The Prince Of Mist

6

Alicia woke shortly after sunrise to find two amber eyes staring intently at her from the window. She sat up with a jerk. The cat calmly padded away from the windowsill. Since they had arrived in their new home Alicia had learned to detest the animal, with its superior attitude and that penetrating smell that seemed to announce its presence before it even walked into a room. It wasn’t the first time she’d caught it watching her. From the moment Irina had managed to introduce the feline into the house, Alicia had noticed that it would often spend whole minutes not moving at all, vigilant, spying on the movements of some family member from a doorway, or lying hidden in the shadows. She usually loved animals but for once – she wasn’t quite sure why – Alicia secretly relished the thought that some stray dog might finish off the beast during one of its nightly outings.

Outside, the sky was losing the purple hue of dawn and the first rays of a blazing sun pierced the forest that extended beyond the walled garden. There were still at least two hours before Max’s new friend was due to pick them up. Alicia slipped under the sheets again, and considered going back to sleep. Morning naps were her favourite and they always brought the best dreams. She closed her eyes and listened to the muffled sound of the waves on the beach, yet sleep seemed to elude her. She started wondering about Max’s friend, Roland. She climbed out of bed, walked to her wardrobe and studied her collection of clothes. They still smelled of the city. Suddenly two hours didn’t seem like enough time to decide what she was going to wear.

But only an hour later, Max rapped gently on her door.

‘Morning… Roland’s here,’ he called.

‘I’ll be straight down.’

Alicia gave herself one last look in the mirror and sighed, then she tiptoed down the stairs. Max and his friend were waiting for her outside, on the porch. Before going out she stopped in the hallway and listened to the two boys chatting. She took a deep breath and opened the door.

Max was leaning on the railings. He turned round and smiled at her. Next to him stood a boy with tanned skin and straw-coloured hair who was almost half a head taller. He smiled shyly at her. He had the greenest eyes she had ever seen.

‘This is Roland,’ said Max. ‘Roland, my sister, Alicia.’

Roland nodded politely and turned towards the bicycles, but the look that had passed between the two did not go unnoticed by Max. He smiled to himself. This outing was going to be more fun than he’d thought.

‘How are we going to do this?’ asked Alicia. ‘There are only two bikes.’

‘I think Roland could take you on his,’ replied Max. ‘What do you think, Roland?’

Roland stared at the ground. ‘Yes, of course,’ he mumbled. ‘But you’ll have to carry the gear.’

Max clamped Roland’s diving equipment onto the small rack behind his seat. He knew there was another bicycle in the shed, but the thought of Roland having to transport his sister amused him. Alicia sat sideways on the handlebars and held on to Roland’s neck. Despite Roland’s tan, Max noticed how he was struggling not to blush.

‘Ready,’ said Alicia. ‘I hope I’m not too heavy.’

‘Let’s go,’ pronounced Max, and he began pedalling along the road.

After a while Roland overtook him, and once more Max had to push himself in order not to be left behind.

‘Are you all right there?’ Roland asked Alicia.

Alicia nodded and watched as the house by the beach disappeared into the distance.

*

The southern beach, on the other side of the town, was shaped like a vast crescent moon. Beyond the strip of white sand the shoreline was covered with shiny pebbles smoothed by the sea. Behind the beach, rising almost vertically, loomed a wall of craggy cliffs, on top of which stood the lighthouse, dark and solitary.

‘That’s my grandfather’s lighthouse,’ said Roland, pointing to it as they left their bicycles by one of the paths leading down through the rocks to the beach.

‘Do you both live there?’ asked Alicia.

‘More or less,’ Roland answered. ‘Over time I’ve built myself a hut down on the beach. I’d almost say it’s my home now.’

‘Your own beach hut?’ Alicia asked, trying to spot it.

‘You won’t see it from here,’ Roland explained. ‘It was an old fisherman’s hut that had been abandoned. I fixed it up and now it’s not too bad. You’ll be able to see it in a minute.’

Roland led them onto the beach, where he removed his sandals. The sun was already quite high and the sea shone like liquid silver. The beach was deserted and a salty breeze blew in from the water. Roland pointed towards the shoreline and the larger stones glowing beneath the surf.

‘Mind these stones. I’m used to them, but it’s easy to trip if you’re not.’

