Courage and Cowardice - Chapter 13
Ulisses laughed as he left the embrace, and gazed at the man who had once been only a boy. “Yann!” he cried in joy. “My son!”
Let Fame with wonder name the Greek no more,
What lands he saw, what toils at sea he bore;
No more the Trojan's wandering voyage boast,
What storms he braved on many a perilous coast:
No more let Rome exult in Trajan's name,
Nor Eastern conquests Ammon's pride proclaim;
A nobler hero's deeds demand my lays
Than ever adorned the song of ancient days;
Illustrious Gama, whom the waves obeyed,
And whose dread sword the fate of empire swayed.
-The Lusiads
“Gather round, gather round! Come one and come all!” the cantadora called to all the children of the town. A story was about to be told, and everyone wished to hear. Rushing round the cantadora, the children and eager passersby settled down, anxious to listen to the tale in store for them.
“Now,” the cantadora grinned, already possessing the full attention of her audience. “Tell me, do you remember our friends Subrinh and Lob?”
The children laughed and nodded excitedly. Of all the tales told, the antics of the two antagonists were by far the most popular and adored.
“Well, our story begins when Subrinh heard that Crow was holding a great party on his island, invitation only. Now Subrinh, whenever he hears he isn’t invited, he gets to scheming. And sure enough, soon our little friend had devised a master plan to show old Crow what-for.
“Subrinh plucked a black feather from a chicken’s rump, wrote a quick letter, and then pranced on down to old Lob’s house. Then he knocked on the door and shouted ‘Hey now, old wolf! Didn’t you hear about that party tonight?’
“‘Party?’ old Lob was wise to Subrinh’s tricks, and he smelled a rat. ‘What party do you mean?’
“‘Why this one here,’ Subrinh gave the letter to Lob. “There’s to be a banquet, and you’re invited!’
“Now Lob was intrigued, for if there was one thing he never could turn down, it was a feast. Still, best be sure, Lob thought, as he scrutinized the handwriting on the envelope.
“‘Now Subrinh,’ Lob bared his teeth. ‘This here seems to be your own handwriting! How do I know you’re not just trying to trick me?’
“‘No tricks, old wolf,’ Subrinh gave his best innocent smile. ‘Why see, just open up the letter there! You’ll see what I mean.’
“Old Lob opened up the letter, and sure enough, inside there was a formal invitation and a feather, just as black as old Crow’s!
“‘Well, well!’ Lob guffawed. ‘I guess a thank you is in order!’ And he quickly went inside to put on his best suit, while Subrinh skipped away, laughing all the while.”
Ulisses Lobo stalked the deck of the Lasting Cloud, his heavy in-and-out breaths filled to the brim with emotion. His hands were crossed behind his back and his posture was slightly stooped as he swaggered past the sailors, fore and aft, fore and aft, constantly looking like a man with a purpose but never stopping at any one spot for too long. When at last Ulisses ceased his sauntering, to tightly clasp the railing and breathe in the thick, briny air, and feel the warm, glistening sun upon his face, the crew all at once turned to glance at him, before suddenly wondering why they had allowed such an irritating distraction to get the better of them. Quickly the men returned to work, all the while cursing under their breaths the presence of their eccentric passenger.
“By Yehovah,” Ulisses sighed wistfully. “It is good to be alive. So good. Marvelously so.”
A young man, the only one brave or ignorant enough to do so, quietly whispered an enquiry to the sailor beside him.
“Erm, say sir, just what is that fellow doing on board anyhow?”
“Can’t say,” the sailor did his best to answer discreetly. “He just showed up at São Tomé, started waving his little seal around, and the captain took him in.”
“But… is he on a diplomatic mission or something?” the boy was utterly flabbergasted.
“I don’t know!” the sailor growled, before catching himself and making sure Ulisses had not spotted them. “These nobles are eccentric. I never bother trying to understand them.”
The boy decided to drop the subject then. He could have perhaps gleaned some further clues off his fellow crewman, but it was not worth bringing themselves to the attention of the anomalous being aboard their vessel.
Ulisses Lobo continued to stalk and prowl the deck, fore to aft and back again. Now he was shaking his head slightly, albeit with a smug, proud grin plastered on his face, the origin of which no-one could decipher or would dare to ask. He seemed to be someone with a wonderful turn of fortune, who simply could not believe just how lucky he was.
“I say!” he suddenly called out, and the whole crew jumped a little in surprise.
No-one dared respond to the passenger, and so he asked again, “I say! You!”
“Y-yes sir?” the poor fellow who had been signaled out mumbled.
