Deliberately Hal swayed backwards, and saw the gleam of triumph in the blue eyes so close to his own, but his back was loaded like a longbow taking the weight of the archer's draw. He unleashed and, with the strength of his legs, arms and upper body, hurled Schreuder backwards. With the impetus of that movement Hal went on the attack and, their blades rasping and clashing together, he forced Schreuder back down the open deck to the stern.
With the tiller arm digging into his spine, Schreuder could retreat no further. He caught up Hal's blade and with all the power of his wrist forced him into the prolonged engagement, the ploy with which he had killed Vincent Winterton and a dozen others before him. Their swords swirled and shrilled together, a silver whirlpool of molten sunlight that held them apart yet locked them together.
On it went, and on. The sweat streamed down both their faces, and their breath came in short, urgent grunts. It was death to the first man to break. Their wrists seemed forged from the same steel as their blades, and then Hal saw something in Schreuder's eyes that he had never dreamed of seeing there. Fear, Schreuder tried to break the circle and lock up the blades as he had with Vincent, but Hal refused and forced him on and on. He felt the first weakness in Schreuder's iron sword arm, and saw the despair in his eyes.
Then Schreuder broke, and Hal was on him in the same instant that his point dropped and his guard opened. He hit him hard in the centre of his chest and felt the point go home, strike bone, and the hilt thrill in his hand.
The roar from the men on the deck of the frigate broke over them like a wave of storm-driven surf. In the moment that Hal felt the surge of triumph and the live feeling of his blade buried deep in his opponent's flesh, Schreuder reared back and raised the gold-inlaid blade of the Neptune sword to the level of his eyes in which the sapphire lights were beginning to fade, and lunged.
The forward movement forced Hal's blade deeper into his body, but as the point of the Neptune sword flashed towards his chest Hal had no defence. He released his grip on the hilt of his own sword, and sprang back, but he could not escape the reach of the golden sword or its gimlet sharp point.
Hal felt the hit, high in the left side of his chest, and as he reeled back felt the blade slip out of his flesh. With an effort he kept his feet, and the two men confronted each other, both hard hit but Hal disarmed and Schreuder with the Neptune sword still clutched in his right hand.
"I think I have killed you, sir,"Schreuder whispered. "Perhaps. But I know I have killed you, sir," Hal answered him.
"Then I will make certain of my side of it," Schreuder grunted, and took an unsteady pace towards him, but the strength went out of his legs. He sagged forward and fell to the deck.
Painfully Hal went down on one knee beside his body. With his left hand he clutched his own chest wound, but with his right he prised open Schreuder's dead fingers from the hilt of the Neptune sword and with it in his own hand rose to face the towering deck of the GoLden Bough.
He held the gleaming sword high, and they cheered him wildly. The sound of it echoed weirdly in Hal's ears and he blinked uncertainly as the brilliant African sunlight faded and his eyes were filled with shadows and darkness.
His legs gave way under him and he sat down heavily on the deck of the dhow, bowed forward over the sword in his lap.
He felt but did not see the frigate bump against the dhow as Ned Tyler brought her alongside, and then Aboli's hands were on his shoulders and his voice was deep and close as he lifted Hal in his arms.
"It is over now, Gundwane. All of it is done."
Ned Tyler took the ship deeper into the bay and anchored her in the calm waters off the port of Zulla where now the white cross of Ethiopia flew above the shot-battered walls.
Hal lay for fourteen days on the bunk in the stern cabin, attended only by Aboli. On the fifteenth day Aboli and Big Daniel lifted him into one of the oak chairs and carried him up onto the deck. The men came to him one at a time with a touch of the forehead and a self-consciously muttered greeting.
Under his eye they made the ship ready for sea. The carpenters replaced the timbers that had been shot away, and the sail makers re sewed the torn sails. Big Daniel plunged over side and swam under the hull to check for damage beneath the waterline. "She's tight and sweet as a virgin's slit," he shouted up to the deck as he surfaced on the other side.
There were many visitors from the shore. Governors and nobles and soldiers coming with gifts to thank Hal, and to stare at him in awe. As he grew stronger, Hal was able to greet them standing on his quarterdeck. They brought news as well as gifts.
"General Nazet has borne the Emperor back to Aksum in triumph," they told him.
Then, many days later, they said, "Praise God, the Emperor has been crowned in Aksum. Forty thousand people came to his coronation." Hal stared longingly at the far blue mountains, and that night slept little.
Then in the morning Ned Tyler came to him. "The ship is ready for sea, Captain."
"Thank you, Mister Tyler." Hal turned from him and left him standing without orders.
Before he reached the companionway to the stern cabin, there came a hail from the masthead. "There is a boat putting out from the pard." Eagerly Hal strode back to the rail. He scanned the passengers, searching for a slim figure in armour with a dark halo of curls around a beloved amber face. He felt the lead of disappointment weight his limbs when he recognized only Bishop Fasilides" lanky frame and his white beard blowing over his shoulder.
Fasilides came in through the entry port and made the sign of the Cross. "Bless this fine ship, and all the brave men who sail in her." The rough seamen bared their heads and went down on their knees. When he had blessed each, Fasilides came to Hal. "I come as a messenger from the Emperor."