Uinen's conch
.oOo.
The sea-wolf lounges at the sign of the Drunken Goose. When the local peasants - hopeless redneck, according to him - evoke the "Rules of the King" with too much nostalgia, here is what he tells them...
.oOo.
In Umbar's cove…
The rippling of the oar was lost in the mist that surrounded the boat with worrying veils. The fisherman was dawning blindly, guided only by deceptive rumors of bows and breakers.
Dark as the abyss, hemmed with the wave's green and silver, the eyes of the Ocean's Lady, painted at the boat's prow, faithfully scrutinized the still sea.
The fisherman's younger son, like an uncertain weathercock, cast worried glances on all sides, searching the mist for a lantern light.
The boat glided slowly, seeming to wander over a forgotten ocean, where the slightest chop sounded in a strange way, distorted by the fog and the sailor's imagination.
But Sajjied knew exactly what he was doing. By the Kraken's blood, the opportunity was too good! This mist occurred only once or twice a year, around the vernal equinox, early in the morning before the sea breeze awoke. In the night the fisherman's rheumatism had warned him of the haze that was rising, and they were up before the sun to enjoy the boon.
But the business was dangerous. From time to time, a bell or a fog horn blared in the dim light, a tenuous sign of the comings and goings in the cove. Sajjied listened, foiling the fog's mirages by recognizing a galiot's signal or a lighthouse's horn.
- We're almost there... the fisherman whispered. He had felt the presence of Hûb Tafnen reef, without really seeing it.
Indeed a platform covered with mussels – the tide was low - emerged silently from the mist, and then the lazaretto's wall.
- Why do we come here, dad?
- What do you think? To fish, my son! Lobsters as big as your arm!
What Sajjied concealed from his son was that the bodies of the unfortunate dead to fevers, were thrown from the great tower's top just in front of them. Then the corpses decomposed in the water because there was a shallow basin, that the tide could never completely clean, and at night the lobsters went out to eat.
-"Now you must be quiet," whispered the fisherman. It is forbidden to approach. If we are caught, we shall be sent to the galleys! At work! Right there, the depth is ideal!
The two men seized their instruments, kind of long poles with wicker rakes.
The miraculous catch began: in orange clusters agitating frantically, the two men pulled up the crustaceans entangled in their wicker strands. These were not the size of an arm, but they were worth a good price at the Caring Wrecker's Inn. Frequently they had to throw a shred of dubious flesh back into the sea.
When a shredded hand came up, Sajjied whispered to his livid son:
- Do not worry, there the fevers are already dead! The Lady of the Oceans, she protects us!
.oOo.
But the fishing was short-lived. A suspicious bell-ring alerted the fisherman, who promptly ordered the retreat. Crustaceans and rakes were hidden in the bottom of the lockers, and the two men rowed vigorously.
Watching out and waving between fog calls and suspicions of pursuit, the cunning Sajjied returned to his usual fishing grounds, lifted up his floating net, and left it in evidence on the gunwale, before returning to the harbour.
As they entered the cove, the bell rang from Tol Cirya's lookout. Hoarse and powerful, it evoked a sea conch calling from the marine depths.
An authoritative voice hailed from the wharf, in the fog that was beginning to disperse.
- "It's old Sajjied, who's bringing his fishing back", said the fisherman, with fear in his stomach. "Catch is thin though, curse the fog!"
- "Fish be on you", greeted the voice.
Once at the wharf and the booty taken away, the son asked:
- "Why does Uinen's conch horn for every boat, even as small as us?"
- "Your grandfather used to say the enchanted conch sounded by itself when a ship was returning to the harbour thanks to Uinen... But it's mostly the law! You have seen how vigilant they are, in all weather! And believe me, the law of the seas is a legacy of Numenor, the empress of the oceans. So there is certainly a good reason!"
.oOo.
Several decades earlier…
In the sticky darkness of the alcove drowsed languished bodies. The mist was beading along the azure ceramic tiles. A fountain of white marble chirped in intoxicating scents.
A powerful hand, slashed by swords and eaten up by salt, rose lasciviously, domineering and sure of its victory, along a milky and quivering thigh, in search of one last rapine.
