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Authors: Michael Moorcock

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BOOK: The Whispering Swarm
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Flattening himself, Prince Rupert stretched out a hand to the rabbi. A flash of lightning. Then darkness. We were safer there, not just from the shifting ice but also from soldiers shooting at us from the bank. Another flash. Rupert had dragged Mordecai back to thicker ice. Acting on my own, I told the rabbis they must abandon the sedan chair. It was too easy a target. Athos and Porthos helped the Treasure out and Rabbi Solomon, one of the youngest and strongest, got the frail old man on his back. Porthos and I then gave the chair a massive push out to where the ice seemed thinnest. I hoped to draw any fire. Apparently, only one Puritan musket man detected it. A single shot rang out and I heard a ball tear through the chair's fabric. There was a loud crack. In an instant the chair began to sink. I yelled a warning and told the least warlike of the men to take turns carrying the Chief Rabbi on their backs, to keep as low a profile as possible. Then I gave a great yell, which echoed as I'd hoped, and gave no clear idea of where I was. But there were no more shots. I guessed the troopers had been cautioned to take care.

Again that quasi-silence engulfed us while the snow continued falling steadily. The sky grumbled and flickered, almost as though it were talking to itself.

Taking over from Solomon, tall, skeletal Rabbi Zachariah now had the Chief Rabbi in his arms, carrying the ancient man like a small child. In his heavy kaftan and tall hat he made an unlikely figure, praying audibly as he made his awkward way over the ice. The rest of us encircled him, ready to fire if he came under attack.

Another great roll of thunder shook the ice. The surface continued to move underfoot. I could hardly keep my balance. We were likely to be sitting ducks soon and Prince Rupert knew it. Almost desperately he peered this way and that, trying to see what surrounded us. We crept on. Where was the longboat supposed to meet us? Lightning flashed and snapped. Up on the left bank the crouching dark mass of the Bloody Tower was suddenly revealed, a massive, solid outline against the darkness, its battlements no doubt lined with Cromwell's musketmen. Then the prince at last saw something.

‘A longboat, look. There!'

I saw an outline, rocking gently. I could just make out the shape of a big skiff moving at the edge of the ice. Then I spotted the light, dancing ahead of us like a will-o'-the-wisp. I was puzzled by this until I realised she was signalling. Rupert, an experienced seaman, knew exactly what was happening.

From what I saw, the longboat was in no way big enough to carry us all. The six rabbis, Master Elias and Prince Rupert were in most urgent need of escape. The rest of us could probably split up and find our own ways to safety. When I put this to him, Prince Rupert nodded briefly. He had a mission to accomplish, having given his word he would be first to tell the queen how her husband had died.

The prince made his way carefully to where Athos stood with his lantern ready. The musketeer now lifted his lantern to shoulder height. Then he began to work the shutter, signalling to the boat. There came a long, pregnant pause. ‘I can't risk widening the shutter,' Athos muttered.

We waited. Then, all at once, we saw a light flickering
behind
the longboat! It became almost immediately obvious to us that the ship was signalling back. I heard Prince Rupert murmur a brief prayer under his breath.

‘It is dangerous for the brig to be anchored in midstream,' he said. ‘The ice breaks up but floats downriver in large pieces. Any one of those slabs could hole a vessel. Look, see. That's our ship.' He pointed to a great black shape rearing out of the waters of the Thames. Then he turned. ‘Let us get you into the skiff, your honour.' He reached out his arms to take Master Elias.

‘Assuming the ice doesn't break her up or lift her,' said Prince Rupert, ‘D'Artagnan and Athos, perhaps, could go with them, being the lightest. Then we'd have to hope the brig can afford to wait long enough for the skiff to return for us.'

Aramis was adamant. First the rabbis and their charge should go, together with Prince Rupert. ‘You have your duty to the queen.' The rest of us would use muskets and pistols to hold the Roundheads at bay until the skiff came back.

As we argued we neared the edge of the ice. The skiff was a good-sized boat but she already held four or five sailors. At a pinch there was room for Prince Rupert and possibly all six rabbis and their charge. Those of us remaining were well armed with guns and swords and could hold off the Parliament soldiers if they advanced across the ice.

After a quick discussion we agreed. Duval stepped on the ice close to where the skiff waited and Prince Rupert called out urgently.

