Two clouds of dust converge in the middle of
the desert. One cloud belongs to Demona and her creature, Carrapacchio, astride
their twin Gravidores; the other cloud belongs to the pirate Captain plus one
hundred and fifty sailors and their supplies loaded on horses and Aurochs. The Captain,
having never seen a Gravidore before, is inclined to view the party of the
other part with great suspicion, especially with such a beautiful woman at
their helm. Women were not on his ‘most favourite’ list at the moment. Women
and little boys. He lifts a hand and calls a halt to his entourage and the two
parties confront each other cautiously.
“Greetings Captain. My name is Demona.”
“That doesn’t sound too promising. Demona.
Demon. You’re not one of those other-worldly creatures, are you?”
“No, but I’m on the trail of one – a boy.”
“I knew it!” exclaimed the Captain. “I knew
there was something fishy about him.”
“You’ve seen him then I take it?”
“Little sod stole my sword…and my mermaid,”
he adds. “Chasing him right now.”
“How fortunate. Perhaps we could ride
together?”
But the Captain is no unsuspecting fool any
longer. He isn’t going to get conned twice.
“Rather not, if you don’t mind.”
“I know where he’s going,” says Demona. “And
anyway you’re lost. The way you’re going you’re headed for the burning sands
and you won’t last a day out there. So we can help each other,” says the
oriental beauty with a bandage on her nose, fluttering her eyelids at him in a
saucy kind of way.
The Captain smiles a sickly smile. She
really isn’t his cup of tea – but it seems he had better play along if he wants
to get his sword back and get out of this damned desert alive. The Captain turns
to his retinue. Immediately behind him are the horses and bulls loaded with his
own personal belongings: whole bookshelves full of his books, his writing desk
and chair, his porcelain bath and toilet, and two wardrobes with all his
clothes and shoes in them. Beyond that the horses are burdened down with kegs
of beer and rum, ships biscuits and dried meat.
“Pass the word to set up camp,” he says to
his valet.
The Gravidores have been inching slowly
towards his horse, hoping to get a bite out of him, but the highly strung
creature begins to fret and prance and the Captain retreats to a safe distance.
“Easy my pets,” says Demona. “Sorry about
that Captain. My babies get a bit playful sometimes.”
“I’m sure they do,” answers the Captain,
eyeing them sideways. Ugly brutes they are, missing a front leg and dripping
slime and saliva by the bucket load.
“Carrapacchio! What are you waiting for?
Unpack us, you miserable toad.”
Carrapacchio unfolds his misshapen form from
the saddle and slides down onto the sand. His claws have grown so long that
they curl back on themselves and cut into his skin. The Captain’s horse takes another
step backwards at the sight of this new horror.
“Please Captain. Drinks in my tent in an
hour.” This will give her time to freshen up and put on something more
comfortable. The Captain isn’t looking forward to that at all, but he has no
choice really. He has to humour this hoyden harpy harridan whatever.
“They’re headed for the Valley of Death –
it’s the only way through to the Silvern Sanctuary. We’ll cut them off at the
pass.”
“I’d like to cut him off at the knees,”
mumbles the pirate.
Demona arranges her charms to her
satisfaction, then smiles at the Captain.
“They’re trapped.”
The Captain was feeling a little trapped
himself.
“There’s no way through the valley. It’s
rather well guarded by a creature, some relative of the Gravidores I take it, just
a whole lot bigger. So,” she says, shifting on the couch and showing off a
whole lot of leg, “tell me about yourself.”
Carrapacchio is shuffling in his corner,
chewing on his teeth in fury. The Captain is trying not to notice her efforts
to seduce him. He is also beginning to feel slightly sick.
“I say, my man,” he says to his Valet. “How
about a glass of Prosecco?” He turns to Demona apologetically. “It’s all I can
drink really. Damn ulcer. But I have some rum if you are so inclined.” If he
can force enough alcohol down her she might just fall asleep.
His life seems to be riddled with these
women - trouble makers, the lot of them. Which is why he took to sea; where you
don’t see many. Curse his luck for breaking a mast. If it had not been for the
mast he’d never have met that blasted Mermaid and lost his ship, he’d never
have met the boy and lost his sword, and he’d never have met this awful woman. God
knows what he was going to lose to her, but he is quite sure that she will
wreak her havoc upon him in some way or the other. He is going to have to keep
on his toes.
Her toes, in the meantime, are inching
towards his thigh in a playful kind of way and Carrapacchio is making wretching
noises in his corner now.
“Have you finished making the supper that
you sit there and make disgusting noises?”
“Nearly done, your buxomness. I just have to
p….(he nearly said pee) put some herbs in to spice it up a little.”
“Well, don’t hang around here in all your
filthiness. You’re spoiling the atmosphere.”
