Ilario, the Stone Golem (60 page)

The rail almost imperceptibly shivered under my hand. Deep waters

darkened under our prow.

Honorius stood beside me, his hands clasped behind his back. On my

other side, Rekhmire’ wore Onorata’s sling, and held her cautiously,

gazing with a puzzled look into her tiny and messy features – possibly

trying to deduce if she indeed recognised him.

I whipped out a kerchief to wipe her nose, and spent some time

pointing out to my child the chief landmarks of Taraconensis as we left

them behind, and naming the different parts of the war-junk in Chin.

‘Ilario . . . ’ Rekhmire’ removed his hand from under the sling,

examined it, and put it back. ‘She’s five months old!’

‘It’s never too early to start . . . ’

Honorius choked off a laugh, and stepped aside to confer with Orazi. I

knew more than half of the men-at-arms he had chosen to accompany

the Captain-General of Taraconensis to Carthage: acquainted with them

from Venice and Rome. The others were veterans of having His

Majesty’s royal guard garrisoned on Honorius’s estate; the evenings were

rife with exaggerated tales, each trying to out-do the other.

‘Ilario.’ Rekhmire’’s eyes slitted against the brilliance. He stepped out

of the way of two of Jian’s sailors sprinting past. ‘Do you see something?

There, ahead?’

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I looked into the shining mist of the horizon, and rubbed my dazzled

eyes. ‘Not a damn thing!’

I had not yet got over the relief of seeing Rekhmire’ returned safe from

Videric’s estates. I would have said this to him, if not for the fact that he

hardly ever spoke to me now.

He
says
more
to
Onorata
.
.
.

I checked the ties on her tiny hood, and she yawned in my face.

‘Charming child!’

Rekhmire’ gave me a look of the greatest apparent innocence. ‘Should

I risk saying I know how she feels?’

‘Not unless you want your shins kicked! Except that I suppose I can’t

while you have her – is that why you volunteered to carry the baby sling?’

The Egyptian made an unsuccessful attempt at appearing wounded.

‘I should be wary of complaining about boredom,’ he added, seeing

me failing to be moved. ‘That usually serves to call up sea-serpents and

comets and acts of the gods . . . ’

‘I can do without any of those!’

I found I must step back out of another running man’s way—

Jian himself.

‘What . . . ?’ Squinting after the Chin commander, I found myself

looking south, into sun and brilliant mist – and dark protuberances that

could not be the Balearic Islands.
Not
unless
we’ve
sailed
infinitely
faster
than
I
thought
we
could!

Rekhmire’ closed both his large hands protectively around Onorata.

Honorius appeared at the rail again, beside me. ‘What is it?’

‘I don’t know. There are no reefs—’

I saw Carrasco come up from below, talking quite companionably with

Berenguer and Tottola. The German man-at-arms suddenly seized

Ramiro Carrasco’s shoulder and pointed forward.

I turned and leaned forward over the rail, as if straining those few

inches further forward would let me see what Tottola saw. Honorius’s

fingers clenched over the back of my belt.

The dark protuberances resolved a very little more out of the haze.

‘Not islands . . . ’ I whispered.

Rekhmire’ choked out an obscene oath.

Honorius said, ‘Ships.’

My father’s eyes narrowed as he stared into the bright south. I felt the

harsh luminosity bring tears running out of my own eyes.

But I see masts, stacked masts, narrow and impossibly high . . .

Zheng He’s war-junk actually
leaned
. Every sail set, I saw, craning back to look overhead.

Feet thundered; I heard orders screamed at high pitch; the bows slowly

tacked across.

‘Two. Five. Eight. Ten.’ Rekhmire’ clasped my daughter against him

296

with one hand and shaded his eyes with the other. ‘Captain-General.

How is my count?’

Honorius gazed south with eyes that have been too long used to

looking into hostile distance. He mouthed numbers. I blinked, and

looked back.

I
will
never
paint
that
fire
and
light!
I thought. The delicacy of water-drops with light shattered through them into colour, white foam at the

foot of the prows—They swelled into existence on the morning sea,

appearing out of the haze, unmistakable in their silhouette.

More than ten. More than twenty. More than fifty.

A signal rocket soared up and broke apart with a piercing shriek.

‘What,’ Honorius said carefully, his gaze on the southern waters, ‘are

those?’

My neck felt cramped and cold in the stiff wind. I couldn’t stop

staring. ‘I think – that’s the Admiral’s lost fleet.’

The nearest one was close enough that I could see a green dragon-face

painted on the flat prow.

Raising his voice over the shouting, and banging of signal rockets,

Honorius protested, ‘There can’t be two hundred of them!’

I reached out my arms as Rekhmire’ slid the sling’s straps around me,

and I cuddled my screaming child into my shoulder, putting hands over

her ears against the noise.

‘Of course there can’t be two hundred! Who has two hundred ships

like this? Half of them must be a mirage!’

Two Chin crewmen all but knocked me flying; I let Rekhmire’ use his

solid large body, and his stick, to shelter me across to the companionway.

Ramiro Carrasco climbed down in front of me, sheltering me all the

way to the cabins.

A quarter of an hour later, when the noise was very nearly as loud in

the cabin as it was outside, Rekhmire’ limped in through the door.

‘Not two hundred.’

‘I knew it!’ I made the final fold of cloth and picked Onorata up, her

clouts changed for fresh cloth. ‘I knew there couldn’t be two hundred.

How many are there?’

Rekhmire’ sat down hard on a carved chair.

‘One hundred and eighty-three.’

297

13

An uncomfortable four hours passed.

