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 Sansone35 on 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.36 Thoughts and yearnings flooded his mind, yearnings he dared not contemplate. Would she believe it? No sensible person would, it was all too fantastic.
Serafina tugged at his sleeve. “Have you gone to sleep, or are you going to answer me? What do you think of the sea, Ben?”
He spoke slowly, choosing his words as he avoided her luminous dark eyes. “I am bound to the sea, in one way or another. Sometimes I love it, yet other times I hate it.” He heaved a sigh. “Serafina, there is something I must tell you. Something that might hurt you.”
Alarm showed on the girl’s beautiful face. “You could never hurt me, Ben. What is it, what’s wrong?”
He lowered his head to the rail, letting his forehead rest there. “I cannot stay with you. Ned and I have to move on. It might happen today, or even tomorrow, but it is my fate—I will have to leave you!”
Tears sprang unbidden to the girl’s eyes. “But why?” Ben felt a leaden ache in his chest. “I cannot tell you that. Just believe what I say. Go on with your life, you have friends who love you. Go with the troupe, try to forget you ever met me.”
Serafina clutched his hand. “How can you say that? I will never forget you. If you go I will stay here forever!”
At that moment, something echoed through Ben’s mind. It was not his dog trying to communicate with him. It was a distant sound of laughter, chillingly evil, filled with malicioussatisfaction. He brought his head up sharply and saw the accursed ship out in the bay—every detail of its barnacle-crusted hull, tattered sails and ice-stiffened rigging. There was Vanderdecken, lashed to the wheel, beckoning him and laughing like a maniac. The spell was suddenly broken by Serafina’s scream. Unwittingly, the vision of the phantom ship had caused Ben to clench his hand so tightly that he had crushed the girl’s with his furious pressure.
As soon as he realised what had happened, Ben released his grip. Serafina hurried off sobbing, clutching her hand close to her. He shouted after her, “Serafina!” Ben was about to dash after the girl, when Ned appeared in the doorway, blocking his path.
“Let her go, mate, it’s better this way. I couldn’t help but hear your thoughts, that’s why I came up here. I felt the Dutchman somewhere out there, too. I know you feel terrible, Ben, but you did the right thing, even though it hurt you both so much.”
The boy knelt, sobbing into Ned’s fur, as the faithful dog attempted to reason with him.
“Serafina was right, Ben, she won’t ever forget you, nor will you ever forget her. But
take my word, she won’t stay here to become a nun, she’ll go with the troupe. Eventually she’ll find some happiness in her life. I hate to say this, but time is a great healer.” He nuzzled the boy’s shoulder gently. “Let’s stay up here awhile, you and I. Don’t want everybody to see you like this, do we? Come on, we’ll sit by the wall where the sun is nice and warm, you just relax until you feel better.” Ned licked the tears from Ben’s face. “Huh, left my marrowbone to come up here. That Sansone will be making short work of it by now, great hungry beasty, a big beef marrowbone is only a snack to him!”
Ben took his dog’s face in both hands. “Ned, Ned, what human ever had a friend as true and faithful as you!”
The dog stared into his master’s eyes, then blinked. “Hmm, I’ll have to think about that one. Don’t know really, I wonder if Mother Carmella has books on the subject.
Maybe she has—Loving Labradors, Volume One, or Devoted Dogs, Volume Two. I’ll ask Sansone, trouble is he’s probably only read the illustrated edition of Magnificent Marrowbones!”
Despite himself, Ben smiled. “What about The Amazing Adventures of Amico?”
Ned stretched out, closing his eyes appreciatively in the sunlit warmth. “Don’t talk such piffle. That little maggot hasn’t lived long enough to have amazing adventures. Can’t you think of a better one?”
Ben made a suggestion. “Black Bundi the Bumptious Bounder?”
Ned opened one eye. “What did I say about you mentioning that name ever again?”
Ben replied innocently, “What, you mean Bundi?”
Ned closed the eye again. “No, I meant Bumptious!”
Boy and dog lay there together until the sun worked its magic, leaving them both slumbering.
33
AT MIDDAY AL MISURATA SIGHTED the walled building that was the convent through a gap in the roadside trees. He signalled the coach to halt. Ghigno rode to his side.
“Lord, why have you stopped the coach?”
The pirate pointed. “That place up on the hill. Give me your glass.”
The Corsair passed his master a small folding telescope.
Al Misurata spoke as he scanned through the glass. “Take two guards you can trust, go and see what that place is. Make sure you are not seen.” He touched the bandage on his wound gingerly. “I’ll stay here and bathe this injury. My head’s throbbing so I can hardly think, and the bandage has become stuck to it. Take your time, go carefully and see how the building is secured.”
Ghigno dismounted from his horse. “I’ll find them, if that’s where they’re hiding.”
The pirate cautioned him, “Stay out of sight. If you see them, don’t do anything, just report back to me!”
When Ghigno had selected his men and departed, Al Misurata sat on the back step of the coach, ministering to his wound and reflecting on the odd and unlucky turns his life had taken since he had met the strange boy and his dog. He had lost valuable slaves, been wounded and outwitted. Moreover, he had been forced to kill the emissary and servants of Count Dreskar. This last fact meant that he could no longer trade along these shores. Dreskar was no fool, he would find out what had happened. Men as powerful and influential as the Count could not be seen to let such incidents go unpunished.
Nor could Al Misurata. He had lost slaves, but more significantly, he had lost face. Ghigno and his own men had seen him hoodwinked and beaten. Now there would be no more lusting after gold until his honour, such as it was, stood restored. As Lord of the Barbary Coast, he had to uphold his standards.
