Chapter Nine
by Paula B and CJ
25 July 1562
Penzance
Late Morning
"Land Ho!"
The storm that raged for nearly two days died as abruptly as it had come upon them. Captain Galindez had stayed by the helmsman for most of that time leaving for only moments to check on Francesca who insisted upon staying in the small wheelhouse, just behind the helm. "I do not understand why you cannot fix it so that you can steer from inside, Victor." She sighed.
He laughed and ruffled her hair and then lowered his lips to hers. He couldn’t believe she had readily come to his bed. Galindez had bedded many women in his career as a pirate. This was the first one who he dreaded leaving. But he knew she would leave him. Knew that she would return to the tiny village to stay with her father.
Francesca told him of her mother and how much she missed her. She spoke rapturously of her father . How much she admired him and how much he needed her. "He really would be lost without me, Victor."
Victor told her he understood. "I too have a family. I would do anything to protect them. My mother lives back in Barcelona with two of my sisters."
"Oh. You have other sisters?"
"Oh, si. Two are older than I and have many children between them."
"And the two with your mother?"
"One is just 12 years. She will marry when the time comes."
"The other? Is she an old maid?" As soon as Francesca said the words she knew that she had hurt him deeply. "Victor? What is wrong?"
"Nothing." He left her then and returned to the helm. He took the wheel and told the helmsman to go and get something hot to drink. Standing there in the driving rain he tried to keep the memories from crowding his mind but when he felt her hand on his arm and looked down into her rain-soaked face, he knew he was lost for good.
"I am very sorry, Victor. Please come back inside and tell me what bad thing I have said." She had to shout over the storm and he tried to get her to go back inside. But she wouldn’t leave until the helmsman returned and took over again. He pushed her roughly inside and his fury at the pain and the clear desire he saw in her face drove him to make wild abandoned love to her. He ripped the clothes from her body and held her against the wall as he plunged into her molten core in one smooth thrust. It was like their very bodies knew instinctively to complete the circuit. She joyously wrapped her legs around his waist and cried out her encouragement. She came with a shriek that rivaled the wind while he shuddered silently, burying his face in the hollow of her shoulder. He laid her carefully on the narrow thin bunk but when he tried to step away from her, she held him tightly and demanded hoarsely, "Tell me."
And he told her. They lay together, he still buried deep inside her. His lips were so close to her ear that his hot breath almost tickled. He told her the story of his beautiful fiery sister Bonita and how she sang and danced the flamenco for the patrons of his mother’s cantina. How Captain Wallace, a fine nobleman of the English court brought his first mate to dine. And how the first mate, Clark Palmer courted her and begged her betrothal and then on the night before their wedding had brutally raped her and told her she was little better than a whore and thrown her out into the night naked. "I was away at sea. I didn’t hear of it for nearly six months. But by the time I got home it was too late. She just sits in my mother’s house and does nothing but stare out the window. So yes. She will be as you say, an old maid - forever imprisoned by her memories. She was not strong like you Francesca, my dearest love."
"Strong? You think me strong, Victor?" She held him as he cried. "I am only strong because you see me not as a whore, but as a cherished love. I do not want you to leave me Victor."
That night he had vowed to marry her . And the next morning when he awoke, the sun was shining and for the first time, he thought to check on his other passengers. He panicked when he did not find Sarah in her room and stormed down to his cabin. He was just about to barge in unannounced when he heard her keening cry, "Yes, yes, yes, Claaaaaaaay." Shaking his head he turned away relieved that she was safe. He was amused that two such beautiful women had ensnared both him and Webb.
By the time the Revenge anchored at Penzance, the Trident was already off-loading many of its crew. Clay left Sarah, sated and asleep in his bunk, to come and stand on deck to watch the ropes being secured. Francesca stood on the deck next to him but didn’t say anything. She was too busy trying to find her uncle in the crowd. «Oh dear. I know he is very sick, but shouldn’t they have him on deck by now? I must get him to a doctor.» "Look!" she cried. "Papa! Papa! I’m here!" She waved frantically to Alberthol. Her father waved back and that’s when Clay gasped.
"Look Fran. There’s Martyn, next to your father. He looks better than I would have thought."
She nearly fell into the water trying to get down the gangplank. Only Galindez’s firm hand on her arm kept her safe. Webb waited until the Chegwiddens were reunited. He wasn’t surprised to see the tiny little nun appear from behind her brothers. Even Dylan was there, watching his sister anxiously. After Francesca dragged Galindez forward to introduce him to her father and aunt, Clay grinned and turned to go back to wake Sarah, muttering as he did. "Your days at sea are numbered my friend."
25 July 1562
Chegwidden House
Chegwidden, Cornwall
Mid-afternoon
Francesca unceasingly begged her father to call for a doctor to see her uncle. He was pale and she worried about him. "He has lost so much blood, Papa. It was everywhere. I do not know how he walks. You should not have let him wait at the dock. You should have taken him directly home," she chastised her father.
Alberthol finally consented. He sent a message to Penzance requesting the doctor's services. Dr. Meeks arrived at the Chegwidden home just after lunch. His assistant, a burly young man named Tearlach, followed him inside. Alberthol explained that Martyn was sleeping, and Meeks seemed to take this as a good sign.
"Take me to him," Meeks said quietly.
Martyn rested peacefully, his large body filling the small bed. Alberthol and Tearlach watched as Meeks lifted Martyn's shirt, uncovering the wound, which had almost completely healed. The doctor shook his head and led the men back to the door. "It is a grave matter. You were right to call me. The wound has healed quickly, and this can be a good thing, but the hot blood has not been allowed to exit the body. He is pale and weak because his humors are out of balance. We must let the blood out or he will never be well, even when the wound is fully healed."
