This is a fan translation of The Treasure of the Kapitana (Сокровище «Капудании») by the Russian science fiction and fantasy author Vladimir Vasilyev.
I claim no rights to the contents herein.
Chapter 12
George Burroughs, Prince Moreau, Istanbul, summer of 864
Prince George saw naval minister Lucius Miquela returning from the shore from afar. Because he'd been waiting for him.
The three-masted barquentine Saint Lucy had arrived in Istanbul the previous day as part of a six-ship squadron, and Lucius Miquela immediately went ashore. The number of spies and informers he had in any eastern port was beyond counting, which is something George had figured out quickly. The prince also knew that the information Miquela was retrieving was largely true and valuable.
George himself decided not to go ashore. He hung around the ship, often going down to his father's cabin and then going back up onto the deck.
The King of Albion had been unconscious for two months now, having fallen ill soon after subduing the rebels of Eboracum. He was lying on the pillows, covered up to his chest with a gilded satin blanket, pale and withered.
The best court physicians could do nothing but spread their hands helplessly.
King Terence was undoubtedly alive: he was breathing, as indicated by the mirror fogging up when placed close to his face, he occasionally swallowed the water or mush spoon-fed to him. But his eyes remained closed, he remained unconscious, and he barely relieved himself. He was massaged twice a day to avoid any bed sores and then washed.
They waited for their monarch to awaken.
When the King had fallen into this strange state between life and death, George immediately called a secret council of the advisors. The King hadn't appeared before his subjects in a long time, and explaining his seclusion with an illness was no longer possible. Albion couldn't be ruled by a frail old man. The people wanted an active, strong, and, naturally, charismatic ruler, especially after Eric had placed the heads of the instigators of the put down rebellion on pikes along the Eboracum highway. George picked up the change in his older brothers' behavior. A redistribution of power was about to happen, and that had to be avoided at any cost.
A solution was found, even if it may seem like a retreat rather than a solution at first glance.
The King would go on a high royal mission to the eastern provinces; Prince Eric would remain in Londinium as his steward with Prince Finneas as his right-hand man. In one fell swoop, George and Advisor Itkal were managing to solve two problems: preventing an outright coup of the older princes and rendezvousing with Alexander, who'd gone to the Euxine in search of the treasure of the Kapitana. It was fine that they'd had to depart earlier than expected. First of all, there was no longer any risk of being late, and second…
Second, the miraculous thing that was capable of granting people immortality would without a doubt be capable of healing any illness.
They had a real chance of awakening and healing the King maybe two months before this thing from the Kapitana would be delivered to Londinium.
The triumphant return of the healthy King to Albion would preclude any provocation from the older princes in the struggle for the crown. Neither the straightforward and slow-witted Eric nor the cunning Finneas would risk moving against their father at full strength.
The solution was found and implemented very quickly, and the squadron had already been virtually at full readiness. The older princes and their sycophants barely had time to blink before the news of King Terence's eastern voyage was spread to the masses, the slightly confused Eric was handed the staff of the royal steward and Finneas the cape of the first minister.
As expected, Eric and Finneas intended to make use of the power they'd been unexpectedly granted for the moment and then see what happened. Maybe the ill monarch would die in the east among the barbarians. In that case, George would have no chance of becoming king upon return, which was what Eric and Finneas wanted.
Advisors Chasse and Eimaro remained to assist the steward in ruling Albion; Itkal and Lucius Miquela departed with the King and George for Istanbul.
The squadron reached Propontis and approached Istanbul even before the two months were out, for the seas had been calm and the winds favorable.
George and Itkal saw this as a good omen from the heavens.
Miquela was crossing the port square at a quick pace, heading for their dock. An orderly and six men from the King's personal guard were hurrying after him. George knew that at least a dozen more bodyguards were scattered around the port territory.
Soon the minister climbed aboard the Saint Lucy. The prince met him at the gangplank.
"Good evening, Your Highness," Lucius said in greeting and, without waiting for a question, informed him, "There's news. I suggest we meet in the walnut cabin in five minutes. I just need to stop by my quarters for a minute."
"Of course!"
