arms and gave a command that could mean only one thing. 'You want to be picked up?' Hal stooped and gathered him in his arms where the boy stared into his eyes then spoke again, pointing so passionately at Hal's face that he almost impaled one eye with his little finger.
'I cannot understand what you're saying, little one,' Hal said gently.
Fasilides had come up silently behind him and now said solemnly, 'His Most Christian Majesty, Iyasu, King of Kings, Ruler of Galla and Amhara, Defender of the Faith of Christ Crucified, remarks that your eyes are of a strange green colour unlike any he has seen before.'
Hal stared into the angelic features of the imp he held in his arms. 'This is the Prester John?' he asked in awe. 'Indeed,' replied the bishop. 'You have also promised to take him for a sail on your tall ship, which I have described to him.'
'Would you inform the Emperor that I would be deeply honoured to have him as a guest aboard the Golden Bough?' Suddenly Iyasu wriggled down from Hal's arms, seized his hand and dragged him towards the concealed doorway. Beyond the opening they went down a long passageway lit with torches in iron brackets on the stone walls. At the end of the passage were two armed guards, but the Emperor squeaked an order and they stood aside and saluted His tiny Majesty. Iyasu led Hal into a long chamber.
Narrow embrasures were set high up in the walls, and through these the brilliant desert sunlight beamed down in solid golden shafts. A long table ran the length of the chamber, and seated at it were five men. They stood up and bowed deeply to Iyasu, then looked keenly at Hal.
They were all warriors that much was clear from their bearing and their attire. they wore chain-mail and cuirass, and some had steel helmets on their heads, and tunics over the armour, which were emblazoned with crosses or other heraldic devices.
At the far end of the table stood the youngest and most simply dressed yet the most impressive and commanding of all. Hal's eye was drawn immediately to this slim, graceful figure.
Iyasu drew Hal impatiently towards him, chattering in Geez, and the warrior watched them with a steady, frank gaze. Although he gave the illusion of height, he was in fact a head shorter than Hal. A shaft of sunlight from one of the high embrasures backlit him, surrounding him with a golden aura in which the dust motes danced and swirled.
'Are you 'General Nazet?' Hal asked in Latin, and the General nodded. Around his head was a huge bush of crisp curls, like a dark crown or a halo. He wore a white tunic over the shirt of chain-mail, but even under that bulky covering his waist was narrow and his back straight and supple.
'I am indeed General Nazet.' His voice was low and husky, yet strangely musical to the ear. Hal realized with a shock how young he was. His skin was flawless, the dark translucent amber of gum arabic. No trace of beard or moustache marred his sleek jawline or the proud curl of his full lips. His nose was straight and narrow, the nostrils finely chiselled.
'I am Henry Courtney,' said Hal, 'the English Captain of the Golden Bough.'
'Bishop Fasilides has told me this,' said the General. 'Perhaps you would prefer to speak your own language.' Nazet switched into English. 'I must admit that my Latin is not as fluent as yours, Captain.'
Hal gaped at him, for the moment at a loss, and Nazet smiled. 'My father was ambassador to the palace of the Doge in Venice. I spent much of my childhood in your northern latitudes and learned the languages of diplomacy, French, Italian and English.'
'You astound me, General,' Hal admitted, and while he gathered his wits, he noticed that Nazet's eyes were the colour of honey and his lashes long, thick and curled as those of a girl. He had never felt sexually attracted to another male before. Now, however, as he looked on those regal features and fine golden skin, and stared into those lustrous eyes, he became aware of a pressure in his chest that made it difficult for him to draw the next breath.
'Please be seated, Captain.' Nazet indicated the stool beside him. They sat so close together that he could smell the odour of the other man's body. Nazet wore no perfume, and it was a natural, warm, musky smell that Hal found himself savouring deeply. Guiltily, he acknowledged how unnatural was this sinful attraction he felt, and drew back from the General as far as the hard, low stool would allow him.
The Emperor scrambled into General Nazet's lap and patted his smooth golden cheek, gabbling something in a high, childish voice at which the General laughed softly and replied in Geez, without taking his eyes off Hal's face.
Tasilides tells me that you have come to Ethiopia to offer your services in the cause of the Most Christian Emperor.'
