Truth and Consequences, Part 2

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and concepts do not belong to us. We’re just borrowing them for the time being. The plot and all original characters, however, do belong to us.

Authors: Shirley Long and Jim Guy

Rating: 2 ½ Swords/PG-15

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Previously…

Before they could even touch the bark, both girls were suddenly grabbed from behind. Jacqueline kicked backwards, but her assailant managed to avoid the blow. He wrapped one arm around her throat, then used his free hand to clamp a foul-smelling cloth over her nose and mouth. In spite of her best efforts, she found herself unable to fight the cloth’s effects. She saw Miette jump out of the saddlebag, and a shot was fired just moments after. Unable to clearly see the outcome, Jacqueline could only pray that the kitten was safe. She also thought she saw Marie Therese falling to the ground from a blow to the head. It was hard to be sure, though, as she could barely see anything at this point. Dimly, she felt herself being dragged away from the road just before the darkness claimed her.

Chapter 22

Geoffrey was getting impatient. He had arrived early at the church in anticipation of meeting Jacqueline. With a sigh, he reread the letter several time to make sure that he had not gotten the day wrong, then looked at his horse. "Come on boy, maybe we can meet them on the trail." Swinging into the saddle, he walked his mount down the trail from the church. Two hours later, he pulled to a stop when he heard the snicker of a horse. Urging his mount forward, he looked through the trees to find the source of the sound. He caught sight of a rider-less horse grazing alongside the trail, just past a fallen tree. Going around the tree, he saw the form of a man on the ground and an ocelot. Quickly dismounting, he rushed over to the figure and rolled him over. Checking for a pulse, he gave a sigh of relief.

"Marie…Marie…wake up."

As the woman stirred, he glanced over to Miette's still body. "Marie, what happened? Where is Jacqueline?"

Marie rubbed her head. "Ambushed…knocked out…Jacqueline taken. Miette... Oh God, they shot Miette." She clung to Geoffrey’s arm as he pulled up. The privateer looked down as a sharp pain registered in his leg to see a mass of fur with dried blood looking back up at him.

"Mrow."

Relieved, he bent down and gently lifted the kitten into his arms. He carefully parted the blood-matted fur to find that, fortunately, the bullet had only grazed her head. She might need a couple of stitches, but she’d be just fine. Stroking Miette to calm her, Geoffrey turned back to Marie.

“Marie…did you see who attacked you?”

She shook her head. “They were all dressed in black and wearing masks.”

“Were the masks made of brown leather, by any chance?”

“No, just plain black cloth. Why?”

“Thought for a second that it might have been the Knights of the Black Tabernacle—Mazarin’s secret society—rearing their ugly heads again.” He sighed. “If it wasn’t them, then who was it? Who would want to kidnap Jacqueline?” Then, as if in answer to his question, Geoffrey noticed some parchment pinned to a nearby tree with a small dagger. Setting Miette down, he went over and pulled the parchment free. There was a symbol drawn on it in black ink—a wolf’s head. “Wolfe,” he growled, crumpling the parchment.

“Who?”

“Local ‘businessman’ who specializes in human cargo, if you know what I mean. A couple of days ago, his men kidnapped Mancini, thinking she was you. But why would they take Jacqueline?”

“I don’t know…to get to you, perhaps?”

“Well, if that’s the case, Wolfe is making a huge mistake. He has no idea who he’s dealing with.” A dark look crept into Geoffrey’s eyes, and Marie shuddered. It was the same look she’d seen when he and his crew attacked the Louie Grace, and she had a sinking feeling that blood would flow before this was all over.

Noticing her discomfort, Geoffrey softened his gaze and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright, Princess? I mean, will you be okay to ride back to Le Havre?”

She nodded, but as soon as she stepped towards her mount a wave of dizziness overcame her. Geoffrey caught her before she could hit the ground and, for the first time, noticed the dried blood caked into her hair. Gently, he moved the hair aside to assess the damage. Apparently, Marie had sustained a similar injury to the one ‘William’ had when Mancini was taken.

