Barkbelly

by Cat Weatherill

  “I don't know, my lovely,” said Jewel. She swung the kettle over the fire to boil. “They must still be on the island, I suppose. Do you want tea?”

  There was no reply. Jewel glanced up. Barkbelly was staring at her as if he had seen one of Slippers's ghosts.

  “Whatever's the matter?” she said.

  “What island?”

  “The island you come from,” said Jewel in some confusion.

  “Ashenpeake. But you must know this?”

  Barkbelly shook his head.

  “Has no one ever told you? Did you never ask?”

  The kettle began to boil. It bubbled and steamed, spitting water onto the flames below.

  “Did you think you were the only one?”

  Barkbelly nodded. Jewel took the kettle off the boil and filled the teapot, glad to have something to do while she made sense of it all.

  She put a mug into Barkbelly's hands but he barely noticed. He was motionless, staring into the dark night. Any movement seemed beyond him. She had to wrap his fingers round the mug to stop it from sliding.

  “Drink it,” she coaxed. “It'll do you good. I've put lots of sugar in. You've had a bit of a shock.”

  “I had no idea,” said Barkbelly at last. “I know I came from an egg. I know Papa found it in a field. But you're right—I thought I was the only one. And everyone else did too. Back home, I mean. No one ever said different. Even in Tything- town there was no one like me. I asked Missus Maddox, the Matron in the factory, and she thought I was the only one. She had never seen any wooden people, and she was old. Not as old as you, though.”

  “No,” said Jewel, trying to hide a smile.

  “I'm sure she was telling me the truth,” said Barkbelly.

  “I'm sure she was too,” said Jewel. “Ashenpeakers are seldom seen in this land, and that's a fact. I've only ever seen one other in all my traveling round. That was at Pebbleport. On the quayside he was, unloading a sailing ship. Course, I might have seen more without knowing—as might Missus Maddox. You don't look any different from a distance, after all. It's only close up that you see the grain.”

  “This island,” said Barkbelly. “Ashenpeake. Where is it?”

  “Now, that I don't know,” said Jewel. “But Rubek probably will. Ask him.”

  “I will!” cried Barkbelly, and he leapt to his feet and sped away.

  Rubek was sitting outside his wagon when Barkbelly found him.

  “Hello, my friend!” he said. “You have come to join me, yes? Is beautiful night to sit and look at stars. You want beer? Of course you do!” He reached inside the wagon for a second glass, filled it with frothy beer from the flagon by his side and handed it to Barkbelly. “Drink!” he cried. “And enjoy!”

  Barkbelly drank. The beer was strong and malty. He could feel it surging toward his head. He sat down quickly.

  “Rubek,” he began, “have you ever heard of an island called Ashenpeake?”

  “Of course,” said Rubek, sucking on a long clay pipe. “I have been there.”

  Barkbelly gaped. “You've been there? What's it like?”

  “Is wonderful!” said Rubek, waving his pipe around. “Is land of forest. Is dark. So many trees. I did not see all country, you understand. I was on ship. We pulled in for water and supplies. We did not stay long. But I saw.”

  “Did you see any people?”

  “Of course! Many people! They are like you. Pale. Not tall, but strong. Very strong. Like you! That is what they are famous for.”

  “What do they do—my people?” asked Barkbelly eagerly.

  “Are they woodsmen? Or fishermen? Are they farmers?”

  “Some of them, yes, but …” Rubek paused and looked long at Barkbelly. He frowned. “My friend,” he said at last, “do you not know these things?”

  “No,” said Barkbelly. “I know nothing. I have spent the whole of my life believing I was alone in the world. And now I hear there is an island with people like me! It's so exciting! I want to know everything you can tell me about them.”

  “Oh, my friend,” said Rubek heavily, “then I have to tell you this. Barkbelly—most of your people are slaves.”

  Chapter 32

  arkbelly leaned heavily on his pitchfork and thought about his people. In truth, he had thought of little else all night, but now, bringing breakfast to the elephants, their slavery became sickeningly real. The elephants were chained. Thick golden chains ran from their ankles to wooden posts that had been hammered into the ground. Yes, the fetters were burnished gold, engraved and adorned with bells, but they were still fetters. These glorious beasts—for all their strength and majesty, for all their wisdom and dignity, for all the wonder and admiration they provoked nightly from the crowds— were still slaves.

