Marianne and the Rebels

something unyielding about it. Furthermore, no sooner was the ceremony of his arrival on board completed and the usual civilities exchanged than he turned from the captain and, without waiting for introductions, made her an exquisite bow and addressed her in a voice of smoothest courtesy:

'Permit me to say how delighted I am to have this opportunity of meeting your serene highness at last. You have delayed so long that we had almost given up hope of your arrival. May I say that for my own part, I am both pleased and – reassured?'

There was no hint of irony in the words and from the total absence of surprise with which she listened to them, Marianne knew, somehow, that she had been expecting them from the moment she had seen the ambassador in the barge. Not for one moment had she believed that a man of his eminence would go to such lengths over a simple matter of a Greek servant.

To Captain King, however, it seemed certain that there was some misunderstanding and he gave a shout of laughter.

'Serene highness?' he exclaimed. 'My dear Canning, you've been misinformed, I fear. This lady—'

'Is the Princess Sant'Anna, ambassadress extraordinary – and extraordinarily discreet also – of Napoleon,' Canning took him up coolly. 'I hardly think she will deny it. So grand a lady does not stoop to lies.'

Marianne felt a slow flush invade her cheeks as the ambassador held her eyes with his own perceptive ones, but she did not let her gaze falter. Instead, she met them with a coolness quite equal to his own.

'It's perfectly correct,' she said. 'I am the person you seek, sir. May I inquire how you found me out?'

'Oh, God, that was simple enough! I was roused up at dawn by a couple of rum fellows demanding justice for some kind of an attack on one or other of them which they said had been committed by the servant of a remarkable and highly aristocratic young lady who had appeared quite suddenly out of the mist one night in the middle of the Aegean. I can't say their misfortunes held much interest for me – but what did interest me more than somewhat was their enthusiastic description of the lady. It corresponded, in every detail, to a description which reached me here some time ago. I had only to set eyes on you, ma'am, for any doubts I might have had to be set at rest. I was told I should have to do with one of the prettiest women in Europe.'

It was not flattery: merely a quiet statement of fact, which drew a rather wistful smile from its subject.

'Very well,' she said with a little sigh. 'Now you know, Mr Canning.' She turned to her old friend, who had been listening to this astonishing exchange with a stunned expression that had altered, gradually, to one of deep disappointment.

'Sir James, forgive me, but I couldn't tell you the truth. I was bound to do my utmost to reach here, and if I have abused your hospitality, please believe me when I say that it was only in the cause of a higher duty.'

'You, an envoy of Bonaparte! Whatever would your poor aunt have said!'

'I don't know. But I like to think she would not have condemned me out of hand. You see, Aunt Ellis always knew that one day my French blood would come out. She did her best to stave it off, but she was prepared for it to happen. And now, your excellency,' she went on, turning back to Ginning, 'perhaps you will be so good as to tell me what you mean to do? I do not think you are empowered to arrest me. This is the capital of the Ottoman Empire and France, as well as England, maintains an embassy here. No more – but no less. You were within your rights to try and intercept me on my way here, in fact such an attempt was made by some of your ships off Corfu, but you cannot do so now.'

'Nor should I dream of doing so. We are in Turkish waters, I agree. However… while on board this vessel, you are on British soil. I have only to keep you here.'

'You mean?'

'You are not to go ashore. You are a prisoner of His Majesty's government, ma'am. Oh, no harm will come to you, of course. I shall simply ask Captain King to ensure that you remain below, in your cabin, during the hours he will remain in port. He will sail tomorrow morning for England, taking you with him under strict surveillance. Once there, you will become the most valuable, and the most charming, of hostages. If that's agreeable to you, Sir James?'

'Perfectly, your excellency.'

Marianne shut her eyes, fighting off the faintness that swept over her. This was the end. She had failed, hideously, on the very edge of success, and for the stupidest of all reasons: the vindictiveness of a pair of silly little men! But her pride refused to let her give way to weakness. Opening her great eyes very wide, she fixed them, sparkling with anger and suppressed tears, on the ambassador's bland face.

'Aren't you rather exceeding your powers, sir?'

'Not in the slightest, ma'am. It's quite within the rules of war – and we are at war. Allow me to wish you a pleasant journey home – for I should be glad to think that England might still feel even a little like home to you.'

'A little, sir. A very little. And now, Sir James, you had better do your duty and shut me up. Good day to you, Mr Canning.'

She turned from the ambassador, and glanced swiftly at the captain as she did so. The set look on his face killed any hope that still remained. Just as she had known when she first came aboard the Jason, James King would never let his private feelings interfere with his duty. Possibly he might even feel a certain natural resentment that she had used their old friendship to deceive him.

Sighing, she looked away to cast one final glance over the stern rail at the forbidden city. It was then she saw the Sea Witch.

At first she thought it must be an illusion born of her desperate longing to see the ship again, and she paused, brushing her hand uncertainly across her eyes as though unconsciously afraid to destroy the beautiful vision. But there was no mistake. The brig was Jason's.

She was riding easily at anchor, a few cables' lengths away at a little distance from the quay, and pulling gently at her moorings like a dog on a leash. A wave of joy swept over her, welling up from her heart and bringing a tightness to her throat and making her hands tremble as she made out her own image carved on the prow. There could be no further doubt: Jason was here, in this very port, where he had not wished to come but which to her in her abandonment, had been like the promised land.

But how could she reach him?

'Will you step this way, ma'am.'

Sir James's stiff voice brought her back to reality. She was not free to hurry to the man she loved. And, as a final reminder of the fact, two marines fell in on either side of her. She was a prisoner of war now, and that was all.

For a moment, she lost her nerve and gazed wildly up into the elderly captain's expressionless face.

'Where are you taking me?'

'Why, to your cabin, ma'am, as Mr Canning has suggested. Your – serene highness – ' his tongue stumbled a little over the unaccustomed words,' – will be asked to remain there, with a guard on the door. Did you think you would be put in irons? We're not in the habit of ill-treating prisoners – not even those who serve Bonaparte.'

Marianne turned her head away so that he might not see that he had wounded her. Her kind old friend had vanished utterly and in his place was now a stern stranger, a British officer who would do his duty even if it meant playing the part of gaoler. It even seemed to Marianne that, in the bitterness of his disappointment, he might not have been sorry to have dealt with her more harshly.

'No, Sir James,' she said after a moment. 'I did not think that. But I wish you would not think too hardly of me.'

Casting one last glance at the brig from which there came no noise or sign of life and which, as she looked, seemed to turn away from her indifferently, she submitted to being escorted back to her own cabin.

The sound of the key turning in the lock grated on her nerves like a file. It was followed by the shuffle of feet and the sound of musket butts striking the deck. From now on, at least so long as they remained in Turkish waters, there would always be a pair of marines on guard outside her door. England was not going to let any friend of Bonaparte's slip through her fingers.

She went slowly to the window and opened it, but leaning out she saw only what she knew already. Her cabin, situated next to the captain's own, was high above the level of the water. Perhaps, in her disappointment, she might even then have made up her mind to the hazardous dive, in a faint hope of escaping from her captors and the fate that lay ahead; but even that desperate course was denied her. All round the stern of the ship as she lay at anchor was clustered a mosaic of little boats, rowing boats, caiques and peramas, thronging round her, as they