Voyage of Slaves

Eli shook his head. “But I gave my word I would convey you to Piran. I am in your debt for saving Joshua’s life. I would not leave you at the mercy of foes!”

The monk appealed to his old friend. “The boy is right, Eli, that is the solution. It makes good sense to me, and gives him more chance of helping his friends, the Rizzoli Troupe.”

Eli leaned his elbows on the table, stroking his beard. “But where would he find a ship sailing for Piran soon? One whose captain could be trusted?”

Fra Salvatore had the answer. “You remember Kostas Krimboti the treasure hunter?”

Despite the urgency of the situation, Eli chuckled.

“What? You mean Kostas Gold Jaw? Is that madman still scouring the seas for sunken treasure?”

The monk smiled. “No, he found a treasure ship, a Roman galley, right here off Cape Spartivento. Kostas became a rich man, but he could not give up the sea life. He gave up treasure seeking, though, and bought a ship, the Blue Turtle. I know for a fact that he is sailing before evening today.”

Ben asked eagerly, “For Piran?”

Fra Salvatore patted the boy’s hand. “No, Ben, he goes to Muggia, a little place right on the Italian border, very close to Piran. I know this because Kostas is taking some items to the nuns there, at the Convento di Santa Filomena. Habits, beads and a painting of the Madonna and Holy Child surrounded by many angels, which I painted myself.”

Ben’s eagerness was rekindled. “Would he take Ned and me?”

The old monk nodded. “For certain, he would not refuse me.” Fra Salvatore stared enquiringly at Eli. “So?”

The patriarch hesitated momentarily, one hand stroking Ned beneath the table as he reached out with the other and laid it on Ben’s head.

“Do it, go now, Benjamin, whilst you still can. I will put to sea within the hour and set sail south into the Mediterranean for home. You will be heading the other way, up into the Ionian Sea. But tell me, Salvatore, how do you know Misurata will follow us?”

The old monk rubbed the tips of his thumb and index finger together. “Money, Eli. I will put it about, the course you are on. There are always those seeking to gain gold for information.”

The time had come for Ben and Ned to take leave of their dear friends, right there in the tavern. Joshua hugged Ned, his tears wetting the black Labrador’s coat. Ned was passing thoughts to Ben. “If we don’t leave soon, I’m afraid I’ll be howling. It’s breaking my heart to leave these good people.”

Ben replied mentally, “Mine, too, mate, but we’ve got to help the troupe. Look at Eli, he’s almost weeping.”

Eli Bar Shimon took Ben’s hand. “We may never meet again, Benjamin. Now go, and take my heart with you. What a grandson you would have made!”

Ben blinked back unshed tears. “Thank you for everything, sir. If I had a grandfather I’d want him to be just like you. Joshua is your grandson, he will make you happy— and proud of him, too, someday. Come on, Ned, Fra Salvatore is waiting, we must go now.”

Ned licked Eli’s hand, and Ben shook Joshua’s.

“Good-bye, mate, don’t go swimming where there are sharks.”

Without looking back they left the tavern, following the monk. Joshua buried his face in his grandfather’s robe.

“I don’t want them to go!”

Eli stroked the lad’s curls. “Nor do I, Joshua, but one day you’ll see it was the right thing to do. Come on now, let’s go home.”

Fra Salvatore led his two charges up a side alley, explaining, “The fewer people who see us travelling together, the better. Kostas has the Blue Turtle moored about a mile up the coast.”

Ned sent Ben a random thought. “I hope this Kostas can cook lamb as good as young Joshua.”

The boy tugged his dog’s tail. “Still thinking of food? I think you should have been a wild hog.”

Ned huffed. “I like thinking of food, it stops me grieving over absent friends.”

Any further conversation was stalled as they were passing a mean-looking house. There were several painful yelps, and a scruffy-looking puppy bounded out. It was pursued by a small man with a cruel face. He was lashing at the little dog with a stick, shouting at it, “I’ll teach you to steal bread from the table, I’ll take the hide off your mangy back!” He cornered the puppy and began beating it. However, he did not have much time to administer the punishment.

Ned hit the man’s back like a roaring lion. The fellow went down, screaming for his life. The puppy dashed off, and Ben called to his furious dog. “Ned, come away!”

However, such was Ned’s fury that he was oblivious to all pleas or commands—he continued his attack upon the puppy beater. Ben was forced to haul the big, black Labrador off by main force, assisted by the old monk. The man’s clothing was almost ripped from him; he was bruised, scratched and bleeding from several places. Immediately the dog was pulled from him, he hobbled off, screeching.

“Mad dog! Mad dog! I’ll have that beast destroyed by the guardia.³¹ Help, I’ve been savaged by a rabid dog!”