‘Duval! Take care, man!'

We watched in horror as the ice slab sank down under his feet and flooded with water. He was as careless as he was courageous. ‘You'll have to bring her in closer,' he called, his legs astraddle to balance himself.

The answer, a little muffled by the weather but amplified by a brass speaking horn, came in Dutch-accented English. ‘We cannot draw any closer, meinheer. The ice is very treacherous. Those sharp edges already threaten to hole us. If you step in a fraction closer, however, it will press the ice down. Perhaps you can board that way.'

Duval and Prince Rupert thought this over until at length the Cavalier prince agreed. ‘Throw us a rope, meinheer, at least!'

An acquiescent grunt. Then, out of the darkness whipped a heavy strand of rope. Almost toppling into the icy water, Duval made two unsuccesful attempts to catch it. On the third cast he fell, landed on one knee but caught it. He leaned back, using the rope to steady himself as he got up.

We all moved slowly and carefully as Duval backed towards us. Then we began to take our own places at the rope. Nevison, the last, wrapped it around his waist, using his weight where he now lacked strength. Duval's oldest lieutenant was showing weakness from the wound he'd received that afternoon. We got the line as straight as possible. Duval had shown how the rope could be used as a kind of rail, absorbing some of our weight. Rabbi Phineas would go first, with Master Elias on his back. Phineas was the smallest and lightest of them. He had the best chance of us all. He would not put as much weight on the ice and it was not as likely to sink under him.

Porthos and I now joined Nick Nevison. Together they gathered a few turns of the rope around their waists. Then they got as far back onto the solid ice as possible. At Prince Rupert's signal Phineas began to inch forward.

For a moment all was silent again. The thunder was a distant, threatening grumble. The snowfall was still light. We heard the slapping of water underfoot as the boat bumped against the great slab of ice on which we all stood. I knew if any one of us slipped into the water they would die almost instantly.

Now Phineas and Chief Rabbi Elias were a few feet away from the skiff. We watched intently as hand over hand the young man inched his burden over the ice.

Phineas was almost into the boat. Then we heard another sound. At a different time I might have dismissed it as the cackle of a wild duck. But Prince Rupert recognised it at once. ‘Nixer!' he cried. ‘That's his lunatic laughter! Where?'

Was Nixer aboard the Dutch ship?

‘We've been tricked!' Porthos cursed. ‘They have already taken the ship!' Had we indeed been outmanoeuvred by the Roundheads? I strained to peer through the falling snow. All I could see was the looming shadow of the Dutch brig. Who commanded her?

 

54

REMEMBER!

Nixer showed his position in a very dramatic way. We heard splashing oars. Then a boat, rowed by redcoat troopers, appeared suddenly in a thin channel of black water running between us and firmer ice. The Puritan stood in the prow easily identified by his thin, cruel face. Lit from below by his lantern, the Intelligencer General's features had a demonic cast. Satan gloating at his harvest of souls!

As if confirming who it was advanced against us, I heard the bellow of Nixer's tromblon. Depending on its charge, one of the nastiest weapons of the time, the blunderbuss belched a massive charge of shot and small nails. We heard a wild shriek. Metal whistled past us on both sides. Suddenly somebody yelped with pain. Young Mordecai stumbled and went down. I watched in despair as his body slowly slipped from the ice and disappeared into the ebony water. Rabbi Uriah, horrified, dabbed at a wound on his cheek as Nevison scrambled upright on the unstable ice, trying to reach the downed Jew.

‘It's Nixer, true enough.' Duval swore. He peered in the direction of the shot. Two big horse pistols appeared in his hands. He cocked them, aimed. But the Intelligencer was invisible again. ‘Nixer, you murdering coward! Shooting at unarmed students and a frail old man!'

‘Oh, 'tis
General
Nixer sure enough! Traitors! I have been expecting you!' The pipsqueak's jeer brayed out of the darkness. It could belong to no one else but Cromwell's swaggering Intelligencer General. Anticipating our plans Nixer with his Old Thunder had been lying in wait for us. Foolishly we hadn't considered this strategy. His boat swung heavily in the current. Now I saw the Intelligencer General's ratlike features contort with glee in the light of his own lanterns. Reloading, he reached for his powder horn, turning his tromblon's muzzle up on its prow-mounted swivel.

