An Incomparable Pearl Page 3

  Although the port’s harbour was vast, there was only one ship moored there. It was a great ship in its own right, however, like a palace built to float on the waves. Moreover, although the buildings we passed seemed to have suffered the destruction of a great storm, they were substantially constructed houses, a sure sign that the port regularly brought in great wealth from abroad.

  We sold our horses and our armour and took up lodging, with the intention of using what money we had left to seek passage on a ship that would land us lower down the coast, on the other side of the wall. Unfortunately, when we asked the innkeeper about the best way of going about this, he assured us that the wall extended far along the coast, and no one – not even their finest seafarers – had found a point where the wall ended.

  The wall had been constructed centuries before the port of Zebulun had existed, he informed us, built by Hiram, the builder of the fabled Temple of Solomon. In the same way that he had constructed Solomon’s temple, and its two great, decorative pillars, he had built the wall using neither hammer nor axe, using instead the Shamir; a Great Wyrm capable of piercing stone. And he had controlled this Great Wyrm by means of a sparkling jewel!

  Here, we thought, must be one of the jewels we seek!

  We asked the innkeeper if he knew of the whereabouts of this remarkable jewel, yet he laughed, saying Hiram had long ago thrown the precious gem into a deep well: for the Queen of Sheba herself had found herself attracted to this remarkable man, and the envious Solomon had hunted Hiram down, with the intention of killing him!

  The innkeeper did, however, know of an artefact even more remarkable than this fabulous jewel; for it was a magical lantern, upon which the port’s own success heavily depended. This whole area was one of regular, destructive storms, yet this lantern, carried on the port’s flagship, ensured both it and its accompanying fleet would never be struck by any of these storms. This was why the port was so free of ships, he further explained, because they necessarily sailed as one in a great fleet, for to sail as a lone ship was to invite trouble.

  But what of the ship lying now in their harbour? we asked.

  This was from another land, and had been fortunate enough to avoid the storm that had almost wrecked the port only a day after the fleet’s usual propitious departure. This ship would be sailing soon, he informed us, before the next storm struck the port: for the fleet was due back quite soon, and it always seemed to be the case that storms struck a day before the lucky fleet’s arrival.

  On hearing this, we ourselves hurried down to the harbour side, hoping to seek passage on the departing ship. It seemed we were only just in time, for even as we ascended the gangplank stretching between boat and shore, the vast sails were unfurling, the rows of oars dipping in the waters to pull us away from the harbour walls.

  We quickly searched for the captain, indeed anyone of the crew who could direct us to the captain, so that we could pay for our passage.

  But the entire crew was obviously busy in working the oars, or somewhere out of sight high up in the mast’s rigging, for we saw no one we could talk with, every door to every possible workplace being securely bolted and refusing us access.

  At last coming to a room with doors that effortlessly opened before us, we entered to find ourselves walking on a metallic floor burnished to a mirror-like finish, one so smooth it was almost impossible for us to remain on our feet without constantly slipping. If we had still been wearing our armour, rather than having been placed in the humbling position of having to sell every inch of it, we would undoubtedly have fallen and been unable to regain our feet.

  Within the centre of this huge, mirror-floored room, we came across two soaring pillars, each decorated with a carving of an entwining Great Wyrm rising to the very top.

  Sir Roshaban walked between these two great pillars: and, I’m afraid to say, promptly vanished.

  I never saw him again, and even now fear for him, endlessly wondering what could possibly have befallen my brave friend and fellow knight.

  I would have followed him, in the hope of rescuing him from whatever had ailed him, yet the ship was immediately hit by the most violent storm I have ever encountered. On the ridiculously smooth floor, I had no chance of staying on my feet. I was sent bowling back across the room, farther and farther away from the soaring pillars.

  I erupted through the room’s open doors. I spun uncontrollably across the bucking floors of other rooms. I crashed through the wooden railings running along the ship’s sides.

  And, suddenly, I was plunging through freezing waters.

