The Eye of Neptune (2 page)

‘They’re warmer and they don’t smell of vomit,’ Oginski replied. ‘Your highness.’

‘Barbarians,’ Dakkar muttered, pulling a face. He undressed and dragged them on. They felt strange and uncomfortable – the fabric scratched his skin and the thick material was stiff – but they were warm.

They travelled for days, often in complete silence. At night, they stopped at small taverns or farmsteads, where Oginski paid handsomely for the innkeeper or farmer’s silence.

‘Speak to no one,’ Oginski said.

‘That’s easy enough,’ Dakkar snorted. ‘I have nothing to say to them!’

Dakkar slept well enough – the journey and the motion sickness exhausted him. Dakkar wondered if Oginski slept at all though – he seemed on constant alert, his eyes always roaming over their surroundings.

‘Where are we going?’ Dakkar asked.

‘To my castle,’ Oginski replied. ‘But it’s better if you don’t know exactly where that is.’

Finally, after days of bumping over potholed tracks, Oginski relaxed and pushed back the curtains. The clatter of the carriage made Dakkar wince but the welcome draught of cold air soothed his aching head somewhat. He stared out across an open moor that was devoid of any landmarks but one. In the distance, the moor ended in an abrupt cliff edge. Evening was falling quickly and, silhouetted starkly against the dying sun, stood a tower, pointing skyward like a witch’s finger.

‘Welcome, Prince Dakkar of Bundelkhand,’ Oginski said. ‘Welcome to the castle.’

Somewhere in Cornwall, 1814

Chapter One

Drowning

I’ll never make it
, Dakkar thought.
I am going to die
.

The freezing water pressed in on him, seeping into his nose and mouth as he kicked and flailed towards the pale light of the surface. Salt stung his eyes and the thundering of his heart merged with the roar of the tide. The mosaic pattern of the foam on the surface above him seemed so close yet too far to reach. More salt water forced itself into Dakkar’s mouth, his lungs burning for oxygen. His limbs felt feeble as he tried to swim faster. The swirling sea darkened, and his vision began to fail.

Then a calmness embraced him. He loved the sea. He loved sitting on the gravelly bed watching wrasse and gurnard weave among the kelp and luminous anemones. It wouldn’t be so bad just to slip back down and rest there for ever. No more lessons, no more nagging from Oginski.

But what about Mother and Father?
He hadn’t seen them in four years – hadn’t heard from them, even. Would they ever know he lay lifeless at the bottom of the sea?

The dark shape of a hand plunged through the waves above, startling Dakkar into action again. Fingers tangled themselves in his thick, black hair and pulled. Fiery pain burned through his scalp but the sudden cold as he broke the surface forced him to gulp at the welcome air.

‘You must control your breathing while you’re at the bottom,’ said Oginski, his saviour. ‘You waste your breath, you die.’

‘Thank you, Oginski,’ Dakkar gasped, collapsing on to the rocks on which Oginski squatted. ‘I’ll remember that next time you try to drown me!’

Dakkar rolled over, still spluttering and coughing. His stomach twisted with pain as he retched up half the ocean. The bright sky dazzled him and the cold breeze prickled his skin. It was a few minutes before he could focus and see Oginski properly.

‘How long?’ Dakkar panted.

‘Six minutes,’ Oginski replied. ‘But you could stay down for longer if you had faith in yourself.’

The big man stood up and loomed over Dakkar. He was a square block of a man, with greying curly hair, dark brooding eyes. To Dakkar he looked like he had been cut from the very cliffs behind him.

He extended a hand and, when Dakkar took it, nearly pulled him into the air. Dakkar stumbled to his feet and grabbed the thick woollen blanket that Oginski offered him. He wrapped it round his shivering shoulders, revelling in the glow of warmth it provided.

‘You . . .’ Oginski began, and then stared out to sea.

‘What is it?’ Dakkar followed his gaze and saw something break the surface.

A seal leapt high out of the water. A huge tentacle snaked up out of the sea, followed by another and another. Dakkar stood dumbstruck as the tentacles wrapped themselves round the seal. The seal gave a hoarse bark then vanished below the surface.

