conquair Tunis and es-stab-leesh-ed a keengdom. Most of
the subjects air paynim steell, but the rulers air Chreestians of Spanish descent. Eet ees no beeg realm, w’erefore you ’ave not ’eard more of eet—although our Queen Claribel ees daughtair to the royal ’ouse of Napoli—Naples, you say.”

“What you do not zay is ‘zir’ to me.” Because her hand rested chubby on the rail, he laid his over it. “Plain Will’s planty good, Nina, uh, Niña.”

The boatswain came to nudge him. “We’ve found a place for thee in the foc’s’le,” he said; doubtless he had once had a berth on an English vessel.

“Tha what?” Will sputtered. “Have a caere o’ thy language, fellow. Heare be a gently reared maiden.”

“Come see thy hammock,” said the boatswain impatiently, “and settle which mess thou’lt be in.”

Will folded himself in a bow at Niña. “Mesim ’a wants to feed me,” he said, “and I be hungry for sure, even if hamhocks on this queasy riade do indeed zound like a mess—yet not one half zo hungry as I’ll be to rejine thee.”

“Oo-oo-ooh!” she tittered, and watched him till he had gone below.

xv

A CHANNEL PACKET.

T
HIS
was a broad-beamed craft with high, ugly superstructure and stubby masts. Its sails were furled; paddlewheels churned on either side, engine puffed and clanked, hull shivered, stack vomited smoke. Elsewhere sunlight fell extravagant over wings of gulls cruising and mewing through blueness, greens and purples and snow-whites of water, other vessels dancing past, chalk cliffs receding astern, castle-crowned above clustered red roofs. Wind frolicked.

Jennifer stood at the rail, looking aft. Beneath the hood of a gray traveling cloak, her face showed pale, though she had regained weight and some life in her eyes. Nearby, in Puritan civil garb, her eight warders poised, paced, or sat on a bench. The area was partly walled off by a cabin and bales of deck cargo.

And now good-by to thee as well, dear Dover,
she thought:
dear even if I hardly glimpsed thee more than from a coach or window of my room within our hostel

for I scented salt, spied stocking caps on heads of fishermen, heard honest clogs resound on cobblestones, and English voices, English heartiness; and Cornwall came back to me in a wave. O Rupert, when thou first wast here, a youth, was it but countryside and brilliant court which made thee fall so hard in love with England, or did the English people speak to thee?

Shy words came as if prompted: “My lady, can’t this brightness touch your grief?”

Turning, she saw the young man—hardly more than a boy, nor much taller than she—who had ventured out from among her keepers. “What’s that to thee, Sword-of-the-Lord, thou Gerson?” she flung.

He flushed, beneath cropped fair hair, like any scolded child. “’Tis … pain, my lady … caged and
useless here,” he stammered, laying a fist above his heart, “e’en as ’twas joy to watch your health return.”

“From what thy brother Righteous did to me.” She showed him her back again.

“I pray you … he means well … though I would never—”

“And having naught to do but sleep and eat while they arranged to bring me captive southward, why should I now grow flesh back on these bones? The restlessness and hunger were inside them.”

“My lady, think!” he implored. “You go to expiate—no sin, I swear, no stain on purity—a mere mistake to which a wily fiend lured innocence—You’ll win full freedom soon. And meanwhile, here is France ahead of us, a lovely land, they say, and new to see. I’ve heard how you yourself have blood of France—”

“Ha’ done!” snapped his older brother. “Thou’rt here to guard, not mooncalf mope.”

“For once, I welcome words of Righteous Gerson,” said Jennifer frigidly.

Sword-of-the-Lord slunk aside, under the grins or sniffs of his comrades, sat down on the deck behind a bollard with his own back to everyone else, and hugged knees to chin.

Nobah Barker appeared around the cabinside, in company with another man. The latter might almost have passed for a Cavalier, in long hair, beard and mustachios trimmed to points as exact as that upon his sword, plumed hat held in bejeweled hand: save that his clothes were gaudier yet, and his birthplace was obviously the Midi. In an energetic countenance, politeness fought with boredom.

“Aye, Mounseer d’Artagnan,” Barker droned, mangling the name too, “what you have seen of England on your mission for King Lewis, will seem the merest seed in few more years, when we have built the new Jerusalem. Then your own folk, ignited by example, will soak the truth of Puritanism up; and soon, in Christian love, our two great realms will go unscrew the captive Holy Land and scrub it clean in Turkish blood.”

“Per’aps,” said d’Artagnan skeptically. He became more cheery when his glance fell on Jennifer, who having
noticed him in turn could not altogether suppress curiosity. She reddened a little, brushed an amber lock off her brow, and grew interested in the wake of the nearer wheel.