Noontide shadows were beginning to lengthen when Ghigno and his men returned. The Corsican’s scarred face showed that it had been a successful survey. He gave his master the good news. “Lord, it is a convent, a house of women. We could not go around the back of it, because there is a sheer drop down to the sea. Inside the wall which surrounds the main building there is a courtyard and gardens, the wall is high and well built.”
Al Misurata drummed his fingers on the coach step, his tone denoting that he was running out of patience. “Forget courtyards and gardens—get to the point!”
Ghigno bowed deferentially. “The main gate, Lord, it is old, and not too tightly secured. It would be no problem for me to open it. A flat metal bar is all that holds it shut. I tried it by putting my sword blade through the doorjamb—it could be opened with one swift flick. There was also a big, rusty old lock with a wide keyhole. I took a peep through, no key has been used on it for years.
“Looking through the keyhole, I could see the performers’ cart in the courtyard. They must be in there, though there was no sign of the two wagons, or the two teams that pulled them.”
Al Misurata had heard enough. “You did well, my friend. The wagons and horses do not concern me. It will make things easier without having to deal with the crew that ran them. So, our birds have flown to roost in a convent, eh? Well, they’ll soon find out that holy sanctuary means nought to me! You and the men rest until dark. No, wait, send one of them back to my ship, lend him your horse. Give him orders that the Sea Djinn must be brought up here. We will need to be away from this area by dawn.”
That evening, Mother Carmella permitted all her nuns to attend dinner. The Convento di Santa Filomena rarely had such a number of colourful guests staying there. The Sisters were naturally curious. Intrigued by the presence of their visitors, they were delighted when the entertainers put on a little show for them. Buffo and Mummo were going through their act in full clown makeup, causing great hilarity among the nuns with their comical antics, when Mamma took her husband aside for a quiet word.
“Augusto, look at poor Serafina, the girl’s eyes are all puffy from weeping. She doesn’t want to sing tonight.”
Signore Rizzoli tuned up his mandolin. “What do you suppose is the matter, cara mia?”
His wife raised her eyes upward, toward the high verandah. “It looks like she and Ben have quarreled. I went upstairs to have a word with him, but he is sleeping out on that balcony with Ned. What are we to do?”
The showman shook his head. “Stay out of it, we have no business interfering in a lovers’ quarrel. Serafina and Ben are young, they’ll soon get over it. You worry too much. Well, if the girl isn’t singing tonight, I’d better fill in for her.”
As the applause for the clowns died down, Augusto strolled into the centre of the floor. Picking out a melodic introduction, he began singing in his fine tenor voice.
“An old woman leaned out of her window one day, as a handsome young fellow strolled by, he was singing a song as he rambled along ’neath the soft blue Italian sky.
La la la la lala lala la
“O bella ragazza, the one that I wed, must have two eyes as blue as the sky overhead, her teeth will be white as the pale moon at night, she’ll be young and I’ll love her completely.
La la la la lala lala la
“Her hair will be dark as a black raven’s wing, and her lips sweet and red as the cherry, her manner so meek, and the bloom of her cheek, like a blush made of peach and strawberry.
La la la la lala lala la
“The old one cried after the handsome young man, I can’t match your description alas, my teeth are like stars, for they come out at night, and the bloom on my cheek is long past.
La la la la lala lala la
“But I have some blue glasses as blue as the sky, and I’m sure I can paint my lips red, from the fortune in gold that my husband left me, I could buy a black wig for my head.
La la la la lala lala la
“The young man turned round, he came walking back, crying out I have travelled too far, that fortune should cause me to pass by your door,
La la la la lala lala la!”
Evening faded to night as the entertainment continued. Mother Carmella was enjoying herself so much, she let the troupe carry on with their show. La Lindi performed her snake-dancing act with Mwaga, even though Serafina did not play the Kongo drum for accompaniment. The good Sisters stared at the python in horrified fascination, so
me of them crossing themselves. Never had they seen a reptile of such size and sinister grace within the walls of Santa Filomena. Then it was Otto’s turn to elicit gasps of awe from the audience. He bent iron bars, lifted huge weights and performed a clever balancing act with the two clowns seated on a heavy bench.
Whilst all this was going on, Serafina sat in the corner silently. Though she was heartbroken and distressed, she cast frequent glances in the direction of the stairs, hoping to see Ben and Ned coming down from the verandah. La Lindi came to sit by her. She, too, looked at the stairs.
“It looks like Ben is going to spend the night up there. He’s probably cold and hungry.”
“What can I do about that?” Serafina murmured sadly.
The snake charmer put forward her suggestion. “Take my cloak, and Otto’s cloak, too, he won’t mind. There’s plenty of food left on the table, get some for Ben and Ned. I’m sure they’ll be grateful to you. While you’re there you can patch up your quarrel.” Serafina sniffed, wiping her eyes. La Lindi stroked her friend’s cheek. “Go on, do as I say, sometimes you have to make the first move to reach a solution.”
Up on the verandah, it was dark, and a breeze was drifting in from the sea. Ben could not help a slight shiver. He huddled closer to his dog for warmth. Ned passed him a thought. “Why don’t we go down, mate, there might be some food still lying about. It’s getting a bit draughty up here, and I’m hungry.”
Ben did not attempt his usual humourous comments about the Labrador’s incorrigible appetite. “I’m not bothered about eating—you go down if you want to, Ned. Now that I’ve told Serafina that we must move on without her, I’m better off staying out of her sight. I don’t want to cause her or myself any more pain.”
Ned rested his head against the boy’s shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere on my own, I’ll stay here with you, mate. But how d’you know we’ll be moving on soon? The angel usually sends us a message, like the sound of a bell, or something of that nature. I can’t remember when it was that we last heard from our angel, can you, Ben?”