From the main deck, I witnessed men, obviously the captains of their

war-junks, rowed to Zheng He’s flagship. The sound of celebratory

drums and conches made my ears numb.

The Armenian sergeant, Orazi, gave voice to every man’s fear.

Shooting a suspicious glance at the Admiral’s cabin, he demanded,

‘Where’s the bastard going to take this fleet
now
?’

At the end of several hours the captains were rowed back; the towering

ships set their sails, and began the long process of tacking for a wind.

Rekhmire’ yanked with fingers and teeth at a strip of leather, which I

saw he had tied round and over the ferrule of one of his crutches, for a

better grip on the deck. He moved his mouth, as if at the taste.

‘I dare not calculate the number of men Zheng He has here,’ he

observed. ‘I will, however, see what course we’re on . . . ’

He stayed absent long enough for Honorius to entertain himself in

speculating which kingdoms of the Middle Sea the Chin Admiral might

now invade and conquer, if he so desired.

When Rekhmire’ returned, he merely shrugged at us.

‘By the compass, our course is set
sirocco
levante
.’

Even recalling Onorata’s lullaby, I looked momentarily blank.

‘East south-east,’ Rekhmire’ said. ‘And since compasses don’t lie, I

judge us to be on the course that will take us past the Balearic Islands and

Sardinia, to Carthage. It appears the Admiral is a man of his word.’

The Chin rockets appeared much brighter under the Penitence, in

Carthage’s harbour. Soaring up in arcs, bursting in showers and

fountains, they dimmed the aurora’s curtains of light.

Down in the lower stern cabins, with only the small window-ports

unshuttered for air, I found the drums and gongs and cymbals muted.

But not by much. Even small round drums, wider than they are tall,

shake the air when thousands of men sling them at their waists and beat

them with hands and sticks.

Onorata lay on her back asleep, but only because she had screamed

herself into exhaustion.

Somewhat sourly, Rekhmire’ muttered, ‘Zheng He won’t be talking to

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King-Caliph Ammianus for some time yet – since the man’s likely stone-

deaf!’

Honorius stuck his head out of the small port, gazing down the hull –

so much larger than any other vessel in Carthage’s port. His voice came

back muffled. ‘If Zheng He was a normal man, he’d be dead drunk!’

I took my father’s point. More of the Admiral’s junior captains had

flocked aboard the war-junk. Two in particular appeared his friends:

they called him ‘Ma’ instead of ‘Zheng He’, and I saw much male back-

thumping and extremely rapid speech going on, before the general noise

forced me to retire below.

Rekhmire’ rubbed at his knee-joint. ‘Apparently their religion doesn’t

allow drunkenness.’

He glanced away as I caught his eye.

The
Egyptian
is
nervous.

Perhaps Ty-ameny’s briefing for what he must say to the King-Caliph

Ammianus?

Honorius, pulling on his furred demi-gown, spoke a little apologet-

ically. ‘I’d take you with me to the King-Caliph’s audience if I could,

Ilario.’

Does
he
read
my
mind?

I couldn’t help but smile.

‘As far as I can tell,’ I said, stroking at the soft curls sweat-stuck to Onorata’s ear, ‘there’s you, Admiral Black-Eyes, and the book-buyer

here, all going up the Bursa-hill to tell the King-Caliph the same thing.

“Look at those ships down in the harbour – now keep your nose clean!”’

Honorius chuckled.

‘I’d like to see your performance,’ I said. ‘But King Rodrigo would

skin me if I don’t keep my face away from your company in public.’

My father held his arms out while Saverico buttoned the pleated demi-

gown and arranged his flower-and-serpent-stamped leather belt. Chin

awkwardly up as his collar was straightened, Honorius spoke loud

enough to be heard over the drums.

‘If you go into Carthage, take my men. If you don’t need to go, stay on

board.’

The din of drums and conches did not die down. I thought it would

not until Zheng He and his officers and captains had made their way up

to the King-Caliph’s palace. And perhaps not even then.

I caught Rekhmire’ watching me.

I said, ‘I intend to send Ramiro Carrasco out, to find a rooming-

house.’

I saw illumination dawn on Honorius’s face that was not from the

Chin fireworks.

‘Even if it’s only the once,’ I finished, ‘I want Onorata to meet her

father.’

*

Honorius and Rekhmire’ accompanied the Admiral up to the Bursa-hill

numerous times over the next few days.

I claimed I would wait until they had space in their political business to

accompany me to Marcomir’s house.

Truthfully, my guts crawled with chills.

Honorius spent thirty years wanting a child he couldn’t have. He

would have loved anything, I sometimes think. And if he had been

shocked by the idea of having an hermaphrodite offspring, he did all his

thinking about that between Taraco and Carthage, before he ever met

me.

Marcomir,
though
. . .

Marcomir never struck me as wanting children.

Brief as our acquaintance was.

‘Ready?’ Rekhmire’ questioned.

He wore a simple white tunic, for much the same reason that Honorius

– with sighs of relief – was allowing Saverico to buckle him into a blue velvet-fronted brigandine. A book-buyer and a soldier would pass

unnoticed in Carthage’s streets.

Especially with the city full of Chin strangers, to be studied, and stolen

from, and seduced.

I checked, for the fourth or fifth time, that nothing essential was being

left in the ship’s cabin. That Onorata’s clothing was clean, and her sling

buckled firmly over my shoulders.

To Honorius, but with an eye on Rekhmire’, I said, ‘We should bring

Ramiro Carrasco.’

Carrasco’s expression was unexpectedly optimistic. Before either man