The Angel's Command (43 page)

Mathilde entered, leading two young maidservants who were pushing a trolley laden with food. Her scornful wit was not lost upon her audience. She wagged a finger in the comte's face. “The lunch has been ready this past quarter hour, waiting on you to dodder downstairs in your bib and tucker. Dozing in front of the oven fire, indeed? The only time I'll do that is when I've got you in the oven, baking some life into those old bones of yours, you crotchety old codger!”

Ben and his friends shook with laughter as the pair exchanged good-humoured insults.

“Be silent, you frowzy old loaf-burner!”

“Yah, go and take a nap, you mumbling old chin-dribbler!”

The comte rose. “I'll not stand for that in my house, Madame!”

Mathilde winked at Karay and Adamo as she retorted, “Then sit down!”

The comte chuckled. He patted the empty chair next to him. “No, no, Mathilde, 'tis you who must sit down, here, right beside me. Let the maids serve our lunch today.”

Mathilde protested. “Cooks don't sit at table with the master, who ever heard of such a thing?”

But the comte of Veron would brook no argument. “Madame, I am ordering you to sit and dine with us. When lunch is over, I have things to say which concern us all!”

The meal was delicious. A steaming mushroom soup was followed by salad and a collation of cheeses, ham, brown bread, eggs and a grilled carp. Over a dessert of hot summer pudding and cream they sipped cider, fruit juice and glasses of the local wine mixed with fresh springwater.

Ben nodded and smiled at the amiable banter and conversation of his friends. However, he heard little of it as he and Ned exchanged apprehensive thoughts.

The dog's paw touched his master's foot beneath the table as Ned voiced his opinion. “I don't know why, Ben, but I'm beginning to feel rather uneasy about something or other. I can't think what it is.”

The boy reached down and stroked his Labrador's silky ear. He had forgotten the message that the angel had woven into his dreams when he first met Karay. That night in the forest seemed so long ago and faraway.

He answered Ned, trying not to sound perplexed. “I expect our angel will let us know if anything's amiss. Strange, but I can't remember any warning the angel gave me about moving on, can you?”

Ned poked his head out from under the tablecloth hem. “No, I don't recall a thing—that's what's bothering me.”

Around the table it had gone suddenly quiet. Dominic nudged Ben's arm and whispered to him, “Sit up straight, friend. You look half asleep there. The comte has something to say to us!”

Ben suddenly became attentive. “What? Oh, er, sorry!”

The comte drew from his finger the large gold ring that bore his family's crest. It was far too large for him and slipped off easily. He placed it on the little finger of Adamo's right hand, where it fitted snugly.

“This was your father's ring. He was the rightful lord of Veron. The ring carries the Bregon seal: a lion for strength, a dove for peace, and a knotted rope symbolising union and togetherness. Adamo Bregon, son of Edouard, my brother, you are now to be known as comte de Veron, as is your birthright!”

The others around the table applauded warmly. Even Ned emerged from beneath the table, his tail wagging furiously. Wiping a joyful tear away with her apron corner, Mathilde turned to the new comte. “Well, sir, are ye not going to say something to us all, a nice speech maybe?”

Adamo stood up. He looked so tall and strong, yet so calm and happy. His broad face broke into a smile, which touched the hearts of everyone present. Then he bowed and kissed Karay's hand, speaking haltingly. “You will be my comtesse, Karay . . . please?”

The girl's answer was inaudible—she merely nodded once.

The old comte took both their hands in his. “I have watched you both. This is what I was hoping for. As for my other friends, Ben, Dominic and our faithful Ned, I have asked myself what I can do to repay you for restoring Adamo to me. You are not servants—it would be churlish and ill mannered to offer you money. But I know that you have no parents to care for you. In view of this I have reached a decision. In a few days we will go together on a journey. Toulouse will be our destination. There, at the cathedral, I will consult the bishop, and then I will speak with the justices of my wishes, so that all people will know: I intend to give you both my name, adopting you as my sons. Together you will live here as part of our family. As for you, my dearest Mathilde, you shall become a lady companion of our household. No more cooking and working in kitchens . . .”

Neither Ned nor Ben heard the rest of Vincente Bregon's speech. Like lightning at midnight, the angel's message flooded into their minds, blotting out all else.

 
Ben heard Mathilde's voice as the import of the command hit him. She was interrupting the old comte. “No such thing, sir. I'm not going to sit about with nothing to do for the rest of my days. Cook I am, and cook I stay! No silly young girl is going to take charge of my kitchens. Ben, are you alright, boy? You've gone white as a sheet.”

The boy stood up, swaying slightly, his mind in a daze as he made up a suitable reply. “I'll be fine in a moment, thanks. A little too much of your good wine, Mathilde, even though there was water in it. Please, don't fuss, I'll go and take a walk in the fresh air. I'll be alright soon. Ned will come with me.”

Dominic, the Facemaker of Sabada, stared into his friend's clouded blue eyes. They were distant and sad. “Ben, do you want me to come with you?”

The boy knew that his friend could see the truth of what was about to happen. Ben shifted his gaze fondly from the old comte, to Mathilde, then from Adamo to Karay, and finally back to Dominic. He blinked a few times. “No, mate, you stay here. I only need Ned to go with me.”

Then the boy and his dog left the room.