Alicia and her brother followed Roland along the beach to his hut. It was a small wooden cabin painted blue and red with a narrow porch. Max noticed a rusty lamp hanging from a chain.

‘That’s from the ship,’ Roland explained. ‘I’ve brought up a whole pile of stuff from down there. What do you think of it?’

‘It’s fantastic,’ exclaimed Alicia. ‘Do you sleep here?’

‘Mostly in the summer. In winter it gets too cold, and anyway I don’t like leaving my grandfather alone up there.’

Roland opened the door and let Alicia and Max go in first.

‘Welcome to my palace.’

The inside of the hut was like some old bazaar filled with nautical antiques. The booty Roland had pulled out of the ocean over the years shone in the dark like a mysterious hoard of treasure.

‘It’s mostly cheap nonsense,’ said Roland, ‘but I like to collect it. Maybe we’ll find something today.’

The hut also contained an old cupboard, a table, a few chairs and a rickety bed. Above the bed were shelves, with a few books and an oil lamp.

‘I’d love to have a house like this,’ said Max.

Roland smiled sceptically.

‘I’m open to offers,’ he joked, clearly proud of the impression the hut had made on his friends. ‘Right, let’s go.’

They followed Roland to the water’s edge and he began to untie the bundle containing his diving gear.

‘The ship lies about twenty-five or thirty metres off the shore. The water gets deep very quickly; three metres in and you can’t touch the bottom. The hull is about ten metres down,’ Roland explained.

Max and Alicia exchanged a look.

‘Yes,’ said Roland, noticing. ‘It’s not a good idea to try to reach the bottom the first time you dive. Sometimes, when there’s a heavy swell, the currents can be dangerous. Once I nearly scared myself to death.’

Roland handed Max a mask and a pair of flippers.

‘There’s only enough equipment for two. Who’s coming down first?’

Alicia pointed to Max.

‘Thank you,’ whispered Max.

‘Don’t worry,’ Roland reassured him. ‘You just have to get started. The first time I went down I nearly had a fit. There was a gigantic moray eel in one of the funnels.’

‘A what?’ Max jumped.

‘Nothing,’ Roland replied. ‘I’m only joking. There aren’t any strange creatures down there, I promise. Which is odd, because usually sunken ships are like a kind of fish zoo. But not this one. I suppose they don’t like it. You’re not going to get scared now, are you?’

‘Scared?’ said Max. ‘Me?’

Although Max was busy putting on his flippers, he noticed that Roland was having a good look at his sister as she removed her cotton dress, revealing her white bathing costume – the only one she had – and waded into the sea.

‘Hey,’ Max hissed at him. ‘She’s my sister, not a piece of cake. OK?’

Roland threw him a cheeky grin.

‘You’re the one who invited her, not me,’ he replied with a cat-like smile.

‘Let’s get in the water,’ said Max quickly. ‘It will do you good.’

Alicia turned and when she saw them in their masks and snorkels she grinned.

‘You should see yourselves!’ she said, unable to stop herself from laughing.

Max and Roland looked at one another through their masks.

‘Before we go,’ said Max. ‘I’ve never done this before. Swim underwater, I mean. I’ve swum in swimming pools, but I’m not sure that I’ll know…’

Roland rolled his eyes.

‘Do you know how to hold your breath underwater?’ he asked.

‘I said I didn’t know how to dive, not that I was an idiot,’ replied Max.

‘Well, if you know how to hold your breath, you know how to swim underwater,’ Roland said.

‘Be careful,’ Alicia said. ‘Listen, Max, are you sure this is a good idea?’

‘We’ll be fine,’ Roland assured her, turning to Max and patting him on the shoulder. ‘You first, my captain.’

*

For the first time in his life, Max submerged himself beneath the surface of the sea and a whole universe of light and shadow – more amazing than anything he had imagined – opened up before his eyes. Sunbeams filtered through the water in veils of nebulous light that swayed gently with the motion of the waves, and the surface was transformed into an opaque dancing mirror. Max held his breath for a few more seconds, then re-emerged for air. A few metres behind, Roland was watching him attentively.

‘Everything all right?’ he asked.

Max nodded enthusiastically.

‘You see? It’s easy. Swim next to me,’ Roland advised him before diving again.