For a second, Oginski stood silent, staring in apparent disbelief at what he had just seen. Then he turned on his heel.

‘Quickly,’ he snapped. ‘We must get back to the castle.’

‘But shouldn’t we raise the alarm?’ Dakkar called, hurrying after his mentor. ‘Let the locals know there’s something out there?’

‘I’m not sure they’d believe us,’ Oginski muttered.

‘It looked like some kind of giant squid,’ Dakkar gasped.

‘That’s what it looked like,’ Oginski replied. ‘Whatever it was, it was something bad. Something very bad. Come on.’

Dakkar had been sheltered by the cliff face but now, as they reached the top, a raw wind cut into him despite the woollen blanket. He shivered and huddled into the warm fabric. Across the flat cliff top stood the castle. It looked bleaker than ever to Dakkar.

‘I’m not sure what to do, Dakkar,’ Oginski said with a shrug.

‘We
m-must
warn the village,’ Dakkar stammered through chattering teeth. ‘Imagine if that had been a fisherman, not a seal!’

Oginski stopped and turned to look at Dakkar. A smile cracked the man’s stony face as he laid a hand on Dakkar’s shoulder.

‘You’re a good lad, Dakkar,’ Oginski said. ‘Your concern for others does you great credit.’

Dakkar felt some warmth despite the wind and the fact that he wore only a bathing suit.
To think I used to fear this man
, Dakkar thought, remembering his first night at the castle.
But I was only ten years old
.

It wasn’t really a castle, more of a tower built on the cliff edge. Oginski had rebuilt it from ancient medieval ruins. The tower loomed above them, black and full of foreboding. It was round, stretching high above, with a conical roof of slate. A few cottages and outhouses huddled at its base. Thick glass and shutters protected the square windows that dotted the smooth stone face of it.

‘More surprises!’ Dakkar said as his gaze fell to the huge front door. Two horses stood outside, damp and dejected, in front of a black carriage. ‘We have visitors!’

Oginski’s face darkened. In the four years Dakkar had been at the castle, he could count the number of visitors on one hand. They hurried past the carriage, where a surly driver in red military uniform was waiting. He stood to attention but Oginski merely gave a grunt and hurled himself at the oak front door. Dakkar hurried after.

In the wood-panelled hall, Mrs Evans, the housekeeper, bobbed and fussed, her black ringlets quivering under her white mob cap. She reminded Dakkar of a plump blackbird.

‘Count Oginski,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Forgive me, sir, I know how particular you are about visitors but he insisted. I put him in your study.’ She handed Oginski the visitor’s card.

Oginski glanced at it, snorted and threw it to the floor. He turned and strode into the study, slamming the door behind him before Dakkar could see the man inside.

Dakkar grabbed the card. ‘
Commander Blizzard
,’ he read aloud. ‘
His Majesty’s Navy
.’

He dashed back outside and crept close to the study window, peering in.

Oginski sat at his desk, his broad shoulders and thick arms making the furniture look like flimsy toys. His square face was stern. His deep brow cast shadows over his eyes as he sat opposite a young gentleman dressed in black – black jacket, black breeches and stockings. His hair shone golden at the top of this dark garb, giving him a pale and sickly appearance. A thin scar trickled down his left cheek from the corner of his eye to his chin, making one half of his face sad and mournful.
A naval man
, Dakkar thought.
That might explain the scar but he doesn’t look like any kind of sailor I know
.

Ignoring the cold, Dakkar pressed his ear to the thin glass and listened.

‘Let’s cut the pleasantries. When Commander Blizzard knocks at your door,’ Oginski said, his face flat and unsmiling, ‘he has either come to arrest you or to ask for a  favour. And as I’ve committed no crime . . .’

‘No?’ Blizzard smiled, raising his eyebrows.

‘No,’ Oginski growled back, holding Blizzard’s gaze.

Dakkar frowned.
Is Blizzard going to arrest him?

‘There are rumours surrounding this castle, Count Oginski,’ Blizzard said, a chill smile set on his face. ‘Strange noises in the night. Lights visible from the sea. Unusual deliveries . . .’