30

FOUR DAYS LATER, IN THE LATE AFTERNOON, Ben and Ned sat on the dunes, staring out to sea at the Gulf of Gascony. All the tears they could cry had been shed. They had travelled fast, both night and day, stopping only to catch a brief hour's rest here and there when weariness got the better of them. Both boy and dog had pushed themselves hard, not wanting to stay amid dear friends who would eventually grow old and die whilst they remained forever young.

Ned snuffled at his master's hand. “Well, mate, we turned our faces back to the sea, and here we are. Ooh, I am hungry, Ben, so hungry!”

Ben nodded absently as he replied, “What I'm wondering is, where's this other one we've got to meet? Remember the second part of the angel's command:

 
Ned's ears flopped as he shook his head from side to side. “Sounds like twaddle to me. Another father with no children, yet we've got to help him to help his children. Huh, and who's this kinsman who would've helped the father with no children, to help his children, eh? Even a dog can't make head nor tail of that little lot!”

Ben did not answer right away. He turned his gaze from the sea to the hilltop where they sat and to the trees behind. “Ned, d'you realise where we are?”

The black Labrador was still trying to solve the angel's riddle. “No, should I? Wait, don't tell me, hmmm, sea, hills, small clump of trees . . . Of course! This is the exact spot where we came ashore from
La Petite Marie
's jolly boat! Well, there's a thing, we've come full circle!”

Ben was standing up, shading his eyes as he turned back to the sea. Ned looked up at him. “What is it now?”

The boy was already descending the sandy dune top. “A little boat, coming to shore this way. Probably a fisherman. Come on, mate, maybe he's got some spare food with him!”

Ned raced after his master. “Food, you've said the magic word!”

They stood in the shallows as the tiny fishing smack nosed toward them. A man appeared at the bow and flung a line in Ben's direction. He shouted a single word. “Hungry?”

Ben's answer was also brief. “Starving!”

The fellow sprang over the side. He was laughing. “How did I guess? Help me get her ashore above the tide line.”

Ned gripped the rope end in his teeth as Ben and the man put the line over their shoulders and hauled. With considerable effort they dragged the boat over the ridged wet sand, through some seaweed and debris, then up onto the dry beach above the tide line. The man was poorly clad, barefoot and had a ragged cloak tied about his neck as protection against long hours facing sea breezes. He shook Ben's hand firmly and patted Ned. “Thank ye, friends. See those trees up yonder? Could you gather some wood for a fire? I've got good, fresh mackerel aboard. Got some bread, and milk, too. We can cook a meal!”

Ben smiled. “You caught the fish, sir, we'll get the wood!” He sped off, with Ned outpacing him and thinking happily, “Bread'n'fish, nothing like it when you're hungry, mate!”

The fisherman even had a frying pan. He gutted and headed the mackerel and tossed them into the pan with some herbs and a chopped onion. As he took off his cloak, he jerked a thumb at the waters of the bay.

“High tide's the best time to net fish around here, though you've got to get the job done before the tide turns—it can run out pretty fast and leave you stranded out there.” As he loosed the cloak, Ben saw his white collar and well-worn, threadbare black cassock. A priest!

Ned settled down in the warm sand, thinking, “Haha, a priest. So that's the father who has no children. This is him, Ben!”

The priest handed Ben enough bread for him and his dog. “So, what are you doing on this forsaken stretch of shore?”

Ben tossed half the bread to Ned. “We're just travellers, Father, making our way along the coast to Spain. It isn't too far. Do you live hereabouts?”

The priest tested six mackerel he had put on to fry and turned them over with his knife blade. “Just on the outskirts of Arcachon. I have a little parish. Very small and poor . . . we even meet in my house for services, as the church collapsed many years ago. Sandy foundation, cheap materials, the usual story.”

Ben noted the large mass of silver- and black-banded fish in the boat. “You missed your trade, Father, you're a good fisherman to land a haul like that.”

The priest nodded ruefully. “My flock and I live as a community, helping one another. Chopard, our fisherman, broke his arm last week, so I elected myself to the job until his arm is mended. They're simple people around here, but good. I call them my children, and, as you know, children must be fed.”

The fish tasted good. They sat in silence, attending to the needs of their hunger.

Ned was first to finish. He passed Ben a thought. “Look at the father's face—who does he remind you of?”

Ben scrutinised the man's face. Ned was right, there was something rather familiar about the eyes, the strong jaw, the shape of the nose, those sandy brown whiskers. Almost without thinking, Ben found himself saying, “I was at sea once. I had a friend, he came from where you live, Arcachon.”

The father licked his fingers, tossing a fish bone into the fire. “From Arcachon, you say? What was his name? I might know the family. We've had a few from the parish run off to sea.”

Ben spoke the name of his dead buccaneer captain. “Raphael Thuron.”

In the moment the father's eyes went wide with surprise, Ben found his mind invaded by Ned's urgent pleas.

“Easy, mate, go careful. Watch what you say. Lie if you have to!”

The man grabbed Ben's arm with a hand as heavy as the captain's had been. “Raphael Thuron is my brother . . . would your man be about eight years older than me?”

Ben avoided his new friend's gaze. “Aye, about that, Father. He looked a lot like you, as I remember. Did your brother run off to sea?”

The good father stared into the fire. “Yes, our parents were poor farmers. They wanted Raphael to become a priest one day, but he was too wild. He was forever getting into scrapes.” The father smiled. “And getting me into trouble with him. Raphael was a rogue, but a good brother. Please, tell me what you know about him, how is he doing? Raphael said that if ever he got away from these parts, he'd make a fortune in some far country. I wonder if he did.”