Max took a last look at the shore and saw Alicia waving at him. He waved back then swam off next to his friend, heading for the open sea. Roland guided him to a point which seemed quite far from the beach although Max knew it was barely thirty metres away. At sea level, distances seemed to grow. Roland touched his arm and pointed towards the ocean bed. Max breathed in and put his head underwater, adjusting his diving mask. His eyes took a few seconds to get used to the submarine gloom. Only then was he able to admire the spectacle of the sunken shell of the ship, lying on its side and enveloped in a spectral light. The ship must have been about fifty metres long, perhaps more, and had a large crack all the way from the bow to the bilge, a gaping black wound inflicted by the sharp claws of the rocks hidden in the shallows. On the bow, under a layer of copper-coloured rust and swaying seaweed, Max could make out the ship’s name, the Orpheus.

The Orpheus looked as if she’d been an old freighter, not a passenger ship. Her splintered steel was covered in algae but, just as Roland had said, there wasn’t a single fish swimming around the hull. The two friends swam over her, keeping to the surface and stopping every now and then to have a good look at the remains of the wreck. Roland had said the ship was lying about ten metres down, but from the surface the distance seemed vast. Max wondered how Roland had managed to recover all the objects they’d seen in his hut. As if he’d read Max’s thoughts, his friend signalled to him to wait on the surface and then dived down, kicking powerfully with his flippers.

Max watched Roland descend until he could touch the hull of the Orpheus with his fingertips. Then Roland slowly crept towards the platform that had once been the ship’s bridge, holding on to anything he could grasp. From the surface Max could make out the wheel at the helm and other instruments that were still inside the vessel. Roland swam towards the doorway of the bridge and went in. Max felt a pang of anxiety as he saw his friend disappear into the sunken ship. He kept his eyes riveted to the entrance while Roland moved about inside the bridge, wondering what he would do if anything happened. A few seconds later, Roland emerged and swam quickly up to him, a garland of bubbles rising behind him. Max lifted his head out of the water and breathed deeply. Roland’s face appeared just a metre away, grinning from ear to ear.

‘Surprise!’ he yelled.

Max saw he was holding something in his hand.

‘What’s that?’ he asked, pointing to the strange metal object Roland had salvaged from the bridge.

‘A sextant.’

Max raised his eyebrows. He had no idea what it was.

‘A sextant is a gadget that’s used to calculate your position in the sea,’ Roland explained, his voice faltering after the effort of holding his breath for almost a minute. ‘I’m going down again. Hold it for me.’

Max was about to protest but Roland plunged down before he could even open his mouth. He inhaled deeply and dipped his head below the surface to follow Roland’s dive. This time, his friend swam the whole length of the hull until he reached the stern. Max watched Roland swim up to a porthole and try to look inside the ship. Max held his breath until his lungs were burning, then let out all the air, ready to resurface and breathe again. But in that last second his eyes caught sight of something that chilled his blood.

Through the darkness he could see an old flag undulating in the water – rotten and ragged, it was fastened to a mast on the stern of the Orpheus. Max observed it carefully and recognised the faded symbol that was still visible: a six-pointed star within a circle. He felt a shiver course through his body. He had seen that symbol before, above the spear-shaped tips of the gate, in the garden of statues.

Roland’s sextant slipped from his fingers and sank down to the shadows below. Overcome by an inexplicable fear, Max swam back to the shore as fast as he could.

*

Half an hour later, sitting in the shade of the porch at the beach hut, Roland and Max watched Alicia as she collected seashells from among the pebbles on the shore.

‘Are you sure you’ve seen that symbol before, Max?’

Max nodded.

‘Sometimes, underwater, things are not what they seem-’ Roland began.

‘I know what I saw,’ Max butted in.

‘OK?’ ‘OK,’ Roland conceded. ‘You saw a symbol which, according to you, is also in that graveyard behind your house. So what?’

Max stood up and faced his friend.

‘So what? Do you want me to repeat the whole story?’

Max had spent the last twenty-five minutes telling Roland everything he knew about the walled garden, including Jacob Fleischmann’s film.

‘There’s no need,’ Roland replied dryly.

‘Then how can you possibly not believe me?’ snapped Max. ‘Do you think I’m inventing all this?’

‘I’m not saying I don’t believe you, Max,’ said Roland, smiling softly at Alicia, who had returned from her walk with a little bag of shells. ‘Any luck?’

‘This beach is a real treasure trove,’ Alicia replied, jangling the bag containing her stash.

Max rolled his eyes impatiently.

