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.
'A man who has not children
Will name you as his son.
In that hour you must be gone!
Turn your face back to the sea,
You will meet another one,
A father with no children,
Before you travel on.
Help him to help his children,
As his kinsman would have done.'
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:
'Turn your face back to the sea,
You will meet another one,
A father with no children,
before you travel on.
Help him to help his children,
as his kinsman would have done.' '
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
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.
