Read Online The Princess and the Captain by Anne-Laure Bondoux - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anne-Laure Bondoux
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stroking it. âItâs nothing,â she murmured. âYou bumped into a rock. Iâll look after you, little Princess. Donât worry, Iâll look after you.â
A lump in her throat, Philomena summoned up the strength to sing the lullabies she used to sing over and over again to send little Malva to sleep as a child, when she was afraid of the dark and of nightmares. She sang on for a long time, always expecting to see the head of the monstrous creature that had bitten her mistress emerge from the water at any moment. She still sangon, thinking that they were about to die like this together, lost in the middle of the sea.
Malva had fainted.
The sun was beating down so hard on the surface of the water that Philomena couldnât open her eyes any more. So she didnât see the shape of a boat in the distance â a boat coming towards them. Just as she felt she was about to breathe her last, two hands took hold of her and pulled her out of the water.
8
Funeral of a Traitor
Within a few days the weather had changed. First the sun gave way to a sky of gloomy and uniform grey, then the wind rose. But instead of chasing the clouds away it had driven them together, piling them up above the country as if they were collecting at the bottom of a bowl, and it began to rain. Rain was unusual in Galnicia at this time of year. Soon superstitious voices were raised, claiming that the unsettled weather predicted more catastrophes to come. Fortune-tellers who read the future in the cards arrived from the neighbouring countries of Armunia and Tildesia, drove their caravans into squares and avenues, and began spinning their tales: fifty galniks to tell your future for the next six months, a hundred to know everything about the years to come, two hundred if you wanted to postpone the fateful hour of your death. Long queues of anxious Galnicians lined up outside the caravans, and no one paid any attention to the more sensible citizens who tried denouncing these charlatans.
In the Lower Town, some women wore scarves coated withbeeswax over their heads, to protect them from misfortune. Down in the harbour, sailors carved mysterious signs in the stone of the quays to keep evil spirits away. The craftsmenâs workshops did a roaring trade in all kinds of amulets, and customers were eager to empty the shelves. Dealers selling the red stones known as
cornalinos
piled their stalls high with these good-luck charms.
Night and day, troops of soldiers marched through the town, their hobnailed boots clattering on the paving stones. The Coronador was sure that the Princess had been abducted, since he could see no other explanation for her sudden disappearance. The Archont, of course, did nothing to undeceive him, and encouraged him to send men to search the provinces all the way to the frontier.
People were beginning to murmur the names of brigands and utter unfounded accusations about conspiracies instigated by this or that foreign country. Ambassadors were sent to Dunbraven, to the kingdom of Norj, even as far afield as Polvakia. The Coronada spent her days saying her prayers before the Altar of the Divinities. The Coronador was beside himself. He trusted only one man to find the Princess: the Archont.
It was in this tense situation that soldiers returned to the Citadel with the dress that Malva had been wearing on the evening when she disappeared. They had found it near the port of Carduz, washed up on a beach among the seaweed. Some locks of black hair were still caught in its lace collar.
The Coronador and the Coronada felt stunned as they looked at this relic. They examined it, they touched it. For a moment they refused to admit the truth ⦠yet did this dress not prove that the Princess had been drowned?
âDrowned?â murmured the Coronada in an expressionless voice.
âDrowned?â repeated the Coronador in the same tone.
The Archont discreetly signed to the soldiers to take off their helmets
A lump in her throat, Philomena summoned up the strength to sing the lullabies she used to sing over and over again to send little Malva to sleep as a child, when she was afraid of the dark and of nightmares. She sang on for a long time, always expecting to see the head of the monstrous creature that had bitten her mistress emerge from the water at any moment. She still sangon, thinking that they were about to die like this together, lost in the middle of the sea.
Malva had fainted.
The sun was beating down so hard on the surface of the water that Philomena couldnât open her eyes any more. So she didnât see the shape of a boat in the distance â a boat coming towards them. Just as she felt she was about to breathe her last, two hands took hold of her and pulled her out of the water.
8
Funeral of a Traitor
Within a few days the weather had changed. First the sun gave way to a sky of gloomy and uniform grey, then the wind rose. But instead of chasing the clouds away it had driven them together, piling them up above the country as if they were collecting at the bottom of a bowl, and it began to rain. Rain was unusual in Galnicia at this time of year. Soon superstitious voices were raised, claiming that the unsettled weather predicted more catastrophes to come. Fortune-tellers who read the future in the cards arrived from the neighbouring countries of Armunia and Tildesia, drove their caravans into squares and avenues, and began spinning their tales: fifty galniks to tell your future for the next six months, a hundred to know everything about the years to come, two hundred if you wanted to postpone the fateful hour of your death. Long queues of anxious Galnicians lined up outside the caravans, and no one paid any attention to the more sensible citizens who tried denouncing these charlatans.
In the Lower Town, some women wore scarves coated withbeeswax over their heads, to protect them from misfortune. Down in the harbour, sailors carved mysterious signs in the stone of the quays to keep evil spirits away. The craftsmenâs workshops did a roaring trade in all kinds of amulets, and customers were eager to empty the shelves. Dealers selling the red stones known as
cornalinos
piled their stalls high with these good-luck charms.
Night and day, troops of soldiers marched through the town, their hobnailed boots clattering on the paving stones. The Coronador was sure that the Princess had been abducted, since he could see no other explanation for her sudden disappearance. The Archont, of course, did nothing to undeceive him, and encouraged him to send men to search the provinces all the way to the frontier.
People were beginning to murmur the names of brigands and utter unfounded accusations about conspiracies instigated by this or that foreign country. Ambassadors were sent to Dunbraven, to the kingdom of Norj, even as far afield as Polvakia. The Coronada spent her days saying her prayers before the Altar of the Divinities. The Coronador was beside himself. He trusted only one man to find the Princess: the Archont.
It was in this tense situation that soldiers returned to the Citadel with the dress that Malva had been wearing on the evening when she disappeared. They had found it near the port of Carduz, washed up on a beach among the seaweed. Some locks of black hair were still caught in its lace collar.
The Coronador and the Coronada felt stunned as they looked at this relic. They examined it, they touched it. For a moment they refused to admit the truth ⦠yet did this dress not prove that the Princess had been drowned?
âDrowned?â murmured the Coronada in an expressionless voice.
âDrowned?â repeated the Coronador in the same tone.
The Archont discreetly signed to the soldiers to take off their helmets
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