‘You believe me, then?’ he retorted, staring at Roland insistently.

His friend returned his gaze but said nothing for a while.

‘I believe you, Max,’ he said eventually, turning to look at the horizon, unable to hide a shadow of sadness in his expression. Alicia noticed the change in Roland’s face.

‘Max told me your grandfather was travelling on the ship the night it sank,’ she said, placing her hand on his shoulder.

Roland nodded vaguely.

‘He was the only survivor.’

‘What happened?’ asked Alicia. ‘I’m sorry. Perhaps you don’t want to talk about it.’

Roland shook his head.

‘No, I don’t mind,’ he said. Max was looking at him expectantly. ‘And it’s not that I don’t believe your story, Max. It’s just that it’s not the first time someone has talked to me about that symbol.’

‘Who else has seen it?’ asked Max, open-mouthed. ‘Who’s talked to you about it?’

‘My grandfather. Ever since I was a child.’ Roland pointed towards the inside of the hut. ‘It’s getting chilly. Let’s go in and I’ll tell you the story about this ship.’

*

At first, Irina thought it was her mother’s voice she’d heard downstairs. Andrea Carver often talked to herself while she was busy around the house, and no one was surprised by her habit of voicing her thoughts aloud. An instant later, however, Irina saw her mother through the window, standing in the front yard, saying goodbye to her father. The watchmaker was setting off towards the town with one of the porters who had helped them bring the luggage from the station a few days earlier. Irina realised then that she was alone inside the house and therefore the voice she thought she’d heard must have been imaginary. Until she heard it again, this time in her bedroom, like a whisper filtering through the walls.

The voice seemed to come from far away, the words impossible to decipher. She stood in the centre of the room, motionless. She heard the voice again. Whispering. It was coming from inside the wardrobe. For the first time since she’d arrived at the beach house, Irina was afraid. She stared at the door of the wardrobe and noticed there was a key in the lock. Without thinking twice, she ran over and hurriedly turned the key to make sure it was properly locked. She stepped back and took a deep breath. But then she heard the sound again and realised it wasn’t just one voice but several, all whispering at the same time.

‘Irina?’ her mother called from downstairs. ‘Irina, could you come down and help me for a minute?’

Never had Irina been so willing to help her mother, no matter what the task was that awaited her. She was about to leave the room when, suddenly, she felt an icy breeze on her face. It swept through the bedroom, slamming the door shut. Irina ran towards the door and struggled with the knob, which seemed to be stuck. As she was trying in vain to open it, she heard the key in the wardrobe door slowly turning behind her. Irina stood against the door of her room, too afraid to look. She closed her eyes tight, and her hands were shaking. The voices, which appeared to emanate from the very depths of the house, seemed much closer now. And this time they were laughing.

*

‘When I was a child,’ Roland explained, ‘my grandfather told me the story so many times that over the years I’ve often dreamed about it. It all began when I came to live in this town, many years ago, after my parents died in a car accident.’

‘I’m sorry, Roland,’ Alicia interrupted, guessing that, despite his friendly smile and his willingness to tell them the story about his grandfather and the ship, revisiting these memories was probably harder for him than he cared to show.

‘I was very young. I barely remember them,’ said Roland, avoiding Alicia’s eyes, for he knew she was not going to believe his white lie.

‘So what happened then?’ Max insisted.

Alicia looked daggers at her brother.

‘Granddad took care of me and I moved into the lighthouse cottage with him. He was an engineer and he’d been the lighthouse keeper on this stretch of coast for years. The local council had given him the job for life because he’d practically built the lighthouse with his bare hands, back in 1919. It’s a bizarre story, you’ll see.

‘On 23 June 1918, my grandfather boarded the Orpheus, but he travelled undercover. The Orpheus wasn’t a passenger ship, but a cargo ship with a bad reputation. Her captain was a drunken Dutchman who was corrupt through and through and used to rent the ship out to the highest bidder. The Dutchman’s favourite clients were usually smugglers who wanted to cross the Channel without a lot of questions being asked or any official paperwork being involved. Still, with time business had begun to fall off and the Flying Dutchman, as my grandfather called him, had to find other shady deals to pay off the gambling debts he had accumulated. It seems that on one of the nights when his luck was down – which was most nights – the captain lost his shirt in a card game to someone called Mr Cain. This Mr Cain was the owner of a travelling circus. As payment for his debt he demanded that the Dutchman take his entire company on board his ship and transport them secretly across the Channel. Mr Cain’s so-called circus had more to hide than a few simple sideshows and they needed to disappear as soon as possible. Illegally, of course. The Dutchman agreed. What else could he do? Either he accepted or he lost his ship.’