  The night before, Rubek had told him all he knew. Yes, Ashenpeakers were sold as slaves around the world, but they were not usually shipped alive. The slave traders dealt in eggs. This curious phase in the life cycle of Ashenpeakers, combined with their extraordinary strength and stamina, had sealed their fate.

  The solid wooden eggs made perfect cargo. They could be packed tightly into crates and transported unattended. Once the eggs were sold, the slave owners could store them indefinitely, and when fresh slaves were needed, they simply threw the eggs into a fire. New workers were born within minutes and, with their incredible growth rate, could be working a month later.

  And the most wonderful thing of all, from the slave owners' point of view, was this: the slaves had no memories. They had been born into slavery. They had no recollection of home or family. They had no experience of capture or transportation. They had never known any other way of life. As long as they were kept reasonably comfortable and well fed, they had nothing to worry about. They weren't troubled by dark dreams at night. They had no desire to return home. This was home. Everyone was happy.

  Barkbelly had been appalled. He knew this cozy picture wasn't true and had forcefully said so.

  “I would agree with you there, my friend,” said Rubek. “But this is story as slave traders tell it.”

  “Just because they have no memory, it doesn't mean those slaves can't feel,” said Barkbelly, bristling like a brush. “I had no memory, but I felt… whenever I was in a forest, or a wood, I felt something. Like I belonged there. And now I know: I do belong there. That is my home. Ashenpeake. And Bramble and Thorn… they had no memories either, but they felt that pull. That's why they had to go. That's why I had to help. Somewhere deep inside, we all know where we belong. And once you know where that place is, you have to go there. You have to.”

  “You have lost me now!” said Rubek.

  “I want to go there.”

  “To Ashenpeake?”

  “Yes,” said Barkbelly. “I must. Not just for my sake, but for the sake of all those slaves. I have to see it for them. If I can do it, perhaps one day they can do it too.”

  “Perhaps,” said Rubek, “but I think not. They are slaves. They are not free to travel as they choose. You cannot change world, my friend. Is big place, full of bad things. I know—I have seen them with my own eyes. Barkbelly, this is life! This is not story. This is not book. It will not end happily ever after for some people. Maybe not even for you.”

  “Do you think I will be in danger if I go?”

  “No! You will not be caught with net and sold as slave, if that is what you think! No! I told you—slave traders like eggs: they do not put up fight! My friend, no sane man will pick fight with Ashenpeaker! You are so strong! He would be mad! No, you will be safe. But you will be alone. You understand? You will be alone. Carmenero's Circus will not go with you.”

  Chapter 33

  arkbelly had decided. He was going to Ashenpeake. There he would find his roots and his home. And most importantly, he might find his family. What was it Missus Maddox had said? It ain't wrong to want peace. So you go out there and find it. Well, if he found his family, he might find peace at last.

  It would break his heart to leave the circus,
but he had to go. He would leave it at Pebbleport, the last town on the tour. After that, the circus would begin the long journey back to its winter quarters in Greenglade.

  Pebbleport. That was where it would all begin! It had one of the busiest harbors in the country. Ships sailed from there to every part of the known world. Rubek said that its quays were packed with sailors of every shape, size, color and tongue imaginable. It was where Jewel had seen an Ashenpeaker. Perhaps he would see one too.

  He didn't tell anyone about his plan. He guarded his thoughts as if they could be stolen. Whenever the circus moved, he traveled on the lead wagon, wedged between Anvil and Candy. His eyes were fixed on each new horizon. Every hill held the promise of the sea behind it. As the wagon strained up each new incline, he felt quivers of excitement all over his body. Now he would see it! But he didn't. The same vista always lay before him: fields and forests, rivers and streams and still more hills to climb.

  But one dark day, as the rain clouds gathered and the wagon slithered through leaf-layered lanes, he heard a familiar honking sound behind him. When he turned, he saw a flight of geese coming up the valley. Soon they were passing overhead, and he heard himself saying, “So many of them.”