Alberthol glanced from the doctor to his brother, then back again before he nodded reluctantly. "Do what you must," he said quietly before he walked out of the room.
Turning to Tearlach, Meeks whispered, "You know what to do." He opened his bag and removed some knotted rags. He handed some to Tearlach, who walked to the head of the bed and stood over Martyn. Meeks made his way to the other side of the bed. He nodded to Tearlach, and both of them grabbed an arm and tied it to the bed. The men had moved to his legs when Martyn woke, roaring in anger, but the damage was done. He was tied fast.
Meeks stood over Martyn and spoke in soothing tones. "This is merely to keep you from injuring yourself. Your wound has healed too fast, holding in some of the blood that needed to leave your body and balance the humors. We need to reopen the wound."
"You need to do what?" Martyn bellowed, pulling at the restraints. "You'll not touch me!"
"No need to yell. It won't change matters. The fact remains that you must be bled. The more you struggle, the worse it will be," Meeks explained. «He's awfully strong for such a sick man. The blood has boiled in his body, making him a raving madman, I'm sure.»
"I'll not be bled. Do you hear me?" Martyn cried, "I'll not be bled!"
Meeks lifted a knife from his bag. "You must hold still, Chegwidden," Meeks hissed.
Alberthol could hear his brother shouting. He started toward the room, ready to call it off, when the noise stopped. He sighed with relief. «He is strong. Martyn has always been strong.»
Meeks looked Tearlach in the eye. The younger man struck the patient, knocking him out, silencing Martyn's cries. The doctor began to work, opening the wound along the scar. He watched as the blood ran into the basin. Unfortunately, he failed to notice that his blade had gone much deeper than the doctor intended, and nicked Martyn's liver. Meeks smiled and sighed with relief, "Soon, soon he will recover completely. The wound will heal well."
Martyn slept quietly as his life spilled out into the doctor's basin.
He stared down at her sleeping form and felt his cock stir for the wanting of her. In the two days that the storm had raged he couldn’t remember how many times they had made love. She was a willing partner and a more than willing student in learning how to pleasure him and to accept his pleasuring of her.
"Oh Clayton, they lied." She crooned just before they fell asleep last night.
"Who lied my love?" He kissed her sweat-streaked brow.
"The women who whispered of love being a chore." She kissed him soundly before snuggling into his chest.
"'Tis not their fault most likely, Sarah. They know only what they have been told. And if they married cads, or unknowing lads, then it only served to prove the point." He stared up into the darkness, not allowing himself to fall asleep until he felt her breathing even out, her faint snore barely audible.
"Mmmmmmm. Good morning." She yawned.
"Good morrow, fair maiden." He grinned down at her.
"Will we dock soon?"
"Sooner than you think my love. Come and see. We are home." He sighed in contentment until he saw sorrow and gloom take hold of her features. Sitting next to her, he pulled her into his arms. "Darling, do you think I lied?"
"Lied, Clayton?" She tried to push him away but he held her tighter.
"I swore you would be mine. Did you think I would take my pleasure and then leave you to Elizabeth?"
"You will take me to her though."
"Yes, and we will do as we planned."
This time when she pushed away, he let her. "Yes. But it is a dangerous game we play, Clayton. It could cost you much."
"As long as it gains me you, there is no loss too great," he whispered.
"Bah. Go and let me don my finery." She sighed. Standing up she found the breeches and shirt Galindez had loaned her. Webb handed her the long black cloak that Galindez had left. She tried valiantly to do something with her hair but in the end just sighed and found a length of cloth, tore it thin and tied her mass of auburn hair back at her neck. She smiled ruefully when she turned. "Perhaps we should just ride to London and make a grand appearance. We would both be banished forever."
"Nay, love. The cloak will hide your boyish finery. Come, my lady." He offered her his hand and she rested hers on top and let him lead her out into the bright morning sun.
The cabin boy was waiting just outside on deck, panting in exertion. "Miss, sorry I couldn’t reach you sooner, but the Mizzus Roberts sent these for ye." He held out a pair of simple shoes. He looked at Webb. "She sent word to tell ye yer mother, her ladyship, I mean the Duchess is sending a carriage straight away."
"Thank you for your kindness, dear Robbie." Sarah leaned forward and bestowed a kiss upon the lad’s cheek. "Thank you all." She smiled gently at the crew who had gathered around them.
Clay led her down the gangplank and up the street. They could not see any of the Chegwiddens or Galindez. The cabin boy from the Trident came running up to them. "Easy Tiner," Lord Clayton gently chided the boy. "What news?"
"Mr. Tronada sends his compliments. He is waiting for you at the Mast and Anchor."
"Very well. Be on the lookout for my family’s carriage."
"Yes your lordship." Tiner bowed and ran off to the last dock on the pier. The Gorgon would be another hour before it docked and unloaded its passengers. Sarah made to follow Tiner. But Clay stopped her.
"Come my love. Mrs. Roberts will have laid out breakfast. We will wait for Beth there."
"Oh, Clayton, I do so hope all is well for her." Sarah looked worriedly over her shoulder as Clay led her down the street.
There was little extra room in the alehouse. Crew from the Trident and the Revenge crowded around every table. Lauren Singer was lugging tankards and Mrs. Roberts was placing tureens of rich spicy stew at each table. Even Mr. Roberts was helping by passing out huge loaves of fresh baked bread. In the back Sarah sat huddled with the cloak around her, thankful for the captain’s generosity. Clay sat next to her and Tronada sat across from them, his back to the door.
Mrs. Roberts bustled up to the table. "Are you sure I cannot loan you one of my dresses, your ladyship, it is rough but clean."
"Thank you, Harriet. But there’s no need. I sent word to the castle. Father will send a carriage." Webb smiled at her.
