Don’t touch that!’
Janneke could tell that her father was trying not to shout. Trying to sound firm but reasonable. Trying to seem unperturbed, just annoyed, as any merchant would.
The soldier reached forward and pulled bags from the wagon, spilling flour and onions onto the ground.
‘We have to eat that!’ Janneke said angrily. It had been hard enough finding the food she wanted in this tiny Turkish town, and it was still a day’s journey to Smyrna on the Aegean coast.
The year was 1642, and she and her father had been on this trading trip for nearly 12 months.
‘By the time we get back to Holland, I will be a year older,’ she thought. ‘Time is ticking and I want to be wed to Thomas.’
The Turkish soldier shrugged, pulled more goods from the wagon and stirred the merchandise with his foot. His eyes went to Janneke.
‘No!’ Mynheer Schelke started forward.
‘Don’t, Father,’ Janneke forced herself to smile. ‘It will be all right.’
Schelke subsided, keeping himself in check with great effort.
‘Ach, there’s nothing here!’ the soldier said.
Janneke tried her best to relax, to seem unconcerned that there was anything for
