Chapter 14
Alfonso and Rudolpho waited for me downstairs, like mirror images of each other, black and red, red and black. Too bad, really, that they were such a pair of puppets, for they were handsome.
“Well, fair maiden?” Rudolpho said. “We wait.”
I halted. “For what?”
“For the token,” Alfonso said, with a flourish of his hand, “of your undying gratitude!”
“The what?”
“You said you would repay our kindness,” Rudolpho said.
Ah.
“Travel with us,” Alfonso said, “and enchant the world with your beauty! On stage, you will be enamored with me, so, and when I take you in my arms, so,”—he put his arm around my waist and pushed me over to fall backward in his arms—“you will swoon with passionate desire!”
Rudolpho knocked Alfonso aside, nearly sending me to the floor. “But it is for me that your flames of love will burn,” he said. “And when I give you a lover’s true kiss, all the crowd will witness that it is I, Rudolpho, who holds the key to your heart.”
“Leave off, swine,” Alfonso cried, waving his fists at his brother. “The lady favors me!”
I took advantage of this distraction to address the wide-eyed Mrs. Bell.
“Mrs. Bell,” I said to that worthy woman, “these two gentlemen are actors, planning to set up their show here in Fallardston. Would it attract patrons if they performed here?”
Mrs. Bell scrutinized the two brothers. “It could,” she conceded. “I don’t pay, though.”
“But you could offer a room, couldn’t you? And supper on the nights they perform?”
She wiped a mug with her rag. “Settled,” Mrs. Bell said. She spat on another mug and wiped it. “I want a show tomorrow night.”
“There,” I said, with a curtsy to La Commedia dell’Arte. “I’ve repaid your kindness.”
I took this as a chance to make my escape, but Rudolpho blocked the exit of the taproom. “Bella signorina,” he breathed, “it was something different I had in mind, this repayment of kindness that you so temptingly held out like the carrot before the donkey.”
I took a step back. “Does that make you the donkey?”
“How about a leetle kiss? Un bacio piccolo?”
I looked up, a smart retort on my tongue, and paused. All my words left me. He was leaning closer, closer, his lips parting …
“Young woman,” Mrs. Bell’s welcome voice reached my ears. “Your husband awaits.”
Rudolpho tossed his curly head back. “Husband? Who is this husband? The fair maiden has no husband! She is a maiden in distress, yes?”
I flew through the door. “Thank you both!” I cried. “Good-bye!”
I ran out into the stableyard and found Aidan speaking to a dour-faced man with a black wagon. The draped form of Mr. Thorndike lay stretched in the wagon’s bed.
“Good, you’ve taken care of him,” I cried, seizing his arm. “Come on, let’s go. Now!”
“Where are we going?” Aidan said. I tugged him toward the road. “And why the hurry?”
“Halt! Young maiden!” Rudolpho called after me.
“Aidan, run,” I ordered. “Rudolpho is making Mrs. Bell doubt you and I are married.”
“The deception begins, eh?”
We took off running. The cobbles were brutal against my sore feet.
“I think they’ve given up,” I panted, looking over my shoulder. “Mrs. Bell’s got a nephew with a ship. We can take passage and pay the rest when we arrive in Chalcedon.”
Aidan stopped. “A ship?”
I paused, remembering. Thoughtless me. Aidan’s father, a sailor, had died at sea.
“Never mind, Aidan,” I said. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. We’ll walk.”
He watched me closely, then nodded comprehension. “I don’t mind. I’m not afraid of ships, even though I don’t often … A ship makes the most sense.”
We came over a high point on the street. Before us spread the twinkling lights of Fallardston, with more clustered at the very edge. Then, there were no lights, except the frosted reflections of moon and stars on the peaks and valleys of ocean waves.
The sea. I stopped.
“Oh,” I said. “Oh, look, Aidan. Isn’t it beautiful?”
“It’s big, anyway,” Aidan said. “Let’s get on the boat, and we can admire it from there.”
