it steady. This was the end of their moment …
She wasn’t surprised. Marcus had shaken something awake in her and for that she was grateful. If she was embarrassed, it was because her mind had overshot into thoughts of the future and the past few years had taught her how dangerous that could be.
As Kate stepped forwards to peer into the pit, she studied the layers of sediment and rock and the shadows on sinewy arms heaving up buckets of gravel. Behind her, the scratching sound of winnowing baskets settled into a rhythm as the mist rolled down the mountains.
Beside her, one of the miners plucked at his basket of gravel like he was picking flowers. So many hands passed over a jewel from the moment it was removed from the gravel. Each time a life was altered.
Kate thought of the tiny black and white ring with the diamond from Golconda. Though it was probably mined in the 1600s, it was likely the pit mines had looked a little like this. She reflected on its journey from the mines, perhaps passing through the thick walls of the Golconda Fort she’d walked with Marcus in India, then being traded in Hyderabad’s bazaar with the call to prayer ringing out from the Charminar across the city. The diamond rough would have been wrapped up in silk or cotton, no doubt, then marched on the back of a bullock chain overland to Bandar Abbas, where perhaps this mysterious Polman bought it, along with other precious gems. He’d attempted to bring them to England on a ship, risking pirates and shipwreck, and had been murdered for his efforts. Somehow the diamond had made it into the hands of an artisan jeweller, who crafted the exquisite champlevé band. Such a beautiful diamond, such a hazardous journey. Kate was following the same journey, with the comfort and convenience of a plane. What both journeys shared was the quest for beauty, for truth.
THE SHIP
BANDAR ABBAS, PERSIA, 1631
Robbie Parker moved along the boom checking folds in the sails, ignoring the steady rocking of the ship. All around him the crew worked to load, roll and store barrels full of tobacco, Shiraz and fresh water below deck.
Behind him, the Discovery’s captain was murmuring with the surgeon about a new passenger.
‘His name’s Polman—Gerhard Polman,’ said the captain as he waved the transport papers.
‘Dutch?’ asked the surgeon.
‘Indeed. But he’s been here for decades. Paid the East India Company a hundred pounds for safe passage to London. Trouble is he’s poorly … and not from the drink.’
Robbie whistled. One hundred pounds was a king’s ransom. Why was this passenger paying so much?
The captain caught Robbie’s eye and gave him a stern look before barking, ‘Help, boy!’ He pointed to the longboat knocking at the prow, where the passenger lay on a stretcher, pale and sweating.
The sailors winched him up to the deck very slowly, careful not to knock him on the rail.
‘Almost aboard,’ coaxed the surgeon as the crew brought the stretcher to rest on the deck. The passenger yelped and clutched at his belly.
The Dutchman’s head tipped to one side and his white shirt caught in the breeze, billowing open at the neck. Beneath the shirt he wore a leather pouch on a string. He moaned, and tucked it away, buttoning up his shirt with shaky hands.
The boy looked about to see if anyone else had noticed, but the rest of the crew were busy hoisting aboard the passenger’s luggage: several heavy trunks as well as smaller wooden caskets.
The ship groaned and shifted with the breeze. Polman shuddered.
‘Easy, easy.’ Robbie touched the passenger on the shoulder in a bid to calm him and studied the shoreline.
He thought of the girl at his favourite dining room swathed in black silk, her dark eyes traced with kohl. Bands of gold encircling her arms, chains about her belly. The tinkle as her hips swayed when she served him mint tea and plates of steaming yellow rice. How he’d longed to put a hand on each hip and sink his head into the soft strip of flesh above her skirt.
He glanced at the sun over the mountains behind the city and wondered when he’d visit these shores again. Would he remember where to find the girl? Would her father let Robbie visit after their table’s bawdiness last night as they filled their gullets with Shiraz? He didn’t even think to ask her name … Robbie’s chest ached with shame.
‘Carry this gentleman to his cabin,’ instructed