"Hawkes, have Advisor Itkal notified immediately!" Lucius turned to the orderly. "Quickly!"
"Yes, Minister!"
The ordinary dashed away.
George bowed to Miquela in reply and headed for the walnut cabin, which was often the meeting place for high-ranking persons and the senior officers of the squadron.
The prince spent several minutes in solitude sitting at a small table (by court standards, it was large on a ship where space was at a premium) and drumming his fingers on it. Then Advisor Itkal entered; George greeted him with a quick nod and motioned for him to sit. Soon Miquela appeared, doing it jerkily as usual, buttoning up the collar of his freshly-changed shirt on the way.
The door was firmly shut behind him.
"All right, Lucius, what did you find out?" George asked in a fairly calm voice.
It wasn't that he was burning with impatience — Prince George Burroughs Moreau wasn't the sort of man to show his feelings. But he had no intention of wasting time.
In turn, Lucius Miquela knew that very well. The minister wasn't of a particularly noble family, only rising thanks to his personal qualities; without hesitation, King Terence had shirked tradition and gave the post of the head of the navy to a talented and loyal servant rather than a highborn aristocrat and never regretted that decision.
"I wasn't able to learn much, but somethings are known," Miquela began his report. "Prince Alexander and Howard Freemer came through here three weeks ago, which matches what we already knew. From here they headed to Kerkinitis, where they arrived nine days ago. According to the latest reports, the Saint Aurelius is still in Kerkinitis, while Prince Alexander and Freemer, with a small squad of soldiers, hired two local ships and sailed south or southwest of Taurica. I believe they're somewhere off the coast to the east or northeast of the entrance to the Bosporus. This suggests the following course of action: most of the squadron ought be sent to Taurica, to Kerkinitis or, at the very least, to Chersonesus, while one or two ships could sail along the southern coast of the Euxine and hope to run into them."
The prince threw a questioning glance at Advisor Itkal. The man shared Lucius Miquela's opinion, "I agree with this plan, dear Lucius. But, if I'm not mistaken, there are certain intricacies, aren't there?"
"Indeed there are," Miquela confirmed in a slightly sad voice. "I have mentioned them several times, but in the distant Albion they seemed like unimportant details and, as a rule, were largely ignored. But here the success of this voyage directly depends on them."
"Please try to explain, Lucius," George said. "And we're going to try to understand."
"It has to do with the local seafaring traditions, Your Highness. The Euxine is full of sandbanks and spits, the locations of which are constantly changing since sand has a tendency to shift. The local sailors all insist as one that sailing the Euxine in such large ships as ours is problematic."
"Then hire pilots!" George shrugged. "Is that difficult?"
"That's the thing," the minister answered sadly. "The Istanbul Pilots' Guild refuses to even speak to us about sailing our ships. And local sailors use very small vessels, which we can't fit into at all. You've seen many of them on the neighboring docks."
"Then order the head of the guild!" George started to frown. "After all, these provinces are still officially subjects to the crown of Albion!"
Miquela sighed, "Unfortunately, Your Highness, only officially. The people of Istanbul don't dispute their subservience to the crown, but they still refuse to go out to see in our ships. I believe that is why your brother and Captain Freemer left the Saint Aurelius in Kerkinitis and continued on in local ships."
"But they did reach Kerkinitis on the Saint Aurelius!" Itkal pointed out.
"Knowing Captain Freemer's disposition, one can assume that he chanced making the trip without a pilot at all," Miquela sighed. "Then again, I was told that the direct path from Istanbul to Taurica is the least dangerous in these waters, and large ships will almost certainly make it there. As for the rest of the Euxine…"
George continued frowning, "It's nonsense… Our ships have crossed the Atlantic, more than once. Is the Euxine really more dangerous than the Atlantic?"
"Your Highness, despite its name, the Euxine is dangerous to large ships precisely because it's small and isolated from the ocean. Due to its small size and shallow depth, waves tend to be sharper and larger than in the ocean here. Strangely enough, it's large ships that often can't survive such sharp and large waves and literally fall to pieces, whereas small ships handle them just fine. In addition, the Euxine is dominated by a powerful circular current that imparts additional disruptions to the temper of the Euxinian waves. Trust me, these aren't empty words, the hulls of our ships were built for the waves of the ocean and can counteract them just fine. A large net over a window will protect you from flies but not mosquitoes. Do you see the analogy?"