"Very well." Harriet sighed and placed yet another loaf of bread on the table between them. She had never seen a lady eat so much. It did her proud to know that Lady Sarah had already eaten as much as any of the sailors.
"'Tis most excellent, Mrs. Roberts." Sarah tore another hunk of bread and dipped into the trencher. "And, I thank you for the offer."
Harriet blushed and started to shout at Lauren to bring more ale when the door burst open and more shouts could be heard. But none were as loud as the high pitched squeal from behind her. "Beth!"
Lady Elizabeth Hawkes stood in the doorway. Harmon Rabb was just behind her, an amused tolerant smile on his face. She was dressed in breeches and wore a fine black vest over her flowing white shirt. She stood there with a huge, very unladylike grin on her face. "Sarah! Clayton!" She practically bellowed and the room fell silent. A look of awe covered most of the men’s faces as the woman strode forward. And then the reverent mutterings could be heard.
"Did ya see her fight down the streets of Lagos?"
"I were there, and she gave better than she got."
"'Tis a fine beauty."
"'Tis a finer sailor. I seen her from the spy glass, I did."
"Aye, she’ll give the new captain a run fer his money, I’ll swear."
"Aye. The boy is lost. But I’ll not be the one to tell him so."
"'Tis besotted beyond means."
"Lauren, more ale. Leave the lad alone." Braedwyn Roberts nudged his serving wench.
Lauren Singer glared at the way Rabb followed the flaxen hair beauty as Beth made her way through the seated sailors.
Beth smiled at all the men and returned several greetings but her eyes were locked on the back table.
Sarah was thrilled and shocked by her friend’s appearance. Where all she wanted to do was hide in shame because of her lack of a proper dress, Beth held her head high and looked like she had been born to the sea. The two ladies in waiting to Queen Elizabeth met and embraced each other. "Oh Beth. You look so happy." Sarah whispered.
"Aye." The other smiled and then whispered back, "And you my dear look positively radiant."
"Do I? Come and sit. Clayton has sent for a carriage. It should be here soon and we can both go up to the castle and change into more suitable clothing."
Beth pulled away from her friend and sighed. "Sit down, Sarah, we need to talk."
"Yes dearest, but once we get to Trezance. I want nothing more than to bathe and brush my hair and actually dress again." Sarah sighed in anticipation. Clay smiled contentedly at her but turned a wary gaze upon Lady Beth.
"No, Sarah." Beth replied quietly and looked up a Rabb who had a happy but frightened look on his face. "Captain Rabb." She said with pride. "Has asked me to wed. I’m not sure I will do so, but I want to go with him."
"Elizabeth Hawkes!" Sarah retorted. She started to stand up in fury, but Webb reached out his hand and urged her to sit back down. She did but her tirade continued. "Are you daft? What has he done to you?" She glared menacingly at the new captain of the Gorgon.
"Do to me, Sarah? From the looks of it, less than what you and Lord Webb have finally done. Thank the saints." Reaching out both hands, she took Sarah’s hands in hers. "Dearest I cannot go back there. I will surely die of boredom. I’ve tasted freedom, Sarah, and this is the only way I can continue it."
Webb sighed and looked from Rabb to Beth and then to Sarah. Sitting forward he spoke softly but intently. "Beth, listen to me. I don’t know what he told you, but it isn’t all glamour and swift sailing. We had a calm voyage." He held up his hand at her snort. "Aye Beth. Tell her, Rabb. It rained and thundered for two days. Tell her of the week-long storms. Tell her of the month long rationing of water. Tell her of the treachery among the men and of their superstitions against women. What will you do Beth, when the Gorgon is taken and someone claims you? When someone has his way with you against your will."
Before Rabb could say anything Beth smiled sadly. "Then it will happen, Clayton. But until then I will live on my own terms. I will fight to the death to preserve rights that I suspect are truly my due. But I will take whatever is handed me." She took a long drink from the tankard sitting between her and Rabb, giving the Gorgon’s captain a chance to finally speak.
"I cannot answer for next year or two years from now, your lordship, but this I swear, as I live, I will defend her. As long as I captain the Sea Hawke – for that is the name I have decided to rechristen her – my men will treat her with respect." His voice dropped. "Though I doubt if it has much to do with me. They all revere her."
Sarah, tears in her eyes, whispered. "And what shall we tell Elizabeth? You don’t dare return to court and expect her to just let you go again."
"Nay, Sarah. Tell her I died. Or better yet, tell her I was so distraught at my misfortune that I ran away in Portugal and you don’t know what became of me."
"But what will you do? You can not privateer for her without her finding out someday." Sarah cautioned. Her panic at her friend’s decision was growing with each word.
"Oh there’s a pretty penny to be made in the New World. Trade to secure. The Sea Hawke…" Beth blushed at the name but continued excitedly, "…has 16 guns. Merchant ships are always looking for protection from pirates and the Royal Navy will do nothing unless the owner has the queen’s ear."
Rabb took a long drink and smiled at the woman who had managed to capture his ship and his soul, all without firing a shot.
Sitting back in her chair, Beth turned the tables on her friend. "So tell me, Sarah, what will you do to stay with your lover."
"Elizabeth!" Sarah blushed a bright red, very close to the blush on Webb’s face but Beth just shook her head. "Oh, play not the maiden with me, Sarah MacKenzie. It is written in your face. I can see it in the way you lean toward him. The way he is looking now. I have only one thing to say to you, your ladyship, and that is huzzah! Well done and don’t let the queen keep you apart. What do you plan?"
Sarah and Clay had talked of what they would do between sleeping and loving and the occasional bite to eat, but neither had come up with a foolproof plan. "'Tis hard, Beth. She is so mercurial and yet knowing. I only hope that when she finds that my virtue is gone she will leave me to marry who I please." Saying it, Sarah looked her love in the eye. "Whatever happens, you have my heart," she whispered fiercely.
