Kallista

by David Bell

  “Let him escape, sir, just when we have him trapped?”

  “He’s trapped whatever he does. He won’t take us on, and he can’t get round us. He has to run for the strait and if he makes that passage, which I doubt he can the way this wind is rising, he’ll find a welcoming party waiting for him on the weather side just when he’s worn out after a very nasty time at sea. Run up the flag; I want him to know what he’s up against. Now, slow ahead. We’ll soon know when he’s seen us. Oh, sooner than I thought.”

  As they drew clear of the island they could see the larger pirate ship pulling strongly away from them, making up the coast but standing out to sea, its captain clearly well aware that in such a wind the open sea was safer than being close inshore.

  “We’ve waited long enough,” said the warship captain, after the pirate ship had receded into the distance. “He’s going to have a long wet row and we need to be out of this wind. Take us back round the cape and into calmer water. I want us to join in the party if there is one, and if we can get there in time. I thought I saw people on that ship wearing helmets; did you see any?

  “Forward lookout reported he saw some, sir. What about that small ship?”

  “Done for; probably run aground already. If any of the crew got away, they’re on the other ship, or ashore and the Kesterans will catch up with them sooner or later.”

  A man came running along the beach and stopped at the waterline. He was panting so heavily that he had to bend down with his hands on his knees while he regained his breath. Eventually he stood up and called out to the men standing on the stern deck that a ship was rowing in heavy weather along the far coast and looked to be on a heading for the strait.

  “No need to do anything yet,” said the commander. “The next runner will tell us whether they really are going for the strait, or trying to cross it. Only the Lord Potheidan can help them do that.”

  Potyr was watching the clouds hurrying across the sky. He said nothing, but Kanesh knew what he was thinking.

  “Now these are the rules,” said Pasipha, smiling at the eager young faces. “They are very simple. Half of you will run off and hide and these ladies will show you where you can go. The rest will wait here for the signal and when you hear it, off you go and see if you can find the others. The signal? Oh, you will know it, when you hear it and if you haven’t found anyone soon, you will hear it again, leading you where you have to go.”

  “What happens when we have found everybody?” said Sharesh

  “Oh, you think you can do that all on your own, do you? Why, you come back here, of course, and by then it will be time for bed. Now, let us see who hides and who seeks. I think this side of the room look like hunters and, yes, that side look as if they know where to hide in this place. Are you ready? Hunters, hold fast; others, away you go!”

  Half the children rushed for the door, urging the matrons to hurry up in their excitement to get on with the game. The others fidgeted impatiently, longing for the signal that the chase could begin.

  “Master helmsman, we will wait here for them to come back and I will listen while you tell me your own tales of the sea. I can see that you like this wine. It goes well with the roast partridge, do you not think? You have not tried it yet? Well you must. I had it specially prepared for you. Oh, listen, there it is, the signal.”

  The sound was low and undulating as if the notes of a horn or triton shell were echoing through tunnels that led to a far away cave.

  “Hunters, away!”

