Hal took one last look back at the land. He felt bereaved, for Althuda had severed his last tenuous link to Sukeena "She is gone," he whispered. "Now she is truly gone."
Resolutely he turned his back on the white citadel and looked ahead to where the Usambara mountains on the African mainland lay low and blue upon the horizon.
"Lay the ship on the larboard tack, Mister Tyler. Set all plain sail.
Course is north by east to clear Pemba Island. Mark it on the traverse board." he wind held fair, and twelve days later they cleared Cape Guardafui, at the tip of the IXT great rhino horn of Africa, and before them opened the Gulf of Aden. Hal ordered the change of course and they steered down into the west.
The harsh red rock cliffs and hills of the Gulf of Aden were the jaws of Africa. They sailed into them with the last breezes of the trades filling their canvas. The heat was breathtaking, and without the wind would have been insupportable. The sea was a peculiarly vivid blue, which reflected off the snowy bellies of the terns that wheeled across the wake.
Ahead the rocky shores constricted into the throat of the Bah El Mandeb. In daylight they passed through the rock-bound narrows into the maw of the Red Sea and Hal shortened sail, for these were treacherous waters, dotted with hundreds of islands and sown with reefs of fanged coral. To the east lay the hot lands of Arabia, and to the west the shores of Ethiopia and the empire of the Prester.
They began to encounter other shipping in these congested waters. Each time the lookout hailed the quarterdeck, Hal went aloft himself, longing to see the top sails of a square-rigged ship come up over the horizon, and to recognize the set of the Gull of Moray. But each time he was disappointed. They were all dhows that fled from their tall and ominous profile, seeking shelter in the sanctuary of the shoal waters where the Golden Bough dared not follow.
Swiftly Hal learned how inaccurate were the charts that he had found in Llewellyn's desk. Some of the islands they passed were not shown and others were depicted leagues off their true position. The marked soundings were mere fictions of the cartographer's imagination. The nights were moonless and Hal dared not press on among these reefs and islands in the darkness. At dusk he anchored for the night in the tee of one of the larger islands.
"No lights," he warned Ned Tyler, "and keep the hands quiet."
"There is no keeping Aboli's men quiet, Captain. They gabble like geese being ate by a fox."
Hal grinned. "I will speak to Aboli."
When he came up on deck again at the beginning of the first dog watch, the ship was silent and dark. He made his rounds, stopping for a few minutes to speak to Aboli who was the watch-keeper. Then he went to stand alone by the rail, gazing up at the heavens, lost in wonder at the glory of the stars.
Suddenly he heard an alien sound and, for a moment, thought that it came from the ship. Then he realized that it was human voices speaking a language that he did not know. He moved swiftly to the stern and the sounds were closer and clearer. He heard the creak of rigging and the squeak and splash of oars.
He ran forward again and found Aboli. "Assemble an armed boarding-party. Ten men," he whispered. "No noise. Launch the longboat."
It took only minutes for Aboli to carry out the order. As the boat touched the water they dropped into it and pulled away. Hal was at the tiller and steered into the darkness, groping towards the unseen island.
After several minutes he whispered, "Avast heaving!" and the rowers rested on their oars. The minutes drifted by, then suddenly close at hand they heard something clatter on a wooden deck, and an exclamation of pain or annoyance. Hal strained his eyes in that direction and saw the pale set of a small lateen sail against the starlight.
"All together. Give way!" he whispered, and the boat shot forward. Aboli stood in the bows with a grappling hook and line. The small dhow that emerged abruptly out of the darkness dead ahead was not much taller at the rail than the longboat. Aboli hurled the hook over her side and leaned back on the line.
"Secured!" he grunted. "Away you go, lads."
The crew dropped the oars and, with a bloodcurdling chorus of yells, swarmed up onto the deck of the strange craft. They were met by pathetic cries of dismay and terror. Hal lashed the tiller over, seized the hooded lantern and rushed up after his men to restrain their belligerence. When he opened the shutter of the lantern and flashed it around he found that the crew of the dhow had already been subdued, and were spreadeagled on the deck. There were a dozen or so half-naked dark-skinned sailors, but among them an elderly man dressed in a full-length robe whom Hal at first took to be the captain.
"Bring that one here," he ordered. When they dragged the captive to him, Hal saw that he had a flowing beard, which reached almost to his knees, and a cluster of Coptic crosses and rosaries dangling down onto his chest. The square mitre on his head was embroidered with gold and silver thread.
"All right!" he cautioned the men who held him. "Treat him gently. He's a priest." They released their prisoner with alacrity. The priest rearranged his robes and brushed out his beard with his fingertips, then drew himself up to his full height and regarded Hal with frosty dignity.
"Do you speak English, Father?" Hal asked. The man stared back at him. Even in the uncertain lantern light, his gaze was cold and piercing. He showed no sign of having understood.
Hal switched into Latin. "Who are you, Father?"
"I am Fasilides, Bishop of Aksum, confessor to his Christian Majesty Iyasu, Emperor of Ethiopia," he replied, in fluent, scholarly Latin.
"I humbly beg your forgiveness, your grace. I mistook this ship for an Islamic marauder. I crave your blessing." Hal went down on one knee. Perhaps I am pouring too much oil, he thought, but the Bishop seemed to accept this as his due. He made the sign of the cross over Hal's head, then laid two fingers on his brow.
"In no mine patris, et filii, et spirit us sancti," he intoned and gave Hal his ring to kiss. He seemed sufficiently mollified for Hal to press the advantage.
"This is a most providential encounter, your grace." Hal rose to his feet again, "I am a Knight of the Temple of the Order of St. George and the Holy Grail. I am on a voyage to place my ship and its company at the disposal of the Prester John, the Most Christian Emperor of Ethiopia, in his holy war against the forces of Islam. As His Majesty's confessor, perhaps you could lead me to his court."
"It may be possible to arrange an audience," said Fasilides importantly.
However, his aplomb was shaken and his manner much improved when the dawn light revealed the power and magnificence of the Golden Bough, and he became even more amenable when Hal invited him aboard and offered to convey him on the rest of his journey.
Hal could only guess at why the Bishop of Aksum should be creeping around the islands at midnight in a small, smelly fishing dhow, and Fasilides became remote and haughty again when questioned. "I am not at liberty to discuss affairs of state, either temporal or spiritual."
Fasilides brought his two servants aboard with him, and one of the fishermen from the dhow to act as a pilot for Hal. Once on board the Golden Bough, he settled comfortably into the small cabin adjoining Hal's. With a local pilot on board Hal was able to head on towards Mitsiwa with all dispatch, not even deigning to shorten sail when the sun set that evening.