Chapter 16

"He's resting now, my lord," Ishmael informed Pedro in a low voice. "I've left him in the care of one of my men. He will take care of Dom Luis."

Pedro was standing on a rise overlooking the river. The rise stood in the centre of a vast clearing that had once been a native village. It was also where his father had established a trading post over a year ago. There wasn't much left of it now. Both the village and the building had been burnt down and the area about it was now clogged with vines and underbrush. The jungle was moving in to reclaim it.

"We should get him back to the Hawk," Pedro said softly as his eyes turned to the craft that they had captured. "He will need looking after."

"We can do that, my lord," Ishmael replied without hesitation. "We could take the barge down the river to where the Hawk lies at anchor or we could send a canoe down and have Bartholomew row the ship up here. It shouldn't take more than a day."

"Do that, my friend," Pedro stated forcefully. "I'd rather have the Hawk closer to us than to retrace the distance west that we have already travelled. Besides this land is open and the men upon the Hawk can come ashore and stretch their legs a bit while they wait for us to return from our adventure."

Ishmael did not speak in response to his young master's words. He could tell from Pedro's bearing and from the scorn in his voice as he spoke about adventure that the young nobleman was not looking forward to the next few days of their travel. Finding Dom Luis alive and in the state he was had hit him hard.

"What about the other men?" Pedro asked after a moment of tense silence. "How are they faring?"

"Not well, my lord," Ishmael answered solemnly. The rowing crew of the galley barge had been all slaves. Besides Dom Luis there had been a second white man with them. His name was Hector and he had been one of the soldiers that Ishmael had sent with Dom Luis during that man's expedition. Hector had been an older soldier and more experienced and Ishmael had made him commander of Dom Luis's guard. Still he hadn't been that old when he had left Eko. Now he looked to be as old as Dom Luis. The man was as bone thin as his master had been and what life had once been in his eyes was now extinguished. As for the other slaves, Ishmael had learned that they were all locals who had been taken when the Condor's men had raided the settlement here. The majority were older men like Dom Luis. It appeared, from what Ishmael had learned from the sailors who spoke the local dialect that the Condor's men had put the older men to work on the barge while they had sent the other men off to work in the mines. It was one of the reasons that Dom Luis was still alive. The men who went to the mines did not survive for long.

"We'll need to care for them as well," Pedro stated with anger edging his voice. "They will need our help to survive."

"I will see to it, my lord," Ishmael answered firmly in an effort to reassure his young master that he understood how he was feeling.

"I hadn't expected to find my father, Ishmael," Pedro gasped out a moment later, pain clearly showing upon his face. "I had expected to find him dead."

"I know Dom Pedro," Ishmael replied softly. "We can thank Allah for that."

"We should have come earlier," Pedro stated coldly. "I should have sailed directly for this place upon arriving in Eko. I could have spared him some of the pain that he has been forced to endure. I could have rescued him earlier and the other men that had been taken with him."

"You did not know they were still alive, Dom Pedro," Ishmael told Pedro bluntly, "and it is not your fault that you did not sail. That fault was mine and mine alone. I cautioned you against this expedition and I held you back when you wanted to sail up this river and revenge yourself against the evil perpetrated against you by the Condor and his men. If I had not held you back, Dom Luis would have been rescued long ago."

This time Pedro did not say anything in reply. Instead he stood and gazed off into the distance. His eyes were not focused on anything in particular and Ishmael could tell that his young master's mind was elsewhere. Seeing this he kept silent. Eventually Pedro sighed and then spoke to him.

"It was neither of our faults, my friend," Pedro stated in a whisper of a voice. "It is the fault of the Condor. I pray to God that I will meet him at sea one day so I may take my revenge upon him. Until then I must curb my anger and focus on the present and the tasks at hand. Go and send a canoe back to fetch Bartholomew and the Hawk. Once it has returned, we will continue our quest and when we have finished here, the two of us will sit and talk again. When we do, we will speak of what next and how to pluck the feathers of the Condor and his men."

"I don't believe it," Bartholomew said as he gazed down at the sleeping form of Dom Luis. "I just didn't think it was possible."

