HIDDEN (Marchwood Vampire Series #1)

Chapter Six

Chapter Six - 1881 

The following morning, the Chevaliers and the Swintons began the next leg of their journey. Alexandre’s father had ordered four carriages to collect them from outside their hotel at eight o’clock.

As they drove through Smyrna, Alexandre absorbed the colourful sights and scents. The city had a strong European flavour despite its Oriental roots and he heard all manner of languages being spoken. He saw smartly-dressed Greeks, pipe-smoking Turks, Armenians in flowing robes and Bedouins with bare legs and covered heads.

Caught up in excitement, his brother was pointing and exclaiming, asking question upon question about everything, which Freddie did a good job of answering. Alexandre felt a little resentful that, at fifteen, Freddie was so knowledgeable whereas at eighteen he, Alexandre, knew next to nothing.

They passed small donkeys, mules, dejected dogs and haughty looking ostriches. Camels swayed in single file with heavy loads of wheat or raw silks. Crowded bazaars sold woven rugs, spices, scents, fruits and clothing of every colour and texture.

There was no train route to their final destination and the roads were unfit for coaches so, despite Isobel’s reluctance, they were to take the camel train. It started at Caravan Bridge, a Byzantine aqueduct north of the main city.

It was a pretty area with antique fountains, twisting grape vines and coffee gardens under shady cypress trees. Relaxed groups of Turks dressed in loose kaftans squatted on cushions and rush mats smoking long chibouks. Rows of camels stretched their hessian necks and stared rudely at the approaching foreigners. They ranged in colour from dark brown, through tan, beige and honey to the palest sand, making up a desert rainbow.

After prolonged negotiations, the two families finally sat on pack saddles atop the lumbering beasts whilst sturdy black buffalo pulled crude wooden carts laden with their luggage and supplies. And so they were on their way.

For the first couple of days, they passed gentle scenery - dark pine forests and clear running waters teeming with fish and croaking frogs. Green-clothed mountains made up the backdrop, complete with majestic eagles hypnotically circling their zigzag peaks. But as the days went by, the landscape gradually became more monotonous, harsh and barren.

The days were hot and relentless, the nights, cold and short. The camel train travelled for nine hours each day on roads of flattened earth and the party spent most nights in the open air, on rugs and blankets around pine log fires. Their armed Turkish guides ensured they all slept safely, but that did not stop Alexandre clutching his pistol under his straw pillow each night.

He did not know why, but Leonora had finally softened towards him and he often looked up to see her riding alongside him. Delighted at her overtures of friendship, he gratefully stopped ignoring her. Now there was just Isobel left to win over.

Alexandre enjoyed making Leonora laugh with his witty conversation, regaling her with watered-down stories of dare-devil exploits with college friends back home.

‘… and there we were, miles from anywhere in the pouring rain without a single centime between us for a cab fare. It was dark and so Antoine and I discreetly jumped up on to the outside of a moving omnibus heading towards our neighbourhood.

‘We clung on to the back for dear life, praying the horses would not take the corners too fast. But as bad luck would have it, an awful lady inside the omnibus spotted us two fellows holding on by our fingernails and do you know what she did?’

Leonora shook her head.

‘She took her umbrella and she poked us through the window with it. The wicked old witch prodded and pushed at us until we could hold on no longer.’