'I got here under my own power, you might say.'
'Well, there's a stool by the bulkhead behind you. You'll get a crick in your neck if you stoop like that much longer.'
'My thanks. The bowels of ships were never built with gangling wretches like myself in mind.'
They sat passing the bottle back and forth companionably enough, staring out at the death of the day and the caravel's slow progress towards the Inner Roads. Abrusio came to twinkling life before them, until at last it was a looming shadow lit by half a million yellow lights, and the stars were shamed into insignificance.
The lees of the wine at last. Hawkwood kissed the side of the bottle and tossed it in a corner to clink with its empty fellows. Golophin had lit a pale clay pipe and was puffing it with evident enjoyment. Finally he thumbed down the bowl and broke the silence.
'You seem a remarkably incurious man, Captain, if I may say so.'
Hawkwood stared out the stern windows as before. 'Curiosity as a quality is overrated.'
'I agree, though it can lead to the uncovering of useful knowledge, on occasion. You are bankrupt I hear, or within a stone's cast of it.'
'Port gossip travels far.'
'This ship is something of a maritime curiosity.' 'As am I.'
'Yes. I had no idea of the hatred Lord Murad bears for you, though you may not believe that. He has been busy, these last few years.'
Hawkwood turned. He was a black silhouette against the brighter water shifting behind him, and the last red rays of the sun had touched the waves with blood.
'Remarkably busy.'
'You should not have refused the reward the King offered. Had you taken it, Murad's malignance would have been hampered at least. But instead he has had free rein these last ten years to make sure that your every venture fails. If one must have powerful enemies, Captain, one should not spurn powerful friends.'
'Golophin, you did not come here to offer me half-baked truisms or old wives' wisdom. What do you want?'
The wizard laughed and studied the blackened leaf in his pipe. 'Fair enough. I want you to enter the King's service.'
Taken aback, Hawkwood asked, 'Why?'
'Because kings need friends too, and you are too valuable a man to let crawl into the neck of a bottle.'
'How very altruistic of you', Hawkwood snarled, but his anger seemed somehow hollow.
'Not at all. Hebrion, whether you choose to admit it or no, is in your debt, as is the King. And you helped a friend of mine at one time, which sets me in your debt also.'
'The world would be a better place if I had not bothered.'
'Perhaps.' There was a pause. Then Hawkwood said quietly, 'He was my friend too.'
The light had gone, and now the cabin was in darkness save for a slight phosphorescence from the water beyond the stern windows.
'I am not the man I was, Golophin', Hawkwood whispered. 'I am become afraid of the sea.'
'We are none of us what we were, but you are still the master mariner who brought his ship back from the greatest voyage in recorded history. It is not the sea you fear, Richard, but the things you found dwelling on the other side of it. Those things are here, now. You are one of a select few who have encountered them and lived. Hebrion has need of you.'
A strangled laugh. I am a withered stick for Hebrion to lean on, to be sure. What service had you and the King in mind? Royal Doorkeeper, or Master of the Royal Rowboat perhaps.'
'We want you to design ships for the Hebrian navy, along the lines of the Osprey here. Fast, weatherly ships which can carry many guns. New sail plans and new yards.'
Hawkwood was speechless for a while. 'Why now?' he asked at last. 'What has happened?'
'Yesterday the arch-mage Aruan, whom you and I know, was proclaimed Vicar-General of the Inceptine Order here in Normannia. His first act in office was to announce the creation of a new military order. Though it is not generally known, I have been able to find out that this new body is to be composed entirely of mages and shifters. He calls them the "Hounds of God".'
'Saint in heaven!'
'What we want you to do, Captain, is to help prepare Hebrion for war.' 'What war is that?'
'One which is to be fought very soon. Not this year perhaps, but within the next few. A battle for mastery of this continent. No man will be unaffected by it - nor will any man be able to ignore it.'
'Unless he drinks himself to death first.' Golophin nodded sombrely. 'There is that.' 'So I am to help you prepare for some great struggle with the warlocks and werewolves of the world. And in return—'
'In return you will attain a high position in the navy, and at court, I promise you.'
'What of Murad? He won't like my . . . elevation.' 'Murad will do as he's told.' 'And his wife?' 'What of her?'
'Nothing. No matter. I will do it, Golophin. For this I'll crawl out of that bottle.'
The wizard's grin shone in the gloom of the cabin. 'I knew you would. How very fortunate that Grobus offered so paltry a price today. We will have need of the Gabrian Osprey. She is to be the prototype for a new fleet.'
'You knew of that. You had a hand—'
'Damn right.'
Nothing changes, Hawkwood thought. The nobility have sudden need of you, so they pluck you out of the gutter, peer at the disappointed little life they pinch twisting between their fingers, and set it down on their great gaming board where it can be put to use. Well this pawn has its own rules.
'It's dark as pitch in here. Let me light a lantern.' Hawk-wood fumbled for his tinderbox and after striking flint and steel a dozen times was able to coax into life a ship's lantern which still had some oil in its well. The thick glass was cracked, but that was of no moment. Its yellow kindly light illuminated the creviced features of the wizard opposite and blacked out the sea astern.
'So may I expect you at the gate of Admiral's Tower tomorrow morning?' Golophin asked.
Hawkwood nodded assent.
'Excellent.' The mage tossed a small doeskin bag on the table that clinked heavily. 'An advance on your wages. You might want to outfit yourself with a new wardrobe. Quarters will be arranged in the tower.'
'Will be arranged, or have been arranged?'
Golophin rose and donned his hat. 'Until tomorrow then, Captain,' and he held out a hand.
Hawkwood shook it, rising in turn. His face was a stiff mask. Golophin turned to go, and then halted. 'It is no bad thing when personal inclination and the dictates of policy go together, Captain. We need you, it is true, but I for one am glad to have you besides. The court is full of well-bred snakes. The King has need of one or two honest men around him too.'
He left, stooping as he entered the companionway. Hawkwood listened to him stride forward to the waist, and then there was that scrabbling seagull on deck again, and then silence.
Later, he lay on his oars a cable's length from the Osprey and watched her burn. Somehow the ship reclaimed some of her old beauty as the flames swept up from her decks and roared bright and blazing into the night sky. The fire reflected wet and shining from his eyes and he sat watching until she had burned down to the waterline and the sea began rushing in to quench the inferno. A hissing of steam, and then a murmuring gurgle as what was left of her hull turned over and sank beneath the waves. Hawkwood wiped his face in the choppy darkness.