When they arrived at the villa they found Horst exercising on the lawn in a pair of swimming trunks, his body glistening with oil. He struck several dramatic poses, his flesh bulging unnervingly, before retrieving a towel from where it was draped over a statue that James hadn’t noticed before.
It was ancient and worn but it unmistakably showed a man plunging a sword into the neck of a bull, exactly like in the painting he had seen in the chapel in Eton.
‘What’s that statue?’ he asked.
‘It is Roman,’ Victor explained. ‘It was dug up when we were building the villa. It seems there might have been a Roman villa here at one time, though we could find no other evidence.’
‘Who is the man?’ said James, gently running his hand over the yellow stone.
‘Not a man, a god. Mithras.’
‘Mithras? Was he a Roman god?’ asked James.
‘In the last days of the republic the Romans were threatened by pirates,’ said Victor. ‘They would capture ships and ransom the rich men and women on board. They followed the example of the Romans and became organised, joining together into an underground movement that spread terror through the whole of the Mediterranean. They had kings and they called their men soldiers, but they operated in secret, and like any secret society they had their secret rituals. They worshipped Mithras, originally a Persian god. And to join the cult you would have to endure the pit of pain and drink the blood of bulls.’
‘What happened to them?’ said James.
‘In the end their empire was destroyed,’ said Victor, ‘but not their god. He slowly became a Roman god; the chief Roman god before Christianity took hold. He is a great favourite of Poliponi, especially since we found the statue here. He saw it as a sign. Come, I will show you something.’
Victor led James indoors and down one of the tentacle corridors to a small round room with a window in the ceiling. Hanging on the wall was one of Poliponi’s paintings in an oval frame. It showed a man dressed similarly to the carving of Mithras. He was bursting from a giant egg, holding a sword and a flaming torch. Around the frame were the twelve signs of the zodiac.
‘This is the birth of Mithras,’ said Victor. ‘He is emerging from the cosmic egg. After that, he had many adventures before slaying the primeval bull and releasing its life force for mankind. Where his blood hit the ground all good things sprang up – plants and herbs, vines and animals. He is also associated with the stars and astrology. He appeals greatly to Poliponi, who has a love of magic and mystery and is a great follower of the zodiac.’
‘Does anyone still worship Mithras?’ said James.
‘Oh, wherever there are secret societies they will have their little rituals,’ said Victor.
‘I wonder,’ said James. ‘Have you ever heard of the Millenaria?’
Victor gave James a harsh look, and for the first time James saw his calm exterior ruffled.
‘Listen to me, James,’ he said. ‘Do not talk about things you do not understand. I came to Sardinia to retire, to sit in the sun and paint. I want nothing more to do with the world of men, their petty wars and their vain struggles for power.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said James.
‘No, it is me who must apologise,’ said Victor, his expression softening. ‘I did not mean to get angry, but there are rumours that the Millenaria are here on the island, and I do not want to think about such things. Life should be for pleasure, not for war. Now, come inside, I have something to show you.’
11
Count Ugo Carnifex
‘They are the very latest thing. I ordered them in Cannes from the man who invented them. An American airman called Guy Gilpatric.’
‘What are they?’ said James.
Victor passed to James what looked like a pair of flying goggles. ‘They are for seeing underwater,’ he said. ‘They work surprisingly well.’
James studied the goggles. They had glass lenses sealed all around with rubber.
‘Keep them,’ said Victor as James tried to give them back to him. ‘They are yours. And here, this is a tube for breathing, so that you can hold your face under the water. It is called a schnorkel. And to complete the ensemble, I have these…’ He produced two outsize shoes that looked like a frog’s flippers. ‘Swimming fins,’ he said. ‘To go on your feet, so that you can be a shark and speed through the water. Try them on and see if they fit.’
‘Do they work?’ asked James, squeezing the fins on to his bare feet.
‘But of course,’ said Victor. ‘I saw them being used in Cannes. They were invented by a Frenchman, Louis de Corlieu. I am fascinated by anything new and modern. You must try them out. Go down to the beach and say hello to the fishes.’