“This ship,” Ulisses grunted. “Good ship. Fast ship. Slave ship?”
“Wh-what?” the fellow was unsure of how to respond.
“This ship,” Ulisses repeated. “What kind of ship? What cargo you carry most times?”
“Um… well, spices mostly, sir,” the fellow replied. They were, after all, on their way west to Úpala, where the spice trade was concentrated.
“Spices, eh? Not slaves?” Ulisses seemed disappointed.
“Uh… well, no sir,” the fellow shrugged.
“Shame. Great shame, that,” Ulisses sighed. “This ship’s perfect for the trade.”
“I just work here, sir,” the fellow muttered.
“I still remember those days,” Ulisses gazed into the horizon, and to everyone’s horror, they realized that he had begun to tell a long, laborious tale. “I was once like you, just another seaman on the deck of a Lusian ship. But it was I, I who was there when we first made our way to Wagadu.”
Wagadu? The crew’s ears now perked up in interest. Wagadu was the oldest and greatest city in the Songhay Empire, second only to Timjeli. From Wagadu the first steps of a unified, eastern Soudania had emerged, and the mansa who now sat on the Songhay throne was a wealthy man, always eager for the chance to trade and barter with merchants. The crew of the Lasting Cloud had set port in Wagadu and Timjeli many a time, in their spice-trading voyages. And this man had been there at the beginning? The first Augustine ship to dock at Wagadu? Perhaps he was worth some attention after all.
“Aye, Wagadu, a wondrous city,” Ulisses laughed. “Gold and griots aplenty, but most of all, slaves! Aye, the best slaves one could buy, the biggest, strongest bucks and mandingoes in all the world.”
The crew began to glance uncomfortably at one another.
“You ever dealt in slaves before, lad?” Ulisses singled out the poor fellow once again.
“Erm, can’t say I have, sir,” the fellow mumbled.
“Well, at first there didn’t seem to be much profit in the business,” Ulisses went on. “After all, Lusia was never in much shortage of labor. But these, these strong, black bucks, as soon as I laid eyes on them, I saw the chance for profit! A word of advice, my young man, when you see an opportunity, seize it! I found a brilliant green cape off the coast of Wagadu. A small land, not a human in sight, but big and calm enough to start a port. And from there, with the blessing of the Lusian crown, I forged the factory of São Tomé with my own hands!”
“W-wait,” the fellow blinked. “You founded São Tomé?”
“Well,” Ulisses grinned affably. “I must admit, I did not do it entirely alone. Another word of advice, my young man, no wealth was ever accrued in solitude. Even the best of us self-made men need a little help every now and then. And I was no exception. But, through luck or fate or Yehovah’s will, I was the one who led the effort to establish the plantation colony of São Tomé as you now know it. And once the superior manpower of those black bucks was demonstrated by the wealth and trade that colony brought to Lusia, why soon I was granted my own noble title and surname: Lobo!”
The ship remained in silence for a while, until someone realized that Ulisses was expecting a reaction, and they asked “Lobo?”
“Aye, Lobo!” Ulisses grinned, and returned to his story. “I chose it myself. The mighty hunter, the wolf! A proud, noble, and strong creature, perfect for me! After all, it was I who sniffed out the real secret to our trade’s success.”
Another pause, another realization, though quicker this time around.
“That being?”
“War!” Ulisses’ eyes gleamed. “There was a war going on in Soudania when we first arrived. A war between the old Mandé and new Songhay empires. The fall and rise of dynasties, you understand. And with that war, there came prisoners of war, and the way these souds go about their business with prisoners of war is to enslave them! Set them in chains and ship them off somewhere. Perhaps you think that cruel, but who are we to judge the mysterious ways of foreigners? Especially when, thanks to this system, the whole region was teeming with a surplus of slaves. No-one had any idea what to do with these black bucks going to waste, so all I did was provide the souds with a new customer to take care of the extra stock.
“Now, some people say that slavery is cruel and oppressive and all the regular sort of mashugana, but what they don’t understand is that slavery is simply a natural part of soud culture. More than that, prisoners of war are supposed to be treated harshly. You have to beat them, so that they know their place, really understand their defeat. Why, my trading helped the Songhay Empire, made it what it is today, just as free trade always generates profit for both parties. Free trade and free seas, that’s what’s right! My plantations made a profit for the Lusians, the Songhay, everyone!
“Aye, thanks to my plantations, soon Lusia had made enough wealth to venture even further up the Soudanian coast, to Úpala, Jianghu, even Zipangu! While the Carolingians and Aeneans squabbled over the White Sea, we Lusians looked outward, to forge an empire just as great and noble as that of Aeneas himself! Soon I was making deals and forging contracts with the Carolingian crown, once they realized the durability of my black bucks.
