“I shall fall, it isn’t safe,” she complained. “You’ll have to get a wider board.”
One of the pirates was a huge man with very wide shoulders and muscled arms. He wore nothing over his chest except two crossing bands holding knives and swords and a small wooden bottle of brandy. His hair was wild red curls, and he had a large face covered in scars. Coming up behind Violet, he swept her up and over his shoulder so that her head bounced at his back and she screamed over and over again. Once back on dry land, the huge pirate plonked her down, and put his enormous hand over her mouth.
“Wot a noise, missus,” he said. “You ain’t no lady, making them ugly noises. You ortta be thankin’ me, fer helpin’ yer down the plank.”
“I’ll thank you,” said Nathan. “I thought pirates were supposed to be cruel. But you’re kind. Can I ask your name?”
“You can ask,” smiled the man, showing a big dark gap where he had no front teeth either top or bottom. “They calls me Shark. Being right proper toothy, ya’ see. But me name’s Simon.”
“Well, thanks,” said Nathan. “I’ll remember your kindness.”
“Yeh,” added John. “Tis me granny, wevver she admits it or no. But a deal too heavy fer me to carry.”
The fat pirate wandered over. It seemed a small crowd was growing. “I’s Timoffy,” said the fat one. “Though they calls me Podge.”
“I’m glad to know you, Timothy,” said Nathan, smiling.
The others began to call out their names. “Me name’s Alex.” “Mine’s Harold.” “I’m Michael. They call me Skinny Mick.” “I’s Ben. Ben Brand.” “And me, I’m Welsh Davvid.”
Poppy was laughing. “I always knew pirates were friendly. I saw a film once and the pirate was brilliant.”
“Wot’s a film?” demanded Podge.
“A sort of story,” said Poppy. “Not important. More important is – what do we do now?”
“Come with us,” called Welsh Davvid. “I’m hungry and mighty thirsty. We’ll find the village on t’other side o’ the mountain.”
“Oh goody,” called Ninester. “Our Little Smudge is so scared and hungry too.”
The captain had already set off, walking briskly through a great field of daisies and buttercups, and everyone else followed at their own speed. Last of all came Violet. She would have liked to stay behind, but she was far too nervous of being left all alone in a strange country with a strange smoking mountain and was also feeling quite hungry herself. Not dressed at all suitabley for marching through fields of knee-high flowers, she stumbled and wobbled, but occasionally Alice took pity on her and helped her over the ditches.
But they were all at a very short distance from the volcano when there was a sudden mighty explosion, a huge rising cloud of dark stinking cloud, and a flash of fire up against the sky. Then almost immediately billowed dense smoke and the deep rumble of earth tremors within the mountain.
Everybody stood very still, unsure of how much danger would follow. Then, quite suddenly they all started to run back the way they had come. The tremors increased and then the explosion they had all been expecting came roaring out of the ground like a hundred furious dragons. A bust of violent orange flame shot from the volcano’s mouth up high against the smoky blue background and the rumble of lava began to tip down the mountainside.
The flames were continuous, and the sound was deafening. Some of the pirates seemed terrified and raced away, but a few appeared fairly unconcerned. The captain was skipping, his long legs bouncing and dancing, and he laughed. “Good old Stromboli,” he cackled, “always times his explosions for the most inconvenient moment. Back to the ship, my friends, back to the Terror of the Seas.”
Podge, no dancing from those fat stubby little legs of his, seemed just as uncaring. “No food and no water. But back we goes.”
“I reckon we sails over to Sicily,” called Simon Shark. “More grub. More beer. And mighty nice sweet wine.”
Violet was once again at the back. Having hobbled all the way to the base of the mountain, now she had to turn and hobble all the way back again. Her feet were blistered, and her stockings were torn. “This is not just,” she wailed. “I should not be dragged through fire and brimstone and weeds.”
“There ain’t no one dragging you, missus,’ Shark Simon pointed out. “And I ain’t carryin’ you no more after the last time when you screamed yer mouth off. I got me neck wet from all yer yelling. Done tickled, it did.”