  In the rush to the door, Sharesh was first through. He had only one prey in mind: Kallia. He raced along a wide, well-lit corridor and down a flight of steps at its end. At the bottom was a large room with rows of pot-bellied storage jars standing along the walls, and two doors, one to the left, the other to the right. There was no time to look in the jars. He ran to the left-side door, followed by three of the other boys. The rest of the children went off in the opposite direction. The door was stiff and they all had to push to get it open. They almost fell down the steps on the other side. It was darker on this side of the door and Sharesh had to wait until his eyes grew used to the dim light. The others seemed not to mind and ran down the steps without stopping. Sharesh heard their footsteps leading away to one side and they were soon out of sight and hearing. He went slowly down the steps and came up against what he thought at first was a blank wall, but was in fact the side of a corridor. Should he go right as the others had done, or the other way? The sound of the signal came again, fainter this time, but certainly from the left. He felt his way for a while through the darkness, sensing that other corridors opened off this one on either side. He was tempted to take one or other of them, but was relieved to see that he had been right to stick to his course when he saw a dim light ahead that turned out to come from a lamp set in a niche in the stone wall. He stopped to think whether he should take the lamp with him when he heard a sound back in the direction from which he had come. Was that the creak of the door moving? He stopped breathing for a moment to listen more carefully. Silence surrounded him with its gently pulsing distant hiss. He moved on, glancing back once or twice to see the reassuring point of light. It disappeared. The corridor must have turned gradually without his noticing. He wanted to go back, into the light, but the thought of not finding Kallia and being seen as coward or a failure drove him on. Another faint light came into view but, when he reached it, he saw that it lit the area where the corridor he had been following was crossed by another, forcing him again to choose which way he should turn. If only he had thought of picking up a small lamp when he had been in the hall above. He could have lit it from this one. Always think ahead, Kanesh had told him, but in the excitement he hadn’t, had he? He began to wonder what sort of game this was. Where were the places down here that people could hide? A voice in his head began telling him to go back when again he heard the sound of the horn rise and fall, rise and fall, rather like cattle lowing, strangely enough. Stupid: who would stall cattle down here? He was unsure from which side the sound had come, so he turned left as before, hoping the horn would sound again to lead him. Something wet dripped onto his head. He stopped. Drops of water were falling from above and splashing on the floor of the corridor. It was as slippery as a track made muddy after rain. He sensed that the corridor was narrowing and that the roof was getting lower. This could not be the way. He turned back but the light was no longer to be seen. What would Kanesh do? Think. He knew that if he went back along the corridor feeling the wall on his right he would eventually find the gap that would be where the other corridor joined and where the lamp should be in the niche in the wall opposite. If it had gone out he would retrace his steps back to the hall, hoping he could remember which ways he had turned, and not care if anyone laughed at him. This wasn’t a game. It was done to scare people and it was beginning to scare him. He felt the gap in the wall almost before he saw the lamp because its flame was so small. The oil was very low. Better not take it, he thought; it will soon go out, anyway. He took a few steps along the new corridor, and stopped. Was someone following him, or was it just an echo? He waited in the darkness. Perhaps he could catch one of the others who was unaware a hunter was laying in wait. He called out, “I can hear you, I’m coming for you!” but all he heard was the echo of his own voice. He decided to go on. Thanks be to the Lady Mother, there was another light but how far off it was, he could not tell. The horn sounded, or the cow lowed, who cared which? It meant he was going in the right direction. He began to walk more quickly, almost to trot. The corridor was narrow but the roof seemed high. He could tell there were rooms or other corridors leading off to each side but he felt sure no one would hide in dark spaces like those. Without warning, the ground disappeared from under his feet and he fell, rolling down some steps into what he thought in a spasm of panic must be a pit. His knee was bruised and one elbow was scraped against rough stone. He sat up and looked around. It was not completely dark down there. There was the very faintest light all round although he could
not see any lamp from which it came. It was enough for him to see that he was in no pit but a wide room with a floor covered in rushes that felt dry and smelled fresh. Along one wall was what looked like a manger with tethering rings, although there was no hay in it. Against another wall stood more of the same kind of storage jars he had seen above. He got up and limped over to see if they contained anything, someone hiding, perhaps. He felt inside and found they were all full of grain. The steps he had fallen down were the only ones he could see. What should he do? If he climbed back up them there was only one way to go and that was back to the big hall: if he could find his way there, of course. It looked as if the game were over for him, and he had lost. He had found no one, least of all, Kallia. He felt the another stab of alarm. Not only had he lost: he was lost, deep underground with all the weight of the Palace weighing down on him. Who would ever find him here, hidden away behind all those corridor walls, and turns and steps?