The curvy figure escaped with a jerk, returning the situation with a mischievous smile. Straddling her lover, she gave him caresses while whispering spicy exhortations. Her almond-shaped eyes, closed for a moment by a wave of pleasure, opened, animated by a mocking spark.
Adventurous and shameless, the gentle hand of the odalisque suddenly tensed, tearing a swearing oath of pain to the tanned corsair: at the end of the hall, pierced bursts of voice, which disturbed the the bathroom's ardent complicity.
The young woman rushed to the door she opened slightly ajar :
- "Dress yourself! Here he is", she yelped, rushing to her corset.
- "Already back? How annoying! Yet I had sent him to Belfast!", the corsair replied, indolently gathering his clothes.
In the corridor, the rumor swelled, chasing before it a panicked swarm of maids. The landlord, back from the fight, was clamoring for his wife, exploring one by one the rooms where led the vaulted gallery of his manor.
- "But hurry up! Take everything! No, here! Quick!"
The lovers passed into the adjoining bedroom, one wiggling to close her dress's staples, the other hopping to put on silk stockings and buckled boots. The corsair, Grand Master of the military port of Umbar, was horrified by the haste. But the husband approached in the gallery.
- "By the ink of the Kraken, help me a little!"
After tightening his lover's bodice, the corsair readjusted his crop and belt while lingering in front of the mirror. Pushed into a cramped closet, he tried to steal one last kiss from the young woman - panache oblige! - but she sent him hurriedly into a hidden staircase. The grand master hated these botched outings, such a lack of decorum was unbearable...
The doors of the room opened with a crash on Karbuzahar. The captain smoothed his quivering mustache while rolling impatient eyes.
- "Here you are, my husband! I did not expect you so soon! You take me by surprise, my toilet unfinished, and that is not worthy of a gentleman..."
Small cause, great effects. The following week was promulgated a new sea ordinance, which properly attended to the unseemly consequences of sea imponderables...
.oOo.
Umbar Corsair Heavens Sea Ordinance
Amendment of monitoring measures.
We, Calimaïte, Governor of the Umbar Military Heaven, order what follows and pleases the Council of the Corsair Heavens.
Obligation is enforced for Tol Cirya sentries, to signal the approach of ships of any size.
The entrance to the port and the exit of the vessels - galleys or sailboats - will be indicated by horn blares exchanged between the watchtower and vessels, for the purpose of declining their name sea status. Any failure to this obligation by captains will cause war to be waged on their unidentified ships, without prejudice to a subsequent arbitrary fine.
This provision will enable any senior naval officer to be aware of the fleet present in the harbour, whether at the refit, at the quay of the sea prizes court, at rest, or in quarantine. The identification of the comings and goings of captains and crews, will allow to organize their victories celebration or any other appropriate procedure.
.oOo.
Epilog
Leaving the boudoir of his Belle, annoyed by this degrading rush, Calimaïte stealthily descended the narrow steps, and soon emerged in a room cut in sheer rock.
War trophies, probably the remembrances of Captain Karbuzahar's finest catches at sea, were staged with a sickening emphasis and an obvious bad taste. A letter from a distant and hypothetical Great-grandfather, a herbarium of Bozisha-Dar spices, a huge figurehead of a Dor-en-Ernil galley, an infusion service of distant Sampar, a model of a naval victory, a navy tableau depicting a golden lighthouse overlooking a grandiose harbour, etc. - all this smelled the pirate's nostalgy of the Numenor imperial age...
A sort of altar attracted the corsair's attention. Illuminated by ancient candelabra, there was a large horn, carved in a marine conch. The pearly helix wound in an elegant arc of three cubits, in a crystal shrine, gilded and encrusted with pearls.
Calimaïte examined the relic more closely. The shrine was fake though solidly closed, but the piece of art all in finesse, an unheard of work and fascinatingly graceful. Could this be the treasure from Uinen's sanctuary on Tolfalas, looted a few years ago? In any case, this piece of art had never been presented to the sea prizes court...
How could miscreant Karbuzahar, an uneducated bastard of Umbar Numenorians and Harad's kinglets, take possession of such a treasure? Uinen's conch was a legacy of Gondor's sea power, and thus rightfully owned by the Corsairs. Calimaïte, full of bitterness, promised to remedy such an impiety.