"And you have my soul," he returned with equal vigor.
"Well now that you have that settled." Beth observed wryly, "What plan you, for Lady Walden."
Sarah hung her head, but Clay’s snapped up like a shot. "Lady Walden? What’s to do with Lady Walden?"
"You didn’t tell him, Sarah?"
"Tell me what?"
Sarah stared at Clay. She had never heard him speak in such a cold manner.
"We don’t know that he wasn’t lying, Beth. To make trouble."
"Bah." Beth glared at her friend. "You heard him as well as I did. Why would he lie? You know he thought he had us bested. You thought he did too."
"Oh! And I suppose you didn’t think we were lost?" Sarah retorted hotly.
"Nay. And…"
"Enough!" Webb’s voice cracked like thunder and the room went dead quiet. Dropping his voice to a low hiss he demanded. "Tell me exactly what you heard Wallace say!" He turned his cold glare upon Rabb. "And you sir! You are the former mate of the Gorgon. You will tell me everything that you know or that you supposed." Just then the door swung open again and he saw his father standing in the entry. Nodding his head briskly, Webb offered his hand to Sarah. "And we will continue this conversation within more private walls." At Beth’s stubborn look he hissed. "Do not force the issue, madam."
Gone was the pleasant courtier. Gone was the dandy who laughed at all their jokes and who complimented their taste in clothes. Sarah had caught glimpse of it as he got them to the docks in Lagos, but this was the first time either lady had seen the real man Elizabeth Regina trusted to bring her information on her allies and even negotiate secret treaties with her sworn enemies. Beth looked around the room and realized something else. The men of the Revenge must have seen something in the man that they respected because they were ignoring the altercation and silently drinking their ale and so were the men of the Trident. Even the few men present from Rabb’s ship decided they wanted no part of the argument between the queen’s man and Beth.
In a move she used to let a gentleman know that he had gone too far in their flirtations, Lady Elizabeth Hawkes rose hauntingly and coldly spat. "Very well, Lord Webb. Pray command where we will go. Your arm, Captain Rabb." She purred.
25 July 1562
Cliffs near the seaside
Penzance, Cornwall
Late afternoon
It surprised Victor to see her walk so close to the edge of the cliffs. He was relieved that she held his hand. Of course, he also simply enjoyed that she held his hand. The wind ruffled wisps of her hair and turned her cheeks red. «She's so beautiful.»
"How long will you stay, Victor?" Francesca asked. "I know that it will not be long. Uncle Martyn hates to stay even a week at Papa's house. He loves the sea, and I can tell you do, as well."
Victor pulled her gently away from the cliff before he answered. "I will leave tomorrow, in the evening."
"So soon, Victor?" Francesca pleaded.
"But there is much to do before I leave," Victor smiled. "And much to be arranged before I return."
Francesca beamed at his statement. "Before you return? When will you return?"
Victor turned quickly, taking her in his arms, "Whenever my love tells me to return for our wedding. That is, if you will have me." He waited for Francesca's answer. She looked stunned, then joy filled her face before kissed him.
"I love you Victor! Of course I will have you!" Francesca exclaimed. Then in a quiet voice, she added, "Have you spoken to my Papa?"
"I thought I should speak to you, first. But I shall speak to him before I leave. I will call tomorrow. I thought late morning might be best." Victor smiled as she nodded eagerly.
Francesca looked out over the ocean, then spoke wistfully, "I have never been to Spain."
"You shall live there soon. I know you will miss your family, but they will always be welcome. Martyn can bring them easily, 'tis but a short voyage," Victor tried to soothe her.
"My Papa no longer travels," Francesca sighed.
Victor smiled, "Then we shall visit him."
"Victor," Francesca whispered. He nodded, waiting for her to speak, afraid the thought of moving away from her family would change her mind. But all doubt was removed when she spoke, "Kiss me again." He smiled as he wrapped her in his arms. Even the wind could not blow between them.
25 July 1562
Chegwidden House
Chegwidden, Cornwall
Late afternoon
Dr. Meeks had been gone for little over an hour when Tronada arrive at the Chegwidden home. "Alberthol," he greeted the big man with a warm smile. "I have come to see Martyn, but it is good to see you as well, old friend. I noticed that Francesca walks along the cliffs near the sea with the captain of the Revenge. He seems quite taken with her."
"That he does. I am quite impressed with him. We spoke earlier. He stopped short of asking for her hand, but a father knows these things. He will, in time. And I suspect I will lose my daughter to Spain as I have lost my wife to Italy." Alberthol paused, "Tronada, I can never thank you enough for your part in returning my daughter to me. You will always be welcome in my home," he sighed. "If she had been killed, or --" he stopped speaking abruptly, unable to say the words. He closed his eyes and lowered his head. Slowly, his head rose and Alberthol whispered, "Martyn is resting."
"Resting? He has rested long enough. I have come to get him to join me for a pint," Tronada grinned.
Alberthol raised his eyebrows in a look of disbelief. "Surely not! He is so weak."
"Weak? I have seen weaker men march into battle. He will be fine," Tronada assured his friend.
"Nay, I finally listened to Francesca and brought in a doctor. 'Tis a good thing, he needed to be bled. He is weaker still, but he will recover, the doctor assured me. The wound had healed too fast, holding in the bad blood." Alberthol shook his head, "He would never have been a well man if the doctor hadn't taken care of him."
Clenching his teeth, Tronada asked, "Where is he?" Alberthol motioned for Tronada to follow and led him to the room where Martyn lay.
