Corsair (39 page)

‘Let’s get away from here,’ said Hector, suddenly feeling very weary. ‘We’ve got the prisoner we were looking for, and the guard will arrive any minute. They must have heard Dan’s shot and all the commotion. We can leave them to find Piecourt whether he’s dead or only wounded. He never lifted a hand to help us, so now we’ll repay him the compliment. Tomorrow I’ll find out just what our captive is worth.’

‘T
EN THOUSAND
louis d’or, that’s the ransom that I will be demanding for the Chevalier. I congratulate you,’ said Maimaran. The Jew had sent word for Hector to meet him in the imperial treasury, and Hector was astounded by the contrast with the Jew’s humble home. Maimaran was waiting for him in a reception chamber whose barbaric opulence was hidden deep in the palace compound. Sunlight poured in through the fine fretwork of arched windows and threw patterns across a tessellated floor of white, blue and red. The walls were hung with arrays of sabres, shields and muskets inlaid with gold and mother of pearl. Several iron chests, bolted and padlocked, stood against one wall. ‘His true identity is Adrien Chabrillan, Knight Commander of the Order of St Stephen of Tuscany. He also holds various lesser titles of nobility and rank including the honorary rank of captain in the Galley Corps of France. As you rightly surmised, he is also known as the Lion of La Religion. The Emperor is away for a few days so I have not yet informed him of his captive’s identity, but I know that he will be very pleased. It will enhance his reputation as a champion of Islam as well as make a very significant contribution to his treasury.’ Maimaran nodded towards the iron-bound chests. ‘The Emperor always needs money. His expenses are voracious, and his revenues unpredictable. The ransom of Chevalier Chabrillan will ensure a steady stream of income for quite some time.’

‘I had no idea that the Chevalier could be worth so much.’

Maimaran gave a tight smile. ‘His Majesty leaves it to me to act as the unofficial comptroller of his finances, and to maintain a balance between income and expenditure. The sum of ten thousand louis d’or is so enormous that it will take several years to raise. Doubtless Chevalier Chabrillan has friends and family who will advance what they can, and their contributions can be added to the sale of the more valuable possessions that he either inherited or accumulated over years of cruising against the Muslims. But that preliminary effort will raise no more than a down payment and will have to be followed by annual payments – perhaps for as much as another ten years. His supporters and family might even have to borrow additional funds from financiers, such as the Cohens in Algiers.’ There was a hint of satisfaction to his voice as he added, ‘If the Cohens charge their usual ten per cent interest, it will lessen any resentment should they ever discover that their name was used to trap the Chevalier.’

‘And what will happen to him while all this ransom is being collected?’

‘As long as the payments keep arriving, he will be kept closely confined and well treated. No one wants to see him perish. But should the flow of payments cease or slow to a trickle, then his conditions of imprisonment will worsen, and he will be given the opportunity to inform his family of his suffering. That should help loosen the purse strings once again.’

‘And what about the other men who tried to escape with him? Do you know what happened to them?’

Maimaran glanced meaningfully at one of the muskets displayed on the wall. ‘Your companion, the one with the dark skin, is an excellent shot. The man he brought down with his pistol died this morning. The pistol ball broke his spine.’

‘And what about the other one? There was a third man who ran away. Has he been caught?’

‘Not yet, as far as I know. But he won’t get far. He is on his own and in a strange country. The commander of the palace guard has sent word to all the surrounding villages that a watch is to be kept for him. The commander wants him caught before the Emperor returns to Meknes, because it will look bad for him if a slave has been allowed to escape.’ Maimaran broke off for a moment as he reached out to readjust a pile of ledgers on an elegant table inlaid with mother of pearl. ‘But I did not ask you to come here to talk about the fate of the runaways. You told me earlier that you were trying to trace your sister who, you believe, might be captive in Morocco, and for this reason you wished to render a great service to the Emperor. Now that you have succeeded in the first part of that ambition, I was wondering what you planned to do next, and if there is any way in which I might help. You’ve made my task as comptroller of royal finances much easier, and I feel that I am in your debt.’

Hector looked around the strange disorder of valuables on display. There were enormous ostrich feather fans, heaps of costly rugs, beautifully worked saddles, an intricate-looking clock lying on its back on the floor, several looking glasses in gilded frames, a leopard skin. He guessed they were items of tribute rendered to the Emperor or seized by Moulay from his hapless subjects, and he remembered that Sean Allen had mentioned how Hakim Reis occasionally brought gunpowder as tribute to the Emperor.

‘Do you know a ship captain by the name of Hakim Reis?’ he asked.

‘Another seafarer with piratical habits,’ commented Maimaran softly. ‘You seem to have a broad knowledge of such people.’

‘I was wondering if you knew how I could contact him.’