James had by now put on the fins and the goggles and slipped the schnorkel into his mouth. Victor laughed at the sight of him and a sharp cry caused James to turn. Poliponi was standing in the doorway with a hand to his mouth.
‘But I must paint you like this,’ he said. ‘You are not human. You are a frog man? It is exquisite. Exquisite!’
Twenty minutes later James was standing knee deep in the clean, crystal-clear waters of the Mediterranean. He had already put on the fins and a clip to stop anything from going up his nose, and now he clamped his teeth around the hard rubber of the schnorkel’s mouthpiece and slipped the goggles over his eyes. He felt strangely claustrophobic and panicky. The goggles narrowed his vision and he had to concentrate on his breathing for a while so as not to hyperventilate. When he felt more relaxed he waded out a little further and tentatively dipped his face beneath the surface. The underwater picture snapped into focus and he gasped with surprise. It was like suddenly peering through a window into another world. One moment he had been in a bright world of harsh sunlight and vivid colours, and the next he was in a quiet, gloomy, liquid world of shifting shapes and murky yellows and greens. From above he had been able to make out nothing of this world under the water, the picture had been fractured and blurred; but now he was in it and he could clearly see a shoal of tiny silver fish nosing around his feet.
He laid his body flat and kicked lazily with his fins. They sped him through the water without making a splash and he marvelled at the new sights.
He glided over a bare stretch of sand and into a forest of sea grass. A shoal of striped sea bream, with black bands around their tails, broke in two as he approached and scattered briefly before regrouping. Then he spotted some larger fish, brown meagres, and a great pipefish, long and thin, like a piece of drifting seaweed. He swam deeper until he was past the sea grass. Below him now was an alien landscape of fan mussels, Neptune grass and slimy black sea slugs, which gouged long trails as they dragged themselves through the sand. He headed towards a large rock that stood like a mountain, its top rising above the water. Starfish and urchins clung to its side, and sea anemones, their delicate pink fronds waving in the water. A spiny spider crab, with long gangly legs, poked about looking for scraps.
James peered into a crack and saw two great gloomy eyes peering back at him. He smiled and moved on, and as he swam out past the rock the seabed suddenly fell away. His breath caught in his throat when he found himself suspended in endless deep blue sea, surrounded by teeming shoals of fish: red mullet, bream and beautiful little wrasse with yellow-striped bodies and pale blue heads.
James hung there watching the fish until he decided to go deeper and see if there was anything bigger out there. He swam on, feeling tiny in this great blue void. He soon lost all sense of time and space and it was only when he heard the dull throb of an engine that he was brought back to reality.
He assumed it must be a fishing boat and realised that he might be in some danger out here on the open sea. He briefly put his head up to look around but could see nothing. He was amazed at how far he had swum, though: the shore looked miles away. He ought to head back. He felt suddenly cold and tired and, as he bobbed there in the water regaining his strength, the engine sound grew steadily louder and louder. Something was coming straight for hi
m. But the goggles had steamed up and he was almost blind.
Where was it? Where was the boat?
He thrashed in the water, spinning left and right, but could see nothing.
The noise rose to a deafening scream and from out of nowhere a huge shadow swallowed him up. In his panic he dived down and looked up just in time to see what appeared to be the hull of a boat ploughing into the water above him, only inches away. It caused an almighty splash and an explosion of swirling bubbles. He felt a great boom and a thud and his body was hit by a shock wave. He tumbled through the depths, not knowing which way was up or down, tangled in a confusion of churning water. He swallowed a lungful of sea and wildly groped for the surface. Then at last the water stilled and he found his way up into fresh air and sunlight.
He floated there, treading water, choking and spluttering, wondering just what the hell had happened.
He tore the goggles off his face and was amazed to see a big white Sikorsky seaplane cruising through the waves and executing a long lazy turn. What he had thought was the hull of a boat was one of its two big floats, which were suspended in a complicated forest of struts below the wings. It coasted along under the power of its four propellers and finally came to a halt, its belly resting on the swell.
