Voyage of Slaves (24 page)

Joshua waved back—the boy was happy, but perplexed. “Why are they cheering, is it for us, Grandfather?”

Eli shrugged. “Who knows? They seem a happy bunch. It must be some sort of celebration, or a saint’s day. Ah! We’ll soon find out, there’s my old friend Fra Salvatore.” The old man waved and shouted, “Salvatore,
amico,
is it really you? Wait, we’re coming ashore!”

Fra Salvatore was an old monk of the Franciscan order. He wore a worn, brown habit, girdled by a simple white cord. His face was nutbrown and heavily wrinkled by the sun. Ned sent a thought to Ben.

“I like him, he looks like an old saint.”

Fra Salvatore made way for them through the crowd, who all seemed to want to pat their backs or shake them by the hand. Eli and the old monk embraced.

Eli introduced Joshua, Ben and Ned, then looked in wonderment at the people surrounding them. “It’s so good to see you again, but what have we done that pleases these good folk so much?” The old monk led them away, toward a quayside tavern. “First we’ll eat and drink. Concepta makes the best seafood frittata in the world. Come!”

Fra Salvatore spoke truly. Concepta, the tavern owner, lived up to his words. She seated them by the window and placed fresh, crusty bread, wine and huge platters of her famous seafood omelettes before them. As they ate the monk explained.

“I keep messenger pigeons, Eli. Nothing goes on in these waters between here and Sicilia that I don’t know about. You and your friends are the ones who rid the coasts of the evil Marlanese, the False Padre. That fiend has plundered and murdered our shores for years. He has struck here at Melito many times. We have lost husbands, wives and children to him and his wreckers. Goods, valuables, even animals. He was the servant of Satan himself—what he could not steal, he would kill, or burn. As soon as I got the word and description, I knew it was you, my Lion of Judah. Tell me, did your great ram-horn bow sing its song to him?”

Eli watched as Concepta poured more wine for him. “Though the death of a fellow creature gives me no joy, it was I who slew him. He got only his just deserts, and I doubt he will be greatly mourned. But enough of that, what other news do you have for me?”

Fra Salvatore gripped his friend’s hand, looking concerned. “Nothing good, I fear, Eli. Your enemies pursue you swiftly. Sometime after midnight, another ship will berth here.”

Ben interrupted. “Aye, Al Misurata and the
Sea Djinn
!”

Fra Salvatore crossed himself. “The Barbary Pirate, another one who sails under the banner of evil. Do you know of him, Ben?”

Ned looked up from under the table, where he was dealing with a mighty hambone. “Hoho, do we know of him? I could tell you a thing or ten about that rascal!”

Eli nodded to Ben. “Tell our friend your story.”

The monk looked on intently as the strange boy with the clouded blue-grey eyes related the experiences of himself and his dog. When he had told all, Fra Salvatore spoke gravely. “Then you cannot stay here. You must go, as soon as you are able. But let me warn you, Eli, the seas are wide betwixt here and Piran. Misurata has many allies in his pay. I fear for you all!”

Joshua spoke out boldly. “My grandfather fears nothing, the Shimon are warriors!”

Eli allowed himself a smile at the lad’s faith in him. “Joshua, what our friend says is true. There will be great danger ahead before we reach the shores of Slovenija.”

“Unless!” All eyes turned to Ben at his outburst.

“Unless what, Benjamin?” Eli replied.

Ben outlined his plan. “Unless Ned and I can find another vessel sailing for Piran—we could board her secretly. Then, sir, you could provide a decoy with the
White Ram.
Lead Al Misurata off to where he has not planned to go. After awhile, you could sail to your homeland. That way things would be a lot safer for both of us.”

Eli shook his head. “But I gave my word I would convey you to Piran. I am in your debt for saving Joshua’s life. I would not leave you at the mercy of foes!”

The monk appealed to his old friend. “The boy is right, Eli, that is the solution. It makes good sense to me, and gives him more chance of helping his friends, the Rizzoli Troupe.”

Eli leaned his elbows on the table, stroking his beard. “But where would he find a ship sailing for Piran soon? One whose captain could be trusted?”

Fra Salvatore had the answer. “You remember Kostas Krimboti the treasure hunter?”

Despite the urgency of the situation, Eli chuckled.

“What? You mean Kostas Gold Jaw? Is that madman still scouring the seas for sunken treasure?”