  If I had still been wearing my usual armour, I would undoubtedly have drowned. As it was, the cheap, voluminous dress we had had to garb ourselves in saved me, the air ballooning within its great folds, and safely suspending me on the surface of the raging sea.

  Even saved in this way, of course, I would soon have perished were it not for the sudden calming of those self-same raging seas. The ship had long been carried off by the storm, of course, and I found myself all alone in the middle of a vast sea, both surprised and horrified that that magical ship had somehow managed to transport us so far from land in what had seemed a remarkably short duration of time.

  Thankfully, other ships were heading my way, however: a whole fleet of them. The fleet of Zebulun!

  Thankfully, too, these ships were crewed by visible men! Noticing my plight, they hauled me aboard, granting me warm clothes, drink and food. They laughed good-naturedly, telling me my luck had now quite obviously changed: for I was aboard the Haven’s Eye, flagship of the Zebulun fleet.

  I glanced everywhere I could as quickly as I could, wondering if I might see somewhere close about me the fabulous lantern the innkeeper had spoken of: the magical light that kept the fleet safe from harm.

  The seas about me where as placid, as stilled, as the mirror-like floor Sir Roshaban and I had discovered on the mysterious ship. There was hardly a breeze to be felt, and yet it was obviously more than enough to fill the sails of both the Haven’s Eye and its surrounding, attendant ships.

  They could have been sailing on the most favourable of days, rather than one that had just suffered a storm capable of tossing around the magnificent, mysterious ship as effortlessly as if it had been a twig caught in a raging river.

  Noticing my curious stares, one of the smiling crewmen indicated with a pointing finger that I should direct my glance upward towards the very end of the soaring mast: and here I saw a lantern that, even in the brightness of daylight, cast a rich honeyed glow over everything nearby.

  ‘The real Haven’s Eye,’ the grinning seaman explained, ‘the one our blessed ship is named after.’

  ‘It’s not an earthly light,’ one of the other crewmen added with a thankful frown, ‘but one from heaven itself: a jewel that fell to earth long ago!’

  A jewel! It had to be one of the jewels I had been seeking!

  So placid was the fleet’s journey that, when night fell, everyone retired to bed, knowing that no malady would befall them. I had, of course, deliberately stayed awake, and I was surprised by the lack of noise amongst the whole fleet, the only sounds been that of the most gentle of creaking planks, the quietest of lapping waters.

  I climbed the mast, heading up towards the lantern as silently as I could. It’s golden glow still shone everywhere across the sea and, as I drew close, I could have sworn the fabulous jewel set inside the lantern blinked at me, as an eye would.

  I had hoped I could open the lantern up, and take the jewel alone, but it appeared firmly encased within the lantern, the glass of which seemed to have been carved from a large crystal. Fortunately, I had brought a thick bedsheet with me, hoping to shield the jewel’s glow as I stole it away; and I threw this over the whole lantern, as I carefully unhooked the chain it was suspended from.

  The darkness that abruptly descended across the fleet was far more complete than I had expected, however. Worse, the ship suddenly began to rock from side to side, from fore to aft, the movement
whipping me back and forth as I was so high up its mast.

  Rain began to fall heavily about me, and a sharp wind picked up as if from nowhere, whirling everywhere across the waters, thrashing the formally placid sea into rolling waves.

  High above me, the heavens cracked open, a sheet of lightning rushing down towards the earth, the skies rolling and thundering as if suffering the most fearsome charge of heavenly cavalry.

  Within that furiously crackling streak of light, I saw every ship of the extended fleet being everywhere pummelled by rapidly swirling winds, their sails already torn to shreds, the hulls being thrown and tossed around on the raging waves as if weightless.

  Fearing for their lives, the crew of the Haven’s Eye were clambering out onto its deck, rushing to trim sails, to bail out waters that were already flooding in through splintering planks. They noticed straight away, of course, that the honeyed glow of their magical lantern had vanished.

  It was so dark, however, that they failed to realise I was responsible, that I was scrambling down the mast as quickly as I could while holding firmly onto the bedsheet-covered lantern. Even so, seeking to discover the problem, as well as to control the angrily flapping sail, many of the seamen were already rushing up the mast towards me with all the agility of trained monkeys.