We reached the docks, which smelled of fish, and were lit only by lanterns and the spilled light from the windows of taverns lining the boardwalk. In no time we located The White Dragon. An elaborately carved dragon made up the prow, and a dragon was outlined on the largest of its many sails. Aidan explained that this was a galleon, a grand vessel indeed.
I approached a sailor who seemed to have some authority and asked him, “Do you know a second mate by the name of Freddie? Possibly Freddie Bell?”
The sailor cringed. “It’s Fred,” he said. “Just Fred.”
“You mean you’re Freddie?” I cried. My charms must be at work again.
Freddie Bell, a beanpole with a huge Adam’s apple, goggled at us. “Well? What is it?”
“Your aunt, Prunilla,” I said. “She said that with this”—here I showed him our coins—“you would give us passage to Chalcedon, and there wait for us to pay the rest.”
He thrust out his lower lip. “She said that, did she? I run a ship, not a charity ward.” Luckily, though, he scooped up my coins. “Be ready for the whistle.” He moved along.
Aidan reached for my arm. “Let’s get off this dock before we fall off.”
Steps led down to where foamy water met the rocks. We explored until we found dry sand, then sat, groaning at our stiff limbs. Exhaustion overwhelmed me.
I unlaced my shoes, then, ordering Aidan to look away, I reached under my skirts to unfasten and remove my stockings. I pressed my aching toes into the spongy sand, then, hoisting my skirts, ran into the water.
“Oh!” The cold water shocked me.
Aidan uncovered his eyes. “Evie! What are you doing?”
“Come on in!” I called, trying not to smile. “The water’s lovely!”
Aidan looked slowly around, to make sure no one was watching, then he, too, pulled off his shoes and stockings, rolled up his trousers, and jumped into the surf.
He yelped at the cold, and I nearly fell into the water laughing.
“Thanks,” he said, kicking a splash of water at me. I splashed him back, but since neither of us really wanted to be soaked, we stopped, and instead amused ourselves by stomping around in the shallows. Wet sand sluicing through my toes and sandy water stroking my feet as the waves lapped back and forth were delicious, intoxicating, marvelous.
“I might never leave this place,” I told Aidan. “The king can keep his university. I’ll just stay here and play in the sand.”
“There’s better beaches than this near Chalcedon,” Aidan said. “In high summer, it’s warm enough to go in swimming. For those that know how.”
“Do you?”
“No. I wish I did.” I thought of his father once more.
A flash of something pale in the water caught my eye. I grabbed Aidan’s arm and pointed. “Did you see something? Out in the water?”
Aidan shook his head. “Did you?”
“Something large and light colored,” I said. “So close!”
Just then, the ship’s whistle blasted. Aidan and I ran splashing to the shore. We slapped sand off our feet and pulled our stockings on. What felt smooth and luxurious on the beach now felt maddeningly itchy as we wrestled into our shoes.
Farther along the docks we could see the hurly-burly of passengers and cargo boarding the ship. Then my view was blocked by three figures, silhouetted black against The White Dragon’s lanterns, who came down another spur of the dock and stood near us, but high above on the boardwalk. Two men, and a smaller figure with a girl’s size but a woman’s poise.
Aidan and I waited, knowing how we’d look coming up from the dark beach
alone. One of the men had a creature on its shoulder. A monkey! I’d only seen pictures before. He slid off the man’s shoulder and loped along the boardwalk to sniff and chatter at us.
“Chick-eeet! Chick-chick-chick-chick-eeet!”
The sound jarred me, as did the strange, hairy face. So like a human infant, and yet so different! I held myself very still until the monkey scampered back to his master.
“ … well, so far,” the other man was saying. “He’s got the costumes, and he swears he’s got the payment. He’ll meet us there in two days.”
“Payment ought to be easy,” the man with the monkey grumbled.
“It’s complicated,” the first man said. He handed him a clinking parcel. “Here’s a start.”
“And do we know we’ll be invited onto the ship?” Definitely a woman, from her voice.
“She’ll see to that,” the first said. “Hurry. Your ship is leaving.”
The man with the monkey and the small, trim woman hurried down the dock. The other man watched them, then headed back up the pier toward the shore, the way he’d come.