Dom Luis was now aboard the Hawk. A party of men from the ship had helped transfer him and Hector aboard shortly after the Hawk had dropped anchor and it had secured itself along side the captured galley barge. At Pedro's insistence they had transported his father to Pedro's cabin. Now the older man was tucked into Pedro's bed and he was sound asleep. As for Hector, Pedro had placed him in Bartholomew's bunk. Until both men were fit again, they would stay where they were, tended to by the crew of the Hawk.

"Believe it my friend," Ishmael stated in a low voice, hoping not to disturb the slumbering man or his young master who was standing over his father, watching him sleep. "Whether it was God or Allah, someone heard our prayers and granted us our wishes. Be happy with that fact."

"I am," Bartholomew whispered back in protest. "I just didn't think that we would find anyone alive. It is just so hard to believe."

"True," Ishmael muttered softly, "but for now just let it be."

With that the two men fell silent for a bit, watching as their young master stood in silence staring down at his slumbering father. There was worry upon the young man's face and both men knew what he was thinking. Dom Luis was a spent man and even though he had been found alive when all hope had been forsaken, it was still possible that he would die. Only time would tell in that matter. For now they had to watch and wait.

Eventually Pedro looked up from his father and then he glanced over to where his friends were standing in the open door to his cabin. With a nod of his head he indicated to them that it was time to go off and talk elsewhere. With an acknowledging nod back at him, Ishmael and Bartholomew turned and head back down the passageway that would lead them to the main deck of the Hawk. Silently Pedro followed after them, leaving his father in the care of a crewman.

"So," Bartholomew said as the three men gathered together by the starboard railing of the Hawk, where they had tied themselves to the captured galley barge. "What now? Have you spoken to the men you captured or the slaves that you have set free?"

"Both," Ishmael informed Bartholomew when Pedro didn't speak up. He hesitated for a moment before going on. Ishmael saw that Pedro was staring intently at the rowing station where Dom Luis had been shackled. He could see the rage building the façade of his young master's features and he knew that one day someone would pay dearly for the insult that they had foisted upon Pedro's father and his family. Sighing heavily Ishmael turned back and continued speaking to Bartholomew. "Dom Pedro and I spent yesterday speaking with the captured men in an attempt to learn more about the Condor's activities in this region and what the craft we took was all about. While we spoke to them Rashid and As-wad spoke to the freed slaves. Two of your crewmen helped them in this. Again it was to learn more about what the Condor was involved in here and what we can expect as we travelled further up the river."

"And what did you learn," Bartholomew asked, his voice filled with curiosity.

"We learned a lot," Pedro interjected before Ishmael could reply. The young nobleman had turned away from the captured galley and he was now looking intently at his first mate and his captain of the guard. "The five men we captured were no more than hirelings that the Condor picked up from the wharves of Cadiz and Seville. They were thugs at the very best. Their role in the Condor's plan was to travel between the estuary of this great river and the Condor's secret lair deep to the south of here on the fringes of the Kingdom of Kongo. The barge would take treasure from the lair down the river to be loaded onto a ship that served the Condor. Once the treasure was delivered they would take on supplies and men and return back up the river to the Condor's lair. They did this twice a year. The fact is that is where this craft is bound at this very moment. It is laden with treasure to be delivered to the west and to the Condor's messenger ship."

"Incredible," Bartholomew exclaimed with a look of disbelief upon his face. "I don't believe it."

"Believe it my old friend," Pedro said in response, his expression flat and without humour. "The truth is that this craft has travelled westward at least twice and eastward at least once in the time that my father has been a slave upon it and it is possible that they have done so more than that. The men who'd crewed the barge and who'd driven the slaves to row it have confessed that they have taken it down the river to the estuary, keeping far away from Mkanza-Sonyo so as not to be seen and they have rendezvoused there with a carrack no bigger than the Santa Maria. They are expected there within the next week or so."

"And the treasure that you've spoken of," Bartholomew asked out of curiosity. "Is it onboard the barge?"

"It is," Pedro acknowledged without hesitation. "Would you like to see it?"

"What is it?" Bartholomew asked instead of replying, his interest overwhelming his sense of propriety."

"Come with me and have a look," Pedro answered him, a smile finally crossing his lips for the first time since Bartholomew had rejoined his captain. It was a mischievous smile but Bartholomew did not question it. Instead he asked Pedro to lead on.