Having experienced the even greater danger of the Sparkan volcano, Nathan, Peter, John and Poppy were not really frightened by the unexpected eruption, but the others were horrified. “Does someone want to kill us?” wondered Ninester. “Are they underground pumping up flames like they do in the smithy?” The puppy, although still clasped safely in Ninester’s arms, was petrified, shaking and whimpering. Ninester whispered to it, reassuring it. Eventually Little Smudge calmed down, but Deben was not calm at all, and nor was Violet.
“How dare you bring me to places of such disgusting explosions,” she shouted.
“This place is horribly dangerous,” Deben complained, still running as fast as he could but already out of breath. “What fool would come here willingly?”
“Don’t you see the explosions on Sparkan?” asked Peter.
“Certainly not,” Deben replied. “That horrid little island is too far away, and I would never consider travelling there.”
“Well, at least this has no crocodiles,” said Poppy, who was thoroughly enjoying herself, and was the only one not out of breath. “And it seems fairly safe except for sparks and burning lava.”
“And flames and explosions and foul stinking smoke.”
“Coward,” Poppy accused Deben, who threw a stone at her. It missed.
Once the ship bobbing on the little waves was once again in sight, the members of the crew who had been left on board to guard it, leaned over the gunwales shouting, “Wot’s up, then?” Got lost, did ya?”
But then they saw the gigantic eruption rising into the air as the clouds turned a blazing organ, reflected in the ocean around them. “Why would any idiot live here?’ asked one man.
“Keeps ‘em warm in winter,” smiled another.
“Get a move on,” shouted the captain. “Is everyone here? We’re off to Sicily instead. Just an hour’s sailing if the wind picks up.”
“Violet isn’t here yet,” shouted Nathan.
But the captain wasn’t interested in whether Violet Crinford escaped the volcano. He called on his men and began to haul up the anchor. “You can’t leave her behind,” yelled John. “She’s your friend Arthur’s mum.”
Already she had arrived at the boarding plank, and was struggling upwards, as Alice, Alfie, John and Nathan all reached down to help her. She wheezed and complained, but now everyone was once again on the ship, and they hauled up the sail and began to drift south-east to the great island of Sicily, part of the Kingdom of Naples and Sicily, but under the rule of the Spanish king of Aragon and Castile.
The port they entered was a small affair, but another larger ship was already docked, and old wooden carts were unloading the stores while the crew shouted orders at the men tugging the carts off into the distance over a rough earthen roadway. “It’s all very rustic and old fashioned,’ murmured Poppy.
“Tis old fashioned even fer us,” muttered John. “And these folks is right old peasants.”
“Hey, villico,” yelled Captain Terror. “We want new stores. Food, clean water, ale and wine. We’ll pay, but don’t go putting up your prices. I know exactly what your supplies are worth.”
One man, dressed in a dirty brown tunic, barefoot and hands rough and grazed, limped over. He began to speak, but the language was guttural, and Nathan had no idea what was being said. He asked Simon Shark who stood beside him.
“There ain’t no one can understand that proper ugly Sicilian twang ‘cept the folk their selves,” Shark told Nathan. “But the captain, he do know a few words. But these folk is real higgorant.�
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The captain and the Sicilian peasant were speaking together, and then the man limped away, quickly reappearing with a cart overloaded and overflowing. Nathan stared down. “That poor man is crippled,” he said. “He has no proper clothes and his hands are bleeding. Yet he has to pull those heavy carts himself over those rough stony roads. Can I give him something to help?”
“You could give him your coat,” suggested Poppy.
“Here,” Nathan handed his coat to the captain. “Please give this to that poor crippled man down there.”
The captain tossed it over the side of the ship and the peasant caught it, but he hurriedly brought it back, running barefoot up the plank to return it. The captain translated what he was saying, telling Nathan, “He says no, no. If he’s seen in such a grand silken coat, then his ruling lord will assume he stole it, and will beat him.”
“I think this is a very sad place,” sighed Poppy.