  “Aye,” said Anvil. “Going to the salt marshes at Pebble- port, most likely. Not far.”

  Barkbelly stared at the strong man. He took a deep breath and tried to sound calm. “Not far?”

  “No,” said Anvil. “There's the sea—look.”

  He looked. And he saw it: a thin gray smudge on the skyline. Nothing you would especially notice. It was just a line of darker color beneath the heavy mass of clouds. But it was the sea. He would be there by nightfall.

  Barkbelly's last few days with the circus were over too soon. He wanted to cherish them. He wanted to capture as many memories as he could so that he could hold them in his heart and carry them always. But the days skipped by as usual, dipped in dirt and glitter, and soon they were gone.

  The final performance was over. The men were hauling down the Stardust Palace, singing as they heaved. Barkbelly picked his way through a snake pit of ropes and turned toward the costume wagon. Peaches was there, as he had hoped. He told her he was leaving and why. She hugged him close and said to be careful, but she didn't try to stop him from going.

  Candy arrived halfway through the hug and demanded to know what was going on. When she heard, she sat down on the wagon steps and cried. Really cried. Barkbelly was shocked. He hadn't expected that. He hadn't known she cared, but clearly she did. Soon he was sitting with his arms round her, rocking them both, whispering, “I have to go, I have to go,” over and over again into her hot ear while she sobbed, “I know, I know.”

  By the time he left her, he was weak with grief, and he stumbled off into the dark like a drunkard. It was nothing like the farewell he had imagined, with Candy and Gossamer waving prettily at him as he departed on his Big Adventure. It was awful. He felt peeled, as if a layer of something had been stripped away. He was raw and sore. It was awful.

  As he staggered on, he saw Gossamer. Unfortunately, she saw him too. He stopped her questions with a wave of his hand. “Ask Candy,” he said bleakly, and walked on.

  Jewel's wagon beckoned with candles and the scent of chocolate. For the third time, he revealed what he was about to do and why, all the time thinking, How many more times do I have to say this? I can't bear it, while Jewel listened, diamond-eyed. Then she gave him a mug of hot chocolate and said simply:

  “May the sun warm your day

  And the moon guard your night.

  May hope be your lantern

  And love be your shield

  And dreams be the boots that carry you home.”

  Barkbelly closed his eyes and savored the chocolate, the warmth of the wagon and the presence of Jewel. There would be nights to come when he would long for such things.

  He stole a few precious minutes more, then slowly opened his eyes. Jewel was looking at him fondly. Her head was tilted, and with her bright eyes and sharp nose, she looked like an old parrot, with wrinkles for feathers. Barkbelly smiled in spite of his sadness.

  “You must tell Carmenero,” she said.

  The door to his wagon was closed, but Carmenero was inside. Barkbelly could see him in the galley, pouring a glass of wine.

  Barkbelly tapped gently on the door and Carmenero opened it.

  “I'm sorry to bother you—”

  “You're not bothering me,” said Carmenero. “Come in.” Barkbelly climbed up the steps and went in. The black dog was asleep on the carpet. She opened a tired eye as Barkbelly stepped over her, but she was soon asleep again, her paws twitching as she dreamed.

  Barkbelly didn't know where to begin. He stared at the carpet but could feel Carmenero watching him. He took a deep breath and looked up. Yes, Carmenero was watching him. Barkbelly noticed his eyes were brown. Rich, warm, nut brown. And they were so full of compassion, Barkbelly had to look away.

  “I'm leaving the circus,” said Barkbelly, and his eyes were filling before the words left his lips.

  “I know,” said Carmenero. “I passed by Peaches's wagon earlier. There were three of them in there, crying like kittens. But between you and me, I think they were rather enjoying it.”

  Barkbelly smiled and wiped his nose with his hand. Carmenero pulled a silk handkerchief out of his pocket with a flourish and handed it to him.

  “They told me you're headed for Ashenpeake.”

