The Princess and the Captain (27 page)

‘Spending your days cutting flutes!' muttered Malva. ‘It's
absurd. What's the point of sitting on the ground doing the same thing over and over again?'

Two days passed very quickly. Hob and Peppe, who had learnt to chase rats and stray cats when they were roaming the roads of Galnicia, caught game. Small rodents, birds, long-tailed marsupials. Finopico restocked the galley of the
Fabula
, made fishing rods from the bamboos in the forest, and invented all kinds of delicious dishes, which the crew shared with old Jahalod.

On the second evening, Orpheus lit a big bonfire on the beach. When they were all sitting around it on the sand, he raised a goblet of mangava juice to Jahalod-Rin.

‘To our host's good health!' he said, his eyes shining. ‘To his great wisdom and his hospitality! But for him we'd all be dead of hunger and thirst by now!

The others gravely nodded, remembering the poor state in which they had come ashore. Only Malva was unwilling to drink to Jahalod's health. She drew her knees up to her chin and looked sulky. While his companions ate heartily, Orpheus took out his flute. He played for a long time, and the old man listened with delight.

‘You are wonderfully gifted!' he exclaimed, between mouthfuls. ‘I never heard such sweet melodies in my life!'

The others exchanged doubtful glances. Orpheus wasn't doing badly for a beginner, but they thought Jahalod's compliments were rather over the top.

‘We're gifted too!' announced the twins.

They got up and were about to sing some Galnician songs, but they had hardly begun on the first when Jahalod began coughing.

‘Excuse me!' he said as he got his breath back. ‘But I think I like the sound of the flute better.'

‘Maybe you do, but Orpheus hasn't had a chance to eat,' objected Hob, slightly annoyed. ‘We just wanted to let him –'

‘Oh, I'm not hungry,' Orpheus assured them. ‘Do go on eating, all of you. I'll just play for a little longer.'

Hob and Peppe stopped singing, disappointed, and glanced at Malva. She was boiling with fury inside. The sound of the flute got on her nerves, but she didn't like to say anything. Jahalod-Rin, eating his fill of grilled game, fruit and the fish caught by Finopico, was nodding his white head in time to the music and beaming happily.

‘If I had ever had a son,' he suddenly said, ‘I'd have liked him to be like you.'

At these words Orpheus stopped playing. There was a sudden lump in his throat.

‘I had a father,' he murmured, putting the instrument down on his knees. ‘He's dead now. I buried him a few months ago in Galnicia. I wish so much …'

He hesitated, suddenly looking into space. Zeph gave a little yap as he burned his nose on a live ember. Orpheus jumped.

‘You were talking about your father,' Jahalod gently reminded him.

‘Yes, my father,' murmured Orpheus. ‘He was a man who … who, sad to say, was not as wise and honest as you.'

He looked at the flute, shook his head as if to shake off his melancholy, and began playing again. Malva shuddered.

‘I've had enough of this music!' she said. ‘I'd like to eat in silence!'

Jahalod and Orpheus turned to her at the same moment, looking vexed.

‘There's no reason why you have to stay here,' the old man told her sharply. ‘If you can't appreciate beauty –'

‘That flute is dreadful!' complained Malva. ‘I've heard much better tunes in my time, if you really want to know!' She threw a handful of sand on the fire. Her hands were trembling. ‘I've heard the
lamento
of a sailor from Lombardaine, I've heard the voices of Baighur women in the evening on the Great Azizian Steppes, I've heard the sweet singing of Temir-Gai's preunuchs! Even the serenades my father's musicians played were easier on the ear than this shrill flute!'

‘All the better for you, young woman!' retorted Jahalod-Rin. ‘You're lucky, you can go all over the world! But here all alone … well, I have nothing but my flutes!'

Irritated, Orpheus leaped to his feet and planted himself in front of Malva.

‘You have a very hard heart, Princess!' he said angrily, towering above her. ‘Jahalod welcomes us to his island, gives us his fruit and his water – you might make an effort to thank him! I've been watching you since we came here. You sit about as if you were the unhappiest girl in the world, but just look around you! This is a wonderful island. We can eat and drink. Jahalod has lived here all alone for years, without any entertainment, with no one to talk to. So if a few tunes on the flute can be a little comfort to him in his loneliness, I –'

Malva threw the piece of meat she was eating into the fire and rose to her feet, fixing her amber eyes on Orpheus. ‘Jahalod chose to live alone on this island!' she replied. ‘It's not up to us to console him for being a coward!'

