The Ancient Ones (The Legacy Trilogy Book 3) (12 page)

Leopold could not imagine the complications of navigating such a behemoth. The number of crew needed to set sail was a sign of this, for the decks and rigging had been covered with men, nearly four hundred by his estimate, heaving thick ropes in tight synchronisation to the bosun’s calls, setting the sails in specific order and with exact timing.

It was a perfect task for the men of Turian navy, for if the Turians could do anything well, it was following procedures to precision. Captain Merryweather, Lieutenant Fillius and Mister Chapman earned their keep, quickly and efficiently studying the changing situation and directing their multitudes of men accordingly.

Despite the immensity of the ship, space beneath the decks was limited. Not only did the ship have to hold her own crew, she also had to carry soldiers to war. Every free space had been packed with armoured men and their equipment. Only the narrow passages between rooms were free, simply for the reason that if bodies filled them, no one would be able to pass, and that would cause bedlam for the operation of the ship.

As Emperor, Leopold was granted a spacious cabin in the enormous aftcastle—a three-storey construction, a fortified wooden keep straddling the rear of the ship. A honeycomb of rooms filled the smaller forecastle, called the fo’c’sle by the men, with the flattened space of the main deck taking up the space between. The substructure below was a hive of passageways and storerooms. The Farstride was a veritable city crafted from wood and nails, bound within the confines of her curving hull.

The cabin was comfortable, not lavish, containing a bed, small desk and a set of drawers. The rest of the space was vacant, with crewmen emptying the room of supplies and weaponry as his guide led him in.

Lieutenant Fillius was apologetic for the situation.

The man had badly scarred cheeks, marks from his youth, and wrinkles surrounded his eyes from spending many hours peering out to distance over sea. His squarish face showed a trace of cheerfulness, concealing a considerate and reasonable man. At first he had put poor old Salu and Toby into a galley full of soldiers, but on Leopold’s request had nodded thoughtfully and conceded, allowing them to share quarters with their Emperor.

A set of bunk beds were brought in and placed beside Leopold’s modest cot. At least the two would not be cramped into the holds with countless others. They had several small square windows to peep through and swing open to receive fresh air, unlike many of the rooms in the ship’s interior.

One of Riggadardian’s officers brought an assortment of clothing for Leopold to consider, taking three trips to carry it all in, piling it on the bed. He knew he was supposed to look the part, but Leopold could not take the clothes seriously. They were all too decorative and confusing; he was sure that some of them were designed for women.

Wigs, corsets, bows, ribbons and ten different pairs of tights, various jackets and ruffled blouses and things that looked half like jackets and half like shirts, as well as half a dozen strips of laced cloth of indeterminate purpose—bright and garish colours covered his bed. Huffing, Leopold dumped them into the corner, fed up with it all. He would let the commander rant and be done with it. Besides, he was the Emperor now and who was to say what the Emperor should or should not wear.

Afterwards, stretching his legs and venturing along the narrow passageway outside his cabin, Leopold felt guilty as he peered into some of the other rooms. Ten men or more shared the same space afforded him, jammed in against each other. Still, if he was the Emperor then such a position should afford him some advantages. And the men did not look to be suffering or unhappy, used to such conditions from their experiences at war, stoic and hardy. At least, that’s what he told himself.

****

With nought to do and with the corridors too busy to comfortably explore, the three of them sat on their cots, Toby high on the top bunk happily swinging his legs above Salu. They listened to the muffled sounds of men struggling outside with their loads and the various bangs and thuds that passed through the walls.

Leopold took the opportunity to sit opposite Salu, peering intently at him, trying to discern the extent of his madness.

‘Do you really have no grip on your senses?’ Leopold asked.

The old man rubbed the ball of one fist inside the other palm, mumbling, eyes shut, and lips quivering. He ignored Leopold’s voice and muttered away.

Leopold turned his attention to the boy sitting above. ‘And you, Toby—can you not say anything except your name? How is it that you can get the old man moving when you barely understand us?’ In response, Toby laughed and clapped his hands together fiercely. ‘Stop it now!’ Leopold told him sternly, for the boy was scrambling about on his bed with excitement, and the more frustrated Leopold became the more Toby enjoyed it, pointing and whooping. Leopold turned away and let the boy quieten down of his own accord.