Then John threw down his shoes. “Theys only old things,” he said. “Nuffing special. Just better’n bare bleeding feet, specially when the poor fellow’s limpin’.”
With a huge grin showing broken teeth, the man collected the shoes and tried them on. They fitted more or less, and clearly he was delighted. He bowed to John, his hands clasped over his heart, and called, “Grazie, grazie, gentile barone Inglese.”
The captain cheerfully bought barrels of water, ale and wine, great tubs of goat meat, salad greens and other vegetables, candles and firewood. He paid up without any attempt to steal these things, and the crew trundled off to store everything below deck. They all sat around afterwards as Podge lit a small fire on deck, and they cooked small pieces of the meat in sweet wine with a multitude of leafy vegetables and cut parsnips. They all found it surprisingly good and tasty, except for Violet and Deben.
“Poison,” screeched Violet.
“Vile muck,” mumbled Deben.
“I reckon we should throw both of them overboard after all,” said Alfie.
Deben threw a piece of parsnip at him, but Alice caught it, grinned, and ate it. They didn’t mix with the pirates as they ate, but Shark called, “Tis me and Blubber wot cooks this. You likes me skill wiv them pots and pans?”
Everybody chorused back apart from Violet, and they all cried, “Yes, yes, it’s delicious,” except for Deben who mumbled, “Horrible muck.” But he had still eaten most of it. and had drunk a large cup of watered ale.
The night was beautifully mild, with soft southerly breezes and a balmy warmth which slipped over both land and sea. “Wish we had weather like this in England,” said Poppy.
“But I’d hate to live here,” said Alice. “These poor people are treated like slaves and seem to be frightened of their lords.”
The captain, having seen all the supplies packed away, heard Alice and strode over. “Serfs and peasants and work hard day and night. Not slaves, but close to it. The Spanish kings don’t allow their people any free will, just like cattle. And now they’ve sent over the inquisition.”
“Wot’s that?” asked John. Only Nathan and Poppy knew what it was.
“The church in Spain,” called one of the crew, wiping his hands on his greasy black hair. “You follows wot the church says, or you be called heretic. Burned alive or hanged. Questioned and tortured, throwed in gaol, or made to do wot the inquisitors says. Them Jews or Muslims, they got to change their religion, or they be called heretics. Then they be dead.”
“I’ve heard of the Inquisition,” said Nathan. “It was terrifying.
Poppy immediately thought of her own experience and the accusation of heresy, and felt deeply sorry for anyone accused here. “These poor souls just do what they’re told,” she said, shaking her head.
“Just you do the same,” nodded the captain. “You all do as you’re told, and tis me as tells you. Otherwise, tis straight into the sea, or I leave you here with the peasants and the inquisition.” But he was grinning as he spoke.
“At least in England, they stopped serfdom and making people peasants obeying their lords a hundred years ago and more,” objected Alfie. “Feudalism was real nasty lest you were one of the lords.”
“No feudalism and no inquisition? Think yerselves lucky,” said one of the crew. Almost all the world got both. Spain. France. Bits o’ Italy and bits o’ Germany.”
“And just what Deben’s trying to bring back in Lashtang,” said Alice.
Deben looked up. “Why not?” he demanded. “It’s the way of the world. You Octobrs reckon you want to be emperors again, so what’s the difference?”
“We want to be good rulers,” Poppy muttered, knowing whatever she said wouldn’t change Deben’s mind. “And we want to make life better for all the people. Not worse for them and just better for us.”
“Well now,” grinned Captain Terror, “that’s why us with a bit o’ courage and sense, we leave the life of toil and boring poverty, and we turn to be pirates.”
Chapter Eighteen
Quivering like a baby, Sam stared at the thing trying to escape from his finger. It was a blob of dark red mush, but with ten wriggling legs which were long and thin and tried vainly to discover an escape. It had neither head nor tail, but the smaller lumps all over its lump of a body made it look more like a creature of the dark. No eyes were visible, nor ears nor mouth, but between its legs it had suckers, and these had attached it to the back of Sam’s neck, and he had felt it trying to climb inside his skin.
