Brian Jacques - Voyage of Slaves

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, 18they 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.

The dog snorted. “Huh, wild horses couldn’t drag me near that monster, just the smell of that big snake makes me feel ill.”

Mamma emerged from the wagon and called the boy. “Ben, my husband would like a word with you.”

Ben entered the covered wagon, with Ned at his heels. Augusto Rizzoli offered him a seat.

“Listen to what I have to say, young man, and think carefully. How would you feel about joining my troupe and travelling with us to Italy? You and your good dog there?”

A surge of elation shot through Ben. He had an idea what the showman’s meeting with Al Misurata had been about, but he feigned ignorance. “Signore, it would be wonderful, I’m sure Ned and I would enjoy greatly to be part of your show. But why do you ask?”