Carrapacchio scuttles off and starts banging
pots and pans together in the other room.
“Where were we,” she says, sliding a little
closer to the Captain. He can’t slide any further away…being perched right on
the edge of the divan. Her foot is now firmly ensconced in his lap, her pudgy
little toes twinkling away coquettishly. She gives his codpiece a little nudge
and winks at him.
“How about an aperitif? Something to let the
little monkey out of his cage?” she says meaningfully.
The Captain just wants to vomit.
Outside the sailors dance the hornpipe in
the sand and the rum flows like rivers of gold. With songs of maidens fair and
sailors bold, they sing the deeds of men of old. A hundred fires feed the
roasting meat and steamy stories rise into the desert night heat.
This is the one time the Captain wishes he is
carousing with his men. He’d have done anything to get out of that tent.
Samuel sat in stony silence. The rain
rattled against the windscreen as he peered out into the night. All he saw was
a couple of yards of illuminated road. That was about as much as he could see
of his own life.
He was angry with her and he was in love
with her; tenderly, chivalrously…and probably for the first time in his life. She
felt sorry for him. She felt sorry for him because she was way out of his
reach. If she stayed in prison or if she made her escape, she was equally
inaccessible to him. He wasn’t the type to come and visit in her cell, and he
wasn’t the type to leave everything behind and elope. She was like the mirage
of an oasis above the desert sands. He had paradise on a plate in front of him
and he couldn’t touch it. He was angry with the world for taking away his son…and
he was angry at the world for giving him Ronetta, then taking her away as well.
He was angry with Ronetta because he wasn’t the kind of man she could fall in
love with. She took another look at him. Was he that kind of man? She just
couldn’t tell.
His
face was just a picture of pain. Men in love did drastic things. You didn’t
play around with them, and to tell the truth, from day one she’d never seen
anyone fall so completely head over heels in love with her. It was flattering
at first…but now it was a bit frightening. She’d never seen a man so besotted
and so desperately hopeless. She’d have to be very careful not to drop him and
break him. He might be a braggart and a bully, but beneath that crabby exterior
he was a soft and sensitive person. It was always the strong silent types that
broke down first and cried on her shoulder. And that this was his first time,
in oh so many ways, made him all the more fragile and unpredictable.
She looked at him again, quite amazed that
she could evoke such depth of feeling in another person. Just goes to show.
Don’t mess around with people’s hearts. Was she messing? She didn’t know. She’d
spent so many years messing that now she didn’t know the difference.
“I’ll go back to prison afterwards.” The
words were out of her mouth before she realized she had spoken. “I’ve changed
my mind…again. What’s the good of being a woman if you can’t change your mind
hey?”
Samuel didn’t say anything. He wasn’t even
listening to her. He was busy navigating a narrow twisting, turning road
running through the warehouse section of the factory near the railway terminus.
“Yes,” she said, “I’ll come back to prison
with you, whatever happens,” and she felt relief flooding through her body. Perhaps
she too had been dreading her escape; dreading the unknown. She felt happier
now that she had decided to go back into her cage. At least she wouldn’t be
deserting him…she hadn’t felt at all happy about that…and who knows how things
might develop. Suddenly she felt a whole lot lighter than she’d been in a long
time, and surprisingly the thought of being near him in jail cheered her up.
“There it is,” she said, breaking out of her
reverie and pointing to a neglected old warehouse. After all these years she
still recognized the place. She felt a relief that it was nearly all over. It
had been more stressful than she allowed herself to think.
Samuel switched off the lights and the
engine, and coasted quietly to a stop outside the doorway. It looked like no
one had been there in years. Suddenly he was icy cold. The shock of the whole
event suddenly caught up with him and he began shivering in his seat. He
clasped his hands between his knees and bowed his head. Now that the moment had
arrived he was too scared to go through with it. Ronetta sat quietly by his
side and waited with him. But what was going through his mind was ultimately
worse than he would probably find so he finally took a torch from the glove box
and forced himself to get out of the car. He had never been so petrified in his
whole life. What would he find? He just prayed that Joshua was still alright.
He couldn’t stand it if something had happened to him. Clara had threatened to
kill him if he was dead…but she’d have to get in line. He would be first in the
queue.
The beam of light was shaking in his hands
as he forced himself to go forward, the blood roaring in his ears, deafening
him to everything else.
He was surprised to find Ronetta at his
side. He didn’t know if that was a good idea, especially if the old lady was as
crazy as they thought, but he was thankful for the company. She smiled at him
and took his hand.
The door swung open at their touch and his
torch swept the empty room. It was empty of people……but there were plenty of
signs that someone had been there: a cot, a table and chair, drip-feeds and
such. Joshua had definitely been there – but they were too late. The birds had
flown.
