In the shoes of a pirate - chapter 3
The sordid revelation of Barbarroja
McKay arrived on the island at dusk. The moon reflected in the water, making the silver droplets on the stern of the boat sparkle. The silhouette of the "From Soil to Soul" stood out in the night like a shadow in the light of a candle. McKay took his men down to the beach and ordered a team to stand guard in front of the full holds, overflowing with dazzling treasures and shimmering spices.
He tucked his shirt under his neck to make a cushion and dozed off under the cold moonlight. His night was filled with tumultuous dreams and a feminine whisper as sharp as a shard of glass. He woke with a start when he felt a warm breath on his shoulder and the scent of musk rose mixed with sandalwood. As he closed his eyes, he could see the Queen's almond-shaped eyes and pursed lips, locked by a curse, in negative in his eyelids.
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The next morning, the chests were carried by his crew, tied with ropes on the men's backs to move their crushing weight. They sank heavily with each step into the night-cooled sand of this mysterious island. Two men had scouted towards the centre of the island, where the vegetation had taken up residence. They entered a tropical rainforest, shaded by a dense canopy, weaving in and out of orchids, crushing mosses and ferns. It took them three days and three nights to reach a plateau at the top of the vegetation, overlooking the island.
A superb castle stood in the middle of the plateau, set in well-kept gardens and a spacious esplanade. A cluster of men and women were gathered at the foot of a tree, whispering and gawking at the sailors who arrived with their arms full. McKay reached the foot of the building, walking around the fountain of polished white stones embellished with sapphires. The place seemed suspended in time, where seconds would have been enriched with priceless treasures.
McKay entered the building. Snakes entwined the immense colonial colonnades decorated with sparkling rubies and diamonds. The friezes of the columns were topped with bars of sapphires. A man on all fours was decorating the marble tiles with gold leaf, using a tiny brush. Coins in three pure golds were sealed to the walls.
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McKay and his men walked down the long aisle, which was lined with rooms fitted with red divans. Beautiful men and women reclined there. The walls oozed a sweet, floral and slightly pungent scent and wisps of opium fogged the rooms. The men's gazes seemed empty, bewitched, as if dispossessed. The echo of a mystical song reached the sailors' ears and instantly brought to mind the myths of the mermaids who populate the deep seas.
After several long minutes of walking through these unreal visions along the gallery, at the far end of the room they saw two gigantic thrones, one made of platinum and the other of rose gold. The backs of the two seats were topped with spikes that rose a good metre from the end of the backrest, carved in goldsmith's work and adorned with emeralds and diamonds. McKay tripped over a thread of gold and lace as fine as the wings of a moth. As he followed the thread with his eyes, he realised that it was none other than the Queen's train, which stretched for dozens of metres at his feet. The closer he got, the more the bewitching song echoed in his eardrums.
McKay approached the two sovereigns, who were as immobile as two marble statues. The clanking of coins and the many precious stones he and his men had brought clattered in the chests. The first thing he saw were the queen's eyes, silver-grey and changing like the sky and the ocean before a storm, imbued with a mysterious and intriguing aura. Her beauty was as radiant as that of a glistening wave, lit by the sun, breaking majestically on the shore. The bottom of her face was covered with a veil as fine and delicate as an ice crystal. The mystical chants grew louder and louder, so loud that McKay couldn't tell if they were real or a figment of his imagination.
"My Queen," McKay began. "Accept these treasures, which I have cherished for many years. May these jewels light up your face and give you the most radiant of smiles, or keep them as a token of my devotion."
He waved to his men, and four of his sailors approached the sovereign thrones and laid the most precious chest at the queen's feet: that of McKay's mother. The Queen rose to her feet and looked sternly at the contents of the chest. She brushed her hand across the mahogany wood, dipped her fingers into the yellow gold coins, gently picked up the silver goblets and clinked them together. She passed through all the chests, looking carefully at the contents while letting herself be lulled by the scent of the spices and dazzled by the sparkling reflections of these treasures.
She approached McKay and stopped a few centimetres from his face, scrutinising him intently. She was so close that he could smell the delicate scent of patchouli and prickly pear. She unhooked the veil that until then had covered the lower part of her face. Despite her breathtaking beauty and the delicacy of her features, her face remained frozen and her mouth pinched. There was no smile on her crimson lips.
"It's not enough." She whispered to McKay. "Take your ship back and find the treasure that will satisfy me.
McKay received the sentence like a sharp dagger. His breath came in short gasps and a sensation of numbness seized his limbs. Suddenly, a heightened muscular tension froze his neck. He felt a black anger seize him. It grew, vibrant and deafening, with every beat of his heart. He turned on his heels and strode stiffly out of the palace towards his ship. He moved away from these walls, but despite the distance, the mysterious, bewitching song never left his ears.
The sweetest spices seemed bitter. The subtlest essences had rancid notes. Rum tasted of fresh water and the brilliance of precious stones seemed dull to him. He was indignant at his own taste wanderings, and would occasionally pick out a member of his crew at random and swing his sword under his neck, screaming, his left hand loaded with a burning spice picked at random:Taste it or pay the price! And if the man had the misfortune to sneeze or wince, he threw him into the sea.
Some said that they sometimes saw McKay wandering around the deck of the ship as if he were drunk, mumbling nonsensical phrases and uttering wild, hoarse cries.
Since the day he met the Queen, McKay had never been the same man. In search of the finest treasure that could satisfy the Queen, he had become the most cruel and bloodthirsty pirate the sea had ever borne. He became a dark being, gripped by boundless aggression. In the maritime world, he had earned more than a reputation: he had become a legend. He was feared and dreaded, and sordid tales with McKay's new name were told to misbehaving children. Pirates and locals, privateers and kings, rich heirs and princesses, all felt their blood run cold when his name was mentioned: Barbarroja.
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Music ACT1 SEA Borne Liberators of mind https://deezer.page.link/mWGCUdibu9iHAN7y5