The monk smiled. “No, he found a treasure ship, a Roman galley, right here off Cape Spartivento. Kostas became a rich man, but he could not give up the sea life. He gave up treasure seeking, though, and bought a ship, the
Blue Turtle.
I know for a fact that he is sailing before evening today.”

Ben asked eagerly, “For Piran?”

Fra Salvatore patted the boy’s hand. “No, Ben, he goes to Muggia, a little place right on the Italian border, very close to Piran. I know this because Kostas is taking some items to the nuns there, at the Convento di Santa Filomena. Habits, beads and a painting of the Madonna and Holy Child surrounded by many angels, which I painted myself.”

Ben’s eagerness was rekindled. “Would he take Ned and me?”

The old monk nodded. “For certain, he would not refuse me.” Fra Salvatore stared enquiringly at Eli. “So?”

The patriarch hesitated momentarily, one hand stroking Ned beneath the table as he reached out with the other and laid it on Ben’s head.

“Do it, go now, Benjamin, whilst you still can. I will put to sea within the hour and set sail south into the Mediterranean for home. You will be heading the other way, up into the Ionian Sea. But tell me, Salvatore, how do you know Misurata will follow us?”

The old monk rubbed the tips of his thumb and index finger together. “Money, Eli. I will put it about, the course you are on. There are always those seeking to gain gold for information.”

The time had come for Ben and Ned to take leave of their dear friends, right there in the tavern. Joshua hugged Ned, his tears wetting the black Labrador’s coat. Ned was passing thoughts to Ben. “If we don’t leave soon, I’m afraid I’ll be howling. It’s breaking my heart to leave these good people.”

Ben replied mentally, “Mine, too, mate, but we’ve got to help the troupe. Look at Eli, he’s almost weeping.”

Eli Bar Shimon took Ben’s hand. “We may never meet again, Benjamin. Now go, and take my heart with you. What a grandson you would have made!”

Ben blinked back unshed tears. “Thank you for everything, sir. If I had a grandfather I’d want him to be just like you. Joshua is your grandson, he will make you happy— and proud of him, too, someday. Come on, Ned, Fra Salvatore is waiting, we must go now.”

Ned licked Eli’s hand, and Ben shook Joshua’s.

“Good-bye, mate, don’t go swimming where there are sharks.”

Without looking back they left the tavern, following the monk. Joshua buried his face in his grandfather’s robe.

“I don’t want them to go!”

Eli stroked the lad’s curls. “Nor do I, Joshua, but one day you’ll see it was the right thing to do. Come on now, let’s go home.”

Fra Salvatore led his two charges up a side alley, explaining, “The fewer people who see us travelling together, the better. Kostas has the
Blue Turtle
moored about a mile up the coast.”

Ned sent Ben a random thought. “I hope this Kostas can cook lamb as good as young Joshua.”

The boy tugged his dog’s tail. “Still thinking of food? I think you should have been a wild hog.”

Ned huffed. “I like thinking of food, it stops me grieving over absent friends.”

Any further conversation was stalled as they were passing a mean-looking house. There were several painful yelps, and a scruffy-looking puppy bounded out. It was pursued by a small man with a cruel face. He was lashing at the little dog with a stick, shouting at it, “I’ll teach you to steal bread from the table, I’ll take the hide off your mangy back!” He cornered the puppy and began beating it. However, he did not have much time to administer the punishment.

Ned hit the man’s back like a roaring lion. The fellow went down, screaming for his life. The puppy dashed off, and Ben called to his furious dog. “Ned, come away!”

However, such was Ned’s fury that he was oblivious to all pleas or commands—he continued his attack upon the puppy beater. Ben was forced to haul the big, black Labrador off by main force, assisted by the old monk. The man’s clothing was almost ripped from him; he was bruised, scratched and bleeding from several places. Immediately the dog was pulled from him, he hobbled off, screeching.

“Mad dog! Mad dog! I’ll have that beast destroyed by the
guardia.
³¹
Help, I’ve been savaged by a rabid dog!”

Fra Salvatore alerted Ben speedily. “We’d best get out of here quickly, my son, or your Ned will be shot without question!”

As they hurried off, Ben was doing his best to reprimand Ned with stern thoughts. “Really, mate, what were you thinking of? I thought you were going to kill the fellow, the way you threw yourself upon him!”

Ned was unrepentant. “Aye, and I would have if you and the old man hadn’t pulled me off. Did you see that cowardly little bully beating the poor pup?”

