Chase the Morning

With an apologetic glance at me the captain picked up a coin at random, took a gnawing bite at it, and stared at the result. Tlove o’God’s will!’ he breathed. ‘Fine coin, this! Must be damn near pure!’

Shaky with relief, I realized that gold meant for use, as opposed to sitting on velvet bank trays, must almost always have been debased – ostensibly to make it harder, more likely to stretch its value. Jyp nodded with sublime complacency. ‘What’d I tell you, skipper? There’s your ship, your men and their vittles, and enough to buy ’em all over again. Want your trifle weighed out now?’

‘The remainder,’ I said decisively, before the captain could get a word out, ‘is for you and your crew the moment we get Clare back safely. And as much again, upon our return. Tell them that!’

Pierce surged up, and bowed with such sweeping courtesy that I could only copy him. ‘You are a very prince, sir, a prince! And by all that’s holy, you shall have the maid, while there’s power in our arms! Snuff with you, sir?’ Anxious not to offend, I took a moderate pinch from the silver-mouthed ram’s-horn he flourished, and snuffed it up as I’d seen done in films, off the back of my hand. I hoped I wouldn’t sneeze. One doesn’t, with a large Havana, lit, jammed up each nostril; and that’s what it felt like. I was speechless, but luckily Pierce was too busy plugging his own cavernous nostrils with the lethal stuff to notice. He noticed all right, though, when Jyp scooped the gold back into the bag in one swift gesture and gave me it back.

‘About that tide –’ he said.

Pierce sneezed violently down his ruffles and roared for his hat and coat. Old Myrko hobbled up with a knee-length frock-coat stiff with elaborate piping and gleaming buttons. Over this Pierce buckled a broad leather belt slung with a huge rapier, jammed on a broad-brimmed felt hat with a tall plume, tucked an ivory-headed cane under his arm and remarked, ‘It’s but a short step to the wharf, sir! Would you go afoot, or shall we take your car?’

He didn’t seem to fit my car, either physically or mentally. Jyp thought it was safer left at the tavern, anyway; they would keep an eye on it. ‘Katjka specially,’ he said dryly, as we climbed the stairs. ‘On at me again about taking care of you, she was –’

‘Is she around? I’d like to say goodbye –’

‘Better we don’t linger.’ But I did, hovering on the last step, full of strange feelings. And somehow I saw her, right at the back of the dark room, her hair tossed back, her cat eyes watching me with expressionless intensity. She raised a hand to blow me a kiss; but it wasn’t her fingers that touched her lips. It was the pack of cards.

The fog outside had changed, not thinned exactly but concentrated into banks and streamers that swirled around us on a faint chill breeze. We walked in silence, except for Pierce’s cane tapping the stones and his scabbard slapping against his stiff coat. Jyp’s sword was slung over his shoulder, and he seemed sunk in his own thoughts. So was I, and they were none of them comforting. I’d set off on long journeys before now, but with my destination printed fair and square on the tickets in my bag and the rites of passage common to every airport the world over; check-in, aisle seat, no smoking please, baggage checks and passport controls, security scans, adenoidal announcements and flickering departure screens. I’d never thought of them as reassuring before; but I would have welcomed them now, stepping out into a misty void of infinite possibilities. Maybe I was going to fall off the edge of the world.

When emptiness opened before us, though, it was only the street’s end, and the globes of gold light were not stars but the lanterns of the wharf. Beyond its rim shadowy masts lifted, and men were busy about it, scurrying up and down a gangplank, hefting sacks and rolling kegs. Above our heads there was a sudden creak, and a net of large barrels went swinging across on a spar, to be let down with much shouting and cursing into the shadows below. Pierce filled his lungs, and his bellow carried easily over the hubbub. ‘Mister Mate! How’s she stand?’

‘Well, sir!’ The answer echoed up from below. ‘Last loads come aboard now, and she trims nicely!’ A string of technical details about loading followed, sounding surprisingly modern, and a brisk exchange of orders sent gangs of dark-clad men running this way and that. I moved to the wharfside, out of the way, and looked down.

‘Well?’ demanded Jyp, clapping me on the shoulder. ‘How’d you like her?’

My mouth went dry with alarm. ‘Jyp!’ I protested. ‘She’s tiny! You can’t have seen that bloody vast ship the Wolves have! She’s a quarter the size –’