together.
'What is this curse?' she asked uncertainly.
'It is a long story, and painful. It is why I go on pilgrimage.'
She thought he meant the tutelary at Montserrat, of course. He was thinking of Oreste's relentless pursuit. He reassured her, pointing out that no evil had come to her in the last few days while she was in his company. He took her over to the place where Hamish was still snoring, and together they wrapped the bottle securely in Hamish's blanket and put it in his pack with the books.
CHAPTER SIX
When he saw the don and his squire riding down from their knoll, Toby went around the camp and wakened the pilgrims. Pepita was already alert, combing her hair; she jumped up and followed him, all big bright eyes and serious.
'Senor…' She tried to say 'Longdirk' and stumbled over it.
'Call me Toby.'
'Senor Toby.' She spoke very solemnly. 'I asked Brother Bernat why I saw two of you and he said that that was a very bad thing to say about anyone and I must tell you I was sorry and promise you I would never tell anyone else.'
He smiled down at her — a long way down, for the top of her head barely reached his ribs. 'Then I thank you and accept your promise. Did he tell you why you see two of me, though?'
She pouted. 'No. He said I will understand later, and perhaps you could see two of me.'
'No, just one. But it's a very pretty one.'
She liked that. He wanted to ask more questions, but it seemed unfair to interrogate a child. He would have a talk with her sharp-eyed guardian.
'Are you going to catch the horses, Senor Toby? I can help! I'm very good with horses.'
She certainly was. She walked up to each of Senora Collel's three in turn, took hold of its halter, then led it to Toby. He was certain they would not have been so cooperative for him. She demonstrated how the chairs and their footboards were secured to the pack saddles and explained earnestly how important it was that the folding stepladder be the last thing loaded on the packhorse, so that it would be available for the ladies to mount and dismount.
Then the two of them went to help Josep, whose bumbling efforts to catch the Brusi horses had put them to flight. He had gone around behind them and was driving them back toward the
Josep arrived after them, hot and ashamed. He was not only inexperienced, he was obviously nervous of the big teeth and feet. Pepita's complete lack of fear could not be helping his feelings, although he thanked her graciously enough.
'I am better with ledgers, Captain,' he muttered, red-faced.
'Each to his own. Figures terrify me. Let's go and steal some of the mule's load.'
'Oh… I have not yet asked my father's permission, Captain.'
'Call me Toby. If he doesn't like it, he'll have to take care of the matter himself. I need you to interpret for me. Pepita, you go back to Brother Bernat now.'
'Why?'
Because there might be trouble.
'Because you need to put your hair up.'
Pepita flounced off angrily. Toby led one of the packhorse over to the Rafael-and-Miguel group, who had just managed to drive Thunderbolt into a corner, where he was being difficult, with hooves flying. Josep explained their intentions in a rapid stream of Catalan, and the peasants grew difficult also. Their surly faces dark with suspicion, they shouted that they did not trust offers of free transportation, they did not trust Senor Brusi or foreigners. They did not trust anyone. The tall one with the big nose was Rafael, the burly one with the long black beard was Miguel. The women were still unnamed.
Handing Josep the horse's bridle while the argument continued to rage, Toby pushed his way in and soothed the mule. Thunderbolt was not quite willing to be friends but reserved judgment on being an enemy, since the stranger had not yet piled any mountains on him. He let Toby lead him over to the waiting heap of goods. The onlookers were impressed. The men stopped carping to watch and the women switched from strident to grumble.
Inspecting the pile, Toby saw that the problem was simpler than he had realized. A bundle of ashwood staves would no doubt prove very useful when these poor folk were struggling to reestablish their living, but carrying such a load through this dangerous countryside was sheer insanity. The same went for three empty wineskins.
'Josep, did they start out with all this clutter, or have they been doing a little selective looting?'
The youngster grinned. 'A bit of both. The barrel appeared two days ago.'
'Well, will you explain to them that we must make all possible speed, that we are running short of food, that every day on the road increases our danger of being set upon by brigands, and that brigands, if any do attack us, will strip us of everything and either kill us or leave us naked?'
While the translation was in progress, Toby selected a weighty bundle of tools and implements and loaded that on the Brusi horse. He added a bag of meal and a bulky sack that smelled of onions. Rafael tried to stop the food being taken, Toby jostled him aside with a warning glare.
That, he decided, was enough ransom to put into the avaricious grasp of Salvador Brusi, but there was still too much left. He picked up the oaken barrel. Even empty, it was weighty.
'Ask them why they need this.'
All four responded with shrill protests that it was valuable.
Toby lifted it overhead, smashed it down on a rock, and then it wasn't.
He halted Rafael's attack by placing a very large fist in front of his nose. Rafael backed off, but Miguel tried to lash at him with a whip. Toby jabbed him in the belly — gently by his standards, but enough to put him down. With shrieks that were probably audible in Barcelona, the women sprang forward, claws out, so he drew his sword. That restored order for a moment; but when he slashed the three wineskins and cut the rope around the bundle of staves, all four of them came for him, and he had to threaten them with it. Even young Brusi looked totally appalled at this method of doing business.
'Josep, tell them that all this junk must stay where it is. The rest they can load, but if their mule won't keep up, I will cut its throat and roast it for supper.'
He led off the packhorse, leaving the argument still raging. As he was loading the Brusi chattels, the old man came wandering over to watch, making no effort to help. He had been watching.
'You expect me to transport those goods, senor?'
'I do.'
'At what price?'
'None whatsoever.'
The merchant frowned. 'I do not see that their trouble is my concern.'
Toby paused to wipe sweat from his forehead. 'It is my concern because I am trying to get you all safely to Barcelona. Speed is vital. It is your concern for the same reason. If I can't make you cooperate, then we are probably not going to arrive before we starve. The country is barren, senor. All this gold you carry won't buy you one dried fig.'
Brusi's eyes narrowed at the mention of gold. When spoken by a man with a sword in a lawless land, the remark was close to a threat. Toby gave him a cryptic smile and went back to work, while the old man watched with his wrinkles scrunched down in a glare.
As Josep approached, his father said, 'I could use a man like you in my business.'
Astonished, Toby took another look at him. 'You are gracious, senor. What have I done to merit such
