The Rose Demon

I’ve told you, sailors are a suspicious group. He is there to guard you, to watch over you night and day. So, who he is, is of no real concern.’

    ‘How long have you been . . . ?’

    ‘You mean as I am now?’ Morgana stopped and faced him. With the breeze ruffling her flame-red hair, Matthias had never seen a woman so beautiful. ‘I come and go,’ she smiled. ‘I am older than you think,’ she teased. ‘Do you not find me attractive, Matthias?’

    ‘Yes,’ he replied quickly. ‘Of course I do.’ He glanced at the wild grass at the verge of the track. ‘But you are like a butterfly: you move constantly, never still.’

    ‘I will today,’ she smiled impishly.

    She ran ahead of him, long-legged strides, her hips swaying, then gazed provocatively over her shoulder at him. Teasing and laughing, they left the trackway and climbed the hill, up under the outstretched branches of the huge dragon tree. They lay down in the long, fresh grass. Morgana unstoppered the wineskin and teasingly made Matthias open his mouth. She poured the most delicious drink he had ever tasted, sweet and rich. She kept pouring until he spluttered. Morgana then drew away laughing and, lifting the wineskin, squeezed the wine into her own mouth. Even as she did so, she glanced sideways, teasing and provoking Matthias with her eyes. She put the wineskin down, placed her hand behind his head, kissing the wine back into his mouth. Her tongue wetted his lips, her fingers massaging the back of his neck. Matthias responded greedily until he recalled that day with Rosamund sitting in the ruins of the old Roman wall. He drew away and stared up at the branches above him, watching a multicoloured bird hop along a branch.

    ‘Are you tired, Matthias?’ Morgana murmured, nestling up beside him. She traced the contours of his face with her finger; her touch was like silk. ‘Sleep,’ she whispered. ‘Forget your teasing thoughts.’ Her voice was low, soothing.

    Matthias felt his body jerk as he began to relax. Dreamily he stared up at the bird, watching it intently. Morgana kissed his ear, the side of his face, her fingers ruffling his hair. He drifted into a dreamless sleep and, when he woke, the sky was darkening, the breeze much cooler. He turned. Morgana was lying with her back to him. He stretched out and turned her over. Her eyes were open and staring, her face as white as snow and her neck crusted with blood which had seeped out from the two great wounds on either side of her windpipe. Matthias sprang to his feet. He felt for the knife in his sheath: it was still there. He stared around: darkness was falling, the birds above were mocking in their sweet, plaintive song. Matthias whirled round.

    ‘Who’s there?’

    No answer, only Morgana’s eyes staring sightlessly up at him. Matthias gripped his dagger and fled into the night.

34

    ‘Nothing to the north! Nothing to the south!’ The lookout’s voice was whipped away by the wind.

    Matthias, standing on the forecastle of the Santa Maria , watched the great waves pitch and break over the bulwarks. On either side of Columbus’ ship, the two caravels, the Niña and Pinta , moved briskly under an easterly wind. Matthias heard Columbus’ reply from the stern. As always: ‘West ever west! Helmsman, watch my mark!’

    Beside Columbus, Raphael Murillo turned the hourglass. Matthias stared up, the sky was darkening, soon it would be night. Columbus would order lanterns to be swung from the stern and one of the bombards fired, a signal to the Pinzon brothers to close up for the night. Matthias never really knew whether Columbus was frightened of losing his fellow captains or fearful that they would steal a march on him. They had left the Canaries well behind them and now, as the Captain General said, they were in the hands of God. Everything depended on Columbus, his maps and charts and, above all, his astrolabe and quadrant which he used for taking the height of the sun at midday and the pole star at night to determine what latitude they were crossing.

    Matthias was baffled by such technicalities. He put more trust in what the men said about Columbus, that he navigated by dead reckoning whereby he plotted the position of the ships by the map in his mind.

    Matthias leant against the rail and became lost in his own memories. He had fled from the scene of Morgana’s murder and gone straight back to the port. The following day he had returned up the hill but had found no trace