“’Ow far d’you plan to travel on t’rough France?” he asked.

“To
Mar
-sales,” Barker replied. Quickly: “All our papers are in order.”

“You stop off in Paris? I could find time”—d’Artagnan made a motion toward the girl which was not precisely a bow, since she wasn’t observing, but had the effect of one—“to show your … daughter? … somezing of ze sights.”

“Ah, nay—”

“R-r-respectably, wiz chaperone.”

“She’s not my daughter! Do I look so old?” (D’Artagnan cocked a brow.) “She is—well, sith ’tis in our documents—” Barker bent close to speak low and confidentially. (D’Artagnan averted his nose as much as possible.) “Her uncle is my friend, a mighty man. Alas, she’s lately suffered fits of madness. Close watch is needed lest she harm herself, for while she is most times quite rational, she suddenly may try to flee or fight, accuse the ones who love her best—D’you know? On medical advice, we take her south, in hopes a softer climate may bring cure, or cruises on the pleasant inland sea.”

The Frenchman crossed himself. “
Mon Dieu!”
Pity welled in his tone: “So young and fair. Zat twists ze ’eart, e’en in an officer of musketeers.…
Adieu, monsieur.
Be sure I’ll pray for ’er.”

He went rapidly off around the cabin. Barker glowered. “Think’st thou thy Papist chants are aught but noise?” he said under his breath. “Would God that I could shun thy Nineveh!” He squared his shoulders. “Yet I will steel myself, will be a Jonah.”

Proceeding to where Jennifer stood, he told her, “That was a most important frog I met.”

“And you the lime which made his mouth to pucker,” she retorted, still staring outward.

He flushed. “More insolence? Repent, before too late!”

She gave her low-keyed answer some forethought. “I spoke in haste. Nay, you are not the lime they’ve found will keep men healthy far at sea. You’re scurvy.”

“Oh, but you will weep for that,” he moaned, “when, in the punishment of captured Rupert, you see the error of your willful ways!”

“What makes you think I’ll help you track him down?” she said between her teeth. “You took my ring away—”

“Lest you discard it.”

“How gladly would I cast it in the sea, or with mine own hand hold it in a fire.” Jennifer smote the rail. “You cannot make me wear it for your guide.”

“We can,” he declared, “and will, once we have reached the South. To slip it on your finger when the wrists are firmly gripped? There’s nothing easier. And who will wonder if they see you forced to walk whatever way we prod? You’re mad—you’re being treated by such exercise—” He took her arm. She shivered and tried to draw away, but he tightened his hold and spoke in a high, hurried voice:

“Believe me, Mistress Jennifer, what woe it is that I must thus give pain to you. How I will cry hosannas when you’re healed, your devil driven out by Christian meekness, your grateful tearflow laving this my hand! How I shall welcome you back in the fold! Aye, even—maybe—think you not unworthy, when properly instructed, that I tell Sir Malachi he may betroth you to me.” In haste: “No promises thus far! You’ve leave to hope and strive for betterment; and I will help. I’ll preach until my words wear down those doors a demon has made fast within your mind.”

He collected air. “But I will not bespeak religion yet,” he said. “Let me begin with practicalities. You are a sailor’s daughter, I recall. You have known hardship, toil, and friends who drowned. Look o’er the water at our fellow ships”—he gestured grandly—”where men and canvas wrestle wind and tide, then feel this engine striding underfoot and thank the Lord for the progressiveness wherewith our new age is identified, a purifying age of iron men as well as iron instruments—What’s that?”

A thump and rattle went through the hull. The paddlewheels chunked to a halt. The stack wheezed forth a few last dismal soot-clouds.

“God damn that pressure gauge!” roared a voice. “All hands on deck! Aloft, you scuts! Set sail ere we collide!”

Jennifer gave Barker a long, sweet smile. “An age of iron men,” she murmured, “and wooden brains.” Abruptly she giggled, before tossing her head and going from him. Her guards came after.

RUPERT’S CABIN ABOARD SHIP.

Moorish lavishness had largely overcome Spanish austerity throughout the Kingdom of Tunis. Two bunks, with lockers beneath, flanked a thick and colorful carpet. Aft was a built-in, padded seat, before which a table could be folded down. The bulkheads bore paneling inlaid with enamel-and-ivory arabesques. A window stood open to the rush and cluck, the amiable salt breezes of a night sea. A large mellow-shining lantern, hung from the overhead, barely moved.

Rupert sat with a book. His huge frame was attired in shirt of silk, doublet of black velvet trimmed in vair, modish knee breeches and white stockings, pearl-studded kid slippers. At a knock he raised his head and called, “Come in.”

