Brian Jacques - Voyage of Slaves

Gazing avidly at the coin, the beggar nodded. “Follow me, young sir, I know the place.”

He took Ben along a few back alleys and out onto a broader street. As they were passing a narrow passage to a courtyard, the boy glanced sideways. There was a covered section in the courtyard; the two Arab steeds were tethered there.

Ben grabbed the beggar’s grimy hand, pressing the coin into it. “Here, this place will do me!”

The man protested, “But the Grey Swan is only around the next corner on the right, sir.”

Ben patted his arm. “Thank you, I’ll find it myself.” He gave the beggar his coin and watched him shuffle off.

Ben’s mind was racing with excitement when an idea occurred to him. Mentally he projected his thoughts as he walked around to the front entrance to the building. “Ned, are you there? Speak to me, mate!”

Some jumbled phrases entered his mind—it was Ned. “Rotten old furryface, it was you who locked that window, I know it was. If I get my teeth around your tail. . . . Eh, what . . . Ben, is that you, can’t you get in here, either? Huh, that confounded Pandora!”

Ben interrupted his dog’s prattle. “Ned, listen to me. I’m just on the next street to you, outside a hotel called The Crown of Slovenija. Serafina’s in there, with Misurata and the Scar-face. I need to know why they’ve brought her here, so stop arguing with that cat and get round here quick!”

The Crown of Slovenija appeared to be a high-class establishment. Its front hall was thickly carpeted, the walls were hung with gilt-framed paintings and chandeliers dangled from the ceiling. The Major Domo who stood between Ben and the dining salon was a portly, uniformed fellow. He gave the ragged, mud-besmirched boy a jaundiced stare, then beckoned him to be off with a fluttering gesture of his white-gloved hand. Knowing there was no way to get by him, Ben went back to wait outside the courtyard entrance.

He did not have long to wait. The faithful Labrador came bounding out of the drizzly curtain to his side. “Well, I know where the cart is, mate, just outside of town, by a stream in some woodland. Where’s our girl, then, have you seen her?”

Ben crouched by his dog’s side as he answered. “She’s inside somewhere, but there’s no chance of me getting in, I’d be ejected on sight.”

Ned shook himself vigorously. “Right, you stay here, I’ll sneak in the back way and see what’s going on!”

Serafina sat at a corner table in the salon with Al Misurata. Ghigno had gone off somewhere to carry out his master’s wishes. The beautiful black girl had allowed an attendant to take her cloak. Other diners stared openly at the man in costly Arab garb and the fascinating girl. Al Misurata ignored them, indicating a selection of small frosted tarts and an ornate pot of hot chocolate which had been served to them.

“Help yourself, girl. One as pretty as you should get accustomed to a life of luxury.”

Serafina stared miserably at the woven damask table covering. “I’m not hungry, sir, all I want is to go back to the Rizzoli Troupe.”

The pirate poured himself a dainty cup of the hot chocolate. “All in good time, miss. Ah, here comes Ghigno.”

The Corsair was accompanied by a sallow-faced man whose attire suggested that he might be a country squire. Ghigno introduced him. “Lord, this is the head steward and aide to Count Dreskar. Ferenc Kuvan!”

Al Misurata viewed the aide with raised eyebrows. “I was told I would be dealing personally with your master?”

The aide bowed formally. “Sir, I am here to do business with you on Count Dreskar’s behalf. He sends his apologies and regrets, but he has been called away on urgent matters of state.”

Al Misurata appeared to digest this information for a time. Then he turned to Ghigno. “Take the girl and wait elsewhere for me.”

Ghigno escorted Serafina away. Al Misurata beckoned the aide to sit in her place, noticing the way he had appraised the girl.

“A real beauty, that one—I think your master would agree?”

Ferenc Kuvan got straight down to business. “What about the others, did you not bring them?”

The pirate wagged a finger, smiling. “Piran has many eyes and ears, it would be foolish to bring them all. I am merely showing you the jewel of the collection. The others are safe enough, my friend.”

The aide’s face disguised the fact that he did not relish being called the friend of a Barbary pirate. He tapped a finger on the tabletop.“How many are they, and what about the fair-skinned boy your report mentioned?”

Al Misurata found lying as natural as drawing breath. “Alas, he was lost overboard in a storm. But the others are a worthy addition to the girl. There are six of them, including a German strongman, a prime specimen. Then there is a dancer and snake charmer, older than the girl, but very attractive, a real Nubian lady. There are two brothers, acrobats, clowns, Count Dreskar would find them immensely entertaining. Then there is an older couple, man and wife, they are very obedient and have many years service still in them.”

Count Dreskar’s head steward cut the pirate short. “I will take the girl, the Nubian lady and the German. The others would not interest my master.”

Al Misurata sat back. Making a tent of his fingers, he stared at Ferenc Kuvan over it, speaking levelly. “You will take them all, that is the deal I agreed with Dreskar. Or I can make you another offer—your master can forget any arrangements we made, and be satisfied to have you back, plus the gift of a dagger, which you will carry in your heart.”

There followed a silence, in which the pirate watched the aide’s Adam’s apple bob up and down several times. When he had regained some composure, Ferenc Kuvan spoke.

“Let us discuss the price of your wares.”

Al Misurata nodded casually. “I warn you, I drive a hard bargain, my friend.”

Ben wandered up and down the mudwashed path outside, cold and hungry. It seemed an age since his dog had slunk inside from the courtyard entrance. Late afternoon was sinking toward evening when Ned emerged into the street. Ben hurried to him. “Well, did you see her?”

The dog grabbed Ben’s torn trouser leg. “Come with me, hurry up. And don’t stand gawping at her, or the Scarface’ll see you. Come on!”

He led Ben around to the front entrance. As they passed the hall doorway, the boy found himself staring straight into the eyes of Serafina. Ghigno was studying one of the paintings on the wall, but he had a firm grip on the girl’s arm. Her almond eyes grew wide at the sight of Ben, who had only enough time to wink and nod reassuringly at her. Then the dog dragged him away, communicating urgently. “Don’t stand there like a lovelorn duck. Move yourself!”

Serafina felt as though she was suddenly hovering on air at the sight of Ben. Ghigno turned and looked at her quizzically.

“What’s the matter with you, girl, do you feel faint?”

She quickly turned her eyes to the carpeted floor. “Er, no! Well, a little bit. Please could I have something to eat? I feel a bit hungry.”

On the way back to the Grey Swan, Ned explained what had taken place in the salon. “I managed to get into that room where old Miseryguts was sitting at a table with another fellow. I could see Serafina and the Scar-face waiting in the hallway. Anyhow, you know those long, padded seats that run along the walls? Well, I crawled under one end and bellied my way along. You’re lucky to have such a clever and resourceful dog as me. I got to within less than a yard of Miseryguts and the other one. And here’s what I learned . . .”

Nobody passing by would have guessed what was going on between the ragged, muddy boy and the saturated hound.