The Command - Brian Jacques - Flying Dutchman 02

Ben frowned. “Mingle with the crowd. What for?”

She smiled scornfully at him. “To pick pockets and purses, of course. I’m good at it, you see. ‘Twas that fat greasy ass who got us caught, not me. Anyhow, what are you and your dog doing wandering this forest?”

Ben stared into the fire. “Oh, nothing really, just wandering.”

Karay laughed. “Hahaha, who d’ye think you’re tryin’ to fool? I bet you two are the ones those sailors and townsfolk were searching for. Came off that pirate ship the navy sunk. I heard them talking in the jailhouse.”

Ben felt a flash of resentment toward the outspoken girl. “No, we didn’t, and anyhow, I don’t want to talk about it!”

Karay pouted her lips and tossed her hair. “And I don’t want to hear about it, so there!”

Her gesture so amused Ben that he mimicked it. “Huh, and I’m not so sure I should be keeping company with a thief. So there!”

Instinctively they both burst out laughing. After that the atmosphere was a lot more friendly. Ned joined them both by the fire. Stroking the dog’s silky ears, Karay watched him blink appreciatively. “I wish I had a dog like good old Neddy,” the girl mused.

Ned immediately bristled, contacting Ben. “Tell her!”

He stalked off to the opposite side of the fire and lay in the shadows while Ben explained to Karay. “He doesn’t like being called Neddy, it makes him sound like a worn-out old nag. He much prefers Ned.”

The girl stared into Ben’s clouded blue eyes. “How d’you know?”

Ben shrugged. “He told me.”

She chuckled. “I suppose you two talk together a lot, eh?”

The boy stirred the fire with a branch. “When friends are together for a long time, they get to know each other.”

Karay stared into the flickering flames. “It must be nice to be like that. I’ve never known anybody long enough to be really friendly with—parents, family or companions. D’you suppose we’ll get to know each other in that sort of way?”

Suddenly Ben felt a pang of pity, both for himself and for Karay. He could see her out of the corner of his eye, staring into the fire. A barefoot girl clad in a long, tattered red dress with an old black shawl thrown about her shoulders. Ben knew that someday he and Ned would have to walk away and leave, never again to see her. Or to let her see him, an eternal boy, never growing old.

He was about to concoct an answer that would not hurt her feelings when Ned’s voice entered his mind. “Stay still, Ben, don’t look around or bat an eyelid. We’re being watched!”

Ben did as the dog bid him, though his mind was racing. “Who is it, Ned? Is there more than one of them? I’ve still got this branch in my hand to poke the fire. Are they armed? Can you see them?”

Ned’s mental reply came back. “I think there’s only one. He’s just peeping round the corner of the rocks behind you both. I’ve shuffled back into the bushes, so he doesn’t know I’m here. Now, I’m going to circle behind him. The moment he makes a move I’ll jump on his back and knock him down. Be ready with that branch, Ben, and lay him out if he gets rough. Here goes!”

Unaware of what was going on, Karay sat back against the rock. Pulling her shawl close, she began drifting into a doze. Ben’s grip tightened on the branch as he tried not to look alert. Slight crackling from the fire was the only sound in the still night as seconds passed like hours. Ben tried letting his eyelids droop, acting as a decoy, though his whole body was tensed like a steel spring.

Suddenly a slender-built young fellow, carrying a battered leather satchel over one shoulder, stepped from behind the rocks. He started to speak.

“I saw your fire— oof!”

Springing pantherlike from the top of a rock, Ned landed on the intruder, knocking him facedown. Ben leapt up but was pushed aside as Karay bounded past him. The girl jumped with both feet on the newcomer’s back, forcing the breath from him in a whoosh as Ned nipped to one side, avoiding her feet.

She knelt on her victim’s shoulderblades, grabbed a knife from the back of his belt and seized him by the hair. Tugging his head back savagely, the girl pressed the knife blade against his throat, growling like a tigress.

“Be still or I’ll cut your throat!”

Ben guessed the intruder was about his own age. His eyes were wide with fear, staring straight at Ben, who hurried over and grabbed Karay’s wrist. “Stop, don’t hurt him!”

The girl frowned at him. “Why not? He was carrying a knife—maybe he was goin’ to rob or murder us!”

Ben forced her hand to the ground and placed his foot on the knife blade. “He doesn’t look in a position to rob or murder anyone at the moment, thanks to you. Now then, you robbing murderer, what’s your name?”

“Dominic,” the captive managed to gasp as he tried to regain his breath. “I mean you no harm, honest— uurrgh!”

Karay dragged his head further back, hissing viciously into his ear. “Then why were you sneaking around, spyin’ on us an’ carryin’ a knife, eh?”

Ben had put up with enough of the girl’s barbaric behaviour. He passed a swift thought to Ned. “Settle her, mate, before she breaks that poor fellow’s neck!”

The black Labrador rushed her, pushing Karay off the young man with a powerful thrust of his forepaws. Ben retrieved the knife and stowed it in his belt, then held out his hand to the stranger named Dominic. “Up you come, mate!”

He held out his other hand to the girl. “You too, Karay. I hardly think Dominic is a murderer or a thief—he looks friendly enough to me.”

Karay gave Ned a frosty glare as she dusted herself down. “Pushing me over like that, and I thought you were my friend!”

They went back to the fire and sat down together, though it took some time for Karay to regain both temper and dignity. Dominic was not one whom anybody could take a dislike to, for he had a gentle manner, a soft voice and a winning smile. Ned sat with his head on Dominic’s knee, gazing up at him as he communicated with Ben. “I like Dominic, he looks like a real pal!”

Karay was still doubtful. She questioned him closely. “What brings you to this part of the woods? Where are you bound?”

He pointed east. “I was going to the fair at Veron to see if I could earn some money.”

“I can always make money at country fairs,” bragged Karay.

Ben’s voice carried a note of sternness. “Not by stealing, I hope. You’d end up in prison, probably we would, too.”

The girl began to get huffy again. “I’ve no need to steal, if it’s a good fair—people will pay to hear me sing. I’m a great singer.” She changed the subject by turning back to Dominic. “How d’you earn your living? By selling things?”

For answer, Dominic opened his worn leather satchel. He produced charcoals, chalks, a slender steel file with a broken tip and some pieces of slate. “I make faces.”

Ben’s interest quickened. “You mean you’re an artist? I’ve never met an artist. Who taught you, did you attend a school?”

Dominic was already at work, glancing up and down at Ned as he scraped away at a piece of slate with the broken file. He talked as he sketched. “Nobody ever taught me, I was born with the skill to draw. I come from Sabada in Spain, but I was banished from there when I was very young. Hmm, this is an interesting dog.”

Ned’s thought reached Ben. “I’ll say I’m interesting—noble and handsome, too. Told you I liked Dominic—”

Ben interrupted the dog’s thought. “Why were you banished?”

Dominic concentrated on his portrait as he answered. “They were ignorant people, but sooner or later I am driven from anyplace I go. People think I am a magician, and they get scared—I don’t blame them. My pictures are like no others. When I draw the likeness of anybody, man, woman or child, the truth is in my picture. I cannot help it—good, evil, deceit, envy, love, tenderness or cruelty. All of these things show up in my work, it is as if I can see into the very heart and soul of those whom I sketch. Ah, here you are, Ned, this is you, honest, noble, handsome and above all, faithful. Though there is something else behind those wonderful eyes that I cannot quite capture. Look!”