Leopold groaned and kicked his boots off, lying back on his bed. He hoped this would be over soon so he could return to his home and comfort his mother. He felt a foul mood overcoming him as his thoughts returned to the magician. He had not yet found any way to get back at the man, but it was only a matter of time. With Tulan’s help, he might not have to do anything at all. In good time, he thought. Patience is a virtue I am willing to learn.

A rumbling rattled through the ship and shook Leopold from his thoughts. He stood and faced the window nearest his bed. The Farstride had caught the rest of the fleet. The ships were in full sail and he saw men on the decks of their vessels, clambering in the rigging.

He longed to get into the sails and handle the ropes. The prospect of learning the workings of this colossus excited him. He yearned to see the mechanisms that enabled its ingenious operation, the clever devices hidden away. The logistics of raising either of the great anchors were unimaginable.

After staring out the window became stale, he returned to his bed with a sigh.

He thought someone may summon him to the deck; no one did, and it was Salu who led the way out of their little cabin, climbing to his feet after several hours had passed and shuffling out the door, one hand on his stick and the other feeling along the walls. He looked ludicrous in his outfit and Leopold made a mental note to find the man some more practical clothing.

Toby dropped from the bunk before old Salu had gone too far and followed with a cheeky laugh. He was garbed in his tiny suit, still enjoying it; he foraged inside his pockets incessantly, patting the stiff material with his hands, savouring its feel.

‘I may as well go, too,’ Leopold said aloud. He sighed and pushed his feet into his new boots, and followed the other two outside and along the corridor.

****

The old man remembered the way, turning left and right and passing through doorways as appropriate, or else it was luck, because they were shortly stepping out onto the second storey balcony of the aftcastle.

They enjoyed the sunshine, sea air blowing in their faces and the sounds of the waves and the men busy on deck. Leopold again took in the marvel of the vessel.

He spied Commander Riggadardian faraway upon the fo’c’sle, with Daneel and Captain Orrell beside him. Leopold hurried down the stairs that led to the main deck and crossed the flat expanse of timber. The place was heaving with activity, soldiers on deck filling every space that the sailors were not. The sounds of men at work filled the air and the stiff wind made the many pennants and flags that decorated the ship whip about and dance excitedly.

Salu and Toby went off to seek amusement, while Leopold reached the fo’c’sle and climbed the stairs to the foredeck.

‘Emperor Leopold,’ Captain Orrell greeted, noticing his approach.

The three men were looking over the mass of activity that was the main deck. Even upon the smaller fo’c’sle copious numbers of men were at work around the foremasts.

Leopold nodded to the captain in return, overawed with the scene. Captain Orrell returned to conversation with Daneel, the one-eyed man glancing towards Leopold only momentarily. Only Commander Riggadardian broke free to grant Leopold his full attention.

‘Emperor Leopold,’ Riggadardian hailed solemnly. ‘It will be some time until we reach our destination. It might be better if you remain in your cabin. It can be hazardous up here. The Farstride is essentially untested and we do suffer the occasional mishap.’

‘I will die from boredom in my cabin, Commander. I want to see how things are faring out here.’

‘Very well,’ Riggadardian said graciously. ‘Your father would never be stowed away in his room, either. That reminds me, I do have something special for you.’

Leopold had not noticed an extra sword hanging from the commander’s hip, and the man quickly unfettered one and handed it over, homed within its elaborately embellished scabbard. Leopold accepted it reluctantly, for he did not know how to hold it. He had heard of swords in his father’s tales, but the closest he came to wielding one was waving a stick in childhood games.

‘Why ... thank you,’ was all he could think to say, turning the gift over in his hands.

‘This was your father’s sword,’ Riggadardian informed him. ‘I see the regal attire I left for you did not meet your approval. Unfortunate. But it would bolster the men’s morale if you carried your father’s noble blade. Countless victories were won with it. Your father never commanded his battles from afar, preferring to join the fray. That is why his armies fought beneath him so valiantly. He would wrench the limbs from his opponents—’ He stopped himself, realising he had become overexcited.

