Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Hopelessness gripped Richard. The moment of accord with Lily hadn’t lasted. She spent most of her time sitting against the wall, arms around her belly, lost inside herself. He couldn’t rouse her. Their conversation consisted of him urging her to eat when food came.
Day merged with night in the windowless cell. Food came twice a day, but Richard couldn’t be certain how many days. When the ship finally paused and lurched at what he hoped was anchor, he tried to count back. They had sailed perhaps twelve days since they had been locked up together.
He had little time to worry about it. Two guards pulled them from their cell without warning.
They pushed Richard up against a wall until his head slammed back and trussed his hands.
He watched with impotent rage when they yanked Lily to her feet and did the same to her.
One guard tied a rope around Lily’s bonds and pulled her along behind.
Richard’s guard did the same, pulling the two of them up to the deck where Hamidou stood.
“Welcome to Tarcin, English. Your new home.”
Richard blinked in the relentless sun. The frigate lay at anchor next to a rocky cove. Richard saw no sign of habitation. He wondered if Hamidou planned to maroon them.
They held Lily ten feet from Richard, too far for whispered conversation, when the guard holding her rope asked a question Richard couldn’t understand.
Hamidou shrugged as if the question mattered little.
Richard tried to catch Lily’s eye, to see if she understood what had been said, but she stared at the brown and barren island.
Richard followed her gaze. He scanned the tops of a looming cliff and saw signs of vegetation.
Where there is vegetation, there is water.
Lily would need it—and food and shade. His heart began to pound in his chest at the thought of Lily nearing her time with no one to help.
No one but my worthless self, utterly useless in that situation.
The guards chatted between themselves, as cheerfully as two men might at ease at their club in St. James’s Street.
Our lives mean nothing to these men; human beings are the commodities of their business.
Pure helpless rage began to push out rational thought until a shout intruded on the conversation.
Richard looked up to see a boy waving from the top of the cliff.
The guards shouted back, grinning from ear to ear and pointing to Richard and Lily.
Not uninhabited then. His eyes had adjusted to the light. He noticed belatedly a handful of small boats tied at the far end of the cove. Fishing village?
Before Richard could process this new information, he heard a scuffle from below and turned to see Scarface emerge from the hatch. He gave a vicious yank on a rope, and Volkov emerged from below decks.
If Lily’s gasp concerned Richard, the look on her face horrified him. She gaped at Volkov; sheer terror warred with compassion. Richard tried to step between Lily and the sight of her erstwhile enemy but was held back. They’ve forced her to see what they are capable of.
Volkov limped across the deck, stumbling periodically when Scarface yanked him forward.
He still wore the crude loincloth they had dressed him in.
His battered face looked worse, swollen and purple in places.
One eye was swollen shut, cuts from beatings seeped on both cheeks, and his lips were cracked and dry where they weren’t split, as if they didn’t give him water?
Bruises covered his arms, legs, and chest. Rat bites covered his legs.
A crusted red line circled his neck from ear to ear.
Remnant of a half-hearted threat to cut his throat?
Volkov’s arrival must have satisfied Hamidou.
He barked an order, and two crew members descended the gangplank.
Richard’s keeper tugged his rope and led him down also.
He turned to see Lily being led forward.
When she reached the gangplank, her captor put a hand under her elbow to steady her before he led her slowly down.
Richard peered closely at the man’s face, memorizing the face of the one who showed one small gesture of kindness.
Volkov didn’t fare as well. Scarface pulled him sharply forward. Richard suspected he might have yanked him around more but didn’t want to lose him over the side of the gangplank.
A crew member above gave Hamidou a cocky salute, and the captain himself disembarked with the arrogant stride of any admiral leaving his ship.
Richard scanned the deck and rigging but saw only one crew member left behind to stand watch.
They must be damned confident about this anchorage, he thought.
By now the boy had disappeared from the cliff top to the left, but Richard could see that a path led up a gentler rise to the right. A group of people gathered there.
The crew milled around at the foot of the gangplank. In the confusion, Richard inched closer to Lily.
