‘Then why did you join the Galley Corps of France?’
Chabrillan gave a cynical smile. ‘Did you not notice how many of the Reformed, as they like to call themselves, sat alongside you on the benches of St Gerassimus? Increasingly France condemns them to the oar. One day, I predict, King Louis will recognise the Reformed openly for the pestilence they are, and then the galleys of France will join in our crusade, rowed by unbelievers.’
‘What about the innocent victims of your alliance with Hakim?’ Hector asked. This was the moment he had waited for. ‘Eighteen months ago Hakim Reis with two ships raided a small and undefended village on the coast of Ireland. He carried off slaves, both men and women. The villagers were taken by surprise because the authorities believed there was a peace treaty between Barbary and the English king. They did not know that the treaty had been torn up. Yet Hakim knew, and he profited from his knowledge. If Tisonne was his source – and you are Tisonne – then you are responsible for both Catholics and Protestants having been sold into slavery.’
‘I care not for the Catholics of Ireland,’ snapped Chabrillan. ‘They failed us. When Ireland fell to the protestant English, she no longer sent her noblemen to Malta despite the requests of the Grand Master. Yet at home they continued to enjoy the Order’s lands and estates. Your countrymen were too craven.’ He looked at Hector with a sudden flash of understanding. ‘Hakim Reis matters to you because you were taken in that raid?’
‘Yes, I was a victim, along with my sister. She was carried away aboard another ship. I have not seen her since.’
A vindictive smile appeared on Chabrillan’s face. ‘Your sister?’ he said slowly.
‘Yes.’
The Chevalier considered for a short while before he declared, ‘I had not intended to admit that I am Tisonne, but now I shall do so for the satisfaction it gives me when I address a weak renegade. Yes, I did work together with Hakim Reis. I supplied him intelligence and I provided him with weapons and gunpowder sold corruptly by the administrators of the Galley Arsenal and by other venal merchants. In return, whenever Hakim Reis sold prize goods, he paid me a share through the Cohens in Algiers, and in turn they placed credit for me with the Crespinos in Livorno. No one could trace the money, not even the Jews. Sometimes I met with Hakim at an arranged rendezvous at sea when I handed over guns and powder, and he provided me with his captives for me to sell in Valletta or Livorno.’
Chabrillan’s manner was utterly self-assured. It occurred to Hector that the Chevalier was pleased to have an audience to whom he could explain himself.
‘For all his faults, Hakim Reis had scruples. Unlike you he believed sincerely that he should help his fellow Muslims. He would exchange his Christian captives for Muslims which I had taken. Hakim would then set his people free, and many of them went on to serve as crew aboard his ship. The men and women I received, if they were protestant, I sold in Valletta or Livorno, or kept them at the oar. I remember his raid on Ireland and you are right: I had sent him word that the treaty with England was soon to be repudiated. He took advantage, as I had expected. We had agreed to meet at sea afterward – to conduct our usual exchange of prisoners. But our rendezvous was disturbed. A foreign warship appeared and Hakim Reis wisely fled. He made for safe harbour. There he sold his captives – yourself included.’
‘What of the other vessel? When Hakim raided Ireland, he came with two ships. What happened to the second vessel? Where did it go?’ Hector was finding it impossible to keep the tension out of his voice.
‘Some time later Hakim Reis sent me my share of the sale of the prisoners from that vessel. They were women. His colleague had got an excellent price for them. I was delighted by the sum. Your sister was no doubt among the wares.’ He paused, coughed to clear his throat. A spiteful gleam had appeared in his eyes. ‘Do you wish to know more?’
Hector’s mouth was dry, and though he already knew the answer, he murmured, ‘Of course.’
‘Your sister and the other women from the Irish raid were landed in Sallee. If she was young and desirable, she would have been sold into Moulay’s harem.’ Chabrillan dropped his voice and spoke slowly and distinctly, relishing every word as he added, ‘The thought that your sister is likely confined not so far from this cell is my consolation for the harm that you have done me. You would do well to reflect that once Moulay breeds on a woman, he casts her off like a used brood mare.’
TWENTY
HECTOR’S MOOD OF appalled dismay stayed with him all the way back to the armoury. His meeting with Chabrillan had shocked him into acknowledging that he had avoided facing the reality of what might have happened to Elizabeth. Chabrillan’s malice had brought him face to face with the sordid possibilities.
Once again, it took Dan’s calm advice to produce a glimpse of hope. ‘You don’t know for sure that Elizabeth is in Moulay’s harem. She could have been sold to one of the kaids in Sallee and kept in his household. And don’t forget that Moulay promised to set your sister free if he got his castle smasher from us. We could yet think up another way of pleasing him.’
Sean Allen was more cautious. ‘Moulay may not honour that promise if it turns out that Hector’s sister is in his own harem. The Emperor is not known for being open-handed with his possessions.’ But the gun founder realised that he had been tactless, and quickly added, ‘Hector, your best course is to try to find out whether Elizabeth really is in Meknes, and that’s going to be difficult enough. The imperial harem is jealously protected. Every one of Moulay’s wives is accompanied at all times by a eunuch guard as well as a serving woman who reports back to Lala Zidana.’
‘Who’s Lala Zidana?’ Dan asked, for Hector was still sunk in dejected silence.
‘Moulay’s first wife and his most important one,’ the gun founder answered, ‘though the Lord knows why. She’s an enormous woman, black as night and big as a hippo according to report. Moulay bought her for sixty ducats when she was a domestic slave and she seems to have established some sort of hold over him. There are rumours that she practises witchcraft. Certainly she rules the harem, and she keeps Moulay sweet by supplying him with the choicest girls. That nasty young pup Ahmad for whom we adapted the guns, is Zidana’s son. His mother wants him to be Moulay’s heir and she always keeps the lad in the forefront so that he is under Moulay’s eye. That’s her real influence: as long as Ahmad is the Emperor’s favourite, the mother has direct contact with the throne.’
‘Then we should use her to find our way into the harem,’ suggested Dan. He earned a look of astonishment from the gun founder by asking, ‘Could you arrange for me to meet young Ahmad? You could send word that his two new muskets need to be checked over to see if they require adjustment or have new flints fitted. You could flatter the youngster by saying that you had heard of his brilliant marksmanship when he shot down the rowing master.’
Sean Allen shook his head in wonder. ‘Dan, you should be a full-time courtier. You’re devious enough. I’ll do as you suggest, although I don’t have the slightest idea of what you have in mind.’
ONLY A FEW DAYS later Dan casually announced to his friends that he had been commanded by Lala Zidana to call on her. The cries of astonishment which greeted this announcement were followed immediately by questions as to how he had achieved his invitation. ‘It wasn’t difficult,’ he said with a knowing grin. ‘I went to Ahmad’s quarters to work on the two muskets, just as Sean had arranged. Naturally the lad keeps the muskets close by him. They are his latest toys. He’s very proud of what he did to the rowing master and boasts about it constantly, and likes to show off the guns. For sheer cruelty he really is his father’s son. Sometimes he loads the guns and fires out of the window at passers-by. Luckily no one has been killed yet. When I arrived, he even grumbled that the guns no longer shoot straight, and complained that I should have come sooner to mend them.’