I caught his profile clearly, and sucked in my breath.
He paused and looked around. I crouched and waited. Finally he turned and went on.
“What’s the matter, Evie?” Aidan whispered in my ear.
“The man giving orders,” I whispered back. “From the coach. He was the scarred man.”
Chapter 15
Freddie Bell hollered a last call for any taking passage on The White Dragon. Aidan all but carried me up the steps. We skidded down the slip and up the gangplank.
“Oh, it’s you,” Freddie said without joy. “Listen. For those as don’t pay full, there’s the poop deck. Fine night like tonight, there’s music and revelry. You can make do.”
I didn’t know a poop deck from a spanker sail, but we followed the direction he pointed, working around swarms of sailors and bales of rope thicker than my leg. There was indeed music. A thin old man perched on a barrel, sawing out a jig on a battered fiddle. Couples had already begun swinging each other around. Swaying lantern light made the whole scene merry. We leaned against the railing to watch.
I’d heard sailors grew starved for female company out on the ocean. Three different ones whistled at me. What passed for manners in country towns didn’t seem to apply here.
The ship, when it had left the harbor and spread its full sails to catch the winds, began to roll underfoot. The strange sensation delighted me, and I spread my feet wide to find my balance. Aidan, alas, closed his eyes and clutched at the railing, his great knuckles turning white.
“What’s the matter, Aidan?”
He didn’t open his eyes. “Nothing,” he said. “Some son of a sailor I am.”
“Do you need something to drink?”
“Just tell me when we get there.”
“If I may be so bold?”
I turned to see a cheerful red-haired young man bowing and beckoning me to dance with him. I hesitated, then held out my elbow and let him lead me to join the dancers.
“Is that your brother with you?” The young man nodded toward Aidan.
Oh, dear. If I said Aidan was my husband, how would it look, dancing with strangers? On the other hand, if he wasn’t my husband, I could receive more unwelcome attentions.
“Thank you for the dance.” I released his arm. “It warmed me considerably.” I went to Aidan and leaned closer into him than I intended. The young man shrugged and moved on.
That was a relief. I ought to have stepped away from Aidan’s side, but the night winds whipping around the sails were bitter cold.
Aidan’s eyelid opened a crack. “You slay men by the dozens wherever you go, Evie.”
“That’s Mrs. Moreau to you, laddie,” I said. “And stop talking rot. I do no such thing.”
“If you’re Mrs. Moreau, then no more dancing with strangers.” His smile gave him away.
“Feeling better, I take it?”
“Getting used to it. I’d still rather be on dry land.”
“I’m not sure I would. Look.”
Water churned in the wake of the ship’s stern. It spread two blades of white-capped spray from either corner of the ship. The black water stretched forever, except where the dark shore blotted out the stars to our left. Hanging low over the horizon, painting a shimmering silver ribbon all the way to The White Dragon, was the moon.
Was there ever such a perfect sight in all creation as this?
Did the moon make the sea this lustrous every night, and here I’d only just discovered it?
Peace settled over me, a kind of peace I couldn’t explain.
“It’s extraordinary, Aidan,” I said. “Here, in this moment, I feel I’ve come home.”
“Do you?”
Aidan’s face was tilted toward mine, his brown eyes watching me closely. Well, of course his face was tilted down. The lad was a head taller than me, at least. And yet …
I forgot about the moon.
The air he breathed, how it filled his chest, and emptied out again, warm, the soft sounds it made rushing past his mouth …
Fascinating thing, breath. I could use Aidan as a scientific study.
I felt warm, despite the wind. Or was I still standing too close?
Aidan didn’t seem to mind.
“Evie?”
“Hmm?”
“Chick-chick-chick-eeet!”
From out of nowhere a furry form leaped onto Aidan’s head, snatching his hat and flinging it out into the sea. I shook myself, as if I’d woken from a dream. We reached for the little pest, but it leaped away faster than we could snatch, peeling back its lips and baring ghastly teeth.
Laughter broke out among the other passengers on the poop deck. The music had stopped, and the monkey’s owner stepped forward.
