I’ll never know how I didn’t get
captured. No woman was allowed on
the ships, but my training as a kitchen
maid allowed me to work well within
the kitchen. Again, I was blissfully
ignored by most of the crew, but I could
sometimes strike up a light
conversation with one of them. Most of
them admired my cooking, which they
considered brilliant for a “man”.
Although I had never used a sword
before, I learn to wield a light one quite
well after a few weeks’ of training. I
didn’t mind the hard work because it
wasn’t repetitive at all. There was
always the chance of adventure on the
horizon and all my adventures helped
to dull the homesickness I used to feel
when I worked as a kitchen hand. But
not all good things last, and soon
enough, I met my downfall.
My downfall, however, was not that I
got captured and became a slave, or
that my real identity was discovered, as
I had been initially terrified of. My
downfall was that I made a friend. He
was another crew member that I had
started to have the occasional
conversation with, as he was the
friendly person that chatted with
practically the whole galley. Soon
enough our friendship grew, but after
some time relishing his company, he
started to remind me more and more of
my little brothers. I became consumed
with thoughts of my family again, so
the next time that we arrived at the
Grand Harbour, I left the galley for
good.
********
Now here I am, a street beggar at her
nadir, rueing the day I ever looked at
my reflection in the unveiled Triton
fountain. I curse myself for being so
pulled towards it and I curse every day
that passes without seeing my family.
Before “it”, I had always been fascinated
with time travelling, particularly to the
past, since I used to love history so
much. Now I abhor it, because history
cloaks my life, covering it with an
infinite shadow. It is not a wonderful
story or a brilliant adventure anymore,
like the countless ones I had dreamed
up in my innocent childhood. I have
become trapped in time.
46