"God speed, Master Stan," Hal said, and while they carried him below, he turned to look back into the bay, so that in the light of the burning ships no man might see his distress.
Long after they had run out of the bay and turned away northwards towards Mitsiwa, the night skies behind them glowed with the inferno they had created. The captains of divisions came one at a time to make their battle reports. Though Stan Sparrow was the only man killed, three others had been wounded by musket fire from the dhows as they sailed past, and another man's leg had been crushed in the recoil of an overshot ted culverin. It was a small price to pay, Hal supposed, and yet, though he knew it to be weakness, he mourned Stan Sparrow.
Although he was exhausted and his head ached from the din of battle and the powder smoke, Hal was too wrought-up for sleep and his mind was in a turmoil of emotion and racing thoughts. He left the helm to Ned Tyler and went to stand alone in the bows to let the cool night air soothe him.
He was still alone there as the dawn began to break and the GoLden Bough headed in towards Mitsiwa roads, and the first to see the three red Chinese rockets soar up into the sky from the heights of the cliffs above the bay.
It was a signal from Judith Nazet, an urgent recall. He felt his pulse quicken with dread as he turned and bellowed to Aboli, who had the watch, "Hoist three red lanterns to the masthead!"
Three red lights was an acknowledgement of her signal. She has heard the guns and seen the flames, he thought. She wishes to have my report of the battle. Somehow he knew that it was not so but he hoped to quieten the sudden sense of dread that assailed him.
It was fully light as they nosed in towards the shore. Hal was still in the bows and the first to spot the boat that darted out from the beach to meet them. From two cables' length away he recognized the slim figure standing beside the single mast. He felt his heart leap and his sadness fall away, replaced by a sense of eager anticipation.
Judith Nazet's head was bare and the dark halo of her hair framed her face. She wore armour and a sword was buckled at her side, a steel helmet under her arm.
Hal strode back to the quarterdeck and gave his order to the helm. "Round her up and heave to! Let the boat come alongside."
Judith Nazet came through the entry port with a lithe and graceful urgency, and Hal saw that her marvelous features were stricken. "I give thanks to God for bringing you back so swiftly," she said, in a voice that trembled with some strong emotion. "A terrible catastrophe has overtaken us. I can hardly find words to describe it to you."
They had muffled the horses" hoofs with leather boots so they made little sound on the rocky earth. The priest rode close beside him, but Cornelius Schreuder had taken the precaution of securing a light steel chain around the man's waist and the other end around his own wrist. The priest had a shifty eye and a ferrety face that Schreuder trusted not at all.
They rode in double file along the narrow valley, and although the moon had risen an hour before the rocky sides still threw the sun's heat into their faces. Schreuder had selected the fifteen most trustworthy men from his regiment, and all were mounted on fast horses.
The tack had been carefully muffled and their weapons wrapped in cloth so they made no sound in the night.
The priest held up his hand suddenly. "Stop here!" Schreuder repeated the order in a whisper.
"I must go forward to see if the way is clear," said the priest.
"I will go with you." Schreuder dismounted and shortened his grip on the chain. They left the rest of the band in the bottom of the wadi and crawled up the steep side.
"There is the monastery." The priest pointed at the massive square bulk that squatted on the hills above them, blotting out half the stars from the night sky. "Flash twice and then twice again, "he said.
Schreuder aimed the small lantern towards the walls of the monastery and flipped open the shutter that screened the flame. Twice, and then again, he flashed the signal, and they waited. Nothing happened.
"If you are playing with me, I will hack off your head with the back of my sword," Schreuder growled, and felt the little priest shiver beside him.
"Flash again!" he pleaded, and Schreuder repeated the signal. Suddenly a weak speck of light glimmered briefly on the top of the wall. Twice it showed, and then was extinguished.
"We can go on," whispered the priest excitedly, but Schreuder restrained him.
"What have you told those within the monastery who will help us to enter?"
"They have been told that we are spiriting away the Emperor and the Tabernacle to a safe place to save him from an assassination plot by a great noble of the Galla faction who seeks to take the crown of Prester John from him."
"A good plan," Schreuder murmured, and urged the priest down the bank to where the horses waited. Their guide led them onwards, and they climbed another deep ravine until they were beneath the massive, looming walls.
"Leave the horses here," whispered the priest. His voice was tremulous.
Schreuder's men dismounted and handed their reins to two comrades, who had been delegated as horse-holders. Schreuder assembled the raiding party and led them after the priest to the wall. A rope-ladder dangled down from the heights, and in the darkness Schreuder could not see to the top of it.
"I have kept my side of the bargain," muttered the priest. "Another will meet you at the top. Do you have the reward that I was promised?"
"You have done well," Schreuder agreed readily. "It is in my saddle-bags. One of my men will see you back to the horses and give it to you." He passed the end of the chain to his lieutenant. "Look after him well, Ezekiel," he said in Arabic, so the priest could understand. "Give him the reward he has earned."
Ezekiel led the man away, and Schreuder waited a few minutes until there was a grunt of shock and surprise out of the darkness and the soft rush of air escaping through a severed windpipe. Ezekiel returned silently, wiping his dagger on a fold of his turban.