Voyage of Slaves

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!”

8

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.”