us, so you can’t expect him to be proficient at anything else, can you?”
Argen laughed mildly at the joke, looked dismissively at Marco, then led the others up the gangplank onto the ship.
“Captain, where are our cabins?” Argen shouted at a group of officers standing on the poop deck elevated above the rest of the ship.
The captain spoke briefly to a lieutenant, who hurried down to meet the guests as Marco carried a rolled-up tapestry onto the ship, and stopped to stand behind the nobles, who blocked his progress.
“Your highness,” the lieutenant spoke to the prince, “we have a number of cabins reserved for you and your companions. Please follow me,” he spoke deferentially, then turned and led the way down to the passage that Marco knew so well.
“These are unacceptable!” Argen shouted loudly a minute later, as the group crowded into the hall and looked into the small berths they were allocated. “It will take three of these cabins just for one of us; you’ll have to do better.”
“Sir, this ship has nothing better. Our officers are being removed from these cabins that are usually theirs in order to provide them to the prince’s companions,” the lieutenant spoke with a firmness that Marco admired as he stood near the stairs, waiting for the nobles to make room for him to get through.
Satisfied that he had carried out his duty, the naval officer departed, and the unhappy members of the conquered army leadership stood at a momentary loss, until Argen spotted Marco standing behind them. “Look at that lazy rogue, standing there instead of working. And these berths are a disgrace; he’s mixed the pile up completely wrong.
“Every one of these will have to be emptied, and then the packages placed in the proper cabins,” he shouted at Marco and he pressed around his companions to reach the boy.
“There was no direction on which ones were to go in which cabins,” Marco observed.
“Are you talking back to me? This is intolerable! Colonel Varsen, have this lout flogged!” Argen’s voice rose to a shrill level.
“The boy did the best he could,” Prince Ellersby spoke up unexpectedly in Marco’s defense. “We’ve all been defeated enough; look at the slice on his head. There’s no reason to flog him this time,” the prince pronounced, as Marco was acutely aware of all eyes turned towards him during the dispute. “We’ll all go up on deck, and someone can direct him on how to sort the items out into the appropriate cabins.”
The prince turned his back wearily on the situation, and walked away. The women and most of the men automatically began to follow.
“You,” Colonel Varsen spoke to a lower-ranked officer, “Captain Fyld, stay and direct the boy to get the job done right, and promptly.” With that order, the colonel also began to walk away.
Count Argen remained glowering at Marco a moment longer. “You’re lucky the prince is so soft-hearted,” he snapped at Marco in a low voice, then he shoved his hand rudely into Marco’s chest for a measure of abuse that seemed to make the surly man feel better, and he too left the passageway.
Marco and the captain found themselves the only two remaining in the passage.
The officer looked at Marco appraisingly. “Put that down, and get over here,” he commanded.
Marco automatically obeyed, and the captain set him to work. The air in the hallway and cabins was warm and unmoving; Marco had already worked up a sweat from his labors. He took a deep breath as he listened to the officer speak.
“The boxes that have a red number 1 on them are the prince’s,” the captain explained. “We’ll put them in this cabin,” he thumped the flat of his hand on a cabin door. “It looks to be the biggest of the ones we’ve got.
“Start moving everything out of this cabin. I’ll look through the others and find the crates that belong to the prince so that you can get them loaded in his cabin,” the
Argen laughed mildly at the joke, looked dismissively at Marco, then led the others up the gangplank onto the ship.
“Captain, where are our cabins?” Argen shouted at a group of officers standing on the poop deck elevated above the rest of the ship.
The captain spoke briefly to a lieutenant, who hurried down to meet the guests as Marco carried a rolled-up tapestry onto the ship, and stopped to stand behind the nobles, who blocked his progress.
“Your highness,” the lieutenant spoke to the prince, “we have a number of cabins reserved for you and your companions. Please follow me,” he spoke deferentially, then turned and led the way down to the passage that Marco knew so well.
“These are unacceptable!” Argen shouted loudly a minute later, as the group crowded into the hall and looked into the small berths they were allocated. “It will take three of these cabins just for one of us; you’ll have to do better.”
“Sir, this ship has nothing better. Our officers are being removed from these cabins that are usually theirs in order to provide them to the prince’s companions,” the lieutenant spoke with a firmness that Marco admired as he stood near the stairs, waiting for the nobles to make room for him to get through.
Satisfied that he had carried out his duty, the naval officer departed, and the unhappy members of the conquered army leadership stood at a momentary loss, until Argen spotted Marco standing behind them. “Look at that lazy rogue, standing there instead of working. And these berths are a disgrace; he’s mixed the pile up completely wrong.
“Every one of these will have to be emptied, and then the packages placed in the proper cabins,” he shouted at Marco and he pressed around his companions to reach the boy.
“There was no direction on which ones were to go in which cabins,” Marco observed.
“Are you talking back to me? This is intolerable! Colonel Varsen, have this lout flogged!” Argen’s voice rose to a shrill level.
“The boy did the best he could,” Prince Ellersby spoke up unexpectedly in Marco’s defense. “We’ve all been defeated enough; look at the slice on his head. There’s no reason to flog him this time,” the prince pronounced, as Marco was acutely aware of all eyes turned towards him during the dispute. “We’ll all go up on deck, and someone can direct him on how to sort the items out into the appropriate cabins.”
The prince turned his back wearily on the situation, and walked away. The women and most of the men automatically began to follow.
“You,” Colonel Varsen spoke to a lower-ranked officer, “Captain Fyld, stay and direct the boy to get the job done right, and promptly.” With that order, the colonel also began to walk away.
Count Argen remained glowering at Marco a moment longer. “You’re lucky the prince is so soft-hearted,” he snapped at Marco in a low voice, then he shoved his hand rudely into Marco’s chest for a measure of abuse that seemed to make the surly man feel better, and he too left the passageway.
Marco and the captain found themselves the only two remaining in the passage.
The officer looked at Marco appraisingly. “Put that down, and get over here,” he commanded.
Marco automatically obeyed, and the captain set him to work. The air in the hallway and cabins was warm and unmoving; Marco had already worked up a sweat from his labors. He took a deep breath as he listened to the officer speak.
“The boxes that have a red number 1 on them are the prince’s,” the captain explained. “We’ll put them in this cabin,” he thumped the flat of his hand on a cabin door. “It looks to be the biggest of the ones we’ve got.
“Start moving everything out of this cabin. I’ll look through the others and find the crates that belong to the prince so that you can get them loaded in his cabin,” the
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