imparting a secret. ‘And if we succeed in our aim, it would be in your own interest as well as that of your country. We are as one in our desire to defeat the forces of Revolution, are we not?’
‘Of course.’
‘Quite apart from any personal gain, you will receive the gratitude of all Europe, as well as that of your own government, when you transport us to our next port of call.’
‘Which is?’
Aramon sat back and smiled, waving an admonitory finger before picking up his wine. ‘One thing at a time, young man.’
Germain bridled at that. He was young compared to the others in the room. But he was also Master and Commander of the Syilphide, newly promoted, and that made him sensitive. Aramon, his face deep in the goblet, didn’t notice. De Puy did, and sought once more to cover up for the cleric’s manner.
‘You come to us highly recommended as a most zealous officer, Captain Germain. If you will consent to the transport of the Monsignor, myself and my men.’
‘Your men?’ Germain interrupted, in a quiet voice.
There was a degree of uncertainty in the way that de Puy nodded, accompanied by a quick glance at Aramon, as if what was being discussed should have already been agreed. Markham, watching carefully, was confused. If Germain was hearing theirproposal for the first time, nothing should be settled. But then he’d been subjected to an odd feeling previously, in the way that his new commander had reacted to the news of the Monsignor’s arrival.
‘I cannot consent to take a party of soldiers aboard.’
‘Even for such a short journey?’
Germain became quite animated, arms waving and eyes bright, in the way a man does when he is unsure that what he is saying deserves to be believed.
‘Do not be deceived by looking at a map, sir. This is the sea. We are subject to wind and weather. A journey that, on land, would take a mere two days, could, at sea, take a week. You will have observed that the ship is not spacious, and you will also have seen, on the deck, that the crew is numerous.’
That provided another reason for suspicion in Markham’s mind. Even he knew that with a reasonable wind, the coast of France was no further away than a day’s sailing.
‘It is scarcely possible that what we seek can be recovered without the aid of an armed escort,’ said Aramon. ‘First, we must land in, and traverse what to us is hostile territory. Then, having recovered what it is we seek, we must re-embark on your vessel. Can we achieve that without some news of our presence becoming known?’
‘I shouldn’t be concerned on that score, Monsignor.’ He looked at Markham and smiled. ‘We have the means to provide you with armed assistance.’
Aramon followed his gaze, his dark brown eyes ranging over the marine lieutenant in a way that made Markham bridle.
‘I would need to confer with Monsieur de Puy.’
Germain was off his seat in a flash, head bent to avoid the low deckbeams. ‘Please use my cabin. Mr Markham and I will take a turn around the deck.’
He had his hand on Markham’s elbow, and was hustling him out before anyone could speak. On deck, it was now clear of marines, and those sailors working moved away toleeward as Germain made for the windward rail. This, on any ship, was the preserve of the captain, his to walk in peace and tranquillity whenever he chose. The fact that on Syilphide it measured not more than ten feet from poop to gangway did not distract from the obvious pleasure Germain took in claiming it.
‘He’s a rum cove that priest, don’t you think, Markham.’
‘He is more than that. He’s devious and self serving, and to my mind, totally untrustworthy.’
‘You know more of priests than I,’ Germain replied, before adding hurriedly. ‘Being Irish, of course.’
‘Not just priests.’ It was the tone rather than the words that stopped Germain. He looked at his marine lieutenant quizzically, before Markham added. ‘It would be nice, sir, to be aware of what is
‘Of course.’
‘Quite apart from any personal gain, you will receive the gratitude of all Europe, as well as that of your own government, when you transport us to our next port of call.’
‘Which is?’
Aramon sat back and smiled, waving an admonitory finger before picking up his wine. ‘One thing at a time, young man.’
Germain bridled at that. He was young compared to the others in the room. But he was also Master and Commander of the Syilphide, newly promoted, and that made him sensitive. Aramon, his face deep in the goblet, didn’t notice. De Puy did, and sought once more to cover up for the cleric’s manner.
‘You come to us highly recommended as a most zealous officer, Captain Germain. If you will consent to the transport of the Monsignor, myself and my men.’
‘Your men?’ Germain interrupted, in a quiet voice.
There was a degree of uncertainty in the way that de Puy nodded, accompanied by a quick glance at Aramon, as if what was being discussed should have already been agreed. Markham, watching carefully, was confused. If Germain was hearing theirproposal for the first time, nothing should be settled. But then he’d been subjected to an odd feeling previously, in the way that his new commander had reacted to the news of the Monsignor’s arrival.
‘I cannot consent to take a party of soldiers aboard.’
‘Even for such a short journey?’
Germain became quite animated, arms waving and eyes bright, in the way a man does when he is unsure that what he is saying deserves to be believed.
‘Do not be deceived by looking at a map, sir. This is the sea. We are subject to wind and weather. A journey that, on land, would take a mere two days, could, at sea, take a week. You will have observed that the ship is not spacious, and you will also have seen, on the deck, that the crew is numerous.’
That provided another reason for suspicion in Markham’s mind. Even he knew that with a reasonable wind, the coast of France was no further away than a day’s sailing.
‘It is scarcely possible that what we seek can be recovered without the aid of an armed escort,’ said Aramon. ‘First, we must land in, and traverse what to us is hostile territory. Then, having recovered what it is we seek, we must re-embark on your vessel. Can we achieve that without some news of our presence becoming known?’
‘I shouldn’t be concerned on that score, Monsignor.’ He looked at Markham and smiled. ‘We have the means to provide you with armed assistance.’
Aramon followed his gaze, his dark brown eyes ranging over the marine lieutenant in a way that made Markham bridle.
‘I would need to confer with Monsieur de Puy.’
Germain was off his seat in a flash, head bent to avoid the low deckbeams. ‘Please use my cabin. Mr Markham and I will take a turn around the deck.’
He had his hand on Markham’s elbow, and was hustling him out before anyone could speak. On deck, it was now clear of marines, and those sailors working moved away toleeward as Germain made for the windward rail. This, on any ship, was the preserve of the captain, his to walk in peace and tranquillity whenever he chose. The fact that on Syilphide it measured not more than ten feet from poop to gangway did not distract from the obvious pleasure Germain took in claiming it.
‘He’s a rum cove that priest, don’t you think, Markham.’
‘He is more than that. He’s devious and self serving, and to my mind, totally untrustworthy.’
‘You know more of priests than I,’ Germain replied, before adding hurriedly. ‘Being Irish, of course.’
‘Not just priests.’ It was the tone rather than the words that stopped Germain. He looked at his marine lieutenant quizzically, before Markham added. ‘It would be nice, sir, to be aware of what is
Similar Books
