Voyage of Slaves (8 page)

“Go on, speak your thoughts, infidel. Don’t be afraid, I won’t punish you.”

Ben immediately accused his captor. “I think those people will never see their homeland. You are leading them into some sort of trap!”

Al Misurata moved like a striking cobra. There was a swift hiss of steel, and Ben felt the pirate’s swordblade against the side of his neck.

Ned bared his teeth savagely. He stood stiff-legged and snarling, ready to defend his friend.

Ben cautioned him mentally, “Stay where you are, Ned, this is a very dangerous man!”

Al Misurata spoke softly, but in a challenging tone. “Are you calling me a liar, infidel?”

Ben could not help swallowing hard, but he stood his ground. “You said it. I am only doing as you told me, speaking my mind.”

Al Misurata withdrew the sword. Placing its tip upon the wall, he rested his chin on the gold-chased hilt. Never once did his piercing glance leave the boy. “You are a puzzle to me. You seem so young, yet something tells me your eyes have seen the sights of several lifetimes. Also, I think that you and the dog speak to one another. How is that? Tell me about yourself.”

Ned cautioned his friend, “Watch what you say, mate!”

Ben studied the wall, avoiding the pirate’s keen gaze. “There’s nothing much to tell. I think I must have been the son of ship’s officer. The dog and I were the only survivors when the vessel was wrecked in the Gulf of Gascony. I don’t remember anything very clearly, so I must have been very young. Ned has always been with me, we’ve travelled the coasts together for a long time. I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you.”

Al Misurata sheathed his blade, smiling thinly. “Now who is the liar, eh, boy?”

Ben remained silent, taking in Ned’s mental comment: “We’re not fooling that one, he’s got brains!”

Surprisingly, the pirate patted Ben’s back. “No matter, boy, I started out just like you. Though I can tell you’ve never been a slave before. I know you’re the same as me in one respect—you’d never bend your knee to any man willingly. Tell me, how would you like to go to Italy with that band of players?”

This came as a shock to Ben. He did not know what to think about his unpredictable captor. “You mean you’re really taking them to Italy?”

The pirate nodded. “Of course I am, they are of no great significance to me. I am merely letting them pay for their trip by entertaining me for a few days. Life isn’t all gold and slaves to me; sometimes I am not a bad fellow to know. Well, would you like to join them, Ben?”

Completely taken off-guard by the friendly use of his name and the man’s open manner, Ben nodded eagerly. “That would be wonderful, sir, thank you. Thank you!”

Al Misurata made a dismissive gesture. “It’s a fine night, Ben. You may sleep out here with your dog, Ned, that’s his name, isn’t it? I’ll speak to Signore Rizzoli about you tomorrow. Good night.” He strode off, back into the big house, leaving the pair alone together.

Ben sat down with Ned, beside the wall. “Well, what do you make of that?”

The black Labrador scratched his ear with a back paw. “I’ve no idea, mate. Maybe we both misjudged old Al Miserable, who knows? But I intend to make it my business to find out more. Us dogs have our ways, you know.”

Ben leaned back, scratching his dog’s ear gently. “I should be used to your ways by now, my faithful hound.”

Ned held still, so that Ben could scratch more easily. “Less of the hound, you cheeky pup. Ooh, that feels good, scratch a bit lower. Aaaahhh, right there! I missed you.”

Ben tweaked Ned’s ear playfully. “Only because nobody can scratch your ear like I do.”

Ned stretched out blissfully, closing his eyes. “Correct, mate, keep going. A bit lower, no, to the left. Just there. Don’t stop, slave!”

Ben watched the guards through half-closed eyes. They patrolled the walls constantly. “Aye, that’s me, a slave, bought and sold. But not for long if we’re to believe the great Lord Al Misurata.”

Ned opened one eye. “Hmph, that’s a big if!”

DAWN CREPT STEALTHILY OVER THE desert coast, pale gold and shell pink, interspersed with banks of dove-grey mist over the sea. Serafina rose early, leaving Mamma and La Lindi still sleeping in the women’s guest chamber. She padded silently out into the newborn day. It was her turn to tend Poppea, the troupe’s wagon horse.