“Steady on, Lily. Hamidou’s promised us, ‘we must care for you,’” he reminded her.
“‘Merchandise,’” she countered through clenched teeth. “He said they must care for their merchandise.” She looked at Volkov and quickly away, as if she might be sick.
Before Richard could counter her obvious fear, their captors pulled them forward to the sound of cheering above. Hamidou strode through the center of his crew to lead them up the rise. When he reached the top, he made a pronouncement.
“What did he say?” Richard asked. Lily merely shook her head.
They moved briskly. He watched Lily closely for signs of distress.
Her breathing became hard, but she looked able to keep up.
The crowd on the rise parted when they reached the top.
A cluster of mud brick houses, perhaps twenty or more, lay scattered in a hollow space only slightly lower than the spot they stood on.
Women, children, and old men crowded in front of the houses; they cheered at Richard and Lily when they came into view.
Their keepers didn’t pause to enjoy the view. They slowed their pace and led them down into town. Barking dogs and shouting children followed alongside them. A woman with a tambourine led the line of march. Like we are some damned holiday parade, a freak show!
They promenaded a convoluted route around houses and the few trees.
Hamidou is stretching the show as far as he can, Richard thought.
They stopped in front of what appeared to be the largest house.
An open space, more empty lot than plaza, enabled many of their followers to crowd around to view the spectacle.
Richard moved sideways so that his arm touched Lily’s shoulder. When she leaned closer, the movement touched him deeply. He wanted to comfort but couldn’t find words.
Scarface brushed past them dragging Volkov, who collapsed at Hamidou’s feet. Hamidou ignored him. Scarface took his place at Hamidou’s right, chin high, arrogant scowl in place. An old man came forward, smiling, to accept Hamidou’s embrace.
The men exchanged words, their tone obviously intended for the gathered crowd to hear. He looked down at Lily, but she shook her head. She didn’t understand them either. Richard heard one word he had heard before, back during their capture, kafir. He had no idea what it meant.
Hamidou barked an order. For the first time, his eyes met Richard’s. He repeated his words from the ship. “Welcome to Tarcin, English. These are your hosts.”
Their captors pulled them to their right past the large house. As they left the gathering, Richard heard laughter and cheering. He looked back to see Scarface and another man lead Volkov the other direction toward a clump of trees.
They arrived at a hovel a bit larger than their cell on the ship.
The man with kind eyes, the one who helped Lily descend the ship, untied their bindings and gestured for them to enter.
A cloth fell shut behind them to cover the door.
Afternoon sun filtered through two small windows.
Their prison boasted a platform covered with thin blankets and little else.
Lily sank down on it and curled into a ball.
Richard clamped back the impotent rage toward the men who did this to her. Emotion would not serve. He had to think.
“Lily, can we talk?”
“About what?” she murmured without moving.
“What you saw, what you heard.”
“Volkov. I saw Volkov.”
He sank down beside her. The platform kept them from the dirt floor but was only marginally softer. He moved to kneel in the dirt so that he could put his face close to hers, reached up a hand, and caressed her cheek.
“I’m sorry they made you see that.”
She did not respond.
“Please talk to me, Lily. I need your help.”
She blinked twice and raised her head. “My help?”
“Remember our conversation about information. I need to know what you saw and heard.”
She pushed herself up, her face a mask of concentration.
Better, Lily. “Help” must be the magic word.
“I saw a cove with three small boats. Only one looked like it had recent use.”
He hadn’t noticed that detail. We really do need to work together. “What else? Did you understand any words?”
“Not much. They greeted Hamidou’s pronouncement at the dock with applause. I’m not sure, but he may have told them he brought them gifts.”
Richard bit his lower lip. “They’re poor enough here. Any gift would be cause for celebration.”
“I think we’re the gift,” she said wearily.
He couldn’t deny that. Gifts to use? Gifts to sell? Gifts for ransom?
“What is kafir? Do you know it? I heard that word on the ship and today in the square.”
“Kafir is the same in Turkish and Arabic, perhaps Berber. It means infidel.”
“Like yazychnik, what they called Volkov?”
“The same. Unbeliever.”