perhaps even his brother might still be alive.
Then a notion took shape in Jake’s head: ‘I could stow away,’ he whispered to himself. ‘I just have to hide until we’re far out to sea. They won’t waste time bringing me back. I could persuade them to give me atomium and take me along.’
Jake hated the idea of tricking people, but the alternative was worse. He hurriedly put his parents’ passports in the inside pocket of his blazer. At the doorway he stopped to pick up his school bag. He put it on the bed and took out one of his books: the volume of history that Jupitus had sneered at. Jake flicked through its pages, its illustrations of moments in history. He had always wondered what it would be like to live in the world of those illustrations. He threw the book down and ran, leaving his bag on the bed.
He navigated his way down the labyrinth of corridors and staircases, occasionally doubling back on himself when he went wrong, until at last he came to the armoury. He hurried across the room and down the main staircase. Once again, the inscrutable eyes of Sejanus Poppoloe, the History Keepers’ long-dead founder, watched him as he passed . He opened the huge studded doors and stepped out onto the quayside.
Luckily, there was not a soul in sight: the Campana was now deserted. His heart beat at a rapid speed as he tiptoed towards it. He was about to step onto the gangplank when he heard a booming voice from above.
‘Settling in all right?’ Nathan asked as he emerged on deck, doing up the buttons of his tunic.
Jake did a double take: Nathan was now dressed in an entirely different outfit. He wore a tightly fitting jacket of dark navy suede, matching breeches and a pair of beautifully soft, worn boots. A glinting sword hung at his hip and a scarf was tied pirate-like around his head.
‘Settling in fine,’ Jake replied. ‘That’s what you’re wearing for the voyage?’
‘Italian fashion of the early 1500s is a very complicated animal’ – Nathan fitted a tiny diamond stud into his ear – ‘but I think I’ve hit the right balance, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Very authentic,’ Jake agreed – though he hadn’t the faintest idea what balance Nathan was talking about. ‘And this is the ship you’re taking to Venice?’ he asked quickly to prevent the other boy from asking what he was doing here.
‘She may not look like much, but this one’s a survivor.’ Nathan slapped the mast heartily. ‘Rumour has it that Christopher Columbus taught himself how to sail on this very vessel.’ He leaped down onto the quay. ‘I have to collect the rest of my wardrobe. The secret of always looking great is simple: have options!’ And he strode back into the castle.
Once he was out of sight, Jake took a deep breath and, pretending he was merely inspecting the ship, ascended the gangplank and stepped down onto the deck. In case anyone was watching, he made a show of examining the sails, the mast and the steering wheel, before taking one last furtive look around and disappearing down the steep, crooked staircase that led below.
Once out of sight, he immediately started searching for a hiding place. There was a tiny galley; the dining area had two doors – one leading to a neat cabin in the bows, where Topaz’s single suitcase had been installed; the other to a messy cabin in the stern, containing a bunk bed and a huge mountain of Nathan’s trunks.
Up on deck Jake heard a thud – more luggage was being loaded; then Nathan’s voice: ‘That’s the last of it. Leave it all in the cabin. I’ll unpack it myself. Careful – that tunic belonged to Charlemagne!’ The voice receded again. A moment later there was the clatter of footsteps down the stairs, then a cry as one of the sailors dropped a piece of luggage, followed by a mutter: ‘Lucky his majesty wasn’t here to see that.’
Jake quickly hid behind the door as they lugged the last of Nathan’s heavy cases into the cabin.
‘What does he need all
Then a notion took shape in Jake’s head: ‘I could stow away,’ he whispered to himself. ‘I just have to hide until we’re far out to sea. They won’t waste time bringing me back. I could persuade them to give me atomium and take me along.’
Jake hated the idea of tricking people, but the alternative was worse. He hurriedly put his parents’ passports in the inside pocket of his blazer. At the doorway he stopped to pick up his school bag. He put it on the bed and took out one of his books: the volume of history that Jupitus had sneered at. Jake flicked through its pages, its illustrations of moments in history. He had always wondered what it would be like to live in the world of those illustrations. He threw the book down and ran, leaving his bag on the bed.
He navigated his way down the labyrinth of corridors and staircases, occasionally doubling back on himself when he went wrong, until at last he came to the armoury. He hurried across the room and down the main staircase. Once again, the inscrutable eyes of Sejanus Poppoloe, the History Keepers’ long-dead founder, watched him as he passed . He opened the huge studded doors and stepped out onto the quayside.
Luckily, there was not a soul in sight: the Campana was now deserted. His heart beat at a rapid speed as he tiptoed towards it. He was about to step onto the gangplank when he heard a booming voice from above.
‘Settling in all right?’ Nathan asked as he emerged on deck, doing up the buttons of his tunic.
Jake did a double take: Nathan was now dressed in an entirely different outfit. He wore a tightly fitting jacket of dark navy suede, matching breeches and a pair of beautifully soft, worn boots. A glinting sword hung at his hip and a scarf was tied pirate-like around his head.
‘Settling in fine,’ Jake replied. ‘That’s what you’re wearing for the voyage?’
‘Italian fashion of the early 1500s is a very complicated animal’ – Nathan fitted a tiny diamond stud into his ear – ‘but I think I’ve hit the right balance, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Very authentic,’ Jake agreed – though he hadn’t the faintest idea what balance Nathan was talking about. ‘And this is the ship you’re taking to Venice?’ he asked quickly to prevent the other boy from asking what he was doing here.
‘She may not look like much, but this one’s a survivor.’ Nathan slapped the mast heartily. ‘Rumour has it that Christopher Columbus taught himself how to sail on this very vessel.’ He leaped down onto the quay. ‘I have to collect the rest of my wardrobe. The secret of always looking great is simple: have options!’ And he strode back into the castle.
Once he was out of sight, Jake took a deep breath and, pretending he was merely inspecting the ship, ascended the gangplank and stepped down onto the deck. In case anyone was watching, he made a show of examining the sails, the mast and the steering wheel, before taking one last furtive look around and disappearing down the steep, crooked staircase that led below.
Once out of sight, he immediately started searching for a hiding place. There was a tiny galley; the dining area had two doors – one leading to a neat cabin in the bows, where Topaz’s single suitcase had been installed; the other to a messy cabin in the stern, containing a bunk bed and a huge mountain of Nathan’s trunks.
Up on deck Jake heard a thud – more luggage was being loaded; then Nathan’s voice: ‘That’s the last of it. Leave it all in the cabin. I’ll unpack it myself. Careful – that tunic belonged to Charlemagne!’ The voice receded again. A moment later there was the clatter of footsteps down the stairs, then a cry as one of the sailors dropped a piece of luggage, followed by a mutter: ‘Lucky his majesty wasn’t here to see that.’
Jake quickly hid behind the door as they lugged the last of Nathan’s heavy cases into the cabin.
‘What does he need all
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