.oOo.
Several days later, at the Caring Wrecker's Inn …
- Gentle breeze in your topsail, Captain Karbuzahar!
The Grand Master of the Umbar Heaven had greeted with a theatrical air that did not bode well. For what obscure reason did this eminent person venture into such a place? The beer was mediocre, and the maids smelled like the tide. But it was easy to recruit here some bandits to complete a crew.
- Lord Calimaïte! replied the captain cautiously, looking around him.
No doubt some of the Grand Master's followers were already posted in the hall. Some silhouettes crept furtively towards the exit of the smoky tavern. The presence of the port's authority made some nervous. For the bandits, he would have to search elsewhere...
Calimaïte sat without ceremony in front of Karbuzahar, dislodging a drunk quartermaster.
- Tell me captain... I received complaints... tongues speak freely on your own deck...
- The captain is entitled to half of the catch, that is the rule!
- "Karbuzahar, you know that, it is up to the sea prizes court to determine the value of the exceptional loots!"
The captain braced himself a little more on his chair, like an injured moray wrapped around the harpoon, and cast a cursory glare at the grand master:
- "So you accuse me of stealing my share?"
- "You are one of our boldest ship captains… But are you sure you have always respected the corsair board's right of pre-emption? I remember a famous raid at Uinen's sanctuary, on Tolfalas, a few years ago..."
Karbuzahar was a simple fellow - cruel, vain, but simple. He had not unraveled who might have denounced him on that occasion, but he got his wealth was threatened. His left hand clenched on his dagger under the table.
- I offered it to my wife. And gifts are sacred! he barked, planting his gaze in the Heaven's Master's eyes.
So the old shark, in the presence of Umbar's slum crews, had chosen to show his teeth.
What a fool... The Grand Master of the Port had a cruel smile. All he had to do was to have him put in irons. But corsairs have their code of honour, some faith in authority and the ability to command. Calimaïte would not be the first to draw his sword, in order to be obeyed. In his capacity as Governor of the Heavens any of his orders had to be obeyed without questioning. Yet the old shark would not give in - too stubborn, too bold for that - so he had no choice left.
.oOo.
Calimaïte got up and mounted the bench on which the captain was sitting. He whispered in his ear, while the privateer sipped his beer to posture:
- "So Uinen's relic is under the care of your wife? Do you know she showed me her conch?"
The vessel captain frowned. He was not much into second degree, but there, he felt it, there was something he didn't get...
- "I don't believe you!" He said to save time.
- "Let me enlighten you... I was admitted to contemplate the delicacy of her pink coral lips..."
Doubt crept into Karbuzahar's somewhat slow mind.
- "... to feel the velvety warmness of her intimate mother-of-pearl..." The Grand Master continued with an ambiguous grin, his hand on his rapier's pommel.
Karbuzahar's wild eyes flashed. This time he had understood.
-"… I even experienced the sighs," Calimaïte whispered, "what a depth in such a throat-sound, for one who knows how to blow a conch!"
The captain drew his scimitar – "Armed rebellion!" happily exclaimed the Grand Master, who had managed perfectly.
The two men faced each other like wild beasts gauging before the assault.
.oOo.
Announcement of state funeral.
Captain Karbuzahar succumbed to a sudden spurt of malignant fever, upon returning from Belfalas. His remains were cremated for fear of contagion.
The deceased is posthumously elevated to the dignity of Commodore, for the invaluable services rendered by him to the corsair cause.
On his deathbed, Commodore Karbuzahar bequeathed to the Corsair Council, the conch of Uinen, a relic captured at the expense of the Gondorian usurper. This sacred horn, pledge of the Lady of the Seas' favours, will henceforth be enshrined under the dome of Tol Cirya's great tower, in order to be heard from the harbours and the city, and to cast its blessing.
Commodore Karbuzahar's widow, whom the Governor of the Heavens assures of his deepest sympathy and takes under his protection, begs you to join the convoy which will bring the ashes of her gallant husband, to the family vault of An Karagmir.
.oOo.
NOTES
0- This episode was inspired from various Maltese tales.