Behind him the Westflinge’s captain gave a derisive snort. ‘Another way of robbing us, like those bastards did in China,’ he muttered under his breath.
As the array of items increased, the Sultan sat hunched amid his pile of cushions. Occasionally he cracked his knuckles with an unpleasant, squelching sound. The only time he displayed any animation was when the attendant carried in Vlucht’s hourglass. The Sultan beckoned and the attendant brought up the object for closer inspection. The Sultan reached out and took the glass, then turned it over so that the sand began to run. He stared at the trickle of grains for half a minute before handing the instrument back to the servant and waving him away. The hourglass joined the pile of items salvaged from the ship.
Vlucht gave an unhappy grunt. Two attendants had appeared, carrying between them the box that contained the hen-and-chickens clock. They set the box on the ground before the Sultan, opened the lid and lifted out the mechanical toy. They placed it on the lid of the box and stood back. The Sultan eyed the model balefully. Then he turned to his chamberlain and spoke.
‘His Majesty asks what the purpose of this device is. He says he is offended by the gift of a humble chicken,’ said Mansur.
‘Please tell him that it is a clock,’ said Hector.
There was a rapid exchange between the chamberlain and his master, and then Mansur said, ‘His Majesty says you have already given him a timepiece. Why do you give him a second one?’
At that moment Hector realized the Sultan was not as senile as he looked. He had worked out for himself the reason for the sand running through the hourglass.
Hector decided to take a chance. ‘The clock with the bird is very special,’ he said. ‘It is for His Majesty’s entertainment. There is no other clock like it.’
Behind him Vlucht sucked in his breath in surprise. ‘Christ, lad. Watch what you are doing.’
The Sultan leaned forward unsteadily and spat a feeble jet of red betel juice towards a silver spittoon beside his couch. Most of the liquid splashed on the floor, and a dribble of the juice was left running down his chin. He spoke disdainfully to his chamberlain.
‘His Majesty does not believe that a bird and its young ones can tell the passage of time,’ said the chamberlain.
‘Dan, can you show him how the clock works,’ said Hector out of the side of his mouth.
‘Dear God, let’s pray it performs better than in Hoksieu, or we’ll never leave this place alive,’ the Westflinge’s captain muttered as the Miskito walked forward and wound up the spring to drive the mechanism. He adjusted the hands to a point just before midday and stepped back. Once again everyone waited and watched for the machine to work. Even the courtiers had edged forward to get a better view.
The cogs inside the machine’s base began to whirr. The chicks started their circuit around the mother hen’s feet. The hen leaned forward and began to raise her wings. Then, as before, something went wrong. There was a muffled twang, and all movement abruptly stopped. The mechanical hen remained at half-tilt, her chicks frozen in place.
There was a nervous silence, which lasted for several moments. No one moved. Hector was aware that beside him the chamberlain had gone tense, as if awaiting an angry outburst from his master.
During this interval Dan calmly stepped forward and opened the metal flap that concealed the clockwork. Ignoring everyone, he felt inside and must have reset the mechanism, for he closed the flap, reset the hands of the clock and took a pace backwards.
Once again the hands of the clock came together and the hen and her chicks began to move. All went well until the moment came for the hen to raise her wings and flap and crow. Instead she had raised them halfway when a cog slipped and then jammed. The mother hen jerked forward. Her wings began to quiver and vibrate madly. The creature let out a harsh metallic cry.
The Sultan clapped his hands with delight. ‘Manuk dewata. Manuk dewata,’ he cried.
The tension in the room evaporated. The courtiers murmured their astonishment, and the chamberlain allowed himself a smile of relief. ‘He believes it mimics one of those birds that we saw in the forest,’ whispered Jacques beside Hector.
Abruptly the Sultan clapped his hands again, angrily this time. Immediately all noise stopped as the courtiers waited for the old man’s next pronouncement. The Sultan was glaring at his foreign visitors, and with a sudden clench in his guts Hector remembered the chamberlain’s warning about the old man’s whims.
The Sultan’s hand shot out, pointing at Dan as he snapped a question.
‘His Majesty wishes to know whether that man can also repair guns,’ translated Mansur.
‘Please tell His Majesty that Dan has worked in an armoury and knows how to repair muskets. Also, that I and my companions are ready to help him.’
The Sultan was racked by a coughing fit. When it was over, there was a long pause while he struggled for breath before finally speaking to the chamberlain.
‘His Majesty the Sultan thanks you for your gifts. He graciously gives permission for you and your companions to stay while you are repairing the guns of his soldiers.’
‘What about me and my crew?’ asked Vlucht.
‘The audience is at an end,’ replied the chamberlain brusquely. He was already bowing and getting ready to leave. Clearly he was relieved at the way the meeting had gone and was eager to be gone.
‘And what about Maria?’ begged Hector, adding his voice. ‘Ask His Highness where she is and when I might see her.’
When the chamberlain failed to relay the question, Hector stepped forward and faced directly towards the old man. In clear, loud Spanish he repeated his demand.
A shocked hush fell over the room as everyone waited for the Sultan’s reaction. He cocked his head on one side and must have understood, or at least guessed, the meaning of Hector’s words, for the wizened old man’s expression was full of malice as he answered.
‘What did he say?’ asked Hector, turning to Mansur.
‘His Majesty says he has been told that this woman is betrothed to be your wife. But such an arrangement is not recognized in his kingdom until he has given his royal assent. Instead he is of the opinion that the woman would make a suitable servant and companion to his son, and teach him foreign ways and tongues.’
With that the chamberlain bowed again to his master and took Hector firmly by the elbow and hustled him out of the audience room.
SEVENTEEN
‘GET A HOLD ON YOURSELF,’ Vlucht hissed under his breath to Hector as Mansur briskly ushered the little group through the guard room. ‘That old goat might as easily have decided to add your woman to his own collection of wives.’
‘He has no right to decide what happens to Maria,’ Hector protested.
‘You don’t know how these eastern despots behave,’ Vlucht raised his voice as they emerged on to the portico. ‘They do precisely what they want to do, and you could ruin everything for the rest of us.’
Hector was seething. He wanted to turn around and force his way back into the Sultan’s presence. But Mansur was oblivious to Hector’s angry mood. ‘In keeping with His Majesty’s wishes, I will arrange for any special tools that you may need for musket repairs – there is a metalworker in the bazaar who—’
Hector interrupted him rudely. ‘Do you know where Maria is being kept?’
The chamberlain was unruffled. ‘If she is being considered as – how do you say? – a governess for His Royal Highness Prince Jainalabidin, she will be lodged with the Sultan’s women. You should not worry. They live very comfortably.’