“Well, that does it. You’re definitely not riding on your own.” She gave a few meek protests, but let Geoffrey lift her into his saddle. He tied the reins to her and Jacqueline’s mounts to the cantle. Seeing how Miette was trying leap onto Jacqueline’s saddle, he picked up the feline and placed her onto it. As he did, he noticed that Jacqueline’s blade was still attached. ‘Bloody hell…she didn’t even get the chance to defend herself.’ Suppressing a shudder at the thought, he mounted behind the pommel. Marie leaned into him as he urged his mount into an easy trot and made his way back to the city, already plotting Wolfe’s downfall as he prayed that, wherever she was, Jacqueline would be safe.

****************

The first thing Jacqueline noticed upon regaining consciousness was the fact that the ground was no longer stable. She could feel a gentle rocking motion and, after a moment, it dawned on her exactly what that motion meant. ‘A ship….Mon Dieu, I’m on a ship!’ She opened her eyes to try and get a better look at her surroundings, but the only thing she saw was darkness. There was a thick cloth covering them, blocking out all light. Instinctively, she tried to reach up and remove the obstruction. However, that too soon proved impossible, as her hands had been bound behind her back. Her legs had been tied together too, and it quickly became apparent that the kidnappers had stolen her boots, as the damp floorboards sent a chill through her bare feet. She could feel the dampness through her shirt as well, and she realized that they also made off with her musketeer jacket.

It took a fair bit of maneuvering, but she eventually managed to pull herself into a sitting position, leaning back against a nearby wall—at least, what she assumed was a wall—for support. The shift did not help the situation much, but at least it her shirt wouldn’t be soaked any further. She felt the comforting weight of her cross as it fell back into place, and allowed herself a small sigh of relief. ‘At least the kidnappers didn’t get that.’ A thousand questions ran through her mind, not the least of which was ‘who?’ Who was behind all of this? The only person she could think of who would have any motive was Mazarin, and he was in Sedan. And from what little she saw of their attackers, none of them bore much resemblance to the foot soldiers that the cardinal had sent after them in the past. ‘If it was ransom they were after, why take me? Surely Marie would have been better suited to that end…not that I’d wish harm on her, by any means. Still…this doesn’t make any sense. Who would want to kidnap me?’

Determined to seek out the answers for herself, Jacqueline quickly began working at loosening her bonds. Escaping the ship itself was most likely out of the question, but at least she could figure out who was running the show. Soon, her efforts paid off as she managed to get the ropes around her wrists loose enough to slip her hands free of them. Once that was done, she yanked the blindfold off and untied the ropes around her ankles. As she did, she absently noted that she’d been dumped in the hold and had been leaning against a large crate. She had no idea what was inside, but doubted that the contents were anything legal. The captain was probably a smuggler of some sort. After all, what legitimate ship’s captain would agree to have a hostage on board?

When she was free, Jacqueline took a moment to massage her wrists, trying to get the rest of the feeling back into them. They’d been rather numb from being tied for however long she was out, but getting herself loose had been the first priority, so she’d let it go.

As she rubbed her left wrist, she finally noticed that something else had been taken—her wedding band. Frantically, she looked around the area where she had been laying in hopes that perhaps it had just fallen off while she was struggling with the ropes. She was so focused on the search that she didn’t realize someone had come up behind her until the object of her search, tied to a bit of twine, was dangled right in her face.

“Lookin’ fer this?” the heavily accented female voice asked. Slowly, Jacqueline turned around to see a rather tawdry-looking blonde standing there. She reached for the ring, only to have it snatched away. “Naughty, naughty,” the blonde scolded. “‘oo said you could get outta them ropes?” Before Jacqueline could answer, someone hit her from behind and the darkness claimed her once more.

****************

Ramon walked into his room at Le Chat Noir carrying two plates of chicken, one for himself and one for Will. As the door closed, a furball sprang at him, knocking both plates to the floor. Ramon stepped back as Will prowled towards him, fangs bared.