To his disappointment, the comptroller replied, ‘I’ve never met him myself. He usually stays with his ship down on the coast, at Sallee, and is tactful enough to send his Majesty some little curiosity by way of a gift. You see that clock over there, not the one on the floor, but on that far table. That is one of his presents which he sent to Meknes. It was made in London, and taken out of an English merchant ship that Hakim and his fellow corsairs waylaid off the coast of Spain. Naturally I keep a record of all such gifts. His Majesty has a habit of suddenly enquiring what happened to particular items. He has a remarkable memory.’ ‘Sean Allen said the same about the weapons he has to preserve in the armoury, even if they are so old that they are useless. He told me that he gets them also from Hakim Reis who in turn is supplied by someone called Tisonne or Tison. Do those names mean anything to you?’

There was a pause, and Hector’s hopes rose very slightly as Maimaran said slowly, ‘A name like that is vaguely familiar. I seem to remember hearing it in relation to the emperor’s finances, but I cannot remember exactly where. However . . .’ Then he reached towards his pile of ledgers and selecting a volume began to turn the pages, before he continued, ‘This should tell me.’

Hector watched the old man fastidiously read down the columns until Maimaran gave a little satisfied grunt and said, ‘I thought so. Here it is. A substantial payment in the name of Tison. The money was paid two years ago.’

‘Was it for weapons? For gunpowder?’ Hector asked eagerly. ‘Sean Allen said that Hakim Reis obtained these materials from Tison or Tisonne. Does the ledger give any details who he is or where he might be found?’

‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, young man,’ said Maimaran, looking up from the page, ‘but this entry is nothing to do with guns or smuggling. It relates to a horse, and if you want to find out more about it you need to go to the royal stables.’

‘A
HORSE!
’ Diaz wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he set down his drink. Hector had waited for the Spanish cavalryman’s next visit to Sean Allen’s office to ask his help in solving the mystery of the entry for Tison in Maimaran’s account books. ‘I wonder what the old Jew was referring to. I can’t think what he meant.’

‘You’ve never heard of Tison or Tisonne yourself?’ Hector enquired.

‘Yes, of course. Every Spaniard has,’ Diaz replied cheerfully and, reaching down, picked up his sword and slapped it on the table. ‘This is a
tison
, though in Castile we pronounce it
tizon
. It’s a word for a sword, and celebrates one of the most famous weapons in our history. Our greatest hero, El Cid, possessed two swords; one was called Tizon, the other Colada. Every schoolboy is made to learn the poem of El Cid by heart. Even now I can still remember the line,’ and he flung out an arm dramatically as he recited. ‘Well worth a thousand golden marks was the great sword Tizon.’

‘What did El Cid do with his sword?’

Diaz looked at Hector in astonishment. ‘You don’t know the story of El Cid?’

‘No.’

‘Six hundred years ago he helped drive back the Moors and used Tizon and Colada to do the job. According to legend, each sword was half as long again as the span of a man’s arms, and its blade so broad and heavy that only El Cid could wield it in battle.’

‘Then it seems strange to find a “tizon” in the stables of a devout Muslim prince. You would have thought it more likely that the great sword was kept here in the armoury or on display somewhere in Moulay’s palace. Only yesterday Maimaran showed me various trophies that Moulay has put on show to celebrate his victories over the Christians.’

Diaz grimaced. ‘Probably looted them from Spanish towns he captured in the north. Still, the only way to solve the puzzle is by going to the stables themselves. If Sean can spare you, we can set out right now. Just as soon as I finish this drink.’

D
OZENS OF GROOMS
and ostlers were busy bedding down the horses for the night when Diaz and Hector arrived at the stables. The air was heavy with pungent stable smells, squads of slaves were spreading fresh straw and carrying buckets of water to replenish drinking troughs, and Hector could hear the stamping of hooves and the snuffling of the animals as they waited hopefully for an evening feed. Diaz led him straight to meet the stable master, a small wizened Moor who must have been at least seventy years old and walked with a heavy limp which was the result, according to Diaz, of a riding accident. ‘Haddu is from one of the desert tribes who are great horse handlers and breeders. He has been here since the first day Moulay began building his stables. Recently Moulay wanted to make him a kaid, a nobleman, as a reward for his services. But Haddu refused. He told the Emperor that he didn’t want to be a kaid. Moulay was about to get very angry at being snubbed – you could see his eyes going red – but then Haddu added that he preferred horses to men and, as you know, Moulay likes his cats better than his servants, so he merely laughed and turned away.’

Unfortunately for Hector and Diaz, the stable master found it difficult to understand exactly what his visitors wanted. Hector and Diaz took it in turns to try to explain, but they had no success. Haddu looked from one to the other, increasingly puzzled. ‘Tison? Tizon? Tisonne?’ Hector repeated, trying every pronunciation he could think of. ‘The Emperor’s treasurer told me that he found the word Tison written in his ledgers, and it was something to do with a horse.’