Tronada gasped when he saw Martyn. He had been strong earlier that day when they left the ship, but now Martyn lay, pale and weak, his breath shallow. "Leave us," he mouthed, his voice unable to speak the words. Alberthol nodded, turned quickly and disappeared without another word. Tronada noticed the bruises on Martyn's wrists, realizing that the doctor had tied him down. The bruise and corresponding lump on the man's head told the rest of the story. Martyn tried to speak, and Tronada lowered his head to hear his friend's words.
"Now is the time. Death cannot be far. Stay with me, old friend, and when the time comes, they will leave to get the priest. That is when you must take me out on the ship, take me to her," Martyn's eyes pleaded with his first mate.
Tronada nodded. "I have promised. It is already done. But can I not take you to her now? Could she not heal you again?"
"I will be gone before we could reach her," Martyn whispered. Helplessly, Tronada watched. "Why so sad, old friend?" Martyn smiled weakly. "It is my dearest wish to be with her."
"I will miss you, old friend. We have come far together," Tronada said quietly.
Martyn sighed and with his last breath, whispered, "The Trident and everything on her is yours. You know she is a good ship, may she take good care of you."
Tronada watched the life flicker out of Martyn's eyes. He passed his hand over his friend's mouth, but felt no breath, then pressed his hand against Martyn's neck as he felt for a pulse. "Alberthol," he called quietly. "Martyn is dead."
Alberthol stepped into the doorway. "Dead you say? It can not be," he shook his head. Staring at his brother, Alberthol felt the tears sting on his cheeks. «He can not be dead. Yet clearly, he is. My daughter is saved, but my brother is lost.» He blinked the tears away. "I must ride to the convent to bring Adele and the priest. She will be upset to learn that he has died unshriven. Will you stay with him until we return?"
Tronada nodded, sighing quietly. «She will be more upset to learn that I have taken his body. But I have promised.» He watched as Alberthol's shoulders slumped. The man seemed broken as he left the room. A few moments later, Tronada heard the door of the house shut, then the sounds of Alberthol's horse as he rode away.
Taking a deep breath, Tronada lifted the corpse of his friend, carrying him over his shoulders out of the house. He found a horse in the barn and lowered the body over the animal's back before climbing onto the beast himself. He rode bareback as his father had taught him long ago, as fast as he could toward the docks.
When he reached the ship, he brought the horse to an abrupt stop and leaped off the animal's back. In one fluid movement, he grabbed the body and carried it quickly aboard the ship. Most of the men were on board and he hurried them into motion, barking orders as he carried Martyn below to the captain's cabin. When he returned, the men were murmuring on the deck, just as they had in Portugal. A wind filled the sails of the Trident, but strangely left the other ships calm in port. Tronada looked over the railing until he spied Rabb, and called, "We will not be back. My crew --"
Rabb nodded and cried out, "I will take on those who were left behind." As he spoke, a heavy fog settled over the harbor.
The crew seemed frightened. The fog came from nowhere, suddenly hiding the land as the wind carried them rapidly out to sea. Just as abruptly, the wind slowed, leaving the ship strangely becalmed as dark clouds covered the sky turning day to night. Silencing the crew, Tronada ordered them below. He followed them, entering the captain's cabin, where he had wrapped Martyn's body in a sheet. The face was uncovered because Martyn suspected she would want to look upon him before the burial. He carried the body above and waited near the bow, knowing she would appear quickly.
Cordelia broke the surface of the water. Tronada could see the worry on her face, the pain in her eyes. "It has been three quarters of one of your hours, has it not?" she asked anxiously. Tronada nodded. "Can you lower him to me?" Cordelia forced the words.
Tronada thought he heard her mumbling something under her breath. «What does she mean I hope she arrives in time?» He shook his head, then lifted the corpse over the side of the ship, lowering it slowly with a rope. Cordelia raised her arms, reaching for the body. She looked sadly upon Martyn's face, her fingers tracing his cheekbone. She lowered her head and sighed.
It startled them both when a second creature rose from the water. Tronada was even more surprised at the change in Cordelia's countenance. She smiled broadly, nodding when the ancient woman asked, "Is this the man?" The woman looked upon Martyn's face, then stared into Cordelia's eyes. "You are sure that he has a good heart?" Again, Cordelia nodded. The woman glanced at Tronada. "What about that one?" she said.
"He is Martyn's friend. Martyn trusts him, so I trust him. He has kept his promise to bring Martyn to me, against the traditions of their kind," Cordelia spoke calmly, but there was an underlying tension to her words.
"You are sure, child? He is sure? There is no turning back," the old woman said. Cordelia nodded once more.
Tronada watched with fascination. Cordelia clearly had deep respect for this woman, and the creature, for all her gruffness, seemed to care for Martyn's lover. Tronada heard her whisper, "Please, Grandmama." The ancient creature reached for Martyn's body and cradled his head as she blew on her forefinger. Tronada was shocked when she placed the finger in Martyn's mouth.
«What is she doing? It is one thing to bury a body according to their customs, another to treat someone in such a way.» Tronada eyed the rope angrily, ready to pull the body up once more. A deep cough drew his eyes to the corpse once again. He blinked. «I've lost my mind.»
Martyn's eyes were open and Cordelia had thrown her arms around him as she kissed him. "For goodness sake, child, he's not immortal. I can only bring him back once, even for my favorite granddaughter, " the crone laughed. "We must get him to shelter until he is strong."
Tronada stared, his mouth open. Martyn spoke in a hoarse whisper, "I do not need the Trident to sail the seas now, my friend. Take good care of her. I'll be watching." He gave the Moor a weak grin. "Calm seas and safe harbor, Tronada," he said as he slipped under the waves with Cordelia. Tronada shook his head as he watched three great green tails shimmer through the water.