George nodded thoughtfully. He was one of those enlightened rulers who didn't consider engineers to be eccentrics and eagerly listened to their explanations.
"Fine," George threw a glance at Advisor Itkal. "Lucius, tell me, what's the danger to an independent journey along the southern coast?"
"Just like in any sea journey. We can end up in a storm or run aground."
"What do weather forecasters say? Do they expect a storm within the next several days? We've been spoiled by the weather of late. Can that continue?"
Lucius Miquela nodded eagerly, "Yes, I checked. There don't seem to be any indication of bad weather, but they do say that the wind might noticeably pick up as early as tomorrow. But you know nature, Your Highness… It may be clear in the morning and then make you not want to leave your cabin by evening."
"I suggest we risk it," George said. "I doubt sandbanks can seriously damage our ships. Still, before that I'd prefer to speak to the Pilots' Guild one more time. Threaten them, if necessary. Offer them money. Hire a free pilot, one who's not in the guild. I'm sure we can find someone who knows the local waters and is greedy for gold."
"I will try," Miquela assured him without my hope in his voice. "But I'm afraid it won't work. No one will want to risk certain death even for gold, and that's exactly how the local sailors see sailing on large ships. With your permission, I will go and tell one of my aides to stop by several Istanbul rogues. Maybe fortune will smile upon us after all."
"Yes, of course, go," George allowed.
Lucius Miquela left; the prince and Advisor Itkal were left alone.
There was one subject matter they couldn't discuss even in the presence of the King's loyal dog Lucius Miquela.
"Which ships are we sending east?" Itkal asked. "What I mean is will the Saint Lucy be among them?"
"Let's think on this," George pursed his lips and peered into the other man's face. "The pro is that if we do find Alexander and Freemer, His Majesty will be with us, so we'll be able to make use of… well, you know what I mean… make use of it right away."
"If we recognize it," Itkal drawled thoughtfully. "And if we figure out how to use it. But you're right, Your Highness, it would be better if the King is with us in that case."
"The con," the prince went on, "is the risk to lose the ship. I don't believe that will happen, and even if it does, we'll be able to keep my father safe. But then we'll only have about two hundred soldiers with us. That can be problematic."
"We'll have to sail close to shore, keeping land in sight. Then, if anything unexpected happens, we'll be able to reach it in boats," Itkal said.
He was silent for a few moments, then threw a sideways glance at the prince, "I see that you're prepared to risk it, Your Highness."
"I am," George replied without hesitation. "The situation continues to be a stalemate without this step. By making this move, we have a chance to improve or even resolve the situation. The chance isn't large, but it's not miniscule either."
"You're right," Itkal agreed. "Then it's settled! All that's left is to name the second ship. I think Lucius better make that choice, he is more likely to select the right escort for the flagship. One that is best suited for the local waves."
"In point of fact, we don't actually have to bring the Saint Lucy, as long as His Majesty is on the ships that join the search…"
They heard quick steps outside the door, indicating Lucius Miquela's return.
"Lucius," the prince addressed him as soon as the minister entered. "Do you think the Saint Lucy can make the trip? Or should we choose smaller ships? Maybe they'll be able to hand the Euxinian waves more successfully."
Miquela shrugged, "Your Highness, our smallest ship is at least half again as large as the largest local vessel. From the viewpoint of the Istanbulites and the Tauricans, any of our ships is far too big… That's why, if we really have decided to take that step, we can send the Saint Lucy east. We don't know the local tricks, but, by our reckoning, it's easier to preserve a larger ship. We can add a ketch as an escort. Let's say the Iscah. Don't worry, my sailors can handle any known problem. As for the unknown ones… that's up to the will of the heavens."
"In that case, I don't see a reason to delay," George slapped his hands on the table. "When will your aides come back with an answer?"
"By sundown."
"Then ready Saint Lucy and Iscah to sail east. We'll depart at dawn."
"Yes, Your Highness!"