  Think, said the voice, Kanesh’s voice, inside his head. Never be afraid to be afraid, Kanesh had said, but never let your fear make you do nothing. He breathed out hard three times to blow the fear out of his mind. Think. Yes, the storage jars: they would never have been brought into the room, cow byre, whatever it was, along all those turning and twisting corridors and down the steps. There must be another way in, and, therefore, out. Not through the wall with the manger, and not through the wall lined with the jars. There: a door in the far wall, a high, wide door, heavier than the others he had gone through, higher up. He limped across the rush-strewn floor and pushed at the door. It opened at his touch, sliding back silently on well-oiled hinges.

  “Lookout down from the hill, sir. He’s waving from the cliff edge up there.” The Captain of Archers turned to where the crewman was pointing.

  The man scrambled and half fell down the slope and staggered over the few paces of shingle to the water’s edge to gasp out his message. The pirate ship had entered the strait and was moving fast downwind in a heavy sea on a course that would take it towards the cape that formed the tip of Kestera, a short distance round the coast from where they lay. The third lookout would come down when he was sure the pirate was off the cape.

  “He is in great danger,” said Potyr. He must stand well out or be driven onto a lee shore, but standing out will keep him running before the wind and with a following wind like that blowing down the strait now, if he cannot control his speed, he will have a sea break over his stern and sink him, or turn him broadside on and roll him over.”

  “We must hope that he can turn the cape and head this way for shelter,” said Kanesh.

  “Better if he were to founder in the strait and let the sea do our work for us,” said the commander.

  “Not so,” replied Kanesh abruptly. “We must find out who he is; take prisoners if we can and get their story and their loot out of them. Then, perhaps, send one or two off again to spread the word of what happens to pirates if they interfere with Keftiu ships.”

  “Only the best of seamen, and the luckiest, will get that ship round the cape and down this weather shore. To die after that would be a bitter end.”

  “Potyr, you are right, but pray now that he has some of your skill, my friend.”

  Potyr looked at Kanesh with narrowed eyes. The bond between seamen was never stronger than when one or both of them were in danger at sea. But this was war and in war one used any opportunity or advantage offered. Kanesh thought he was going to speak but a shout from the ship’s lookout drew all their attention.

  “Man running down from the hill.”

  “By the Lord Potheidan, he’s rounded the cape!” shouted the commander. He turned to his second in command. “All crew to stations; stand by to weigh anchors; I want to be out there and ready for him when he turns that headland.”

  Shortly afterwards the warship was lying a few ship lengths off shore in calm water and out of the wind, hidden by the headland from any ship approaching from the direction of the cape, with her oars drawn back and ready to hurl her at the beam of the storm-battered vessel now making towards her, seeking only quiet water and rest after a voyage that none on board her had thought they would survive.

  There was a wide short passage in front of him, dimly lit, with stone pillars at the sides and more of the big storage jars standing in the alcoves between the pillars and lamps burning in niches in the walls above them. He could hear soft music coming from the end of the passage.

  Sharesh crept forward, trying to make no sound but fearful that anyone there would hear his heart which beat in his chest like a drum. The passage led into a large, more brightly lit hall with painted wooden pillars supporting massive rafters of timber framing a ceiling painted with spirals and discs in blue and red. Vivid pictures of riverside scenes with clumps of rushes and palm trees, with here and there strange animals, like lions, but with different heads, crouched or standing alert, spread round all the walls. The floor was paved with big slabs of white, smooth stone that glistened in the light of lamps set on bronze tripods. Near one side of the hall was a shallow basin made of the same lustrous stone, as long and wide as a man, set down below floor level and filled with water in which petals of blue flowers were floating. Against one wall was a chair made of carved stone with a tall back and a step up to it. Near this were other chairs made of reddish wood with cushions on the seats and a table covered with a white cloth on which lay a long, curved horn sawn off at the tip so that it could be blown. That must be the horn that had sounded the guiding signal. Next to the horn was a mask made from thick cloth with gilded horns fastened to it. Above the tall-backed chair two crossed double-headed axes were fastened to the wall. A sweet strong perfume of lavender and other herbs filled the air and the music that he now could tell was from a harp echoed around the room, although he could see no instrument or musician. He could see a strange large thing standing in a corner on the other side of the basin but the shadows there were too dark so for him to make out at first what it was. The warm light, the soft music, the perfume, the paintings of strange creatures, the basin with its floating flowers and more than all of these, the shape in the shadows, made him feel he was in a place of secret mysteries, a place where he should not be. And yet, had not the notes of the horn, the one lying there on the table, drawn him to this place?