25 July 1562
Trezance Castle, Cornwall
Late Evening
The ride back to Trezance Castle had been chilly at best. Beth refused to say a word to anyone but Sir Neville. She quietly and politely answered each one of the courtly gentleman’s inquiries into her well being.
The Duke of Cornwall had an idea of what had happened, but he had no idea why. The talk of the court intrigue that had started this sorry mess made him think that perhaps they had made a mistake to return. When he heard that the Lady Elizabeth had found life on the high seas more appealing than court life he was shocked, but only mildly so. He had seen much in his travels and little surprised him anymore.
When they reached Trezance, the duchess was waiting anxiously. Clay jumped out of the carriage and embraced her tightly before turning to help Sarah down. "Mother, you remember Lady Sarah MacKenzie and Lady Elizabeth Hawkes." Even dressed in tatters, both women remembered their manners and curtsied low.
"Oh my dears. Please. Come. I took the liberty of having baths drawn for you. And, I will have my maids bring you each a dress to wear."
Elizabeth started to retort, but Rabb leaned into her and murmured. "Love. It means little. Besides, I would like very much to see you in finery. For me?"
Elizabeth glared at Webb who wisely decided to study the joining of two stones in the wall. "Very well." She followed Sarah and the duchess through the courtyard, calling back over her shoulder. "But only while we are on land, Harmon."
"Of course, Beth."
When they were out of earshot. Rabb turned an abashed eye to the two other men. "She really is very remarkable. She is well liked by the crew. I don’t know if you understand just how incredible that is. Sailors normally hate any woman on their ship."
Rabb followed father and son through to the small study off the great hall. He accepted the offered tankard and sat where Sir Neville indicated. "To be honest, I think Palmer was as mislead as the rest of us, but he lost himself in Wallace’s evil. Not that it forgives what he did to Miss Fran." He met Clay’s stern look and blushed. "She is well?"
Clay went to stand by the window overlooking the castle’s herb garden. "Remarkably so, actually. She and Galindez seem to have formed an affection for each other."
"The captain of the Revenge!" Rabb snorted his disbelief. "Victor Galindez’s reputation does not lead me to believe that any woman could tie him to the land. But, if she is happy with him, perhaps they can still marry?"
"Perhaps." Clay turned. "But Galindez is a Spanish pirate. Relations with Spain are deteriorating by the day. I expect we will be at war soon." He tightened his jaw at the admission. His father just hissed a warning. "Not that anyone will be surprised by it of course." Taking of the glass of amber spirits from the page, he sipped at the fiery drink. It was raw and potent. "So tell me. How did you seduce Lady Elizabeth Hawkes to the seas, Captain Rabb?"
Rabb blushed a bright red at Webb’s choice of words but kept his chin high and his eyes firmly on the other man’s. "'Twas not I that seduced her, my lord. You didn’t see her fight down the streets of Lagos. Her technique was raw, but her spirit. Lord, sir, her spirit is something to behold. She saved two of the men’s lives by sheer insanity. And the men love her for it. When we reached the boat they tried to urge her to safety below decks but she stood her ground and watched as each man did his job. It was like she was memorizing what to do in case one of the men fell and she would have to take his place. Once we set sail she couldn’t sit still. She never got in the way; she had an instinct of when to move. Again, she saved one man from serious injury when a canon got away from its housing and careened to the other side of the deck. She pushed Mr. Roberts, who was facing the other direction and didn’t see what had happened. It took three men to keep the bloody thing from smashing through the starboard hull." He shook his head in wonder. "One morning I came out on deck and couldn’t find her until I looked up and damn me, she was in the crows’ nest. I would wed her tonight if she would stand still long enough."
Clay nodded. He wasn’t sure how long Beth’s infatuation with sea life would last. She had a notoriously short attention span. But if anything could hold her attention he supposed the life and death struggle of day-to-day life at sea might do it. And he had seen the way her hand naturally gravitated to Rabb’s in the carriage. «Well they could deal with it,» he supposed. "Father, I think some of that Madeira would be welcome. We have much to discuss."
Sarah studied her friend as she stepped out of the large tub and refused the maid’s help in drying off. It was like a week at sea had completely changed her. Sarah smiled. It had changed her too. She was more determined than ever to wed Lord Clayton. She rubbed her belly and prayed silently, «Let me be with his child. Surely Elizabeth cannot make me wed another, while…»
"So you love him, don’t you?" Beth asked as she donned the simple yet beautiful dress. She sat at the dressing table and studied her reflection in the mirror. Picking up a comb she sighed as she began to work the tangles from her thick hair. She considered asking Sarah to cut it all off, but thought that it would only start another argument. Besides, Rabb seemed to like her hair. She smiled as she remembered the way he had fingered it the first time he had kissed her. «Lord, he was good at kissing, much better than the fops and fools at court.»
"Yes, Beth. I am. But don’t change the subject. Do you feel that Captain Rabb will protect you with his life?"
Beth caught the worried gaze in the mirror’s surface. Putting down the brush she turned to face the one woman she could truly call her friend. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. That is not the point, Sarah. I do not wish him to protect me with his life. I wish to know how to protect myself. The men of the Sea Hawke will not molest me. This I know. The few men who had sided completely with Palmer were summarily dumped into Lagos Harbor before we set to sea. The men who are left are good sailors and will follow Rabb, respect me."
Sarah shook her head in wonder. "Then, we will see to it that you get what you want. Clayton is very smart about such things."
"Yes, dearest, he is. He is very smart and he is completely besotted with you." She smiled wickedly. "Do you know that I tried very hard to get him to ‘show me the south wall’ at Hampton Court."
"Beth!" Sarah was shocked and yet a little pleased. It was nice to know that another woman found the man who she worshipped, attractive. "And pray tell, what happened," she demanded haughtily.