Together the three men scrambled over the side of the Hawk and they climbed down to the open deck of the galley barge. There Pedro led them to the stern of the craft and the low poop deck that stood there. On it Bartholomew spotted half a dozen large money jars like the locals used for the nzimbu that was the currency of the Kingdom of the Kongo."

"Shells?" Bartholomew exclaimed with a mixture of disgust and disbelief in his voice. "The Condor has put us all through this for money pots filled with shells. This must be a jest."

"Not shells," Pedro declared forcefully, stepping over to one of the pots to pick it up so he could present the contents of it to Bartholomew, "but this instead."

"No!" Bartholomew cried out even louder than the first time, his voice now filled with amazement. "It cannot be."

"But it is my old friend," Pedro chuckled openly in response, "and all the pots are full."

"Diamonds," Bartholomew gasped loudly shaking his head from side to side as he looked in the pot and then at the other ones that stood unopened against the wall of the stern of the ship. "All of those pots are filled with diamonds; there must be thousands of them."

"I imagine there are," Pedro acknowledge with a shrug of his shoulders. "Neither Ishmael nor I have had a chance to count them. Personally I think I will leave that task to Omar and another once we return to Eko but based upon the size of the pots and the uncut diamonds in them, I would estimate that there are tens of thousand of the gems sitting there."

"But I've never heard of diamonds from the Kongo," Bartholomew declared with a touch of confidence in his voice. "The Condor couldn't have found them here."

"The ex-slaves have confirmed that the Spaniards have," Ishmael interjected, stepping into the conversation. "They've said that the river that we must follow next winds for about a week to the southeast and that there are lands there that are filled with such gems. Of course to the locals they are but pebbles and nothing more. However the Condor and his men have been collecting them up as they came across them. Now, according to the ex-slaves, the Spaniards are digging a mine in an effort to find more."

"It must be a fortune," Bartholomew went on, his mind still fixated on the large money pots and their content.

"A fortune paid with the blood of free men," Pedro growled in reply, his visage growing dark with rage once again.

"Of course," Bartholomew sputtered in response, startled by his young captain's words, "I did not mean anything by what I said."

"Of course not," Ishmael insisted stepping in to the conversation once again, "and no offense was taken. However, going back to your original question, which was what we are going to do next, the answer is obvious."

"It is?" Bartholomew asked still taken aback by his captain's reactions to his words.

"Yes it is," Pedro affirmed sternly. "We are going on to the Condor's lair as soon as possible and we're going to put him out of business and then when we are done, we will sail west again and capture his ship. After that I will make the Condor pay."

The enclosure stood but a dozen feet from the banks of the narrow river. It was small in size; barely thirty feet in radius and crudely built. It had one gate that opened towards the river and one that opened towards the neighbouring fields and the highland hills beyond. All the dwellings within it were small wattle huts with leaf roofs. There was only one watchtower in the place and it stood in the centre of the enclosure so that the guard in it could watch in all directions.

Pedro and his party were hidden on a distant hill. They had left the clearing where they had seized the galley barge the day before the same night that the Hawk had joined them. The raiding party had returned to their canoes and they had struck up river once again, this time reinforced by two of the liberated oarsmen from the galley. These local men volunteered to help Pedro and his men reach the Condor's lair, anxious to obtain a little revenge themselves. Pedro had taken them willingly into his group, knowing full well that he needed all the help he could get.

The trip had taken another week of hard paddling. They had travelled northeast along the great river until they came upon the mouth of another river that fed into it from the south. The two locals had confirmed that the southern river led to where Pedro wished to go. They had turned up that river and then they had paddled hard once more for another three days. The trip had taken them between jungle covered mountain ranges and past burnt out villages. On the evening of the fourth day the locals had pointed them towards the western bank of the river that they had been working their way up. Once the raiding party was ashore with their canoes pulled out of the water the two ex-galley slaves had explained to Pedro that they were close to where Pedro wanted to go. They had quickly told him that another river flowed nearby; a narrow one that led to the southwest. Pedro had quickly learned that the Condor's men had an enclosure on the river where they lived with the women they had taken prisoner and that the enclosure was but a short distance from the mouth of the narrow river. Pedro had also learned that the mine was at least a mile or two south of the narrow river. It stood in a section of hills that led up to a broad open plateau.

