Slaves of Socorro
Page 36
Several of the other former slaves had joined Walton in the bow, waving and shouting to those further up the beach. Tonkin took a few paces closer to the ship, then, ascertaining that it was, in fact, Walton, and that the others around him were all from the village as well, he turned and shouted the good news back to the village.
A small trickle of villagers, warned by the initial cries of those who had fled at the sight of Heron, were making their way out of the village and towards the beach, armed with makeshift weapons – axes, hoes and even the occasional spear. They may not have fought before, but they’d spent three weeks repairing the damage Tursgud’s men had done, rebuilding the burnt barns, re-thatching the houses where the roofs had been set alight by the raiders. They weren’t about to see their hard work go up in smoke once more.
But now as the word spread that the prisoners had returned, they threw the weapons aside and ran to the beach. The trickle became a flood until virtually the entire village were gathered on the beach, laughing and cheering as their twelve friends came ashore, mobbing round them, congratulating them. More than one mother wept openly at the sight of her son or daughter returned to her.
Ophelia was the last to leave the ship. On the voyage home, Edvin had tended to her night and day, using salves and poultices and herbal remedies that he had learned about from the healers in Skandia. The results were remarkable. The girl was able to walk unaided now, and although she winced from time to time if she moved incautiously, she was a far cry from the injured, hesitant girl who had come aboard in Socorro.
‘You did a great job,’ Hal told Edvin quietly as they watched willing hands lift the girl gently down to the beach. Edvin shrugged diffidently. Then a smile broke out on his face. He knew he wasn’t the best warrior on board the ship. But he had taken on the role of healer with determination and enthusiasm. He studied the old scrolls on healing and he assisted the apothecaries and surgeons in Hallasholm whenever he had the time. The reward came when he saw a result like this.
‘Yes,’ he agreed cheerfully. ‘I didn’t do too badly at all, did I?’
Of course, there was a celebration feast that night to mark the homecoming of the lost twelve, as they were called. And of course, the crew of the Heron were guests of honour.
Several lambs were grilled over a fire pit, and a massive goose was roasted. In addition, there were green vegetables, floury soft potatoes cooked in the coals of the fire pit and fresh fruit from the village’s orchards to finish. The Herons were offered all the ale they could drink, but Hal refused politely on their behalf, opting for coffee instead.
During the meal, which was held in the open in the village square, the Herons were treated to a steady procession of mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles, sweethearts, sisters and brothers belonging to the slaves they had rescued, all taking their hands, thanking them and hugging them warmly.
At one stage, a pretty young girl nervously approached the table of honour where the crew were seated, and sought out Hal.
She was wearing a soft woollen dress of pale blue and her dark, shining hair was plaited and coiled on top of her head. With a slight sense of shock, he realised it was Ophelia. Now that she wasn’t dressed in filthy rags, and with the drawn lines of pain and fear gone from her face, she was barely recognisable as the miserable creature they had carried out of the slave market and through the back alleys of Socorro.
Hal smiled warmly at her as she stood beside his chair.
‘Why, Ophelia,’ he said, ‘you look beautiful.’
Lydia, a few seats away, curled her lip scornfully.
‘Hal, I want to thank you for saving us. For bringing us home. Thank you so much.’
Hal made a self-deprecating gesture, indicating the other members of his crew. ‘It wasn’t just me. The whole crew helped.’
‘Maybe so. But I think you’re wonderful,’ she said. And leaning in, she kissed him on the cheek. Then, embarrassed at her forwardness, she turned and ran. The crew all cheered and laughed as Hal flushed with embarrassment.
‘I think you’re wonderful too, Hal!’ Stefan said, in a workmanlike approximation of Ophelia’s breathless, admiring tones. The crew laughed even harder.
Lydia snorted through her nose.
Thorn turned to study her scowling features.
‘What’s got your undies in a twist, princess?’ he asked, grinning.
She glared at him. ‘One day, old man, you’ll say one word too many.’
Several hours later, the cook fires were dying down and the villagers were heading for their beds. Celebration or not, there were crops to tend, wheat to grind into flour and animals to be milked, fed and watered first thing in the morning. Gilan found himself sitting with Hal and Thorn as the party wound down.
‘We’ve got an early start in the morning too,’ he said.
Hal looked at him, curious. ‘What for?’
‘The King, remember?’ Gilan told him. ‘We were summoned to see him some weeks ago. I’m sure he’ll understand that bringing the slaves home took precedence over his summons. But now they’re safe, it might be wise if we complied with his request.’
‘Request?’ Hal said, grinning.
Gilan smiled in return. ‘Command is possibly more accurate,’ he admitted. ‘He might get a little testy if we waste any more time. Kings tend to do that.’