‘A coward?' gasped Orpheus. ‘How dare you insult our host?'

His breath was coming fast, his neck was stiff with anger and blue veins stood out on his forehead. He seemed about to fling himself on Malva. The others watched the scene at a loss, not knowing what to do. The game went on roasting over the fire,
sending showers of sparks up to the dark sky now and then. Jahalod coughed again, and then said in a quavering voice, ‘Never mind. I am sure the young lady is right. I was a coward in the past, when Catabea received me into the Archipelago. I wasn't brave enough to accept her challenge, and that's the truth.'

Disconcerted, Orpheus turned to the old man. ‘Don't say such things!' he begged him. ‘You are so good, so generous! The Princess doesn't know what she's saying. She's … she's just a spoilt child!'

Malva opened her mouth, but she was too stupefied to say anything at all. Jahalod-Rin gave her a sideways glance and nodded. A sly smile hovered around his lips.

‘Perhaps the young lady is jealous,' he suggested. ‘If I understood you correctly, she is of high lineage. She is used to being pampered, surrounded by solicitude, and she likes giving orders. Now she sees you paying me attention, she feels she isn't as powerful as she once was … and she feels slighted.'

Malva went scarlet in the face. ‘You think I'm jealous?' she shouted. ‘How could I be jealous of a poor old lunatic?'

Orpheus seized her by the shoulders and shook her roughly. ‘Shut up!' he spat. ‘If you call my father a lunatic again, I'll –'

Orpheus sounded so angry that Babilas and the twins jumped up and got between him and Malva.

‘Your
father
?' she cried, laughing. ‘What are you talking about, Captain? Your father's dead! You said so just now.'

Orpheus took a step forward, his mouth twisted with rage, but Babilas stopped him with one hand. The twins were one each side of Malva, tugging her back.

‘Make her shut up!' said Orpheus, foaming with fury. ‘Get her out of here, or I'll murder her!'

Lei and Finopico rose to their feet too, stunned. Such sudden violence left them speechless. Only Jahalod-Rin stayed peaceably sitting by the fire, licking his fingers and nibbling fruit as if nothing had happened.

‘Come over here, my son,' he murmured to Orpheus. ‘Sit down by the fire and let the anger in your heart die down.'

Held back by Babilas's powerful arms, Orpheus watched Malva and the twins move away. When he heard Jahalod's voice he suddenly relaxed.

‘Come here, come here,' the old man insisted. ‘If those people are still your friends, they will understand. Give them time. Sit down and play me a little tune …'

Babilas frowned when Orpheus shook free of his grasp and went back to Jahalod. The giant stood there motionless, looking anxious, his impressive shoulders casting a shadow on the flames, while Orpheus went back to sit beside old Jahalod and prepared to play.

Lei and Finopico took Zeph by the back of the neck and led him away from the fire. ‘Looks like we're not welcome any more,' said Finopico. ‘And it hurts our ears too!'

Out of bravado, Orpheus played the flute as loud as he could, making such a strident sound that Lei cried out. Jahalod-Rin burst into laughter.

‘Excellent, my son!' he said, smiling, as the others moved away. ‘Now we can be at our ease, you and I!' He put his freckled hand on Orpheus's shoulder. ‘I have eaten well. I feel sleepy, I will lie down. But go on playing to me, please. The music will lull me.'

The old man lay down at the threshold of his hut and closed his eyes. Sitting by the fire, Orpheus played, and played, and played. Night enveloped the island, black and heavy as a velvet
cape. It had begun to rain. Malva, Lei, Finopico, Babilas and the twins had taken shelter under the plank roof a little way off. They were talking in low voices, undecided, but glancing anxiously at Orpheus from time to time. He was ignoring the rain and played on, his hair dripping wet, sitting beside the fire as it went out. Now and then he sneezed. Whenever he stopped, Jahalod sat up with a start.

‘Go on, please go on!' he begged plaintively. ‘The flute does me so much good!'

Orpheus obeyed, struggling against exhaustion to please his host. Hour followed hour, tune followed tune, sneeze followed sneeze.

At dawn, red-eyed and with stiff fingers, Orpheus was still playing.