‘Idle gossip,’ Oginski snorted, waving a dismissive hand. ‘The local fisherfolk are always looking for a tale to tell in the local tavern.’

‘That may be but often rumours have a basis in truth. I’ll cut to the chase, sir,’ Blizzard said, breaking eye contact with Oginski. ‘The Americans have built a weapon. We want you to join us in a mission to destroy it.’

‘You refer, of course, to Fulton’s Floating Steam Battery,’ Oginski said, giving a fleeting smirk at the pale gentleman’s consternation. He rose from his seat and poured two glasses of port from a decanter on his desk.

‘How on earth do you know about that?’ Blizzard gasped, taking the glass in a limp hand.

‘Do you really think the construction of a steam-powered ship capable of carrying sixteen thirty-two-pound guns would escape my notice?’ Oginski sneered. ‘I am a man of science, Blizzard, and an engineer.’

‘The best in the world, some say.’ Blizzard nodded. ‘Although you’ve never made such a ship for us.’

A steam warship
, Dakkar thought, clenching his fists with excitement.
How I’d love to see that!

‘Why are you so worried?’ Oginski continued, ignoring Blizzard’s comment. ‘The thing isn’t fit for the high seas. At best, it’s suitable for defending shipyards and bays. It’s not as if the Americans are going to sail up the Thames in it.’

‘Not yet,’ Blizzard muttered, and seemed to go a shade paler – if that were possible. ‘But once they perfect the hull Britain’s mastery of the seas may be a thing of the past.’

Dakkar noticed Oginski grimace and incline his head. ‘Would that be a bad thing?’

‘Of course,’ Blizzard hissed. His blue eyes were icy. ‘It puzzles me, sir, that, despite your immense talent and intellect, you’ve never invented any weapon that we could use in this great nation’s defence. If I doubted your loyalty to the government that shelters you . . .’

‘My loyalty is not in doubt, sir,’ Oginski said, shaking his head. ‘It’s just that I see no need for me to accompany you to America. Why can’t you destroy this vessel yourselves?’

‘We aren’t entirely sure of its capabilities,’ Blizzard replied. ‘Your knowledge of engineering and design would prove invaluable.’

‘The answer is still no,’ Oginski said.

‘Is it your friendship with Robert Fulton, the designer of the ship, that stops you?’ the commander asked stiffly.

Now it was Oginski’s turn to look shocked. He recovered himself quickly. ‘Of course not!’ he said, giving a brittle laugh. ‘I haven’t seen Fulton for many years and I’m even less likely to now that America and Britain are at war!’

‘Indeed, we
are
at war, sir,’ Blizzard said. ‘And if I thought you were in any way colluding with the Americans . . .’

‘The very suggestion is insulting, sir,’ Oginski said, his voice so low that Dakkar could barely hear it through the glass. ‘I have nothing to hide.’

‘Good,’ Blizzard said, placing the port glass on Oginski’s desk. ‘Then either you agree to help me or I’ll search this tower from top to bottom and report anything suspicious.’

‘You can do what you like,’ Oginski spat.

‘Yes,’ Blizzard said, a grin twisting his pale face. ‘I can.’ He paused at the door. ‘My ship is in Fullacombe Harbour if you change your mind. Tomorrow evening we sail for America with or without you. A troop of my marines will visit you shortly before we leave. Be ready.’

Dakkar crouched down below the window and watched as Blizzard strode out of the house. The pale man paused before climbing into his carriage and looked straight at Dakkar, who was still wrapped in the blanket.

‘Your highness,’ Blizzard said, raising his hat and giving another grin.

The carriage clattered away from the house, leaving Dakkar staring after it.

Chapter Two

The Stranger in the Tavern

Oginski charged across the castle hall, papers clutched in his fist. He stopped and grabbed Dakkar by his lapels.

‘He called you “your highness?” ’ Oginski said, staring deep into Dakkar’s eyes. ‘You’re certain?’

‘Yes, Oginski,’ Dakkar replied. ‘Why are you so worried?’

‘I’ve told you before. Your father has many enemies,’ Oginski said, stuffing the papers into a leather bag. ‘He specifically requested that your location and identity be kept secret.’