“Whoa, Will…I brought food for you.” He looked at his hands to see they were both clawed. Backing away from the cat, he noticed that Will paid no attention to the food, he just paced back and forth utter an ear piercing MROW. Ramon moved well away from the food and the door but the cat did not approach him. “Will, it is going to be a very long day. I do hope Geoffrey gets back soon. I knew you were going to be the death of me.”

A couple of hours later, Ramon dozed off, only to be awakened by a furry head rubbing against his chin. “Mrow” An uneaten chicken leg was dropped on the Musketeer’s chest. “What’s this? A peace offering?” The cat jumped from his chest and curled up by Ramon’s leg. Will placed his head on his front paws while watching the door.

As Geoffrey rode up to Le Chat Noir, he saw D’Artagnan, Cian and a battered William walking to the building. They rushed over when they saw their companions. Cian and D’Artagnan helped the princess while Geoffrey dismounted. Miette jumped to William and then to the ground before running into the Inn.

When Ramon heard the racket of horse hooves on the cobblestone, he noticed that Will stood up and went to the door. The cat sniffed the door and looked back at Ramon. “MROW”. The Musketeer laughed. “Alright Amigo, I will let you out.” As he opened the door a crack, the feline shot out of it and down the stairs to the great room. Ramon raced after the cat until he was halfway down and had to jump over two cats as they caught up to each other. The Spaniard lost his balance and tumbled down the stairs. When he looked up, Will and Miette looked at him and then scampered up the stairs.

“Crazy cats are going to get someone killed.” He heard boots behind him and saw Luis being carried up the stairs. Jumping up, he looked at Geoffrey. “What happened? Where is Jacques?”

Geoffrey followed Luis and D’Artagnan carried the princess upstairs.

“They were ambushed. Jacques has been captured, Luis was knocked out and Miette was shot. They will pay when I get my hands on them.”

“But who did this? Mazarin?”

“Hardly. This is a new player.”

“Captain Greyhawk?”

Geoffrey turned around and looked at a boy. “I am he.”

“Sir, a man told me to deliver this…said you would know what it meant.”

The privateer took the package and opened it. His knees went week as he stared at Jacques’ Musketeer tunic and a note attached to it. He took the note and read it out loud as the words wrapped around what looked like a wolf’s head. Geoffrey recognized the handwriting, but it wasn't Wolfe's. It was the hand of a man who was supposed to be dead.

‘You want your woman back, you had better find me. I have a head start and you don’t know where to look.’

As Captain Duval barged into the room saw the two kittens on the bed, one licking the head of the other, before turning his attention to his distraught looking Musketeers. He noticed that Geoffrey was tending Luis. “What the Hell is going on here? Greyhawk, where is your wife and what is wrong with Luis?”

The privateer stood up. “Jacques and Luis were on their way here when they were ambushed. Luis was knocked out, Miette was shot and Jacques was captured. I don’t know where Jacques is.” He picked up the missing Musketeer’s tunic and the note before reluctantly handing them to Duval.

The Musketeer Captain’s face turned ashen, then red. “Why are you all still here? In case you’ve forgotten, Mancini is still missing, Luis is wounded and Lord knows where Jacques is or why he was taken.”

D’Artagnan walked over to Duval. “Captain, believe it or not there has been some progress. Ramon made some quiet inquiries and he and I will be meeting with a contact in a few hours. According to the plans we discussed, we don’t like dividing resources, but what choice do we have?”

Duval nodded. “Greyhawk, do you have any ideas?”

“Captain, I just got here myself, but I sent a runner to Porthos to see if any ships have left port. As soon as I know, the Rose will sail. They have a head start and we do not know where they went…yet. Ramon will be taking Will as his cover as well as D’Artagnan being the deaf mute. Will can relay messages. I will be taking Miette and Luis will stay here.”

“Like hell I will.” Luis sat up. “I want these men caught and punished. How dare they attack the King’s Musketeers? Now what did I hear about that Mancini woman?”

“Some men who want to reinstate the slave trade kidnapped her thinking she was you, and in the process a traitor killed two Musketeers and injured another.”

Marie laughed harshly. “At least that puta has served some use. Captain, do you think that these incidents are related?”

Duval shook his head. “I don’t know what to think, but maybe.”

