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There was also a large crowd of spectators, including a number of ladies in their open-topped carriages, parasols deployed. He recognised the Residency landau, although there only seemed to be two pretty sunhats on show; perhaps the missing young ladies had found the excitements of the picnic too much and were resting. He repressed the fantasy that Alessa was one of those remaining, and would sit admiring the athletic prowess with which he accumulated runs. More likely he would be out first ball.
He nodded to his batting partner and took his position, squinting into the sun as the bowler, a man
built like a whippet and with a similar turn of speed, began his run. The ball flashed down, Chance hit it squarely for a respectable two and prepared to receive again.
As he shifted his stance, movement from the edge of the great green space made him glance away from the bowler. A horse was being ridden, at the gallop, straight through the crowd and on to the pitch. Ladies scattered, screaming, dogs barked, men shouted and the ball went right under Chance’s slack guard and took out the stumps.
‘Out!’
He could see now that the big bay, a thoroughbred hunter, was being ridden bareback on a halter by a boy. Demetri. The horse skidded snorting to a standstill halfway down the crease, digging up divots of earth with its hooves.
‘Now see here!’ The lieutenant who was umpiring strode up, but Chance was already lifting the boy down.
‘What is it? What is wrong?’ Alessa. His heart seemed to stop.
Demetri was crying, great angry gulping sobs. He took a flailing swing at Chance, catching him painfully on the elbow. ‘Traitor! Swine! Liar!’ His English failed him and he continued to storm in Greek and Italian, still kicking and hitting at Chance.
‘The lad’s gone mad, get a doctor,’ someone suggested in the midst of the hubbub. ‘And catch that damn horse and get it off the pitch!’
Chance dropped to his knees and wrapped both arms round the furious child. ‘Demetri, stop it. What is wrong? I can’t help until you tell me what is wrong.’
‘She’s gone. She’s gone without us and she said you promised we could go too.’He broke off to gulp down air and scrub at his eyes with the handkerchief Chance produced. ‘I went to say goodbye to the cook at the Residency, ’cos she’s my friend, and she said they are all leaving this afternoon, Alessa’s aunt and her cousin and Alessa. And I said they couldn’t be, ’cos Dora and me’d be going too, but then the coachman came in and he said you’d brought the message and the young ladies went to the ship.’
‘But that’s impossible. Demetri, it is all a mistake; perhaps they have just gone to look at the ship.’
‘No!’ The boy stamped his foot. ‘No! They said all the luggage went on board this morning, and I made Cook take me up to Alessa’s room and it’s all gone. And her aunt told Lady Trevick she’s had a message and they had to leave and go to Venice in a hurry. But she would never have left us, never.’ His face crumpled and he began to sob, all his anger draining away, leaving only despair. ‘I thought you were our friend, but you told her to go to the ship without us.’
‘No, I didn’t know. Demetri, we’ve both been tricked.’ Chance felt cold, whether from fear for Alessa, or anger, he did not trouble to analyse. ‘Do you know which ship it is?’
The lad nodded, scrubbing his sleeve across his face. ‘I went and had a look yesterday,’ he muttered.
‘Come on, then.’ Chance swung up on to the horse, which had been caught and was standing placidly in the midst of the expostulating cricketers. ‘Sorry, Michaels, this is an emergency—pass me the boy, will you?’
The Captain tossed up Demetri and Chance drove his heels into the animal’s sides, dragging its head round towards the Old Fort. Fortunately it seemed an obedient beast, despite the uproar and the lack of bit or saddle. ‘That way…’ Demetri pointed to the left, and they clattered across the roadway and on to the waterfront. ‘It’s still there, see! Make her come back!’
‘Right.’ Chance took a deep breath and tried to think. ‘I’ll find someone with a rowing boat and I’ll get out there and bring her back. See, the sails are still furled up, we’ve got time.’
‘Promise, you must promise!’
‘I promise.’He seized the boy by the shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. ‘I swear on my honour that I will bring her back home. Now, let’s find a boat.’ There wasn’t one, nothing tied up to the waterfront and nothing within hailing distance either.
‘There’s the harbour the other side,’ Demetri started to say, as Chance was trying to work out if he could ride into the fort and out along its seaward side close enough to hail the ship. They must have some form of small boats in the fort.
‘Come on—’
‘Look!’ Demetri pointed. The merchant ship was lying perhaps two hundred yards out from the shore and the outbreak of shouting carried clear across the water. As they watched, a slim figure in fluttering white appeared on the rail near the prow, clung to the rigging for a moment, then dived.
‘Oh, my God. Alessa.’ For a moment Chance stopped breathing, then she surfaced and struck out for the shore of the fort. She can swim like a fish, he reminded himself desperately as he stripped off his coat and yanked at his shoes. But she’s fully dressed in all those damn frills and petticoats. ‘Demetri, find a boat, anything that will float. Tell them I’ll pay them whatever they want, in gold.’ He boosted the boy up on to the horse, thrust the rope into his hand and sent it off with a clap on the rump before turning and diving into the water.
The temptation was to flail through the water, risking exhaustion. Chance forced himself into a strong, steady stroke, ignoring the drag of his water sodden clothes. Down at this level he could not see Alessa, so he checked his bearings against the ship and struck out for a line halfway between that and the fort. They were lowering a boat from the ship, swaying down on ropes. The men were already in it, oars hoisted upright to clear the sides. They would be an experienced crew, good strong rowers. Chance redoubled his efforts.
Through the water in his ears, and the roaring of his blood, he heard shouting, stopped, trod water and looked. The boat had reached Alessa and the men were hauling her, struggling furiously, out of the water. At least she was conscious and could struggle. Doggedly Chance adjusted his line and began to swim for the ship, still a hundred yards away. There was more shouting, a rumbling sound. He risked breaking stroke again and saw they were hauling up the anchor. The sails were crashing down from the cross-staves—they were making ready to put to sea.
His legs and arms felt as though they were held together by hot wires now, and the breath was rasping painfully in his throat. Where the hell was Demetri and the boat? It was too late. As he trod water again to correct his angle he saw the rowing boat had reached the ship, a sailor was climbing the rope ladder, something white draped over his shoulder. Already, as they began to haul up the boat, the ship was gathering way, slipping out of harbour towards Vidos Island.
Defeated, Chance hung in the water, straining to catch some glimpse of Alessa, but they must have hustled her below.
‘Hey! Catch hold!’ An oar splashed behind him and he turned, taking a wave in the face. As Chance spat out salt water he could make out Voltar Zagrede’s familiar face, a rope in his hands as he leaned over the bows of a boat rowed by two stalwart sailors. ‘You think you can swim to Venice, Benedict, my foolish friend? Eh?’