  I would have been discovered and captured if the storm itself hadn’t decided to take a hand. With a particularly ferociously blow, it sent the ship into the most sickening lurch, while wrenching hard on the flailing sheet covering the lantern.

  Losing my already tentative grasp of the mast, I was sent flying out into empty, dark space, as if thrown down into the very deepest well.

  I landed once more amongst storm wracked waves, but fortunately this time I found that the hollowed crystal of the lantern was sufficiently buoyant to save me from drowning.

  And so I passed through the fleet as it was torn apart by the frenziedly lashing storm, unseen in the darkness as I clung to the ferociously bobbing, darkly covered lantern.

  The storm violently threw us all ever farther apart, until it seemed I was all alone in the middle of the sea, the waves rising so high all around me – even when I myself soared high on a rising wave – it was impossible to be sure.

  Fearing for my life, realising I would drown unless I used the magical powers of the lantern to calm the ferociously bucking sea, I tore the covering away from the crystal, flinging the bedsheet aside to allow the jewel’s gloriously honeyed glow to light up everything around me.

  And as the glow ever so rapidly spread, it instantly brought calmness to everything it washed over, like a godly hand placating hell’s demons, the sea flattening, stilling, becoming around me quite mirror-like as it became so miraculously becalmed.

  The enveloping squall was rapidly pushed ever farther from me, its tumultuous waves, its raging winds, all consigned to ever greater distances until I found myself lazily wallowing in the very centre of the surrounding storm.

  Yet although that storm at last receded into the very farthest distances, I realised it was never, ever really completely calmed.

  In fact this gem, I also realised, was not the blessing it appeared to be, but a curse.

  For the Haven’s Eye was no such thing: it was the Eye of the Storm!

  *

  Chapter 10

  The brilliantly honey-coloured stone now glowed brightly from its setting upon the breastplate (where, as a reminder of the dangers the quest had inflicted upon the court, the unsheathed sword that been withdrawn from Sir Dradfur’s corpse had been slung between its shoulder straps).

  Rather than the third setting, however, this third jewel had taken up home in the depression lying at the very end of the second row, where the sixth jewel would have been expected to appear.

  Everyone who noticed and was surprised by this wondered why the settings lying in between the already recovered gems remained empty.

  Yet as Sir Grandhan finished his tale – with an explanation that he had found himself within the king’s great hall only moments after touching the uncovered lantern – the prince directed his own questioning stare not at the glowing breastplate but the knight himself.

  ‘But was it a fair, or the right thing to do, do you think Sir Grandhan, to take this jewel from people who had aided you?’

  Sir Grandhan appeared puzzled by the prince’s question.

  ‘But my lord; we have been charged with recovering the jewels…’

  He looked to the king for support.

  ‘Sir Grandhan’s right,’ the king declared sternly, glowering disappointedly at his son. ‘You must realise that, as a prince, it is expected of you to place the wellbeing of your future kingdom and its peoples above all other considerations; no matter how personally distasteful you might find any action you have to take to ensure its security.’

  The prince bowed his head in subservience to his father, displaying for all to see his acquiescence to his father’s wise words.

  ‘I am sorry, Father: I did not mean to earn your displeasure with my question.’

  The king rewarded his son with a slight if satisfied smile, waving aside his apology.

  ‘You have much to learn, and Sir Grandhan will surely forgive you for your lack of understanding regarding this matter.’

  Just as the prince had bowed to his father, Sir Grandhan now bowed submissively to his prince.

  ‘Thank you for your forgiveness, Sir Grandhan,’ the prince said graciously.

  Out of the corner of an eye, the prince caught his sister grimacing in displeasure. Originally, as their father had publically reprimanded the prince, the princess had smirked almost gleefully. The queen had, as usual, appeared to remain perfectly unaffected by the exchange, yet the prince suspected that she was every bit as overjoyed by his earlier humiliation as her daughter had been.