It disgusted him, but now he felt safe for the thing was wobbling on the end of his silver finger.
“That silver is wonderful,” grinned Granny. “Magic indeed.”
“But I’ve got no magic power at all,” said Sam, shrinking away from the thing.
“You have now, young man,” answered Bayldon. “And very lucky too. Now from what you say, this object attempted to climb inside your body. It must be either a succubus or incubus, and that means it is part of one of those stars.”
“But the stars are very clever,” said Messina, “whereas this vile slug is brainless.”
Zakmeister had brought a glass jar from the kitchen shelves, and Granny had admitted it was empty and she didn’t need it for anything else. So they held the jar beneath Sam’s finger, and told him to tip it inside. He did. At first it seemed stuck hard and would not move, but Zakmeister knocked it with the end of a knife, and it tumbled off into the jar. There it sat on the bottom, feeling around with its two front legs. “It’s blind,” said Zakmeister. “Doesn’t know where it is. Probably deaf too.”
Sam was frantically washing his hands. The silver tip to his finger did not budge or fade, but he wanted to wash off the clammy stickiness where the thing had been. “That was yuck,” said Sam, rubbing his hands dry and then sitting to stare at the thing in the jar. “What if it gets away like Yaark?”
“I believe it is a servant of Yaark,” nodded Messina.
The red lump of slug-like jelly had begun to climb the sides of the glass and finally reached the inside of the lid. But it found no way out and climbed back down the other side. It moved as a slug does, even though its many legs reached out for examination of its surroundings. “So those are arms, not legs,” decided Bayldon. “Its legs are its suckers. It’s more slug than insect.”
“A ten armed slug,” said Zakmeister with a grunt of dislike.
Sherdam walked in as they were all staring into the jar. He had been examining Sam’s bedroom, looking for any other invading creatures, or any indication of how the slug entered. “No others, far as I could see,” he said. “But many ways to climb in. And open window. A crack in the skirting board. A gap under the door. Another crack on the ceiling and several small holes in the floorboards.”
Shivering again, Sam whispered, “Well, I don’t want to sleep in there again.”
“You certainly don’t need to, my dear,” said Granny. “There are all the other bedrooms where usually your friends and my friends sleep. And this couch is very comfy. You could sleep here.”
“If
you take that thing away.”
“I shall take it into my room,” said Messina. “I don’t wish to sleep, I wish to examine this vile object.”
“Then I’ll sit up with you, and help,” smiled Bayldon, much to Messina’s pleasure.
Granny helped settle Sam down on the big comfy cushions on the couch, tucked the sheet and then the quilt around him, and kissed him loudly goodnight on the cheek. He snuggled down as Messina picked up the large glass jar and carried it off. One by one, everyone left. Sam closed his eyes and once he was sure he was alone, he stuck his thumb in his mouth.
There was a faint whisper from the window. The curtains were not thick, and a glow of starlight oozed through, shining in strange stripes across the floor. Beginning to doze, but carefully keeping his silver finger away from his mouth, Sam drifted into comfortable dreams.
He woke abruptly. A great black circle faced him. It filled the air between himself and the window, and within the blackness was an inner circle of vibrant scarlet.
Sam sat up, terrified. He could hear his heart beating and he felt his legs trembling beneath the quilt. With the small courage he could summon, he held up his silver finger to the starlight, whispering, “I have magic too. You can’t frighten me.”
The black circle began to spin. The outline was vague, losing shape and then merging once again together. The spinning quickened. It began to zoom, but within it the bright red circle was steady, and stared like a vast blazing eye. And then it spoke. The voice was soft and malicious, and reminded Sam of Yaark. It spoke directly into his ears and his ear went freezing cold. The ice seemed to leak into his mind. “You fear me. You lie if you claim not to fear. You know terror as you know me. You lie but you know the truth. Fear rules you.”
Sam glared at the spinning circle with its tunnelling centre. “I’m not scared. It’s you who don’t dare show yourself.”
Dominoes Page 18
