The Falcons of Fire and Ice - By Karen Maitland Page 0,66

alarmed. ‘I am merely travelling to Iceland in search of new remedies that might be concocted from undiscovered herbs and lichens. I hadn’t intended to treat … there must be a ship’s surgeon on board. He will have much more experience than I in dealing with maladies at sea.’

But Dona Flávia waved a dismissive hand. ‘I don’t doubt he is perfectly able to provide crude remedies for these rough sailors, but a lady of my sensibilities needs the gentle touch of a learned man who understands complex cases such as my own. My husband will gladly pay any fee you command. We always buy the best of everything.’

The merchant winced. Then he patted his wife’s arm. ‘Now then, my dear, let’s not tempt providence by speaking of illness. I’m sure you will remain perfectly well on this voyage, so there will be no need to trouble Senhor Marcos.’

And, as if desperate to divert his wife’s attention from her illness, he said almost without drawing breath, ‘I have heard, Senhor Marcos, that there are ancient bodies preserved in the mud in Iceland. They tell me all the skin and flesh remain intact, though every bone has mysteriously vanished from the corpse, but not a cut is to be seen on the skin. And such corpses when rendered down provide much more powerful medicine for every kind of ailment than even the dried mummies brought from Egypt. Although I understand they are so rarely found that even a king’s ransom would not buy a whole corpse.’

Marcos offered that kind of faint, polite smile which people make when they have no idea of what is being discussed and fear to reply in case their remarks appear foolish. I wondered if he was actually listening, or was still cowering in fear from Dona Flávia’s attention.

The merchant waited politely, but seeing Marcos was not inclined to add anything, he turned to the man sitting to Marcos’s right. ‘And you, Senhor, what is your profession?’

The man he addressed was the one who had so kindly advised me to sleep near an anchor hole. Now he smiled pleasantly, as if he had been waiting to be asked this question.

‘Please call me Vítor, and I am by profession a maker of maps and a collector of curios.’

Dona Flávia’s head swivelled round to face him, her pursuit of the physician quite forgotten.

‘How thrilling! Do tell us, what curios are you searching for on this voyage?’ she asked, apparently dismissing maps as quite unimportant.

Vítor paused to consider the matter for a moment. His gaze travelled towards me. For a long moment he seemed to be studying me, his eyes veiled by long, dark lashes that would be the envy of many a girl. He wore such an intense, hungry expression that I found myself blushing. Then, just as swiftly, he looked away and smiled again at the merchant’s wife.

‘There are two curiosities I long to possess, Dona Flávia – a sea monk and a sea bishop – both are to be found in the icy Northern waters. These creatures are described most admirably by Guilielmus Rondeletius in his book Libri de Piscibus Marinis. The sea monk is a fish the size of a man with a human head like that of a tonsured monk, long scaly robes and two fins which resemble human arms. But its superior is the sea bishop, which has two legs, two hands and the head of a bishop complete with mitre and a covering upon its back resembling a cloak.’

The merchant’s wife stared at him with a spoonful of pudding suspended halfway to her mouth. ‘And have any such creatures been found?’

‘Indeed they have, Dona Flávia. For Rondeletius has made fine drawings of them from his observations. And furthermore, a sea bishop was captured and taken as a gift to the king of Poland, though it did not remain in the palace for long, despite being shown every honour and courtesy due to a personage of the rank of bishop. The creature made it plain by signs that it disapproved of the impiety of the Court and wished to be returned to its life of contemplation beneath the waves, and so it was.’

Dona Flávia glanced out at the foaming black water, as if she expected to see the sea bishop floating towards us, praying.

‘Are such creatures … dangerous?’ the elderly man asked nervously, and even his son stopped kicking the bench.

Vítor looked uncomfortable, as if he suddenly regretted mentioning the fish at all. ‘It’s thought