‘Thank you, my son!' said Jahalod, stretching. ‘I have slept well, thanks to you. Now I feel hungry.'

Orpheus slowly put down his flute. His teeth were chattering. The sky was pale, and a cool breeze stirred the leaves of the tall trees. Dazed, Orpheus went off to the forest to pick fruit. He could hardly stay on his feet, but he took no notice of his aching muscles, which were telling him to rest. He had to find food for Jahalod, at any cost.

Further away, under the plank roof, his companions were watching. The sound of the flute had kept them from getting a wink of sleep all night.

‘Holy Tranquillity, our Greenhorn would bring down the moon to please that cutter of reeds,' grumbled Finopico. ‘If I hear any more of his ghastly music I'll make him eat sand!'

Babilas, clenching his fists with rage and impatience, evidently agreed.

The sun had risen. It was now three days since Catabea had
placed the Stones of Life in the Nokros, and the passengers of the
Fabula
looked sad and downcast.

‘We must leave,' said Malva. ‘The
Fabula
is ready to sail. We've waited too long already.'

‘I think same,' agreed Lei. ‘We leave! But Orpheus?'

‘Let's leave him here!' said Finopico aggressively. ‘If he
wants
to die of exhaustion to please that old tyrant, that's his look-out!'

But Babilas shook his head, and the twins protested too.

‘Catabea told us we must stay together,' Peppe reminded the others. ‘If we don't, we get thrown into the Immuration anyway!'

‘He's right,' Malva agreed. ‘We must all go on with our voyage together.'

Jahalod-Rin had gone back to sit on his rock. Knife in hand, he was beginning his pointless work, examining the pile of reeds that Orpheus had just brought him.

‘This reed is broken,' he complained, holding up one of them. ‘And this one is too green! These are too dry. Listen, my son, how do you expect me to make good flutes with reeds like this?'

‘I'm sorry, Father,' Orpheus replied. ‘I'll get some more.'

Obviously on the point of collapse, he made for the trees all the same.

‘This island is our first test,' said Malva, watching him go. ‘And Orpheus is failing it.'

At that moment Orpheus emerged from the forest with another armful of reeds. Staggering, he went back to Jahalod and put the reeds down at his feet like a pilgrim making a votive offering before the statue of a deity.

‘Good, my son,' Jahalod told him. ‘Now play me something on the flute. I have stomach pains. Perhaps the music will
soothe them. I wonder if it was the game your cook served us? It had a strange flavour.'

The old man had said this in a voice deliberately loud enough for everyone to hear. Finopico shook with anger.

‘My game? It was perfect!' he muttered. ‘This old misery is getting on my nerves!'

Lei took a step forward and emerged from the shelter of the roof above them. ‘Jahalod want separate us,' she said. ‘He sow discord.'

Malva joined her. ‘That's quite enough! Come on!' she said.

She walked towards Orpheus, who was crouching in front of the rock with the flute to his lips. She looked at the young man's face: his pallor, his features drawn by weariness, his chapped lips, his fevered eyes.

‘Go away!' he snapped. ‘Jahalod-Rin doesn't want anyone but me!'

Malva assumed a severe expression. ‘Since when do you speak to your Princess in that tone?'

‘He told you to go away,' the old man interrupted, without even looking at Malva. ‘Leave us in peace.'

Malva didn't favour Jahalod with a glance either. She took a deep breath and knelt down on the sand. ‘We're leaving,' she murmured in Orpheus's ear. ‘We're only waiting for you.'

‘I'm not going anywhere,' the young man replied. ‘Jahalod needs me here. He's frail, and I must look after him. I am a good son to him, and a good son doesn't abandon his father.'

Behind Malva, the rest of the crew of the
Fabula
had gathered. They were all looking at Orpheus.

‘Leave us!' repeated Jahalod, raising his knife blade.

‘You'll make him angry!' Orpheus told Malva. ‘Go away!'

‘I don't fear Jahalod's anger,' Malva replied. ‘We're the ones
who need your help, Orpheus. We can't sail the
Fabula
without you. Remember what Catabea said: if we are to find the gates of the Archipelago –'

‘I don't want to leave the Archipelago now!' shouted Orpheus, his face flushed with blood. ‘I've changed my mind! I want to stay here with my master Jahalod!'