“Ah, that was where I met her,” Ulisses pulled out a locket, inside which was a picture of him, a woman, and an infant. “Look, look here!” he showed the locket to all those present. They in turn politely assented, as it was easier than resisting.
“My wife, Mary. Darling, darling Mary,” Ulisses sighed wistfully. “Plague took her from me, my darling, beautiful Mary. But our son, look at him here. A strong, fit fellow. We beat the plague together, but that was just the beginning of our troubles.”
This time the realization was instantaneous, as was the response.
“So what happened?”
“Miserable Moors took over Portus Kull,” Ulisses grumbled. “The crown fled who-knows-where, and we Lusians were all left subjects without a ruler. The trade continued, our factories remained resilient, but I had lost Mary, and my king. So I used my old contacts in Carolina to get a little fief in Brittany. That was where Mary had come from, you see. I wanted my son to know the land of his mother, see him grow in her presence, even from beyond.
“Ah, and look!” Another object, this time a letter, another round of showing and assenting. “Look here! As soon as he was able, as soon as he came of age, my son went out to sea. He set out to visit all our remaining factories, all that remains of the Lusian Empire! Ah, I was so intent on teaching my son his Breton heritage, I forgot to stress his Lusian roots. Still, he bore me no grudge, and set out to make a man of himself.
“And now, now!” Ulisses cried elatedly. “Now my son is getting married! He has found himself a wife, a new mistress for our noble house! Ah, if only Mary could see us, be there at the wedding when it occurs. If only she could meet this woman, and give her her approval. If only…”
Ulisses stared sadly into the clear, blue sky, his white hair flapping in the breeze. The sailors saw then the age in his features, and the wolf in his bearing; gargantuan limbs and a broad, strong chest, with a mighty voice and heavy presence. But even so, his face was lined and worn, his hands bony and frail. There was a senescence about him, like that of the empire whose praises he sang so loudly.
“If only…” he repeated again, to no-one in particular. It was the first time he had said or done anything without the crew’s presence in mind, and for a moment the sailors were surprised.
“Mina Young,” Ulisses read the name from the letter. “That is the name of my son’s bride-to-be. I wonder, what’s she like? What sort of family does she come from? Young, that’s a Breton name. I’ve known a few nobles named Young in my day. I even helped plan the passages of a few Carolingian ships out west, as part of my arrangement in the court. Santama. They’re in Santama. That’s in Jianghu, the northern part. I’ve never been there, but I know it to be beautiful. We were the first! We Lusians, the first power to ever humble the celestial majesty of Jianghu! And Santama was the pearl in our crown, the prize of our victory there. Even after Portus Kull fell, Santama, all our factories, they still live. My son’s people remain alive. Our empire remains alive. My bloodline shall remain alive. All thanks to this Breton bride-to-be. How I long to meet her! What must she be like, I wonder? Like Mary, perhaps, with golden hair and océan eyes. How ironic, to travel the world in search of Lusia, only to settle down with a woman from Brittany. Still, how could I not be happy for my son? I am his father, after all. Yes, and, Yehovah willing, I should soon be a grandfather, if I’m not one already. Haha, no son of mine shall have a virgin bride for long!”
At the cracking of his bawdy joke, Ulisses returned to his usual boldness, and the sailors were at ease. Still, a glance was passed between the whole crew, should they tell him what they knew? They were more familiar with Santama than he was, and so as he regaled them with his thoughts on his future daughter-in-law, their suspicions had of course been raised. But then again, there was no proof that she was not just as he imagined. And what could be gained from alerting Ulisses to the potential of failed expectations? A man of his station would hardly listen to such slanderous accusations. His pride would not permit the possibility. And so the men returned to their work, preferring to let the wolf remain in blissful ignorance.
The Lasting Cloud’s course remained true, and it passed through the Océan Lemurien without any trouble. The wall between Ulisses and the crew remained, though its height had diminished, and there were even now some sailors who would strike up a conversation or two with the long-winded gentleman if they were feeling particularly brave. However, even amongst those most friendly with Ulisses, there remained this vague sense of unease when they exchanged words with him. Not that he himself noticed of course, he was the sort to never even consider himself a possible bore or odd man out in a conversation, but there was just something about him that none of the men could quite put into words.
