Read Online Coromandel! by John Masters - Free Book Online Page A

liar called Potts.
    Old Voy’s eyes began to water, and he said, ‘Jason! You think I sold you a useless map? That boy only paid five shillings for his, and even that may be valuable. The seas are full of sunken Spanish galleons. I have to live. But that doesn’t mean your map is no good, does it?’
    Jason was silent. It certainly did, really, but he could not afford to believe that there was no Coromandel. If there wasn’t, he would do better to go up at once to join the robbers on the Plain, before the people of this place walled him into prison.
    Old Voy said earnestly, ‘As sure as I’m standing here, it’s a true map. You’re my friend. Do you think I’d take forty shillings off anybody for a worthless piece of paper?’
    ‘Forty shillings!’ Mary gasped. ‘Jason, you didn’t?’
    ‘Oh, be quiet, Mary!’ he shouted desperately.
    Old Voy said, ‘You want to know where I got that map? Listen. ‘Twas in the desert, a league and a half outside Aleppo--nearer two. Come closer, I don’t want anyone but you to hear. In the desert outside Aleppo’--he took a quick draught from the jug of ale beside him--’I was riding on a camel, returning from a visit to the King of--ah--Balgallum, who lived out there; he’s not a big king, you understand, but he’s rich. I’d been making a secret treaty with him for the Levant Company. Then, in the distance, I saw a man staggering towards me across the sand. He was thin as a rake, lad, and starving, and his hair was white as swansdown, though he wasn’t old, and there were dried wounds and marks of the lash criss-cross on his chest. I slid down from my camel. .
    Jason listened. His doubts and anger slowly, willingly, fell away. Robbers; thirst; the Grand Turk’s cavalry; men on small horses; mountains and snow and circling eagles; rivers, caves, and tigers--all for the sake of the map, his map.
    Voy leaned back with a sigh, and Mary said, ‘I don’t believe a single word of it! Forty shillings! Jason, you’re madder than Softy Turpin!’
    ‘It’s all true,’ Jason shouted. ‘Voy’s my friend. You don’t know. You don’t understand.’ She was a country girl, and she’d lain in his arms on the dry leaves in the spinney with the moon at quarter, and she’d stood beside him atop the silent earth walls on Shrewford Down--but she didn’t understand. She could see that there must be a road to Coromandel.
    She tried again to ask him about the map, but he hauled her so fast across the field that she didn’t have the breath. Near the oak tree Parson was clapping his hands and calling one and all to choose their partners and join in the dance of the Harvest Ring.
    ‘Well, here’s a chance to get your money back, and more,’ Mary said crossly. ‘There’s a big prize this year. Squire’s giving forty shillings, and a heifer in calf by his young bull. It’s that light heifer with the liver markings.’
    Jason stared at the Pennels, hunching his shoulders and daring himself to do what he meant to do. Affection wasn’t enough. He was in love with Jane Pennel. He was a selfish, heartless man. He’d have to be quick. Mary expected to be asked to dance. His sister Molly was coming towards him, old Ahab Stiles trotting behind her like a ram with thoughts of tupping on his mind.
    Jason said, ‘I’m going to ask Mistress Jane to be my partner.’
    Molly had arrived. She cried, ‘Jason!’ But Jason knew that she understood, knew that the whole meaning of what he said had come to her in a flash as she heard him speak.
    He left Mary’s frightened murmurings behind him and walked up to Jane Pennel. He touched his forehead and said, ‘Mistress Jane, will you dance the Ring with me? I think we’ll win.’
    Sir Tristram frowned, and Hugo said coldly, ‘Certainly not.’
    Jason said tensely, ‘I was asking Mistress Jane, Master Hugo.’
    He held out his arm. Jane rose slowly to her feet and came to him. Together they walked into the Ring. Tom Devitt, Drake’s old