  ‘Despite all these pleasantries, there’s still no sign of this precious pearl,’ the queen sneered, as if weary of it all. ‘Please correct me if I’ve somehow failed to understand this quest correctly, but wasn’t it the case that its whole object was to find this pearl? And yet, goodness knows how long after all this ridiculous thing was set in motion, we’re still no closer to even hearing anything more of its existence, let alone its whereabouts!’

  ‘Yet I sense, my lady,’ Sir Grandhan gamely replied, ‘that our goal lies beyond the Mount of Curses!’

  ‘Ah, yes; in effect, you mean, beyond this endless wall, with no gates…’

  ‘And you say you only sense this to be the case,’ the princess added sceptically, emulating the queen’s own disdainful dismissal of the knight’s claim. ‘You do not know it to be true?’

  The poor, beleaguered knight gave a resigned shrug of his shoulders.

  ‘Surely, my lady,’ he answered unsurely, ‘we would have heard of this fabulous pearl by now if it lay somewhere on our side of the wall?’

  The queen let her gaze liquidly drift towards the breastplate and its handful of glittering jewels.

  ‘And yet, we had originally heard of none of these jewels so far retrieved: even though they were all recovered from our side of this unbreachable wall…’

  The queen’s eyes merely abruptly narrowed, blazed furiously: yet those watching realised she was suddenly both surprised and angered.

  A new jewel had appeared set within the breastplate she was almost distractedly staring at. As others around the court noticed this, there were gasps of amazement.

  The jewel was of multi-coloured jasper, a mix of red, yellow, green, and embedded within the very final setting.

  There were even louder gasps as a poorly dressed man appeared from nowhere before the court’s four thrones. Standing alongside Sir Grandhan, who still remained in front of the king and queen after relating his tale, he was holding in his hands a small, triangular shaped plinth carved from the heart and twirling branches of a stag’s antlers.

  ‘Sir Roshaban!’ Sir Grandhan cried out in joy, elatedly wrapping his arms in greeting around his frie
nd’s shoulders. ‘I thought you were lost!’

  Although briefly shocked by his abrupt appearance within the hall, Sir Roshaban’s expression changed to one of joy when it dawned on him that he was standing alongside his friend once more.

  ‘Lost? No, no! I found myself–’

  His explanation abruptly came to an end when he realised that his king and queen were seated on their thrones. He bowed deeply before them.

  ‘My lord, my lady!’

  He held out the carved antler horn before him, irately frowning when he noticed that its setting for the gem was empty. Glancing up at the breastplate, he was relieved to see that the multi-coloured jasper now magically resided there.

  ‘We’re pleased to see you safe, Sir Roshaban,’ the king announced authoritatively, rising from his throne as a way of offering his greeting to his knight. ‘When we heard Sir Grandhan’s tale, we feared that you might have come to grief on the mysterious ship he spoke of.’

  ‘My lord, there were two immense pilla–’

  ‘Yes, yes: we’ve heard all this,’ the queen interrupted irritably. ‘And that you stepped between them: but what happened then, Sir Roshaban? How is that you have not only returned safe to us, but have also returned with – what I presume – is the jewel of this remarkable builder of these pillars and this fabulous wall?’

  ‘Yes, I believe this is this Hiram’s jewel,’ the knight agreed, fleetingly glancing his friend’s way to check that he didn’t need to give any further explanation to Hiram’s identity. ‘If it had been thrown into a well, as we had heard tell, then obviously someone had recovered it: perhaps the owner of the mysterious ship.’

  ‘What lay on the other side of the pillars?’ Sir Grandhan asked, perhaps more curious than anyone else there because he had witnessed his friend’s sudden disappearance.

  ‘It was another land, I thought at first, when I found myself looking out from high up a mountain over a land I didn’t recognise. Then when I looked back and to either side of the two pillars I’d stepped through, I realised they acted as a gateway for the wall we’d been unable to pass through. I would have stepped back through the pillars, only I was suddenly faced by the most astonishing sight: it was a hart, a white one, and one who carried a glowing orb between the horns of his antlers – an orb that shone like a fiercely roasting, parching sun.’