Beth laughed. "Well, dearest, I do not know how Lord Clayton comports himself with the ladies of the courts of Spain or Florence, but with me, he smacked my bottom with the flat of his sword and showed me how to parry. Though I would have preferred he showed me his thrusts."
Sarah gasped at the double entendre. "Beth, you are incorrigible. Come, we should join the others. I hope that the duchess plans on serving dinner. I am famished."
A light but filling supper was laid out. When either Beth or Sarah tried to broach the subject of what was to happen, Clay would insist that they discuss it after dinner.
"As you please, Lord Webb." Beth snapped, "But do not try my patience for long."
Clay sighed. "Yes, your ladyship." He then proceeded to ignore her for the rest of the meal, insisting that his mother tell him of all the things of the village. They learned that Alberthol and his sister had returned to the Chegwidden home the morning after the Trident left port.
Sarah looked from her lover to her friend. Clay really seemed to be more upset by Beth’s decision than she was. «Did he have some feelings for Beth? Not according to Beth.» Sarah spent most of the meal quietly eating. She was hungry and keeping food in her mouth removed the need to ask or answer questions. When the meal was done and they stood to return to the small warm study she took Clay by the arm and pulled him into the small alcove over looking the garden.
"What is it, dearest? Why does this decision of Beth’s weigh so heavily on you?"
Clay didn’t look at her but turned to the dark window. The glass reflected the candlelight and all he could make out was her vivid passionate eyes. "She does not know how hard the life will be, Sarah."
"Perhaps not, but I can see her point. Now that she has tasted freedom, she does not wish to be tied to court with other people making her decisions for her."
"And you, Sarah? How do you feel about other people making decisions for you? Do you not wish to be free like Beth?" He wasn’t even sure he had spoken the words out loud but her gasp of surprise forced him to turn and meet her startled gaze.
She boldly stepped up to him, forcing him to put his arms around her waist. "Pray sir, who asked whom to take them to bed. I want you for husband, Clayton Webb. Nay, 'tis not true." His grip tightened and his eyes grew wide with worry and anger. Her tongue flicked out and she traced the line of his jaw sending a shiver through him straight to his cock. He growled menacingly. "I want you, Clayton Webb, for husband or lover. Be I Lady Webb, or your mistress, no one will keep me from you." When the passionate kiss was over, she smiled sweetly and turned away from him. Looking over her shoulder as she entered the study she called. "You were saying, my lord, about someone making my decisions for me."
26 July 1564
Chegwidden house
Chegwidden, Cornwall
Mid-morning
"He was a friend. A trusted friend. How could he do such a thing?" Alberthol Chegwidden paced the floor angrily. His son Dylan watched, awed at his father's capacity for rage. Francesca closed her eyes.
Only Adele braved his anger, saying, "Alberthol, Martyn loved the sea. Have you considered that this is what he wanted?"
Alberthol turned, his arms crossed over his chest, "What he wanted? Do you believe that?"
"I don't know, Alberthol. But I know he felt some bond to the sea. Many a night I have seen him walk the shores under the moonlight. He loved his family, but he never seemed at home here the way he did on his ship. The sea called to him, Alberthol, the way justice calls to you. Perhaps it is right that the sea claim him in the end," Adele paused, and it seemed as if she would say something more. Instead she gave her brother a weak smile.
"But his eternal soul --" Alberthol began.
"-- Is still eternal. Would you feel this way if he had died at sea and been cast into the ocean? Would you still mourn his eternal soul, or feel confident that the one creator of us all would know his own in the end?" Adele asked softly.
With a heavy sigh, Alberthol nodded. "I suppose you are right. But why would Tronada take his body in such a way? No one saw him, none of you could even pay last respects."
"We respected him while he lived, as did you. I believe Martyn probably appreciated that more. And I suspect Tronada took Martyn's body because he knew that you would react like this. 'Tis the end of our brother, Alberthol, not the end of the world," Adele chided. Francesca and Dylan watched fearfully, awaiting the explosion they knew would follow. Alberthol took a deep breath, but before he could speak, he heard a knock at the door.
Francesca's eyes widened and she held her breath as her father crossed the room. Dylan noticed his sister's expression, wavering between joy and nervousness. «It must be that Spaniard. I've never seen her blush so. Perhaps Papa will have something pleasant to distract him from Uncle Martyn's death.»
Alberthol opened the door. Francesca peered over his shoulder and began to shake her head furiously. Galindez, unaware of the family crisis, smiled as he stepped inside and said, "Nothing can be gained by waiting, and I must leave these shores soon, Francesca."
"Waiting for what?" Alberthol asked bluntly. He turned his head to look at his daughter, who blushed even more furiously than a moment ago. Finally, he faced Galindez once more, staring intently at the younger man.
Dylan glanced at Adele, who clearly had assessed the situation in much the same way he had. She smiled as her gaze travelled from Francesca, smiling nervously, to Galindez, who stood tall and serious just inside the door, and finally rested on her brother, who was so focused on losing Martyn he was about to be surprised by a marriage proposal. «And Alberthol doesn't like surprises.» Adele grinned, ready to step in and calm things if it came to that.
"May we speak privately, sir?" Galindez asked.
"My family has not secrets, and I have need of them at this time. You may speak to me here, now, with them, or not at all," Alberthol spoke gruffly.