Leopold held the hilt in one hand and the scabbard in the other and readied to draw the weapon free. Captain Orrell took notice and snapped it from him before an inch of blade was revealed.

‘You damned fool, Riggadardian,’ he said. ‘He’ll cut his own hands off with that. Can’t you see he doesn’t know one end from the other?’

Riggadardian looked dismayed and disappointed. ‘Oh, I didn’t ...’ he began, trailing off. ‘Perhaps he can wear it for show—’

‘He can do without,’ Orrell asserted. ‘We do not want him waving it about and hurting himself. No offence, Your Majesty, I can certainly arrange lessons for you. Putting such a weapon in unskilled hands is asking for trouble. Commander, if you want him to look the part of an emperor, send someone to his cabin to help him put on his clothes the way you want. You have to remember, he has never seen the likes of any of this before.’

Riggadardian nodded thoughtfully. ‘You are right, of course, Captain. I did not stop to think. My mind is on the coming battle. I apologise, Your Majesty.’

‘It’s nothing, Commander,’ Leopold said, wanting to keep the sword.

‘Take my dagger for the time being,’ Riggadardian offered.

Orrell stilled the man’s hand before it reached to his side.

‘He can do without that too, Commander,’ the captain said. ‘With all these men around us, the young Emperor has ample protection. Everyone knows who he is, even without something sharp in his hand. There will be time enough for that later.’

Daneel watched on, entertained by the verbal exchange of the other two. ‘Perhaps he could order an execution,’ he suggested lightheartedly. ‘That would certainly convince everyone he is his father’s son.’

Scathingly, the commander frowned and Captain Orrell regretfully shook his head.

‘That’s enough of that, Daneel,’ the captain rebuked, and the one-eyed man bowed his head with mock regret, unable to resist a cheeky grin.

‘Very well,’ Riggadardian conceded, focussing instead on Leopold. ‘I will send someone to your cabin to help you choose appropriate clothing for the voyage. Once the battle is over and we have some time on our hands, we will arrange to school you in swordplay, battlefield tactics and strategies of war ... the rules of engagement and so forth—and whatever else you may require. Yes, much to be done in future days.’

‘I agree,’ Captain Orrell proclaimed.

Leopold had no complaints and left the men to their business. He roved the extents of the ship’s upper decks, rounding its perimeter and examining all the deck-side equipment that he had never seen before. There were blocks and pulleys, cleats and shackles, chainplates and turnbuckles, coils and lengths of rope in all directions, from thin cord to heavy sheets as thick as his arm, running from every part of the ship to every other like a tangle of spider webs. There was so much rope stowed upon the deck and spanning the heights that, laying it end to end, they could probably loop the end around his mother and pull her aboard. The amount of work that had gone into building such a vessel was inconceivable.

Despite the magnificence, the new sights and sounds soon lost their attraction and Leopold was left wandering back to his cabin.

Unsurprisingly, when he arrived, his father’s sword and scabbard were awaiting him, laid out neatly upon his bed.

****

It took three days before the call sounded that the towers of Cintar were in sight, and Leopold scuttled down from the masts of the Farstride, climbing down the ropes and webbing to alight on the deck.

He had spent the time learning the workings of the sails—much to Commander Riggadardian’s displeasure. The man had objected loudly at the idea and, when he caught Leopold climbing into the sails when his back was turned, he was distraught. It was Captain Orrell who calmed him and Leopold was glad for it, for otherwise he would have gone mad from boredom.

With the help of the amenable Captain Merryweather—a tall and capable fellow—Leopold obtained a standard crew outfit, more suited to clambering the sails than his tight-fitting emperor’s wear. The crew gave him questioning glances at first, and some yelled at him to get down before he broke his neck. When he put his attention to the ropes and showed aptitude for the task, the men noticed, approving.

Leopold asked them genuine, insightful questions about the workings of the ship, and they answered him with enthusiasm. He caught several of them laughing to each other and looking towards him. They never imagined their Emperor would one day be hanging beside them amongst the sails. Leopold thought being in the sails was quite natural, it was being an emperor that felt unusual.