  Keeping his back against the wall where the shadows were deepest, he silently stepped sideways past the unlit side of the stone basin towards the mysterious object in the corner. Something massive and solid, with four legs and, was it a great head with… he heard a faint whispering sound and froze in his steps. The sound stopped. He waited: nothing. He stretched out his hand in the dark to touch. The surface was hard but smooth. He ran his hand slowly along a level ridge that sloped away gently on each side and rose along its length to a thick column that curved and flattened and had sockets on each side and things standing out above them, thin, like scrolls. He slid his hand downwards: massive legs. Was it some sacred throne? His hand moved upwards, towards him: a curving surface with two holes. Realisation struck him like a blow. He snatched his hands away and shrank back from the great wooden beast; the beast that might have made the sounds that brought him here. He had felt ears but no horns. This was no bull. It was a cow, a statue of a cow, a sacred cow, it must be, and he had touched it, moved his hands over it. Only a priestess was permitted to do that. He felt afraid. He must get away from it and implore the Lady Mother’s foregiveness. He crept back, keeping in the shadows until he was once more in the passage. He crouched on the floor and peered into the hall. There was nowhere for him to go.

  Someone was sitting on the high-backed chair, someone wearing a long pale robe and a tall crown and holding a wand upright in each hand. How could anyone have come into the room without his knowing? Of course: the whispering sound, the sound of a gown rustling across the floor, while he was in the shadows looking the other way, and… he dare not think again of what he had been doing. Voices: he could hear the voices of women, singing softly, approachin
g. They came into the hall as slowly as wraiths of smoke drifting from a dying fire, stepped down into the basin one after the other and out again to stand in a silent crescent before the seated figure. All were dressed in loose-fitting white robes, open low at the neck revealing their breasts, and had veils concealing their faces up to their eyes. One of them, the slimmest and the youngest, carried a lamp made in the shape of a pomegranate which she held out towards the seated figure. The figure rose from the high-backed chair and the light from the lamp shone on her face. She, too, wore a gauzy veil but Sharesh could see that it was the High Priestess.

  The High Priestess crossed her wands over her breast, raised her head and flung her arms wide in a gesture of ecstatic supplication, silently imploring the Lady Mother to acknowledge the company, to accept their dedication. There was a long silence while everyone stood motionless, then at last the High Priestess lowered her arms and held her wands wide in a gesture of invitaion. The women lowered their veils and Sharesh was startled to see that the youngest with the lamp was Kallia and the woman next to her was the Lady Pasipha. Even as he was taking this in, he sensed a sudden change in the mood of the women. They moved as gracefully as before but now more intently and towards the shadowy effigy of the cow. Several took hold and pulled it into the space between the High Priestess and the sunken basin where it stood as large as a real beast with the light gleaming on its polished wooden body which was dazzling white. Two of the youngest took silver bowls and dipped them into the water that filled the sunken basin. Lifting their bowls high, they let the sacred water stream over the head, back and flanks of the effigy. The women then clustered round the cow, some stroking its back, some putting their arms about its neck, in a loving rather than worshipping way. The High Priestess resumed her seat and the women formed a crescent around the effigy. The lamps grew brighter and the perfume hung heavier in the warm air. The scenes painted on the walls seemed to come alive in the flickering light, the rushes swaying and the wings of the birds fluttering. The eyes of the women were bright with excitement, and the brightest of all were the almond eyes of Pasipha.