“Your creature doesn’t like me much,” Aidan told the man.
“Meet Deuce,” the man said. The monkey did a flip. “He’s a wicked imp, but he’ll amaze you with his tricks.” He laid his hat on the deck. “Deuce needs to pay for his crimes.”
People clapped as the monkey did more flips, walked on its hands while carrying a cup of wine with its feet, and guessed which hand held a button. Pennies fell into the hat, but I was more curious about the man than his pet. What was he discussing with the scarred man from the coach? Hold back, Evie, I warned myself. It’s no crime to have scars or monkeys. But something felt wrong. This man, genial though he was, felt false to me. The woman kept her distance.
“You folks want to see some animals?” a tall sailor said. “Oy! Bob! Bobby Natch!”
A reply came from somewhere in the tall riggings.
“Bring your crew,” the sailor yelled. “We’ve got some here ’at wants to see it.”
The sailor called Bobby Natch, a much-wizened older man with very few teeth, appeared with a parrot on one shoulder, a three-legged cat at his feet, and a wicker basket. The parrot favored us with language I dare not repeat, and the cat hissed at the monkey, then climbed to the top of a long pole where he sat yowling at us. Many men found this amusing.
Then Bobby Natch opened his basket. “Stand back, stand back, ladies and gents.”
At first nothing happened. Then a shape appeared, small, triangular. It tilted, swayed, then slipped over the edge of the basket, drawing a thick, winding, swelling body behind it.
“Snake!”
Women shrieked. My dance partner made no bones of scurrying off the poop deck. All the while the snake kept pouring itself out of the basket, and Bobby Natch cackled with delight.
“That’s a sand viper,” he said. “Three feet long. Annoy her, and it’s the last thing you’ll do.”
“Why would you keep such a creature?” a woman cried.
For the fun of scaring us, I imagined. “Rats,” said Bobby. “This lady kills three times the rats as old Puss. Rats bring disease. So my mates and me call her ‘the Doctor.’ ”
Aidan nudged me. “Stand behind me, Evie,” he whisp
ered. “My boots are thick.”
“I’m all right,” I said, fingering my snakebite charm, and wondering if I believed in it. “Snakes don’t bother me.”
“Now, now, folks,” Bobby said, “you don’t have nothing to fear from the Doctor. Leave her alone, she’ll leave you alone. Ain’t she purty?”
She was beautiful. Her amber eyes reflected lantern light like two yellow moons. A symmetrical zigzag of dark scales traced down her muscular back. She coiled herself in a neat pile and surveyed everyone’s ankles.
A chill wind blew across the ship, whipping the sails. Bobby Natch and the other sailor studied the sky. The stars in the west had been blotted out by clouds.
“Chick-chick-eeet!”
The monkey, perched on his master’s shoulder, chattered at the sand viper. She raised her head to search for the sound. Bobby Natch, wearing a leather glove, stooped to retrieve his snake, but the monkey leaped down and hissed at her. She swerved her neck back and forth menacingly.
“Get that thing away if you want to keep it,” ordered Bobby, and the monkey trainer reached for the little pest.
He saved his monkey, though he was a moment too late. The sand viper, striking like a spring-loaded arrow, hurtled across the deck and sank its teeth into the monkey tamer’s wrist.
Chapter 16
Bobby Natch gripped the viper’s head at the jaws, pulled it off the man’s arm, and stuffed her back into her basket. He gave the man a mournful shake of his head, then scuttled off the poop deck and disappeared into the bowels of the ship.
The two bites leered like narrow red eyes from the monkey tamer’s wrist. The wind whipped the sails, sending spray into our worried faces.
I came forward and took his hand. “Get me strips of cloth,” I said to a sailor. “And a blanket for this man to lie down on.”
“ ’Oo’s she think she is?” one sailor asked another.
“Get her what she asks for,” Aidan said, as I coaxed the man to sit. “She knows things.”
If only I did! From what I’d read in my father’s books, I knew the procedure would be to slit the bite wound across with a sharp blade, then suck as much blood out as you could.