Barmocar was wrapped in an expensive-looking cloak, confident, plump – he hadn’t gone hungry during Northland’s bleak winter – and he had an air of total command. He barely glanced at Rina. ‘You’re late.’

‘We had no control over—’

‘We’d have left without you. Maybe we still will.’ He strode over to the heap of luggage. ‘Is all this yours?’

‘Only the essentials.’

Mago pushed into the heap. ‘Look, Uncle. There’s furniture in here!’ He shoved boxes off an exquisitely polished table. ‘Nice stuff.’

Rina winced. ‘That is an heirloom, in my family for generations.’

Now Mago found Nelo’s stack of artwork. He lifted a canvas, ripped off its packaging of thick paper, and theatrically flinched back. ‘Oh, good, Nelo brought his pictures!’

Nelo stepped forward, fists bunched. Alxa grabbed his arm.

Barmocar said, ‘Well, you’re going to have a job fitting all this into your cabin. Which is that.’ And he pointed at the rear of the caravan, to a single battered-looking passenger cart.

Rina felt her own temper rise. ‘Is this all that the bones of the Virgin Herself bought me?’

Barmocar shrugged. ‘It was a buyer’s market, wasn’t it? We Carthaginians have always been traders. It’s business, that’s all. Nothing personal.’ And he eyed her, waiting for her response.

This was only the beginning, she realised. She dug deep inside herself, seeking patience. She was not without resources. Once she got through this bottleneck of the journey to Carthage, she would build a new life, a new position, and then she would wipe the grin off the face of this plump, foolish, cruel man. For now, she smiled. ‘What would you suggest we do with the rest of our luggage?’

He glanced at the heap of goods. ‘Sell it to the porters, if you can. Dump it. I don’t care.’

Nelo stepped forward, still fizzing with anger. ‘I won’t leave my paintings.’

Mago laughed. ‘Then stay here and eat them, Northlander.’

‘I won’t leave my work, Mother.’

‘Silence. You’re not a child. You can see how things are. If you aren’t going to be any use just shut up. Alxa.’ She hauled a leather trunk from the heap of luggage and opened the buckles on the straps. ‘Help me. Whatever we can fit in here, we take. Nothing else. Clothes, a few sets of everything for each of us. And anything small and valuable. Jewellery – the money bags—’

‘Yes, Mother.’ Alxa at least seemed to understand; she started opening boxes and cases, hastily pulling out clothes and other goods.

There were far more clothes than could possibly fit in the trunk. Well, they could wear some, Rina thought, a few layers each. They might need that during the cold nights of travelling to come.

Nelo stared at his work, his face ashen.