With tears in her eyes, Mamma turned to Al Misurata. “Such kindness, signore, but why do you do this for us?”
The pirate smiled, shrugging expressively. “I like to help good people when I can, it is no big thing. But the choice is yours, either go on your way tomorrow, or accept my offer. Though I must warn you, there is dangerous country ’twixt here and the Straits of Gibraltar if you are travelling west. It would sadden me to hear you had fallen into the hands of robbers or brigands.”
Mamma was about to speak again when her husband interrupted. “You are right, signore, we accept your most generous offer!”
Whilst the conversation had been going back and forth, Ben and Ned sat close to one another, mentally conversing. Ben transmitted a warning to his friend.
“It’s a trap, I’m sure of it. Al Misurata is a slave trader!”
Ned groaned inwardly. “Oh no, just when I thought things were beginning to go smoothly for a change. Though I must say, I didn’t like the looks of that fellow, what’s his name, Al Miserable, from the moment I clapped eyes on him. So, what do we do now, mate?”
Ben kept his eyes on the pirate’s left hand, as he had been instructed. “I don’t know yet, Ned, but we’ve got to help your friends—and ourselves, somehow.” He checked his thoughts as Al Misurata spoke.
“So be it then, you will put on a performance for me and my friends each night until we are ready to sail. In return I will transport you over the sea to Italy, or as close to the Italian border as I am going. Bomba, see that the signore and his people have ample accommodation.” He beckoned to Ben. “Bring your dog and come with me.”
Ben mused as they followed the pirate, “I wonder what he wants us for?”
Ned growled quietly. “Who knows? But never mind, mate, as long as we’re together again.”
The gardens and walks of the downstairs courtyard were extensive, redolent with the scent of blossoms and fruit. Fountains tinkled in the warm night air, and a soothing breeze barely stirred the feathery palms. Al Misurata leaned against a low, sculptured wall as he stared long and hard at the strange fair-skinned boy and his dog.
“Go on, speak your thoughts, infidel. Don’t be afraid, I won’t punish you.”
Ben immediately accused his captor. “I think those people will never see their homeland. You are leading them into some sort of trap!”
Al Misurata moved like a striking cobra. There was a swift hiss of steel, and Ben felt the pirate’s swordblade against the side of his neck.
Ned bared his teeth savagely. He stood stiff-legged and snarling, ready to defend his friend.
Ben cautioned him mentally, “Stay where you are, Ned, this is a very dangerous man!”
Al Misurata spoke softly, but in a challenging tone. “Are you calling me a liar, infidel?”
Ben could not help swallowing hard, but he stood his ground. “You said it. I am only doing as you told me, speaking my mind.”
Al Misurata withdrew the sword. Placing its tip upon the wall, he rested his chin on the gold-chased hilt. Never once did his piercing glance leave the boy. “You are a puzzle to me. You seem so young, yet something tells me your eyes have seen the sights of several lifetimes. Also, I think that you and the dog speak to one another. How is that? Tell me about yourself.”
Ned cautioned his friend, “Watch what you say, mate!”
Ben studied the wall, avoiding the pirate’s keen gaze. “There’s nothing much to tell. I think I must have been the son of ship’s officer. The dog and I were the only survivors when the vessel was wrecked in the Gulf of Gascony. I don’t remember anything very clearly, so I must have been very young. Ned has always been with me, we’ve travelled the coasts together for a long time. I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you.”
Al Misurata sheathed his blade, smiling thinly. “Now who is the liar, eh, boy?”
Ben remained silent, taking in Ned’s mental comment: “We’re not fooling that one, he’s got brains!”
Surprisingly, the pirate patted Ben’s back. “No matter, boy, I started out just like you. Though I can tell you’ve never been a slave before. I know you’re the same as me in one respect—you’d never bend your knee to any man willingly. Tell me, how would you like to go to Italy with that band of players?”
This came as a shock to Ben. He did not know what to think about his unpredictable captor. “You mean you’re really taking them to Italy?”
The pirate nodded. “Of course I am, they are of no great significance to me. I am merely letting them pay for their trip by entertaining me for a few days. Life isn’t all gold and slaves to me; sometimes I am not a bad fellow to know. Well, would you like to join them, Ben?”
Completely taken off-guard by the friendly use of his name and the man’s open manner, Ben nodded eagerly. “That would be wonderful, sir, thank you. Thank you!”
Al Misurata made a dismissive gesture. “It’s a fine night, Ben. You may sleep out here with your dog, Ned, that’s his name, isn’t it? I’ll speak to Signore Rizzoli about you tomorrow. Good night.” He strode off, back into the big house, leaving the pair alone together.
Ben sat down with Ned, beside the wall. “Well, what do you make of that?”
The black Labrador scratched his ear with a back paw. “I’ve no idea, mate. Maybe we both misjudged old Al Miserable, who knows? But I intend to make it my business to find out more. Us dogs have our ways, you know.”
Ben leaned back, scratching his dog’s ear gently. “I should be used to your ways by now, my faithful hound.”
Ned held still, so that Ben could scratch more easily. “Less of the hound, you cheeky pup. Ooh, that feels good, scratch a bit lower. Aaaahhh, right there! I missed you.”
Ben tweaked Ned’s ear playfully. “Only because nobody can scratch your ear like I do.”
Ned stretched out blissfully, closing his eyes. “Correct, mate, keep going. A bit lower, no, to the left. Just there. Don’t stop, slave!”
Ben watched the guards through half-closed eyes. They patrolled the walls constantly. “Aye, that’s me, a slave, bought and sold. But not for long if we’re to believe the great Lord Al Misurata.”
Ned opened one eye. “Hmph, that’s a big if!”
8
DAWN CREPT STEALTHILY OVER THE desert coast, pale gold and shell pink, interspersed with banks of dove-grey mist over the sea. Serafina rose early, leaving Mamma and La Lindi still sleeping in the women’s guest chamber. She padded silently out into the newborn day. It was her turn to tend Poppea, the troupe’s wagon horse.
Even before she opened the stable door, the mare whickered eagerly, aware of her presence nearby. Serafina led her out into the paved yard, murmuring to her, “Good morning to you, old lady, did you think I’d forgotten your breakfast?” She filled a nosebag with bran and chaff. Poppea waited patiently, head bent, as Serafina strapped it in place. “This is good provender, you’re lucky to be at the home of a horse trader. Better than being out on the road, eh?”
Whilst Poppea chomped and scrunched her way noisily through breakfast, the girl brushed away at her dusty white flanks and withers, still chatting. “Just think, you’ve got a week’s rest, no more pulling the cart and sleeping in the open. You’ll live like a grand lady alongside all this merchant’s expensive horses. I do hope you mind your manners.”
Poppea turned her head, watching with huge, liquid eyes as the girl braided her mane.
“When you’ve eaten that I’ll take you for a nice drink of water from the moat. How would you like that?” She started slightly as a voice answered.
“No need for that, miss, there’s a trough behind the stables.”
Serafina found herself looking into the clouded blue-grey eyes of the boy she had seen the previous evening. They stood staring at each other in silence for a moment, then the spell was broken as Ned romped up and began frisking around the girl. She knelt, ruffling and patting him happily.