‘Why do you think he wants to see us?’ Hal asked.
Gilan began to shrug, but Thorn interrupted. ‘Maybe he wants to knight me,’ he said. ‘I fancy being Sir Thorn.’
‘I doubt that,’ Hal said, smiling.
But Thorn shook his head ponderously. ‘It’s a good chance. Look at it this way.’ He held out his left hand. ‘On the one hand, he wants to knight me. On the other hand . . .’
He held out the polished wood hook that had taken the place of his right hand and looked at it, feigning surprise.
‘Well, what do you know? There is no other hand. So I guess it’s a knighting for me.’ He smiled at them, pleased with his little performance. They all ignored him. Such a dreadful joke deserved to be ignored.
‘What do we call him?’ Hal asked Gilan. ‘I’ve never met a king.’
Gilan considered the question for a few seconds. ‘Well, you can address him the way we do. We call him your majesty, or my lord. Either of those will do.’
‘No,’ said Thorn flatly, and they both looked at him in surprise.
‘No?’ Gilan asked. He sensed he knew what was coming. Skandians were a notoriously independent people, with decidedly egalitarian views. They elected their leader and they didn’t believe in the birthright of kings or queens.
‘Your king is the equivalent of our Oberjarl,’ Thorn said. He looked at Hal. ‘And how do we address the Oberjarl?’
Hal shrugged. ‘If it’s an official occasion, we call him “Oberjarl”.’
‘Exactly. So we don’t show this King any more respect than our own leader. Or any less. We’ll call him “King”. Hullo, King, we’ll say. Delighted to meet you. How are things, King?’ He glared a challenge at Gilan, who held up his hands in a peacemaking gesture.
‘I’m sure that’ll do just fine,’ he said, remembering an earlier occasion when King Duncan had encountered Skandian protocol. ‘He’ll be used to that. After all, he met your Oberjarl some years ago.’
‘Then he’ll be ready for me,’ Thorn stated.
But now Gilan shook his head and his smile widened.
‘Oh, I doubt that, Thorn. I seriously doubt that.’
John Flanagan’s Ranger’s Apprentice and Brotherband adventure series have sold more than eight million copies worldwide. His books are available in more than one hundred countries, are regularly on the New York Times bestseller list, and have had multiple award shortlistings and wins in Australia and overseas. John, a former television and advertising writer, lives with his wife in a Sydney beachside suburb.
BOOKS BY JOHN FLANAGAN
The Ranger’s Apprentice Series
www.rangersapprentice.
com.au
Book One: The Ruins of Gorlan
Book Two: The Burning Bridge
Book Three: The Icebound Land
Book Four: Oakleaf Bearers
Book Five: The Sorcerer in the North
Book Six: The Siege of Macindaw
Book Seven: Erak’s Ransom
Book Eight: The Kings of Clonmel
Book Nine: Halt’s Peril
Book Ten: The Emperor of Nihon-Ja
Book Eleven: The Lost Stories
Book Twelve: The Royal Ranger
The Brotherband Series
www.brotherband.com.au
Book One: The Outcasts
Book Two: The Invaders
Book Three: The Hunters
Book Four: Slaves of Socorro
What task will King Duncan ask of the Herons?
Find out in the next thrilling Brotherband adventure.
Available November 2014
They move silent as a shadow. They climb impossible heights. Their archery skills are unsurpassed. They are Rangers – and Will is about to join their ranks. Battles against formidable foes, swordplay, nailbiting escapes and heroic journeys are only the beginning in the bestselling series that introduced the Rangers of Araluen – and the sea wolves of Skandia – to millions of readers worldwide.
Find out more at
www.rangersapprentice.com.au
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity, including internet search engines or retailers, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including printing, photocopying (except under the statutory exceptions provisions of the Australian Copyright Act 1968), recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of Random House Australia. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
Version 1.0
BROTHERBAND 4: SLAVES OF SOCORRO
ePub ISBN 9781742759357
Copyright © John Flanagan 2014
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
A Random House book
Published by Random House Australia Pty Ltd
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First published by Random House Australia in 2014
National Library of Australia
Cataloguing-in-Publication entry
Author: Flanagan, John, 1944–
Title: Slaves of Socorro / John Flanagan
ISBN: 9781742759357 (ebook)
Series: Flanagan, John, 1944– Brotherband; 4
Target audience: For secondary school age
Dewey number: A823.4
Cover illustration by Jeremy Reston
Cover design and typography www.blacksheep-uk.com
Heron illustration by David Elliot
Map by Mathematics and Anna Warren
Typesetting and eBook production by Midland Typesetters, Australia
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