Geoffrey shrugged. “I don’t think so. I found a piece of parchment that had the same Wolf's head as this note. Mancini’s abduction was about the slave trade, according to William. And while I suspect that Wolfe may have been involved, the note that I just received bearing his symbol was written by someone else. I can only conclude that Jacqueline’s abduction was personal and directed at me.”

Duval shifted his feet. “Ramon, take your ‘servant’ and your pet and do what you need to do to recover the Mancini woman. Princess, you rest a bit. I promise we will take you with us.”

Geoffrey frowned. “Us?”

Duval motioned him outside. As the Privateer came out, Duval looked into another room and pulled Geoffrey into it. The Musketeer Captain closed the door and whirled on the younger man, grabbing his shirt and shoving him against the wall. “What did you do? Why did you leave her alone?” Geoffrey gaped at him for a moment in shock. He opened his mouth to respond, but Duval quickly cut him off. “You knew it wasn’t safe in Paris, and yet you left her there unprotected. Why? Answer me, damn it!” he growled, wrapping a hand around Geoffrey’s throat.

The pirate gulped. He’d never seen Duval this angry before, and it was actually rather frightening. “Y-you think I wanted this to happen?” he stammered. “She’s my wife, remember? I’d do anything for her.”

“You abandoned her!” Seething, Duval released him with a violent shove and started pacing the length of the room. Geoffrey rubbed his throat, breathing deeply to try and calm his own nerves.

“I know you’re worried, Captain. I am too. But getting angry and hurling accusations is hardly going to help.”

Duval whirled around. “Accusations?” He stalked over to Geoffrey, ramming his fist into the wall next to the younger man’s head. “If you hadn’t run from your problems like the damned coward you are, my daughter would be safe!”

Chapter 23

Geoffrey stared at Duval for a moment, not sure he’d heard right. “Y-your daughter?” At that, all the anger seemed to drain out of the Musketeer captain. He sank down into a nearby chair, dropping his head into his hands. “Captain?” Geoffrey knelt down next to the chair, placing a gentle hand on the older man’s arm. Duval slowly raised his head, the heartache he’d kept buried for so long now exposed for the world to see.

“Yes, Geoffrey. Jacqueline is my daughter.”

“How? I don’t understand….”

Duval sighed. “It happened over twenty years ago, back when I was a foolish young soldier…not even a musketeer yet. There was this celebration…I can’t even remember what we were supposed to be celebrating, but the drinks were certainly flowing that night. Honestly, most of that night is a blur. But I remember the woman…tall, blonde, beautiful….I never knew her name, but I’m almost positive she was a member of the nobility. Why a woman of her obvious breeding would have wanted to associate with a common soldier, I’ll never know. But she did. We drank, we talked…one thing led to another and, nine months later—just after I finally earned my musketeer commission—I found a basket outside my quarters with a baby inside. No note, just a small golden cross…the same one She was wearing that night. But even without the cross, I knew that the child was mine…call it ‘paternal instinct,’ if you’d like. Captain D’Artagnan told me the same thing I told the younger D’Artagnan when ‘Little D’ came along—take it to an orphanage. But I could no more do that than he could. I told the captain that I’d try to find the mother in order to buy myself some time…figure out how I would manage to raise my daughter and be a musketeer at the same time.”

“So what happened?”

The captain shook his head. “One morning, a man dressed in black broke into my quarters. I tried to fight him, but he managed to land a good blow to the back of my head. Last thing I saw before losing consciousness was the intruder picking up my daughter and slipping out the window with her. When I came to, I reported the incident to the captain and, before long, the whole garrison—the Legends included—was combing the city, searching for the kidnapper. But we never found him. I continued to search on my own long after the others gave up, but even I eventually had to concede that my daughter was lost. Then, about six years later, while on patrol I came across a couple of children playing in the forest, not far from the Roget farm. I knew Claude from my soldier days, and I figured that those were his children. But when I got a closer look at the girl, I could scarcely believe my eyes. It was my daughter! She was wearing the cross, and those eyes…I’d never forgotten what it was like looking into her eyes, and to see those same eyes again six years later….It was all I could do not to run over and scoop her up into my arms. But she looked so happy, she and her brother. Claude had given her the life I never could.”