‘Just a moment,’ Max interrupted. ‘What did your grandfather have to do with all this?’

‘I’m getting there,’ Roland continued. ‘As I said, this Mr Cain – although that wasn’t his real name – had a lot to hide. My grandfather had been following his trail for some time. They had some unfinished business and my grandfather thought that if Mr Cain and his minions crossed the Channel, his chance of catching them would evaporate forever.’

‘Is that why he went on board the Orpheus?’ asked Max. ‘As a stowaway?’

Roland nodded.

‘There’s something else I don’t understand,’ said Alicia. ‘Why didn’t he just call the authorities? He was an engineer, not a detective. What sort of unfinished business did he have with this Mr Cain?’

‘May I finish the story?’ asked Roland.

Max and his sister nodded.

‘Right. The fact is that he did board the ship. The Orpheus set sail at noon and the captain hoped to reach his destination in the dead of night, but things got complicated. A storm broke out just after midnight, sending the ship towards the coast. The Orpheus crashed against the rocks submerged near the cliff and sank in a matter of minutes. My grandfather’s life was saved because he was hiding in a lifeboat. Everybody else on board drowned.’

Max gulped.

‘Do you mean to say the bodies are still down there?’

‘No,’ Roland replied. ‘The following day, at dawn, a fog swept over the coast. The local fishermen found my granddad, unconscious, on this beach. When the fog lifted, a few of them went out in their boats and searched the area around the shipwreck. They never found any bodies.’

‘But, then…’ Max said in a low voice.

Roland gestured to Max to let him continue.

‘My grandfather was taken to the town hospital and was delirious for days. When he recovered he decided, as a token of his gratitude for the care he’d received, to build a lighthouse on the cliff top and prevent a similar tragedy from happening again. In time, he became the lighthouse keeper.’

The three friends fell into a long silence after Roland had ended his story. At last, Roland looked at Alicia, then at Max.

‘Roland,’ said Max, trying to find words that would not upset his friend, ‘there’s something in this story that doesn’t quite add up. I don’t think your grandfather has told you everything.’

Roland remained silent. Then, smiling faintly, he nodded a few times, very slowly.

‘I know,’ he murmured. ‘I know.’

*

Irina felt her hands go numb as she tried, unsuccessfully, to force open the door. She turned round, gasping, leaned against it and pushed with all her might. She couldn’t help staring at the key that was slowly turning in the wardrobe lock.

At last the key stopped moving and, as if pushed out by invisible fingers, it fell to the floor. Little by little, the door creaked open. Irina tried to scream but she couldn’t find enough breath even to whisper.

From the darkness of the wardrobe a shape emerged. For a second she felt as if her heart was going to stop from sheer panic. Then she sighed. It was her cat. It was only her cat. She took a deep breath and knelt down to pick it up but then she noticed that behind the cat, at the back of the wardrobe, there was something, or someone, else. The cat opened its jaws, issued a deep, horrifying sound like the hiss of a snake, then melted into the darkness with its master. A smile filled with light appeared and two glowing eyes like liquid gold settled on hers as the voices pronounced her name in unison. Irina screamed and threw herself against the bedroom door; this time it gave way and she fell onto the floor of the hallway. Without losing a second, she hurled herself down the stairs, feeling the cold air of the voices on the nape of her neck.

*

Andrea Carver was walking through the front door when she heard the scream. She looked up and watched in horror as Irina jumped from the top of the stairs, her face frozen in fear. She called out, but it was too late. The child came tumbling down, step after step, like a dead weight. Andrea Carver rushed towards her daughter and cradled her head. A tear of blood ran across Irina’s forehead. Mrs Carver touched her neck and felt her pulse: it was weak. Fighting hysteria, she lifted her daughter’s body and tried to think what she should do next.

As the worst five seconds of her life passed before her, Andrea Carver raised her eyes and looked up at the top of the stairs. Sitting on the last step was Irina’s cat, and it was staring at her. Andrea held the animal’s cruel, mocking gaze for a brief moment and then, feeling her daughter’s body shudder in her arms, she reacted and hurried to the telephone.