  “Yes,” said Barkbelly as he dabbed his eyes. “I want to see the island. The forests. And Jewel …” He paused and thought for a few seconds. “Jewel said that I must have had parents at one time. I can't stop thinking that they might still be there. I want to find my family.”

  “How will you identify your parents?”

  “I don't know. I hadn't thought of that.”

  “Do you have a family name?”

  “No.”

  They sat in silence. Lady sighed in the space between them.

  “I won't try to stop you,” said Carmenero at last. “Though I will be saddened to see you go. When do you plan to leave?”

  “Um…now,” said Barkbelly. “While it's dark.”

  “No,” said Carmenero, shaking his head. “I won't let you do that. You're not running away. You don't have to creep around in the dark like a thief. Stay here tonight. Sleep on the sofa. Wait until dawn. You must always leave in the light. It's important.”

  “I don't want to see anyone.”

  “You won't. Not even me.”

  Barkbelly looked at Carmenero. He could hear a voice inside his own head saying, Ask him to be there when you leave. But he said nothing.

  So when he left the circus the next morning, he did so on his own. He walked across a campsite chilled with the first frost of winter. Silver morning mist coiled about his feet like serpents. His breath steamed.

  No one saw him go. Except Carmenero. He stood at the window of his wagon and watched until the small figure had disappeared into the lemony dawn. “May he find what he seeks,” he said, “and may he like what he finds.”

  Barkbelly strode on. The circus was camped on a headland at the southern end of town. He found the cliff path and followed it down as it twisted through a copse. When he finally emerged into the light again, dawn was in full glory. Bands of yellow light rimmed the sky and illuminated the forest of masts down in the harbor. And suddenly Barkbelly felt his spirit soar like a blackbird, and whistling like one, he descended into Pebbleport.

  PART FOUR

  Chapter 34

  he shouts of the sailors, the scent of the spices, the jostling of the people… Pebbleport harbor was so dazzling, Barkbelly struggled to absorb it all. It was so loud, so brash, so exotic. He wondered why anyone in this town bothered to go to the circus when they had all this for free. Here in the harbor, he could see sailors shinning up masts higher than anything in the Stardust Palace. They dangled from ropes, clambered up rigging and inched along the yardarms sideways like crabs. />
  And the clothes! They were gaudier than anything Peaches would make. Stripes, spots, checks, diamonds…the sailors wore them all, side by side in an explosion of color. There were bows and buckles and belts and braces. Huge white shirts that billowed like sails. Tight britches that ended at the knee. Hats with long tassels. Boots with curled-up toes. Bare feet. Hairy feet. Black feet! Barkbelly had never seen black skin before, but Jewel had told him about the Midnight Princes—a fabulous troupe of black acrobats who used to be with the circus. They came from an island called Balaa, and Carmenero had sacked them because they were too handsome. Runaway girls were following the circus wherever it went, just to be near them. Too many to handle, Jewel had said. Carmenero was tired of dealing with angry fathers.

  And now, here in Pebbleport, he was surely looking at a Balaan. A long-limbed sailor with skin as rich as licorice was strolling into town with money to spend. He paused at a fruit stall. He gazed at the peaches. His hand slid into his pocket. Out came a fat moneybag. He flashed a coin. He took a peach and sank his teeth into it. Ah! The sweet taste of land.

  The Balaan walked on and was soon lost in the crowd. So many people! Merchants in plumed hats, nodding and smiling, counting their wealth in boxes and crates. Traders with handcarts, juggling their wares, calling to the first mates on board as the ships were loading. Girls looking for sweethearts, flouncing and flirting. Tavern-bound sailors, swaggering in gangs. Tearful wives with sticky babies, heading home to empty houses. An ocean of people, married to the sea.

  Barkbelly ate a pot of pickled herring and wondered how sailors found work. Did they ask the merchants who owned the ships or the sea captains who sailed them? Did they ask in the taverns? He couldn't go into a tavern—he was too young. But even if he weren't, he wouldn't go in. Rubek had told terrible tales about cutthroat murderers, and the stories always began in taverns.

  I'll have to ask someone, he thought. There was a lad running errands—would he know? He had passed by three or four times and he had a friendly face. Barkbelly decided to ask him.