The decision had been easy for Pedro to make. He had chosen to walk through the night to where the enclosure laid waiting. To avoid having to cross the narrow river they had returned to the canoes first and they had rowed pass the mouth of the narrow river before putting in to shore again. After that and a short rest, the raiding party had struck out towards the enclosure and their final destination, determined to make it there in one night.

The march had been relatively easy. The land south of the narrow river proved to be sparsely forested compared to the vast jungles that they had passed on their trek up the great river. That made travel easier. Rashid led the way with one of the locals and As-wad followed him. They had been followed by Pedro and then Ishmael and the other local. The rest of the party followed them with the archers in the lead. Thankfully the trek had taken only part of the night and it had been completed without an incident. Now the party lay within a copse of trees and underbrush that stood upon a nearby hill with Pedro and Ishmael spying out the enclosure and discussing what to do next.

"We should strike them while they sleep," Ishmael told his young master in a hushed but firm voice.

"We should," Pedro agreed without taking his eyes off the enclosure while he spoke, "but we should strike the mine first."

"Why?" Ishmael asked curtly.

"To ensure the bastards there do not escape our wrath," Pedro stated coldly in reply, "or to allow them to slaughter the slaves in their charge when they hear the sounds of battle that you and I both know will ring out here when we attack that enclosure. I will not let anyone get away or for any man to die needlessly if possible. Too many have done so because of what the Condor has done."

"All right then," Ishmael responded after a moment's thought. "How do you want to do this?"

Ishmael and Pedro had drawn straws for the job of liberating the slaves and capturing or killing the men who held them. Pedro had won. That had not pleased Ishmael but the older man had given in without too much protest.

"I'm going to take Rashid and As-wad with me," Pedro informed Ishmael once the decision had been made, "and one of the ex-galley slaves. The short one knows where the mine is located and he will help make our trip shorter than it needs to be. I will also take four of your guardsmen with me for protection. I figure that should be enough to overpower the guards that watch over the slaves at night."

"Very well my lord," Ishmael muttered in acknowledgement. "I will wait here and watch the enclosure for you. If the sun rises before your return and the men in the enclosure form up to march up to the mine then I will attack. If they do not and you return first, then I will wait for you and we will attack together."

"Agreed old friend," Pedro whispered in reply, "and may God and Allah make it so."

The slave camp lay in a valley but a short distance from the enclosure. It was up a long rise of land that led from the clearing within which the enclosure stood and then back down the other side and into narrow stretch of land that was sparsely forested. From the hillside Pedro could make it out clearly in the dark.

The slaves slept on the ground huddled in a pile for warmth. They had neither shelter nor blankets with which to protect themselves from the elements. As for the guards watching them, they spent their night standing upon a raised platform that was built in the lee of the valley wall. The platform consisted of a broad walkway upon which a single man walked his post armed with a matchlock musket and a brace of matchlock pistols, and a larger area that was covered over with sailcloth where the rest of the guards slept and took shelter during the night. The guard walking back and forth looked bored.

As time was of an urgency Pedro chose to strike quickly and with force. He set Rashid and As-wad to eliminate the sentry while Pedro and his four guardsmen would scale the ladder leading up to the deck of the platform. With God's blessing they would reach the top before the Condor's men knew they were there.

Both Rashid and As-wad did their jobs with professional skill. They both rose from cover as one and they loosed their arrows at the same moment. Their speeding darts took the sentry just as he reached the end of his walk towards them. Both arrows struck the man in the chest and killed him instantly. The impact of the arrows threw him backwards and they sent him sprawling upon the walkway. He fell with a clamour as both his body and his musket hit the wooden platform. His musket bounced and then fell to the ground below. Before it even hit the ground, Pedro was scrambling up the ladder.

The man's death had startled one of his slumbering companions awake. The man was swinging his legs off his cot when Pedro reached the top of the ladder and the platform. On seeing Pedro's sudden appearance the man gasped with surprise and cried out. As he did, Pedro drew his sword and went for him.