‘No. St Gerassimus represents the Faith, and the Chevalier sees himself as the Lion fighting to protect it.’
‘And how would he have arrived at that strange vision of himself?’
‘The Chevalier carries injuries on both feet. The injuries, now healed, were inflicted on him by the Muslims. According to my informant, the Chevalier was captured by Muslims early during his career. He was already known as a cruel and ruthless enemy of Islam, so they tortured him before releasing him in a prisoner exchange. Before letting him go, his captors branded the sign of the cross on the sole of each foot. It was their form of revenge for the Chevalier’s fanaticism. They humiliated him by making sure that for the rest of his life, with each step that he took, he would tread on the symbol of his faith.’
Maimaran’s mouth twisted in a grimace of distaste. ‘And you learned all this from your mute informant? He seems remarkably well informed.’
‘He was there when the knight was tortured. He saw it for himself.’
‘And why did he not suffer the same fate?’
‘The Muslims took pity on him because already his tongue had been torn out.’
‘And why was that?’
‘He tried to explain to me but it was difficult to follow the details. But I did learn that it was the Chevalier who had ordered his mutilation.’
There was a long silence while Maimaran considered Hector’s tale. The young man’s claim seemed altogether too fanciful. ‘Can anyone else testify to the supposed identity of this prisoner?’
Hector shook his head. ‘I pulled an oar on the galley St Gerassimus but I never saw the Chevalier close enough to identify him now. As commander he joined the vessel shortly before we left harbour, and throughout the short voyage he stayed in his cabin or on the stern deck with the other officers. All but a handful of the other oarsmen are dead. They drowned, chained to their benches when the galley sank. Only the men on my oar bench got ashore, and one of those, a big Turk, never made it.’
‘What about the other French prisoners, would they testify?’
‘From what I have seen they are highly disciplined and loyal to the Chevalier. They would lie to protect him.’
‘Is there anything else which makes you think this mute is telling the truth?’
Hector shook his head. ‘The only other thing I can think of is the banner flown on our galley. It was the private flag of her commander. It showed the Five Wounds of Christ. Maybe that, too, referred to the injuries that the Chevalier had suffered at the hands of his enemies.’
Maimaran half-closed his eyes, and for a moment Hector thought that the elderly Jew was about to fall asleep. But the ransom broker was pondering his best course of action. If he went to Moulay with a tale that proved to be false, the Emperor was sure to fall into one of his murderous rages. Yet the young man seemed to be speaking in earnest, and there might yet be some slight substance to his extraordinary claim about the identity of one of the French prisoners. Maimaran opened his eyes and looked down at his hands. ‘So what do you suggest?’
‘We set a trap to unmask the Chevalier. The leader of the Frenchmen, a man named Piecourt, has twice asked for word of their capture to be sent to Jewish ransom brokers in Algiers. He tried to get a friend of mine to send this message soon after the Frenchmen were taken by the amazigh, and then yesterday Piecourt made exactly the same request to me. He mentioned the name Iphrahim Cohen. It seems that Cohen in Algiers would know who the prisoners are, and would be prepared to obtain their release.’
‘And how do you set this trap?’
‘The Frenchmen receive a note from Iphrahim Cohen, a note apparently smuggled in from Algiers. In the note Cohen writes that he has heard about the Chevalier’s capture and has made arrangements for the Chevalier to regain his freedom before his identity is known. The note will contain details of an escape plan, the time and place.’
‘And why would the Chevalier – if he is indeed in disguise among the prisoners – trust the note and not suspect a forgery?’
‘Because the note will contain certain details known only to the Chevalier and the Cohens. I can supply those details.’
Maimaran reached up to readjust his black cap more comfortably before commenting quietly, ‘For someone who has never met the Chevalier face to face, you seem very sure of what is in his mind.’
‘If the trap fails, I will accept full responsibility for whatever goes wrong. There will be no mention of the Cohens or a forged letter. I will confess that I was paid by the Frenchmen to arrange their escape. But if the plan works, the Chevalier will have confirmed his identity.’
‘I take it that you are proposing that I connive at the flight of one of his majesty’s prisoners by helping forge this letter and then delivering it as if it came through the Jewish community?’
‘Yes. It is the only way. Everything must be done properly. The French must not suspect anything, until they fall into the trap.’
Maimaran weighed up the young man’s suggestion, then enquired, ‘You realise, don’t you, that even if your plan succeeds, you are asking me to compromise my relationship with my fellow Jews in Algiers? If word of this scheme gets out, the Cohens will regard me as someone who forges their correspondence for my own purposes.’
Hector’s answer was sure and steady. ‘The Emperor promised me that he would arrange the release of a member of my family if I served him well. If I deliver into his hands the Lion of La Religion, I will have sacrificed a Christian who is a hero to many of his own people. I will be doing this for the sake of my captured sister.’
Maimaran already knew of Hector’s audacious request to Moulay Ismail for help in finding his captive sister. The young man’s reckless bravado had been court gossip for several weeks. There was something about the strength and sincerity of Hector’s resolve which made the old man say, ‘Very well. I will prepare that forged letter if you supply the necessary details that make it seem authentic, and I will make sure that it reaches this man Piecourt. But if your scheme goes wrong, I will deny all knowledge of it . . .’
‘I cannot thank you enough,’ Hector began, but Maimaran held up a hand to stop him. ‘Naturally I also expect some recompense for my cooperation. If the Chevalier is not a myth but a real person and is taken into custody, then I want you to give up any interest you may have in the negotiations for his full ransom which, as you say, should be very, very substantial. I alone will conduct those negotiations, and take the appropriate commission.’
‘You have my word on it,’ Hector assured him. ‘All I want is to track down my sister and obtain her release.’
AT MIDNIGHT immediately before the next new moon Hector found himself crouching with Dan at the foot of the rampart around the palace compound. He was breathing through his mouth and with shallow breaths. The ditch which ran along the outer face of the wall was used as a rubbish dump and the stench was appalling. The rotting carcasses of dead animals lay half-buried among pieces of broken pottery, discarded rags and all manner of unidentified nastiness. To make matters worse, the ditch was also a lavatory for the slave workers who by day had been repairing the wall above him. Hector feared that he had just rested his bare hand on a soft smear of recent human excrement. The advantage, he reminded himself, was that the ditch was so foul that it was avoided by the guards who occasionally patrolled the perimeter of the palace. Forty yards to his left Karp and Bourdon were also hidden. Diaz and his Spanish cavalry friend Roberto lay in wait in the opposite direction.
‘We don’t know exactly where Piecourt and the others will attempt to cross, so we need to cover as broad a section of the wall as possible,’ he had told his companions that morning. ‘I expect they will use the ladders which I saw in their cell to scale the inner face of the wall. Once on top of the wall, they will be able to dangle a rope on the far side and descend. The most likely place is where they themselves have been working during the day on their slave shift. They were repairing a section where the baked earth facing is crumbled away, and here the damaged wall offers a series of footholds. Once they are safely down, they only have to get across the ditch at the foot of the wall and then make their way to one of the villages in the valley. They will be expecting to meet a guide who will take them across country to the coast where a ship will be waiting to pick them up.’