Perhaps it was the way that he would take every opportunity to lecture the men in how best to do their jobs. That’s not how you tie that rope, that’s not how best to sweep the deck, no no, see here, you chart your course this way and steer your craft that way. Most of the time the victims of Ulisses’ sermons would simply remain silent, nod, and accept his advice, before immediately going back to the way they normally did things once he was satisfied and no longer in their presence. To those who dared defend their actions though, Ulisses would scoff and talk about how that wasn’t how he had done things back when he had been a sailor. For most, this was enough to realize the futility of resistance, but one time, a particularly burly, surly fellow griped that this was simply the way that worked best for him. At that, Ulisses had stared dumbfoundedly at the man, before huffing and puffing and well-I-never-ing, and eventually issuing a complaint with the captain. The issue was dropped, of course, but it did not win Ulisses any new friends on the ship.
Or perhaps it was the way that he behaved whenever they docked at a port. Ulisses would never miss an opportunity to sniff at the architecture or technology of the native populace, and extol anyone present on how the Lusian factories were far more advanced and organized than these Cathayan coasts. He also had an irritating habit of sneaking off to slave auctions, to browse the wares and sniff at their inferiority to the stock he had traded in, back in his day. One day the Lasting Cloud actually docked in the factory of São Vasco, and the crew had hoped the presence of fellow Lusians would at last silence Ulisses’ complaints. But in fact they only made his lamentations louder, for he was shocked and appalled at the state this once-great port had fallen into. Where was their pride as Lusians, as upholders of their mighty empire? Sad days were these, when tradition had been so rudely supplanted. The Lusians of São Vasco had mostly just stared blankly at Ulisses in response, and for the next few days at sea the Lasting Cloud’s crew was beset by the wolf’s howling over his appalling mistreatment. Still, the crew took some comfort in the fact that even fellow Lusians seemed to find Ulisses a bizarre anachronism.
Or perhaps, the most likely culprit of all, it was the way Ulisses would insist on the values and virtues he had picked up from his experience. Free trade and free seas, he would slip into a conversation any chance he could, and he was always pulling aside men who had caught his eye to extoll them with his pearls of wisdom. Be brave, be ambitious, but above all else, be ruthless. Men are as rats, my friend, only the strong survive. To be weak is to be no man at all, but a woman, a feeble, feminine waif. A proper man takes what is rightfully his, and I should know. You can trust me, my boy, because I am not like those fat and lazy noblemen who rest on faded glory. I took my noble title with my own hands, and in so doing revealed the truth of my ferocity and strength. These, more than rank and title, are what separate the man from the slave. To be a wolf, and not a dog.
Whatever the reason, the crew soon found Ulisses Lobo to live up to his namesake. He was proud and ferocious, but there was a savagery in him that warded off anyone who dared to get too friendly. He stalked the deck as a predator might stalk its territory, and those who found themselves in his path preferred quietly stepping aside over challenging his authority. It was not that they feared him or thought they would lose in a fight. Even as a wolf, he was still clearly long in the tooth, and if they stood together, the crew was certain they could win any brawl they might find themselves in. Rather, it was simply the fact that they saw no point in the venture. To them, winning a fight against a wolf did not compare to never fighting one at all. The men had been in enough scrapes to know the art of fighting without fighting.
And so the voyage continued, with silent assents substituting outright confrontation. Senhor Lobo was a guest of their vessel, and his noble authority was one they saw no point in challenging. Thusly did the voyage, and the stalking of the wolf, continue.
A great storm hit the océan waters as the Lasting Cloud neared Santama. The night air was filled with tempestuous waves and darkened clouds, leaving not even starlight to give the ship its heading. The captain remained steady and calm, like the eye of the storm, as his crew all danced and dashed about, making sure to keep their vessel aloft. With a voice that had taken several decades to perfect, the captain bellowed and retained order in the midst of the typhoon, and the men had confidence that they could ride out the storm. But with no light to guide them, how could they tell their proximity to the coast? Were they miles away, or practically beached? None could see clearly through the wind and the rain, and that, more than anything else, frightened the sailors even as they followed their captain’s orders.
“Great Yehovah!” the voice of Ulisses Lobo sounded in the air, and to the horror of all those present, they saw that he had come above deck.
“Return to your quarters, senhor!” the captain barked. “You are far safer down there!”
“I came to help!” Ulisses shouted back, and the men all groaned, though he took no notice of it. “Surely an extra pair of hands would do no harm?”
“Your aid is appreciated, but unnecessary,” the captain remained calm, even as some sailors glared dangerously at the wolf. “Please, as a guest aboard this ship, I must implore you to return to safety.”
Ulisses was eager to lend a hand, but he respected the captain enough to obey his orders. Before he moved to return below deck though, he was forced to flinch and shield his eyes, as he staggered beneath the weight of something.