‘Did you think we'd so easily let a traitor escape our justice? Or let ill-gotten revenue escape our nation?' pomped out Nixer. I glimpsed him packing down his powder with his ramrod. Then he vanished in another patch of blackness.

‘You'll not give English gold to Rome!' I heard him swear.

‘You're under a misapprehension, Master Nixer,' called back a mocking Rupert. ‘And an amusing one.' The prince could not help himself. He struck a brave pose and, when the boat swung into the lamplight again, studied the Intelligencer General as if he were especially disgusting vermin. ‘But you'll not exert your new authority unless you put that vulgar thunderous blunderous toy of yours down and meet us with pistol and sword like a gentleman. Would you become a gentleman, sir? You must learn your manners, Mr Nixer, if you're to rise in King Oliver's new court!'

‘Bah! You don't understand, do you, “Rupert van Rijn”? You're as much a dullard as any other Stuart. Courts and kings have been abolished by Parliament. Like your foolish uncle's, yours will be the next head on the block. All your kind are peacock proud until persuaded by a sentence of death. Then I'll warrant you'll be spitting excuses all the way to the scaffold.' The prow of his boat rocked in the bleak water. Falling, Nixer reached hastily for the side.

Prince Rupert smiled as if at a poor joke. He began to turn away. Then Nixer, abandoning his tromblon for the moment, bent and brought up a musket. Grinning he aimed at Rupert, fired, missed and fell sprawling back into his boat. The ball had passed through the decoration of Rupert's hat. The prince's laughter was spontaneous. ‘You owe me one bent ostrich feather, Mr Intelligencer!'

Nixer was beside himself with rage. He scrambled up. He frantically finished loading his big gun. Fixing it back on its swivel, he swung it towards us. A slow match began to spark. Behind him, a soldier, seeing his chance to kill one of us, lifted his musket. Before I realised what was going on, he had fired at Nick Nevison.

The ice began to flood under our feet. Nevison, already shin deep in water behind us, roared, a wounded and defiant lion. Unsteadily he brought up his own big barker and returned the Roundhead's fire. The redcoat threw up his arms, fell like a stone into the water and remained down. Duval, too, let off both his horse pistols and killed another soldier.

Our booted feet were up above the ankles in water. The huge slab rocked and jerked under our weight. We slid back and forth. We found it almost impossible to keep standing. We had to balance and pray the slab did not disintegrate beneath us.

The remaining rabbis were now all settled in the skiff. Prince Rupert stood guard over them, looking to where we had last seen Nixer. Master Elias sat in the middle, a tiny figure so light I thought he would float on the wind if the boat sank. His face was intent as he smiled back at me, lifting his hand. His voice, thin and high, sounded above the shrieking night as he called out: ‘Quickly, Master Michael. We shall both go to High India when all shall be made clear! When the great time comes!'

Privately I wasn't sure the old man had the strength to get to Amsterdam, let alone ‘High India'. I watched as the darkness folded around him. I regretted I had been allowed no more time with him.

I lifted my hand to wave goodbye. As I did so a great bolt of lightning smashed down upon the Tower. I fell backwards, just recovering myself. I thought for a moment the castle was totally destroyed. For an instant a light blazed out. I saw the brig herself then. She was anchored some yards downriver. She lay at the very edge of creaking and squealing ice. The ominous outlines of broken slabs loomed high over her decks. Seamen moved in the rigging, hurriedly unfurling her sails, ready to weigh anchor. No wonder they had shown such urgency! The sailors had every reason to be terrified. The ship was drifting dangerously near the slab on which we stood. Any one of the huge blocks of floating ice could hole her and sink her. She would go down like a stone in minutes. The captain and crew showed enormous courage by remaining in such treacherous water. Meanwhile, the rowers in the ship's boat urgently bent their backs, back and forth, like so many machines. The gap between the two narrowed. Our ‘Treasure' was almost there.

Beside me, Nevison sighed. ‘He, at least, will—'

A cannon sounded suddenly from the shore. A massive ball whistled through the night. I felt it go by. It fell with an explosive gasp into the water. The ice rocked wildly and the skiff almost capsized.

‘They're done for,' muttered Nevison painfully, preparing his musket. ‘Nixer's won.' But he was only expressing his fear. A moment later and the ship was hidden in darkness again.

BOOK: The Whispering Swarm
6.22Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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