The Angel's Command

by Brian Jacques

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!”

  Ben, Ned and Karay all gazed at the finished sketch. It was everything Dominic said it would be. Ned placed a paw on the artist’s knee as he communicated with Ben. “This is absolutely brilliant! It’s as if I’m looking at myself in a still pool. It’s me to the life!”

  Ben agreed, speaking out loud to the others. “This is truly remarkable! You have a great talent, Dominic!”

  Karay chimed in, “Aye, you’re pretty good. Will you draw me?”

  Dominic took out a piece of flat, dried aspen bark and began sketching on it with a charcoal stick, shading and shadowi
ng with deft flicks of his thumb to give depth. When he came to the eyes, he chuckled. “You are quick and clever, Karay, with a swift temper. Everything you see that you want must become yours. You are a rogue and a thief, but a pretty one.”

  The girl snatched the knife from Ben’s belt and pointed it. “Who do you think you are, talking about me like that?”

  The artist held up the picture, with the eyes completed. “See!”

  Karay gasped with shock—it was all there. Her beauty and wildness were captured perfectly, along with the furtive slyness of a thief shining from her eyes. Her cheeks reddened as she grabbed the bark portrait and hid it beneath her shawl.

  “This is mine now. I’ll pay you for it when I make some money. Now ’tis your turn, Ben. Go on, draw him, Dominic!”

  For a moment Dominic locked eyes with Ben, gazing hard. Then he shook his head and began putting his materials back into the satchel. “No, no, I cannot draw Ben!”

  Karay teased him. “What’s the matter, haven’t you got the skill? Or are you just scared to, eh?”

  Ben looked away from Dominic, for he knew what the artist had seen. Over half a century in a boy’s eyes, the wild seas, Vanderdecken and the Flying Dutchman, roaring oceans, thundering cannon, Captain Thuron lying dead beneath deep fathoms in a sunken ship. That and a thousand other things, things not of this earth. Like the terrifying beauty of an angel damning a ship and its crew to eternity.

  Ben took the knife gently from the girl. “Let him be, Karay. How can he draw bad dreams and nightmares—there have been enough of those in my life, eh, Dominic?”

  The artist agreed. “Too many for a simple facemaker.”

  Karay snapped her fingers together. “You’re the Facemaker of Sabada! I’ve heard of you before. Hah, I expected you to look like some kind of terrifying wizard. Weren’t you the one who was locked in the pillory in the town of Somador for the picture you made of the magistrate’s wife?”

  Dominic nodded. “Aye, that was me, though I didn’t want to sketch the woman in the first place. Her husband, the magistrate, he insisted on my doing the portrait—he said that I was to make her look beautiful and gracious.”

  Ben handed the facemaker’s knife back to him. “And did you?”

  Dominic chuckled. “I tried to, but she came out looking as she really was, a glutton and a miser.” His face hardened. “For that, the magistrate had me beaten and locked by my head and arms in the pillory for three days and nights. So, you see, this talent of mine can sometimes be a millstone about my neck.”

  They sat in silence for a while. Karay began to feel sorry about her treatment of Dominic. She saw him cast a brief glance at the crust of bread in her hand. “Do you have any food in your satchel, Facemaker?”

  He smiled ruefully. “Alas, no, just drawing materials and an empty flagon I use for drinking water.”

  The girl peered into the darkness. “If there were a stream or a lake near here, I could have got us some fish.”

  Ned’s ears perked up as he sent a message to Ben. “Tell her I’ll find water. There’s always some about in woodlands. Hope there’s fish, too. I’m starving!”

  Ben answered the thought. “Right, then, we’ll have to start playing silly little games for our friends’ benefit.” He took the flagon from Dominic’s satchel and let the dog sniff it as he spoke to Karay. “Watch this. Here Ned, good dog! Water, where’s the water, boy?”

  The black Labrador chuckled inwardly. “As if I didn’t know, eh? The things I have to do to impress folk!” He wandered off slowly, sniffing the ground and the air.

  Ben turned to Karay. “Go with him, he’ll find water for you.”

  The girl was delighted. “Good old Neddy . . . I mean Ned. Sorry.”

  Together they took off into the night.

  Ben looked across the fire at Dominic. “I’m glad you didn’t try to sketch me. What did you really see?”

  The Facemaker of Sabada averted his eyes. “Too much, my friend, far too much. I have enough problems of my own without adding your burden to my mind. How has one of your age lived through such perils? I saw things in your eyes I have never seen, even in dreams. Somebody my own age who has had the experiences of so many years. No, Ben, it is too much for me to understand, let’s not talk about it. Your secret shall remain with you, and Ned, too, I think. Trust me, I will be a true friend to you both.”

  Ben shook the artist’s outstretched hand gratefully. “Thank you, Dominic, I know you’ll be a rare and good pal. There, that’s that! I hope Karay and Ned find water soon. Tomorrow we’ll travel together, all four of us, to the fair at Veron. But, for now, let’s enjoy a bit of peace and quiet without our fierce girlfriend.”