Geoffrey nodded. “You don’t think that he…?”

“No. Claude was a good man. He never would have done such a despicable thing. No, it was one of Richelieu’s agents, I’m sure of it. I can only assume that Claude rescued her from the kidnapper and, not knowing who she belonged to, elected to raise her as his own child. And I can’t blame him. He had no way of knowing she was my child, and if the positions had been reversed, I probably would have done the same thing. So, hard as it was, I chose to walk away. I did go over and ask her name, though. I’d never gotten around to naming her myself, and I wanted something to hold on to. She probably thought I was a bit strange, but then again, the girl idolized the musketeers, so I’m sure it was a big deal for one to even talk to her. I doubt she even remembers that conversation, though. She certainly didn’t seem to recognize me the day she enlisted.” He sighed.

“That’s why you let her stay, isn’t it?”

Duval nodded. “I didn’t need a wanted poster to tell me who she was. Dressed as Jacques, she looks almost exactly like I did when I was that age…all but the eyes. The eyes are definitely her mother’s. I let her stay because I knew that the garrison was probably the safest place for her, given Mazarin’s vendetta. That, and I wanted the chance to get to know the woman my little girl had grown into. And now….” His voice broke and, at a loss for what else to do, Geoffrey wrapped his arms around his father-in-law’s trembling frame.

“I’ll get her back, Captain, whatever it takes. The men who did this are going to pay dearly, I swear it.”

“I know,” he said quietly. Geoffrey pulled away, and Duval looked him in the eyes. “Please…don’t tell anyone else about this. I’d rather she heard the truth from me than someone else, as well-meaning as that person may be. And your comrades aren’t exactly known for keeping secrets…well, most of the time, anyway.” He cracked a smile, in spite of himself, and Geoffrey smiled as well.

“Don’t worry, Captain. I won’t tell a soul.”

“Thank you, Geoffrey.” The privateer gave a slight nod before exiting the room, leaving Duval alone with his thoughts.

****************

Ramon and D'Artagnan walked out of the Inn, trailed by Will. As they walked down the street, they checked their back trail before ducking to an alley on the right. A few minutes later, they had found their way to a closed door. As soon as Ramon knocked, the door opened and a woman, her face obscured by a cloak, let them in. Fifteen minutes later, a Spanish nobleman and his servant walked out on the street several blocks from the Inn.

A mile away, a sinister looking pocked face individual watched as a man from obvious wealth strolled down the street followed by his non-descript servant and an animal a little larger than a standard cat. With a grin, the pock-marked man stepped out of the alley, with his hand on his sword. "What is his lordship doing, walking in the belly of hell?"

"Senor, I am Juan de la Vega de la Cruz. This is my servant Carlos. Don't bother asking him, as he can neither speak nor hear. I am looking for Senor Lobo, as you call him Senor Wolfe."

"Aye, you go down three blocks and turn left. Someone will meet you there." As Ramon and D'Artagnan moved past the lookout, the man pulled his pistol and fired near D'Artagnan’s ear. Ramon whirled around with his rapier half out, but D'Artagnan heard nothing. Will, on the other hand, attacked the gunman with teeth and claws.

"Will, alto.” He reached down and picked up the hissing animal. "Senor, an explanation quick or I will let him eat you."

"I was making sure your servant was truly deaf. What is that devil's spawn?"

"This is my body guard. You pull a gun again and he will make sure that you never have children." With a grin towards D'Artagnan, Ramon walked towards the meeting place to see Wolfe, leaving the bleeding man to staunch the wounds.

A few minutes later, a second lookout escorted the Musketeers into a cafe to meet the notorious Wolfe. Ramon noticed a large man with a thick black moustache, but the rest of his face was clean shaven. The man was dressed in shoes, rather than military style boots, baggy breeches and a short coat. The sleeves ran to just below the elbow and he seemed to follow the fashion of a small falling collar.