Even before she opened the stable door, the mare whickered eagerly, aware of her presence nearby. Serafina led her out into the paved yard, murmuring to her, “Good morning to you, old lady, did you think I’d forgotten your breakfast?” She filled a nosebag with bran and chaff. Poppea waited patiently, head bent, as Serafina strapped it in place. “This is good provender, you’re lucky to be at the home of a horse trader. Better than being out on the road, eh?”

Whilst Poppea chomped and scrunched her way noisily through breakfast, the girl brushed away at her dusty white flanks and withers, still chatting. “Just think, you’ve got a week’s rest, no more pulling the cart and sleeping in the open. You’ll live like a grand lady alongside all this merchant’s expensive horses. I do hope you mind your manners.”

Poppea turned her head, watching with huge, liquid eyes as the girl braided her mane.

“When you’ve eaten that I’ll take you for a nice drink of water from the moat. How would you like that?” She started slightly as a voice answered.

“No need for that, miss, there’s a trough behind the stables.”

Serafina found herself looking into the clouded blue-grey eyes of the boy she had seen the previous evening. They stood staring at each other in silence for a moment, then the spell was broken as Ned romped up and began frisking around the girl. She knelt, ruffling and patting him happily.

“Good morning, Bundi . . . er, I mean, Ned. Well, you’re in a cheerful mood today. Is it because you’ve found your master again?”

The boy flicked his unruly, tow-coloured hair off his eyebrows. “I’m not his master, really, I’m his friend. My name’s Ben.”

The girl rose and began unbuckling the nosebag from the mare’s head. “I’m Serafina, and this is our wagon horse, Poppea. Will you show me where the trough is, Ben?”

Ben took the mare’s halter. “With pleasure.”

Ned interrupted mentally. “My my, aren’t we the perfect gentleman. She must be swept off her feet by such good manners.”

Ben tugged the Labrador’s tail. “Better than being almost knocked flat by a gallumping beast like you, most undignified Bundi!”

Ned growled. “If you want to see something really undignified, just try calling me that silly name again. We’ll see how dignified you look with that pretty girl watching me tear the seat out of your britches, my boy!”

They sat in silence by the trough, watching Poppea drink her fill. Ben could think of nothing to say to this beautiful black vision which had entered his life. Serafina! She was so serene and graceful. Every move she made had a leisurely rhythm. Her hands were slim and long, extremelydeft. He watched as she braided the mare’s tail, trying to think of something to say to her. It was Serafina who finally spoke.

“Where do you come from, Ben?”

He heard himself laugh foolishly. “Sometimes I wish I knew.” Ben was mentally berating himself for the silly reply when Ned’s warning cut across his thoughts.

“Be very careful what you tell her, mate!”

At the same time, Serafina spoke again. “How long have you been at this place?”

Completely confused, Ben replied aloud to Ned’s caution. “Don’t worry, I know what to say.”

The girl smiled quizzically at him. “You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to, Ben. I’m sorry if I seemed to be prying, it wasn’t my intention.”

Ben’s cheeks went red with embarrassment. Impulsively he took her hand, blurting out, “Serafina, no, it’s me who should be apologising. I got mixed up, it was something that Ned . . .” His voice trailed off miserably as he released her hand.

Her soft dark eyes sought his. “We don’t have anything to be sorry about, Ben, you can talk to me as a friend.”

Ben looked down at the trough, where he could see her shimmering reflection in the water as he strove to marshal his thoughts. “I’d like more than anything to be your friend. But there are certain things I can’t explain right now. Maybe someday. . . .”

Serafina looked up as Otto came around the corner of the stable. The big German strongman grinned cheerfully.

“Come now,
mein Schatzi,
¹⁸
they have given us lots of food for breakfast. You must be hungry,
ja
?”

Serafina took Poppea’s halter. “Thank you, Otto, I am. Ben, would you and Ned like to join us? I’m sure there’ll be plenty for everyone.”

Ben took the halter from her, his heart singing with joy. “We’d love to, wouldn’t we, Ned? Thank you!”