'That is so. I have come to petition His Majesty to grant me a Letter of Marque, so that I may employ my ship against the enemies of Christ.'
'You have arrived at a most propitious time.' Nazet nodded. 'Has Fasilides told you of the defeat that our navy suffered at Adulis Bay?'
'He has also told me of your magnificent victory at Mitsiwa.'
Nazet showed no false pride at the compliment. 'The one counterbalances the other,' he said. 'If El Grang commands the sea, he can bring in endless reinforcements and stores from Arabia and the territory of the Mogul to replenish his wasted army. Already he has made good all the losses I inflicted upon him at Mitsiwa. I am waiting for reinforcements to arrive from the mountains, so I am not ready to attack him again where he lies at Zulla. Every day he is fed from the sea and grows stronger.'
Hal inclined his head. 'I understand your predicament.' There was something about the General's voice that troubled him. as Nazet became more agitated its timbre altered. Hal had to make an effort to consider the words and not the speaker.
'A new menace now besets me,' Nazet went on. 'El Grang has taken into his service a foreign ship of greater force than any we can send out to meet it.' Hal felt a prickle of anticipation run down the back of his neck and the hairs rise upon his forearms.
'What manner of ship is this? 'he asked softly.
'I am no sailor, but my admirals tell me that it is a square-rigged ship of the frigate class.' Nazet looked keenly at Hal. 'It must be similar to your own vessel.'
'Do you know the name of the captain?' Hal demanded, but Nazet shook his head.
'I know only that he is inflicting terrible losses on our transport dhows that I rely on to bring supplies down from the north.'
'What flag does he fly?' Hal persisted.
Nazet spoke rapidly to one of the officers in Geez, then turned back to him. 'This ship flies the pennant of Omani, but also a red cross of unusual shape on a white ground.'
'I think I know this marauder,' said Hal grimly, 'and I will pit my own vessel against his at the first opportunity that is, if His Most Christian Majesty will grant me a commission to serve as a privateer in his navy.'
'At Fasilides' urging, I have already ordered the court scribes to draft your commission. We need only agree the terms and I shall sign it on the Emperor's behalf.' Nazet rose from the stool. 'But come, let me show you in detail the position of our forces and those of El Grang.' He led the way to the far side of the chamber, and the other senior officers rose with him. They surrounded the circular table on which, Hal saw, had been built a clay model of the Red Sea and the surrounding territories. It was executed in graphic detail, and realistically painted. Each town and port was clearly shown, tiny carved ships sailed upon the blue waters while regiments of cavalry and foot were represented by model figures carved in ivory and painted in splendid uniform.
As they studied this soberly, the Emperor dragged up a stool and climbed onto it so that he could reach the models. With squeals of glee and the childish imitations of neighing horses and firing cannon, he began to move the figures about the board. Nazet reached out to restrain him, and Hal stared at the hand. It was slim and smooth and dainty, with long, tapered fingers, the nails pearly pink. Suddenly the truth dawned on him and, before he could prevent himself, he blurted out in English, 'Mother Mary, you're a woman!' Nazet glanced up at him, and her amber cheeks darkened with annoyance. 'I advise you not to disparage me on account of my gender, Captain. As an Englishman, you might remember the military lesson a woman handed out to you at OrleansI.'
The retort rose to Hal's lips, 'Yes, but that was more than two hundred years ago and we burned her for her troubles!' but he managed to stop himself and instead tried to make his tone placatory.
'I meant no offence, General. It only enhances the admiration I had already conceived for your powers of leadership.'
Nazet was not so easily mollified and her manner became brisk and businesslike as she explained the tactical and strategic positions of the two armies and pointed out to him where he might best employ the GoLden Bough. She no longer looked at him directly, and the line of those full soft lips had hardened. 'I will expect you to place yourself under MY direct command, and to that end I have ordered Admiral Senec to draw up a simple set of signals, rockets and lanterns by night and flags and smoke by day, through which I can pass my orders from the shore to you at sea. Do you have any objection to that?'
No, General, I do not.'
'As to your share of the prize money, two-thirds will accrue to the Imperial exchequer, and the balance to you and your