Duchess Belinda entered. Silver and rubies glittered in her hair, at throat, on fingers; a low-cut bodice and close-fitting purple gown showed other opulencies. Rupert sprang up. “My lady!” he said. “What brings you here?”

“Shame that you spend your evenings alone,” she said merrily.

“I dine and sup each day with you … and his Grace, when he feels well—and now, ’tis very late. I thought you’d gone to rest.”

“Well, you’ve not. I hear you talked of as showing lights till every hour. Why can’t you sleep?” Her voice was a honeycomb. She came to take his hands and
search his eyes. “Do your quarters lack comfort? Surely either of those beds is much too small for you.”

“Nay, my lady, a soldier learns how to snore anywhere. ’Tis but that I’ve less need of sleep then most men. Indeed, I feel guilty that the mates must vacate their room for me.”

“La! If they consider themselves not honored to house Prince Rupert of the Rhine, they deserve no more than their hammocks.… Place the refreshments, Niña.”

The maid, who had followed the duchess in, lowered the table and onto it a tray she carried. Thence she took a decanter, two crystal goblets, sweetmeats in a bowl, and a silk pouch. “Good,” said Belinda. “Thou may’st go. I shall not require thee further this night.”

Plainly overjoyed, the girl curtsied and hastened out. Her mistress laughed. “Methinks she’ll see your Will inside the minute. I’ve an idea they themselves are skimping on sleep.”

“But, my lady—” Rupert floundered, “this—that is—”

“Be not too stiff,” she said; “at least, not in respect of propriety. My lord knows where I am and approves, though the voyage has put such strain on him he’d better keep his bed. And see, we leave the door wide open.” She went sinuously to hook it. “Yet still we’ll have sufficient privacy.”

“For what, my lady?”

She slithered back toward him. “For your pride, Rupert. I might well say your haughtiness. First however: I’ve repeatedly bade you call me by name. We’re friends—close friends, I hope—not a pair of titles.”

Placing herself on the settee, she gave him no choice but to do likewise. “Will you pour the sherry?” she asked. “We may as well enjoy us, no?”

He obeyed. She raised her goblet.
“A nuestra salud,”
she proposed. A smile stole onto his mouth. They clinked glasses and sipped.

“What were you reading, Rupert?” she asked.

“A Portuguese account of exploration in the northern Americas, which Captain Mena lent me.”

“I knew not you read Portuguese.”

“Well, when one can follow along in Latin, Spanish, French, Italian—” (She blinked admiringly.) He cleared his throat. “’Tis fascinating, that land about the bay Henry Hudson found. This writer dwells on the fur trade; but more important, I think, are his observations of auroras and the fact that the north magnetic pole must be nearby. Moreover, the natives possess some ingenious artifices we could well adapt, not to speak of most remarkable beliefs and customs.”

She leaned cheek on hand. “Ah, Rupert,” she sighed, “the whole of creation is the range of your mind.”

“Ach,
no, my lady—Belinda. I’m a mere soldier.” He drank deep to hide and ease his confusion. “What business brings you here?”

She pouted. “Another man would wonder what goddess he owes thanks for such a delightful occasion.” (Rupert flushed.) She chuckled and stroked his arm. “Nay, I’d not have you be any other man.”

Growing serious: “You’ve told us little about your mission, really only that you were captured at Marston Moor, escaped, and seek something which may aid the Royal cause, somewhere in the waters between Europe and Africa.”

“I ought say no more,” he answered low. His glance dropped to the ring on his clenched left fist. “If only because ’tis too fantastical and forlorn.”

“Well, I’ll not urge you ’gainst your will. Yet never forget what friends you have in … Carthage. For your own sake as well as that of your King, of kings everywhere, we rejoice at any aid we may lend.”

“You are good. I wonder if ’twas altogether chance our courses crossed. I’ve certain secret allies; their powers are slight—Nay. Proceed, I pray you.”

“You were bound for Holland, to ask what help your mother might give.” Belinda leaned forward and close. Lantern light moved golden across hair and face; it cast moving shadows in her bodice. Waves whooshed, breezes lulled. The ship moved gently as a rocking cradle. “That would be scant. Nevertheless you chose to fare with us, to arrive sooner near your goal, though you’ve just a single companion and hardly two shillings to click together.”

BOOK: A Midsummer Tempest
6.63Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Ice Dreams Part 1 by Melissa Johns
A Question of Love by Isabel Wolff
In Your Dreams by Holt, Tom, Tom Holt
China's Son by Da Chen
Eden's Outcasts by John Matteson
David by Mary Hoffman


readsbookonline.com Copyright 2016 - 2024