“Yeshua,” he hissed. “How do you men work under such a glare?”
The captain stared stock-still at Ulisses, before crying out “What do you mean?”
“That woman! The one out there in the distance!” Ulisses pointed into the seething black mass of clouds and waves. “I can see her all the way from here, glowing brighter than a beacon!”
The captain exchanged a glance with his helmsman, before leaping down to where Ulisses stood.
“Now senhor,” the captain barked frantically. “You say you see a woman.”
“Yes of course I see a woman. I can’t see how anyone couldn’t see her,” Ulisses laughed. “What sort of jest are you having at my expense now, captain?”
“What does she look like? Describe her to me.”
“Can’t you-”
“No but you can so tell me!” the captain shouted.
“A-alright,” Ulisses stammered. “S-she’s… I can’t quite make her features out but she’s wearing a robe of some kind, something white and flowing. She… she looks like the Holy Virgin, almost.”
The captain sucked in a shocked gasp, before hurriedly crossing himself and grabbing Ulisses’ wrist. “Come with me, now!”
“What-?” the wolf followed, still not understanding, until he was placed beside the ship’s wheel.
“You were a sailor for many years, were you not, senhor?” the captain asked.
“Y-yes, I was,” Ulisses replied. “Look, what is all this about?”
“Were you ever a helmsman? A pilot?” the captain ignored his question.
“Of course,” Ulisses grinned. “The best.”
“Then set your sights on that woman, in the distance,” the captain pointed. “And keep our course steady. She is our goal, do you understand?”
“I…” Ulisses did not, but from the face of the captain, he could see the weight of the matter. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
For several hours, the Lasting Cloud continued, even as the winds roared and waves crashed. The crew could hardly believe their luck at not crashing or falling into the violent sea, but Ulisses Lobo kept the ship steady and true. The captain could hardly suppress a laugh as he saw how skillfully Ulisses piloted his ship. Even after years of retirement, the wolf was still a hardy sailor. And as the waves began to settle, the wind began to die, and the sun began to rise, the men all exulted as they saw the familiar Lusian factory.
“Santama!” Ulisses cried, and he saw that it was just as beautiful as he had imagined. Two enormous rocks, nestled at the mouth of a great delta, and teeming with a verdurous green. There, the ports where the docked ships had weathered the storm, Ulisses saw it and guided the Lasting Cloud to where it would gain a much-deserved rest. And once the ship was docked and the crew safe and sound, the men all came to give their thanks and congratulations to the wolf. Ulisses was not one to ever turn down such flattery, but he still could not fathom just what had happened. Where had the mysterious woman gone? Somehow as soon as the storm had subsided she had faded away, but how was that possible? It was a mystery, the answer to which no-one seemed willing or able to tell him.
When at last the wolf left the company of the Lasting Cloud, he finally asked the captain point-blank just what he had seen. But the only response the captain gave was to ask his son, once Ulisses encountered him.
“I tell you, as soon as you mention this to your son, his reaction will be timeless,” the captain grinned. “Believe me, senhor, you’ll want to see the awe in his face when you ask him.”
It may have been an evasion, but Ulisses could tell the captain meant what he said. And the prospect of wowing his son with a tale of seafaring derring-do certainly would make that night’s conversation worthwhile. So the men left each other on good terms, with the question unanswered, but the enquiry satisfied.
Ulisses kept a sharp eye out as he walked along the factory docks. Sailors from all across the world gathered at that port, but the figure of his son was unmistakable, and Ulisses knew what features to look out for.
There, suddenly, Ulisses saw the recognizable figure. He had always been tall, like his father, but now after all these years he had grown to a height a full head above most passersby, and his lithe frame and agile muscle had also grown since last they had met. But the most recognizable aspect, the one that made Ulisses certain, was the golden hair and gleaming eyes that remained just as sharp and distinctive as they always had been.
For a moment, Ulisses simply stared at the figure before him, just as much a man now as he had hoped for and dreamed. It seemed he had come alone, as Ulisses could not see anyone nearby who could be his fiancée, but Ulisses did not mind. There would be time aplenty for Ulisses to get to know his future daughter-in-law. For now, he simply wanted to catch up with the man he had come to see.
Waving and calling as he approached, Ulisses soon attracted the attention of the golden-haired figure, and as the man walked towards him, the two wolves met and embraced in celebration of their long-overdue reunion. Ulisses laughed as he left the embrace, and gazed at the man who had once been only a boy.
“Yann!” he cried in joy. “My son!”