The black Labrador trotted along between Poppea and Otto, sharing his thoughts with Ben. “I’m famished! Oh, thanks for including me, mate, but watch what you say, and don’t go tripping up over your tongue.” He winced under Otto’s heavy pats. “You should be glad you’re human, Ben. I’m being patted into the ground by my big friend here. Oof! Oh dear, he means well, I suppose.”

Jasmina and some servants had delivered lots of food to the performers: fresh fruit, bread, goat cheese, eggs, small cakes filled with sultanas, strong Turkish coffee and the sweetened fruit juices known as sherbet. Ben immediately felt at ease as Serafina introduced him to the friendly group. Being no stranger to the troupe, Ned was welcomed with open arms; he gambolled about, being petted and fed by everyone.

Ben remarked laughingly to Serafina as they watched the black Labrador, “That fellow makes himself right at home!”

Ned gave Ben a doggy grin as La Lindi coaxed him with cheese. “Hoho! This is the life, matey, I could really get used to being part of this jolly gang!”

Ben accepted a piled-up plate from Mamma, thanking her as he mentally replied to his dog, “Aye, so could I. Though I’d best keep quiet about what Al Misurata said to us last night. We’ll just play along and see how things develop through the day.”

Buffo began feeding Ned some cake. He nodded to Ben. “You’ve got a good dog here, a real clever fellow. I bet you could work up a good act with him.”

Serafina’s expressive eyes shone. “What a great idea. I think he’s intelligent enough to learn lots of tricks!”

Ben stifled a giggle as he heard Ned replying, “Well, I’ll teach him what I can, but boys can be very difficult sometimes, especially my Ben.”

Serafina was entranced by the scheme. “Well, what do you think, Ben, could you and Ned get something together? I’d help you, if you wish.”

The boy tried to stay noncommittal, though it was difficult to refuse any offer from the charming black girl. “It’s a nice idea, let me think about it, Serafina.”

Mamma Rizzoli interrupted the conversation. “Serafina, and you, Buffo, leave the young man alone, stop trying to put ideas into his head. The master of this place may have totally different plans for Ben and his dog. Then where would all your fine schemes be, eh?”

Augusto Rizzoli agreed with his wife. “Yes indeed, friends, we would appear presumptuous if we were to make plans for one of Al Misurata’s servants. We must not abuse his hospitality.”

Mummo pulled a mock sad face. “A great pity, really, young fellow, you and your dog would have made splendid clowns. I was thinking what good names you could have had. Benno and Neddo!”

Otto gestured toward the big house. “Forget that now, the one they call Bomba is coming over here. I wonder what he wants?”

Without any formalities, Bomba indicated Signore Rizzoli abruptly. “Come with me, my master would speak with you!”

Mamma looked concerned. “I wonder what he wants with you?”

The showman reassured her. “Don’t worry,
cara mia,
it’s probably nothing. I’ll be back soon.”

Bomba took hold of Signore Rizzoli’s arm. “Come along, my master doesn’t like to be kept waiting!”

Otto reached out and caught the big man’s arm above the elbow, squeezing his biceps in a grip of steel. Bomba winced, releasing his hold on Signore Rizzoli. The German strongman wagged a huge finger at him. “Mind your manners,
mein Herr,
especially with my friends!”

Augusto Rizzoli intervened. “Let go, Herr Kassel, I will go with him. Lead on, please!”

Otto watched both men walking across to the house. “I don’t think I like that Bomba fellow.”

Ben sent a thought to Ned. “I don’t like him either, he’s a slaver. But I think he’ll tread carefully around Otto from now on.”

The dog replied, “Aye, heaven help him if he ever tries anything with our Otto!”

The rest of breakfast passed in silence. Ben and Serafina helped Mamma to tidy up, whilst the others went off to rehearse their show behind the stables.

The morning was half gone before Signore Rizzoli returned. He called his wife into the wagon, where they held a conference. Ben and Ned were with Serafina, watching La Lindi going through her dance with the python. She had allowed him to stroke it, though she advised that Ned be kept away.