Ben was forced to agree, but he continued berating his dog. “I saw it, and I was about to run in and deal with that man, but you were too quick.”

The black Labrador had recovered himself somewhat. He huffed, “I’m not sorry for teaching him a lesson, I’d do it again without a second thought. By the way, where’s the puppy got to?”

As they ran through the side streets, Ben took a quick glance around. “There’s no sign of him, I expect he’s cut off and gone to hide somewhere.”

They came out onto open coastland, dotted with rocks. Ahead of them at a small jetty, the blue-sailed masts of a ship could be seen.

Fra Salvatore slowed his pace to a walk. “There she is, the
Blue Turtle
.” He clasped a hand to his heaving chest. “Take it slowly, friend, I’m too old to run any further.”

Ben slowed, and took the old fellow’s arm. “I’m sorry about the way Ned behaved back there, Brother.”

The monk’s wrinkled face relaxed into a smile. “Your dog did the right thing, boy. Only a few days ago I took a staff to a rascal who was flogging a little mule. Sometimes the wrath of the Lord against wrongdoers can manifest itself in strange ways.”

Ned liked the old Franciscan. He grinned, in a smug, canine way, at Ben. “Hah, you see, I knew I was justified. Well said, sir!”

Ben was about to reply when the puppy trotted out from behind a rock and joined them, as though it was the most natural thing in the world to do. It looked to be no more than a few months old, and was of indiscriminate breed. The little dog was a dusty brown, with black patches. Its bristly hair stuck out at odd angles, it had virtually no tail, lollopy paws and would have been flop-eared except for its left ear, which stood up straight.

Though Ben felt sorry for it, he knew there were far more important things to occupy him. “It’s the oddest little dog I’ve ever seen, eh, Ned? Go on, mate, back to town with you, we can’t take you with us, I’m sorry.”

The pup took no notice of the boy, and frisked around Ned, snapping at his tail.

Ben sent his companion a thought. “Tell it to go away, please.”

Ned returned the thought. “What d’you think I’m doing? I can’t get any sense out of the rascal. Listen to him yapping, d’you know what that bark means?”

“I don’t even know what it means when you start barking. I never learned dog language. What’s he saying?” Ben replied.

Ned whisked his tail away from the little dog’s teeth.
Amico,
that’s what he’s saying—friend. I don’t suppose the good Brother wants a dog?”

As if preempting Ben’s enquiry, Fra Salvatore shook his head pityingly. “I can’t take him, that cruel fellow will claim him as soon as he gets back to the town.”

They were getting close to the ship now. Ben urged Ned, “Listen, mate, you’ll have to have a serious word with that pup. Tell him we’re sorry, but he can’t come with us.”

Ned sat down on the path, pinning the puppy with a paw and holding him still as he informed Ben, “It’s no good, this wretch’ll soon have my lovely tail chewed to the bone. I’ve tried to reason with him, but all I get from the villain is that one word.
Amico
!”

Kostas Krimboti was a jolly giant of a man. He welcomed them aboard with a smile which beamed out like the midday sun. His teeth were all pure gold. Ned pointed this out to Ben.

“Good grief, what a set of choppers! They’re not very well-made, though, you can see they were once gold coins. Look, there’s heads, writing and shields on some of them. He must have carved them himself. I like him, though, what d’you think, mate?”

Ben sized Kostas up as the Greek captain and the monk spoke together about taking them as passengers. Kostas Krimboti was a formidable-looking fellow. He was dressed in fisherman’s garb—open shirt, baggy, knee-length pantaloons and a broad green sash into which many lethal pointed and curved knives were thrust. His huge head of curly red hair was complemented by a pair of thick, gold, hoop earrings. He laughed constantly as he conversed with the old monk, finally hugging him and declaring aloud, “For my sins, which are many, I will do what you ask, my friend! My father was a very holy man, it will rest his memory to know that his bandit of a son is doing some good in this miserable world, eh!”

Still laughing uproariously, he tweaked Ben’s cheek. “Welcome aboard the
Blue Turtle,
Beniamino, and your wonderful Ned, whom Fra Salvatore has told me about.”

He swept the puppy up in one big, calloused hand, and kissed it resoundingly on the nose. “Hohohoho! I have many rats for you to catch aboard this ship,
bambino.
So, what is your name, eh? Are you a son of the noble Ned?”