A double door at the front opened up and James saw a man in military uniform preparing a small dinghy.
James swam over for a closer look, but the dinghy was launched before he got there and he followed it on the long tiring slog towards the shore. It was too far away for him to see clearly who its occupants were but he could just make out the figures of a man and a woman sitting in the stern.
Below La Casa Polipo was a small natural harbour. The dinghy put in here; the crew tied up and the passengers made their way up the steps towards the villa.
James was intrigued. Who was grand enough to arrive at Victor’s in a seaplane with their own military escort?
He swam round to the beach, fetched his towel and followed the party up to the villa.
Victor met James on the terrace; he looked amused and slightly flustered.
‘We have visitors,’ he said to James, who was standing dripping on to the tiled floor, wrapped in his towel.
‘I know,’ said James. ‘I saw them arrive in their seaplane. They nearly drowned me. Who are they?’
‘His Excellency Count Ugo Carnifex,’ said Victor with a faint mocking tone. ‘And his sister the Contessa Jana Carnifex.’
‘He sounds grand,’ said James. ‘Who is he?’
‘A local man. Big in the mining industry. He has a palazzo up in the mountains.’
‘And what’s he doing here?’
‘It seems he is just paying us a social call. I was looking for Mauro to serve some drinks. Have you seen him anywhere?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ said James.
‘Never mind,’ said Victor. ‘Come in and meet the man. I think you’ll find him interesting.’
James went indoors, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. The first thing he saw was a pair of uniformed guards. They were standing awkwardly next to the stuffed giraffe and had the look of locals, with dark faces, sleepy eyes and drooping black moustaches. James didn’t recognise their uniforms. They weren’t police. He wondered if they might be part of the Sardinian army. The uniforms were certainly very extravagant. The trousers and tunics were a deep purple colour, with scarlet and gold trimmings. Their caps, which they wore jammed forward on their heads, had flat peaks that shaded their eyes.
Both men were armed with pistols that hung in black holsters on their hips above tall, highly polished boots.
One of the guards spotted James and looked him up and down before turning away with profound disinterest.
‘How do you like their uniforms?’ said a voice from the darkness at the back of the room. ‘I designed them myself.’
A very tall man was walking towards James. As he stepped into the light, James was hit by a shock of recognition.
It was the ghostly, white-skinned man from the painting he had seen in the cellar of the house in Eton. He even held his arm out in the same beckoning way.
James tried not to show anything in his face as he shook the offered hand.
‘Count Ugo,’ said Victor, ‘I would like to introduce my cousin from England, James Bond.’
‘Carnifex is pleased to meet you, James,’ said Ugo, flashing a silver tooth that caused him to lisp slightly.
He was wearing a pristine version of the white Sardinian peasant’s outfit, but there the similarity to a peasant ended. His fingers were festooned with silver rings; he had silver chains around his neck, and small silver earrings. His skin, unlike that of his two guards, was a pure, milky white; so pale that James could see the blue veins beneath it. And his close-cropped hair was as white as everything else about him.
‘Bring the boy to me…’ came a voice from the gloom, and James was startled to see a woman, sitting in an upright armchair, for all the world as if it was a throne.
Ugo went over and kissed her hand, then turned back to James.
‘James, I would like to introduce my sister, the Contessa Jana Carnifex.’
‘Charmed to meet you,’ the woman drawled, her voice slinky and purring like a cat.
Where her brother was pale, Jana was dark. Where Ugo’s skin was luminous and glowing, Jana’s was dry and dead. Whereas Ugo looked like he had spent a lifetime trying to keep out of the sun, Jana looked like she had never spent a moment in the shade. Her brown, creased face was plastered with thick, orange pancake make-up. She wore bright coral lipstick, and the heavy eyelids of her kohl-rimmed eyes were painted blue. She had an elaborate hairstyle, piled high on her head and entwined with silver chains. The hair was so black and glossy and perfectly sculpted that James felt sure it must be a wig.
