Voyage of Slaves

Noontide shadows were beginning to lengthen when Ghigno and his men returned. The Corsican’s scarred face showed that it had been a successful survey. He gave his master the good news. “Lord, it is a convent, a house of women. We could not go around the back of it, because there is a sheer drop down to the sea. Inside the wall which surrounds the main building there is a courtyard and gardens, the wall is high and well built.”

Al Misurata drummed his fingers on the coach step, his tone denoting that he was running out of patience. “Forget courtyards and gardens—get to the point!”

Ghigno bowed deferentially. “The main gate, Lord, it is old, and not too tightly secured. It would be no problem for me to open it. A flat metal bar is all that holds it shut. I tried it by putting my sword blade through the doorjamb—it could be opened with one swift flick. There was also a big, rusty old lock with a wide keyhole. I took a peep through, no key has been used on it for years.

“Looking through the keyhole, I could see the performers’ cart in the courtyard. They must be in there, though there was no sign of the two wagons, or the two teams that pulled them.”

Al Misurata had heard enough. “You did well, my friend. The wagons and horses do not concern me. It will make things easier without having to deal with the crew that ran them. So, our birds have flown to roost in a convent, eh? Well, they’ll soon find out that holy sanctuary means nought to me! You and the men rest until dark. No, wait, send one of them back to my ship, lend him your horse. Give him orders that the Sea Djinn must be brought up here. We will need to be away from this area by dawn.”

That evening, Mother Carmella permitted all her nuns to attend dinner. The Convento di Santa Filomena rarely had such a number of colourful guests staying there. The Sisters were naturally curious. Intrigued by the presence of their visitors, they were delighted when the entertainers put on a little show for them. Buffo and Mummo were going through their act in full clown makeup, causing great hilarity among the nuns with their comical antics, when Mamma took her husband aside for a quiet word.

“Augusto, look at poor Serafina, the girl’s eyes are all puffy from weeping. She doesn’t want to sing tonight.”

Signore Rizzoli tuned up his mandolin. “What do you suppose is the matter, cara mia?”

His wife raised her eyes upward, toward the high verandah. “It looks like she and Ben have quarreled. I went upstairs to have a word with him, but he is sleeping out on that balcony with Ned. What are we to do?”

The showman shook his head. “Stay out of it, we have no business interfering in a lovers’ quarrel. Serafina and Ben are young, they’ll soon get over it. You worry too much. Well, if the girl isn’t singing tonight, I’d better fill in for her.”

As the applause for the clowns died down, Augusto strolled into the centre of the floor. Picking out a melodic introduction, he began singing in his fine tenor voice.

 

“An old woman leaned out of her window one day, as a handsome young fellow strolled by, he was singing a song as he rambled along ’neath the soft blue Italian sky.

La la la la lala lala la

 

“O bella ragazza, the one that I wed, must have two eyes as blue as the sky overhead, her teeth will be white as the pale moon at night, she’ll be young and I’ll love her completely.

La la la la lala lala la

 

“Her hair will be dark as a black raven’s wing, and her lips sweet and red as the cherry, her manner so meek, and the bloom of her cheek, like a blush made of peach and strawberry.

La la la la lala lala la

 

“The old one cried after the handsome young man, I can’t match your description alas, my teeth are like stars, for they come out at night, and the bloom on my cheek is long past.

La la la la lala lala la

 

“But I have some blue glasses as blue as the sky, and I’m sure I can paint my lips red, from the fortune in gold that my husband left me, I could buy a black wig for my head.

La la la la lala lala la