Galindez looked over the Chegwidden family. «Francesca talked about her brother. She said he combined the cool reason of her father with her Uncle Martyn's passion.» He nodded to Dylan. Next he saw Adele. «She is so tiny. The way Francesca described her, I expected a woman of larger stature. But Francesca said both Martyn and her father defer to this woman. Perhaps it is better that she be present now.» He nodded respectfully to Adele as well. He cast a fleeting look toward Francesca, and a smile flickered over his face. «Soon, my love.» Then once again, he stared into the eyes of Alberthol Chegwidden. «He looks so much like Martyn. Where is Martyn? This would be easier if he were here.» Finally, Galindez spoke, "While on the return voyage, I had occasion to spend time with your daughter Francesca. I loved her when I first saw her, but the more time we shared, the more intense that feeling grew. I wish to marry her, that is," Galindez swallowed. He glanced at Francesca, then back to her father. "We wish to be married. My family is a respectable one, and I am comfortable financially. I promise to take good care of her. But I, we ask your blessing."
"You have come into a house of mourning with a marriage proposal?" Alberthol asked, enraged. His fury at Tronada renewed and fully vented at the Spaniard.
Shocked, Galindez repeated his words, "A house of mourning?"
Francesca stepped forward, "Papa, he does not know. No one outside of the family and Tronada knows of Uncle Martyn's death. It is not Victor's fault!"
"Alberthol," Adele said gently, "The child is right. Martyn's death has not been made public. This man had no idea, you can not hold that against him."
Clearly shaken, Galindez asked, "May I see him? Martyn was a good man. I have known him many years and I am saddened to hear of his death."
No one spoke. Eventually, Francesca whispered, "His body has been taken away. Tronada took him out to sea."
"That's what happened yesterday, before the fog settled over the port. They have spoken of nothing else at the docks except Tronada's departure. How he rode furiously right up to the ship, then lifted something cumbersome from the horse and carried it below as the ship cast off," the Spaniard paused. "He was carrying Martyn's body. No one had any idea what it was."
"Alberthol," Adele began, her voice soft, yet strong, "Perhaps God has given us a blessing to follow quickly on the heals of our sadness because Martyn would not want us to dwell on his death. Look at your daughter. This man makes her happy. Martyn wanted that as much as you do. Let it be. He is a good man, or Martyn would not let the child return on his ship. Things happen in God's time, Alberthol, not ours."
With a troubled voice, Alberthol began to speak, "I have heard that troubles grow between England and Spain. Already national politics has cost me my wife, must it cost me my daughter as well?" He took Francesca's hands, "Daughter, do you love him? Do you truly wish to marry him?"
Francesca swallowed, then nodded, "Yes, Papa, I do. I have never met a man like him before. I feared, Papa, that no man would want me, not after this. But Victor loves me. It is no matter to him. He helped Uncle Martyn rescue me and he knows everything that happened, but still, he loves me. And I love him, Papa."
"I do not know when I will be able to see you. And if troubles continue to grow between England and Spain, there may come a day when I can not see you at all. But I will always love you." Alberthol's gaze switched from his daughter to her suitor. "I give you my blessing. When the day comes, take good care of her."
Galindez had been listening carefully to Alberthol's words. He, too, had heard rumors of conflict between the two countries, even a possible war. "There is another way," he said quietly. "Come with us. All of you."
"We can not go to Spain. If there is trouble, then as Britons, we would be suspect. It could lead to trouble," Alberthol argued.
"That is not what I meant," Galindez smiled. "We could set sail for the New World. Admiral Don Pedro Menendez will be leading a group of settlers. I am certain he would allow us to take my ship and join them. It is a place called La Floridas, 'The Land of Flowers.' "
"The New World? The Americas?" Adele gasped.
"Being British, would we be safe even there?" Alberthol asked.
"If it were another man leading the expedition, I could not say. But Menendez was my captain during the years I sailed with the Armada. He would not harm you or hold your origins against you," Galindez smiled. "The land is supposed to be quite beautiful. Warm and sunny, a temperate climate indeed."
Adele looked at her brother, "That would be a better climate for your health, Alberthol. The language would be no problem, as we all speak Spanish. I must speak to the Mother Superior, but I believe she would allow me to leave as a missionary. She has heard the rumors as well, and is slowly sending the sisters abroad one or two at a time, anticipating that the crown may not always look so kindly upon our faith."
"What of you Dylan," Alberthol asked his son. "You stand to lose the most. You finished your last term early to return home during this time of crisis. You are ready to begin your career. I expect the New World will offer you drastically different prospects."
"I had already planned to sail for a time with Uncle Martyn, Papa. He intended to show me Europe. He told me that even you saw the world before you settled into this life, here in Cornwall. I would be just as happy exploring the New World as the old one, perhaps more so." Dylan said. He addressed the Spaniard, "But I have one favor to ask."
Galindez smiled, "We are soon to be family. If it is within my power, I will do as you ask."
"I would like to see my mother one last time before we sail for the New World," Dylan whispered. "It has been so long."
"That will be easy enough," Galindez nodded.
Adele saw the smile flicker over her brother's face. "Perhaps, Alberthol, she will come with us. If we settle in Spanish territory, there will be no religious conflicts."
All eyes turned to Alberthol. "Perhaps," he murmured. "Or perhaps she would be just as happy to have me even farther away in the New World. Either way, it appears settled." He smiled at Galindez, "It appears you have acquired the whole family. Perhaps it is more than you bargained for."
"Nay, sir. I have heard Francesca speak of you all. It will make her happy to have you near, and her happiness is mine as well. I had planned to sail later today, but I will stay in port as long as it takes you to settle your business."
"We must have a toast to celebrate these endeavors," Adele smiled, already making her way to gather the wine and the glasses. Francesca helped her distribute the libations.
Alberthol waited as each glass was filled, then began, "First, a toast in memory. To Martyn." Each of them in turn raised their glass and repeated, "To Martyn." Then Alberthol raised his glass once more, "To happier times, and new endeavors, to the marriage of Francesca and Victor." Again, the glasses raised. Alberthol spoke one last time, "And finally, to the New World, soon to be our home."