Jana was dressed in swathes of gold and pink satin and was laden down with the most jewellery that James had ever seen on one person. Huge pendant earrings dangled from the stretched lobes of her ears like miniature chandeliers. Amber, gold and diamond rings glittered on her claw-like fingers; round her scraggy neck were gold necklaces and strings of pearls and she had a gigantic silver brooch studded with jade. There were even diamonds set into the toenails which protruded from her golden sandals.
‘Come, boy,’ Jana purred and crooked a finger at him, its painted nail long and curling. ‘Kiss my hand.’
James reluctantly stepped forward. As he approached he could smell the perfume which hung around her like an evil cloud, choking him when he bent to take hold of her hand. She looked at him hungrily and ran the purple tip of her tongue over her pink lips, moistening them.
‘You have a pretty face,’ she said, staring deep into his eyes.
James didn’t know what to say. He felt uncomfortable and embarrassed in just his swimming shorts, but he couldn’t get away. Jana held him fast in her talons, smiling at him possessively.
‘You will break many girls’ hearts,’ she said, ‘though you have a cruel mouth.’
As she said this she ran her dry fingers over his lips and he drew back from her.
‘I think I’d better go and put some clothes on,’ James mumbled and backed out of the room, Jana’s throaty laugh following him down the corridor.
When he came back a few minutes later, wearing thin South Sea Island cotton trousers and a short-sleeved shirt, Mauro was serving drinks, with his familiar, sullen expression.
Ugo was deep in conversation with Victor.
‘But you must come, Signor Delacroix,’ he was saying, ‘my palazzo is a marvel. As an engineer you will appreciate all that I have achieved.’
‘You seem to know all about me, Count,’ said Victor.
‘I make sure that I am always very well informed,’ said the Count, grinning and displaying his silver tooth. ‘But it is not just my palazzo. I have built a magnificent dam and an aqueduct, the like of which has not been seen since Roman times.’
‘That is quite an achievement,’ said Victor. r />
‘Yes,’ lisped the Count. ‘It is. The dam supplies all my needs. All my water and electricity. I am reliant on no one.’
‘And the aqueduct?’ said Victor.
‘To bring me water, of course,’ said Ugo. ‘I will explain. My dam is built between two mountains, across a wide gorge. My palazzo is built into the side of one mountain, my machinery into the other. Water comes down from the dam through the turbines and then across the gorge on the aqueduct to my palazzo.’
‘And why could you not just bring the water straight down from the dam on your side? In pipes,’ said Victor, frowning quizzically.
‘Where would be the glory in that?’ scoffed Ugo. ‘My aqueduct is a monument you can see for miles. You have the mind of an engineer, Signor Delacroix. I am an engineer as well, but I am also a soldier, a poet and a dreamer. I have a vision, Victor.’
‘That is clear,’ said Victor, and James detected a mocking hint in his tone that luckily Count Ugo didn’t register.
‘Ah, James,’ said Victor, noticing James for the first time. ‘Count Ugo has graciously invited us all to his palazzo for a grand carnival.’
‘The building work has only just been completed,’ said Ugo, ‘after many years. You will be among my first visitors. This carnival will announce to the world that Count Ugo Carnifex has arrived –’
Ugo suddenly stopped and put a hand to his mouth, staring at something on the floor.
‘Are you all right, Count?’ said Victor, anxiously.
Ugo shook his head quickly and James looked down. On the marble floor was a small damp, sandy footprint that he had left behind when he first came in.
‘I am sorry,’ said Ugo, ‘but I cannot stand mess or dirt of any kind. This island is filthy. The people are filthy. Up in the mountains I can get away from them. I can at least try to keep my own house clean. Dirt is a sin.’
Victor quickly signalled to Mauro who reluctantly knelt down and wiped the offending sand away with a cloth. Ugo watched him with an expression of extreme distaste.