  Dominic smiled. “Oh, she’s fierce and quick-tempered alright, but Karay has a good heart, I know it.”

  Still feeling the odd drops of rain, they sat back and relaxed, the fireglow creating a small cavern of light and warmth in a dark forest night.

  Both the lads had dozed off for the better part of an hour when they were roused by Karay and Ned returning. Boisterously the dog and the girl romped in, emptying their spoils onto a flat chunk of rock. Karay was wet but triumphant, and Ned shook water from his coat, woofing softly as he gave out thoughts to Ben. “Fish! Look at those beauties, I caught one of ’em!”

  Karay busied herself with the four fat rudd, strung through their gills on a thick reed. “Pass me your knife, Facemaker. Your Ned’s a good fisherdog, Ben, he caught this big one!”

  She chattered away animatedly whilst cleaning the fish. “Ned found a stream, quite slow runnin’ and clear. I tickled the rudd out from under the bank, an’ Ned trapped one in the shallows. Found watercress too, see? Got some wood sorrel, dandelion roots an’ raspberries. You just watch me, I’ll make a meal for us, fit for a king . . .”

  While Karay rattled on, Ned communicated with Ben. “You should’ve seen her, mate, she let those fish swim into her hand, tickled them a bit, then slung ’em out onto the bank. A body would never be hungry long with Karay as a pal!”

  The girl was as good as her word. They dined on roast fish with chopped herbs and toasted bread. The raspberries provided a dessert.

  Karay sucked on a fish bone. “That’s the last of the bread—how far is it to Veron?”

  “About six hours’ steady walking,” Dominic replied.

  Karay piled more wood on the fire. “Good! If we set off at dawn we should make it about midday. Get some sleep now.”

  Ben saluted her. “Aye aye, marm, right away!”

  Ned stretched out and sighed. “Bit bossy, but a good cook!” Ben was surprised when Karay lay back and began singing. Her voice had the husky sweetness of a Spanish lady he had heard singing on the quay at Cartagena, soothing and melodic.

  “I will search the wide world over,

  By the sea or by land,

  Like a dove I’ll soar the seasons,

  ’Til I touch his hand.

  Through the towns where folk gather,

  O’er lone windswept hills,

  I will never cease roaming ’til

  My dreams he fulfills.

  And I’ll cry to the moon above,

  Where oh where bides my true love?

  Will I see his face at dawning,

  Like a poor maiden’s prayer?

  In some purple-shaded valley,

  Will he be waiting there?

  In the still silent waters,

  Will his fond face I see?

  Ever smiling, eyes beguiling,

  And he’ll love only me.

  Then I’ll cry to the moon above

  Here oh here is my true love.”

  Ben slept more peacefully than he had in many a long night, with the embers warming him and Ned stretched by his side, surrounded by the tranquillity and silence of enveloping woodland darkness. No nightmares of Vanderdecken steering the heaven-cursed Flying Dutchman across storm-torn seas of eternal damnation marred his dreams. Rose-hued mists tinted the boy’s slumber. From afar the
angel spoke, soft, clear, but insistent.

  “A man who has not children

  Will name you as his son.

  In that hour, you must be gone!

  Turn your face back to the sea,

  You will meet another one,

  A father with no children,

  Before you travel on.

  Help him to help his children,

  As his kinsman would have done.”

  All night the words echoed through Ben’s mind. He did not puzzle over them, knowing that he was unable to resist any destiny that heaven had already planned.

  17

  A FINE SUNNY MORNING REIGNED over all as they left the woodlands, emerging onto a hilltop. Ben stopped a moment to take in the pleasant panorama. Dominic explained where they were and whither they were bound. “We’re travelling south—those mountains you see ahead are the Pyrenees. It’s uphill and down dale from here. That third hilltop, ’twixt here and the mountains, that’s Veron. Perhaps we can save a bit of climbing by following that stream around the hills and through the valleys.”

  Karay set off, calling back to them as she ran alongside Ned, “Come on then, we’ll race you there!”

  Ben watched them dashing downhill. “Let them go. She’ll get tired of running before Ned does. Come on, mate, we’ll walk like ordinary, sensible folk.”

  He and Dominic set out at a leisurely pace. They found the girl sitting panting on a stream bank at the foot of the next hill. Ned was tugging at the hem of her dress. He looked up at Ben approaching and sent him a message. “Weak, fickle things human beings are. Look, she’s out of breath already—a puppy’d have more stamina than this girl!”

  Dominic winked at Ben, remarking to Karay as they strolled past her, “Good morning, marm. If you sit there all day you’ll miss the fair at Veron. I’m told ’tis a good one!”

  Both boys ducked as the girl splashed stream water at them. “Wait for me, you villains!” She had to run to catch up with them.

  Veron was classed as a town, albeit a rather small one. It sat atop a gently sloping hill, with a meandering path leading up to its gates. Veron must once have been a fortress, for it was enclosed by stone walls, ancient but thick and solid. The fair was little more than a weekend market held once each month from a Friday midday to a Monday late noon.