Brian Jacques - Voyage of Slaves

Ghigno nodded. “So you refuse the requests of Al Misurata, Lord of the Barbary Coast?”

The aide’s confidence was growing. “I could pursue the slaves and take them myself. Your lord has lost them. Only a fool would agree to such outrageous terms!”

Al Misurata raised his arm and dropped it suddenly. The air resounded to the crash of rifle fire from the surrounding trees. When the last echo had died, Ghigno and the guards hurried forward and subdued the whinnying horses. Al Misurata slit open the shirt of the dead aide and retrieved the pouched money belt from about his waist. He hefted it in one hand, remarking to the corpse of Ferenc Kuvan, “Only fools defy the wishes of Al Misurata.”

The bodies of the servants were thrown from the coach as the pirate’s guards manned it. Mounting the two spare horses, Ghigno and Al Misurata raced off along the northeast road immediately.

32

OUTSIDE THE TOWN OF MUGGIA, ON THE ITALIAN BORDER.

IT WAS AN HOUR AFTER DAWN ON A misty summer morn when the cart and the two wagons halted. Above them on the brow of the hill stood a walled building. Ben and Ned jumped from their wagon, but before they could reach the troupe’s cart, Otto had broken the doorlock with a single heave of his mighty shoulders. The troupe tumbled forth, cheering and laughing as they were reunited with the boy and his dog. Serafina reached Ben first and embraced him, shedding tears of joy upon his face and kissing them away. “Oh Ben, Ben, I knew you’d save us!”

Augusto Rizzoli held the rest back. “Look at the young ones, such a sight, eh?”

Buffo caught sight of Ben’s face over Serafina’s shoulder. “ Magnifico! His face is on fire!”

Mummo did a handspring on the path. “He’d make red pepper look pale!”

Mamma cuffed both the clowns’ ears. “Leave the children alone, were you never young?”

Ned was sending out frantic messages. “Will someone kindly tell Otto to put me down!”

Janos Cabar shook hands with the rescued slaves. “My friends, I think you’ll be safe in that place up there. I have heard the Sisters are kind folk!”

Mamma raised her hands to the building, as if in prayer. “The Convento di Santa Filomena, heaven be praised!”

“Vagabonds! Bandits! Be off, go away!”

A very old nun had the main gate slightly open. She was waving a broom at them, shouting, “I warn you, go away, or I’ll set Sansone 35on you!”

Janos approached, calling back to the ancient Sister, “Mind your manners, old lady, go and tell your Mother Superior that some friends of Kostas Krimboti wish to speak with her. Hurry now, we haven’t got all day!”

The old Sister vanished, slamming the gate behind her.

Magda chewed on her pipestem, scanning the road behind them. “She’d better put a move on, those slavers could be right on our tail!”

There was a pause, then the main gate reopened. The Mother Superior came out to meet them. She was a small, well-built lady, not unlike Mamma Rizzoli, with lots of laughter wrinkles around her eyes. She pointed a finger at Janos. “Only you look wild enough to be a companion of the rascal Krimboti. I am Mother Carmella. What can I do for you, my child?”

The smugglers’ leader was rather taken aback at being referred to as a child, so Ben answered for her.

“Marm, we are seeking sanctuary from a Barbary slave lord. Kostas Krimboti recommended your convent to me.”

Mother Carmella linked her arm in Ben’s, smiling benignly.“Santa Filomena would never fail to open its doors to the needy and oppressed. You are welcome here, signore.”

The boy waved to the troupe. “Come on, everybody!”

Only Janos and her Istrani Wolves remained out on the path. Ben went to her. “Won’t you come inside for just a moment, friend? Who knows, they’re probably serving breakfast about now.”

Janos watched her women hitching Poppea to the troupe cart and sending her inside with the others. “No, no, Ben, I must be on my way now. I will carry on to Trieste. There’s a cheese and olive oil merchant there, he’ll load up my two wagons for the return trip. I’ll pick my other wagons up at the Grey Swan on the road back.”

The boy endured the smuggler’s vise-like grip as he shook hands with her. “Janos Cabar, it has been a pleasure knowing you. Thanks for all your good help, and a safe journey to you!”

The Istrani Wolves were ready and waiting. Janos sprang up on her big black stallion, cracking the bullwhip.

As they pounded off down the trail, Ben could not resist cupping both hands around his mouth and giving voice to the wolf call. “Howoooooyaaaaah!”

Janos, Magda, Katya and the rest bayed back at him. “Howoooooyaaaaah!” Then they were gone into the gold-tinged mists of the summer morning.

The ancient Sister who locked the gate after she had admitted Ben crossed herself, staring suspiciously at him. “Howling like a wild beast, I still think you’re some kind of rogue or bandit!”

Inside, the convent building was beautiful in its simplicity. Whitewashed walls, plain wood and woven rush matting bore witness to the nuns’ modest way of life. Mother Carmella showed Ben to the refectory, where the troupe were seated for breakfast. She sat down beside him.

“First you must eat, we can talk later.”

Ben looked around for his dog, sending out a message. “Ned, where are you? It’s not like you to miss breakfast, mate!”

The black Labrador and another dog padded into the room. Both were carrying huge beef marrowbones. Ben was startled by the size of Ned’s companion. He was absolutely huge, with a massive square head and a long, scraggly coat of black and grey.

Ned did a doggy chuckle. “Meet Sansone, the guardian of Santa Filomena. No need to worry about him, mate, he’s soft as an old feather bed until the Sisters give him the order to attack. This fellow’s living the life of a king here— imagine getting bones like this whenever you want ’em!”

They wandered over, and Ben patted Sansone’s head. The big dog was definitely a softie.

Sliced ham, cheese, fresh bread, fruit and a variety of drinks soon appeared. Everybody bowed their heads in silence as Mother Carmella recited a Latin grace. Then they fell to. Mamma Rizzoli had far more to say than Ben; after the meal she talked animatedly with the Mother Superior about what had happened to them. Both ladies seemed to have hit it off so well together that Ben took the chance to steal off with Serafina.

Ned looked up from his bone, commenting to Sansone, “I’ve warned him, but he doesn’t listen to me. Huh, humans, think they know better than us!”

There was an upstairs verandah at the rear of the convent, which had a wonderful view of the Adriatic Sea and the Gulf of Venice, now that the morning mist had cleared. Ben leaned on the verandah rail, looking out over the water. Serafina stood at his side, watching his face.

“You seem to know the sea well, Ben. I’d never set eyes on it before Lindi and I joined up with the troupe.”

The boy turned to face her. “And do you like it?”

Serafina shrugged. “I don’t know yet. It reminds me of something in your eyes, so cloudy and far off, mystic almost. What do you think?”

Ben turned back to the view. He wanted to tell her everything about his strange life. From that night in Copenhagen,over eighty years ago, when he fell in the harbour and was swept out to sea in the wake of the Flying Dutchman, clinging to a rope. Of the times he and Ned had shared on the world’s great oceans. He wanted to tell of the curse the Lord had cast upon Captain Vanderdecken and his ship, condemned to wander the seas for eternity. Both he and his dog were the only ones spared, by an angel, from sharing that voyage. 36Thoughts and yearnings flooded his mind, yearnings he dared not contemplate. Would she believe it? No sensible person would, it was all too fantastic.