Ramon himself was dressed in Spanish breeches, which were rather stiff and fell just below the knee and were moderately fitted. He wore shoes as befitted his station while D’Artagnan wore boots as he was a lowly servant. On his legs, Ramon wore boot hose, which were made of linen with lace cuffs and worn over the fine silk stockings. The shoes were tied with blue ribbon and decorated with yellow bows. As fashion dictated, both men wore a baldric to hold the rapier and hats with very tall crowns that were decorated with feathers.

Wolfe looked at the two men. "What can I do for you, Senor?"

"I am Juan de la Vega de la Cruz and I am concerned about a certain change in certain merchandise that is now banned in France. It has seriously cut into the profits of my family business."

Wolfe nodded. "Yes, that change has affected all of us. De la Cruz, huh? I used to know a Juan de la Cruz, and you are not him."

"Perhaps you mean my father. He has gone to be with God and his angels."

Wolfe laughed. "Well, he may have died, but I doubt that he is with God. El Diablo is more like it."

Ramon nodded as he pulled a chair out and rested his foot on the furniture. "You may be correct, but that does not change the issue. I have heard that there may be a solution."

"Maybe, but what does that have to do with me?"

"Senor Wolfe, I have a feeling that you may know things. It is my understanding that a certain person, as well as several prominent others, have gone missing."

Wolfe leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. "How did you know others were missing?"

Ramon laughed. "Actually I didn't. It was just a guess. It is what I would do if I wanted to put pressure on someone."

“Sit down, Juan. I like you.” Wolfe leaned in closer. “From what I hear around, a cargo has been shipped to a place called Drogheda in Ireland, but my money is on New France. They need a fresh load of slaves, especially for those fur trappers. The cargo could be traded to the natives.” He laughed. “So, were you planning on buying or selling certain cargo, or just shipping? I ask because I am in the shipping business. Are you a customer or a competitor?”

Ramon smiled as he leaned back in the chair. “Customer. I am not that overly fond of sailing past land that I can’t see.” He looked at D’Artagnan and signed to him. As the Musketeer moved away, Ramon nodded. “I don’t need my servant all the time, so I let him socialize with the ladies.” Will had stayed by the chair and jumped up when Ramon patted his leg. “Do you not trust me, Senor? I have been here five minutes and my hand is still empty.”

“Mimi, a flagon for my guest.”

****************

Geoffrey made Luis stay in bed for a few hours while Violete watched over the Princess. They worried over their next plans downstairs until Luis suddenly walked up to their table and sat down. “Don’t worry, I am fine. It is a fine time to talk, but I think the Rose would be a better place.”

Cian nodded. “Luis has a point, and I need to check on William. Geoffrey, I do have a question for you.”

“Sure, what is it?” They all got up and moved outside.

“You are married to a woman, right?”

Geoffrey frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I am just wondering if the subject of children has come up.”

Luis stopped. “Cian, are you also married? Who is the lucky or unlucky woman?”

Cian looked around. “Luis, I know who you are, so I think I can trust you. Will is my wife and before you ask, yes she is a woman.”

Luis clapped. “How rich. Not only does Duval have one woman Musketeer, now he has three. I am surprised he hasn’t had a stroke.”

Cian frowned. “Look, I am just worried that this lifestyle might interfere with Meallá’s having children. Do you worry about that also?”

Geoffrey rubbed his chin. “Not really. I told Jacqueline that I didn’t marry her so she could give me sons.”

Luis elbowed the Privateer. “Sons? What about daughters?”

Geoffrey shrugged. “Sons or daughters, it doesn’t matter. I just wish that Ana hadn’t filled her head with all that “I had a vision’ stuff.” He held up his hands and wiggled his fingers as he rolled his eyes.

Cian shook his head. "I give up.

****************

In the sleazy pub, D'Artagnan sat at a table with his head on his arms, pretending to sleep. With his face turned to the right, facing his ‘master,’ he used his right hand to pull out the beeswax from the ear canal so he could listen without being conspicuous. Two men leaned up against the wall behind him, watching Ramon and Wolfe. One of the men leaned over to the other. "Pierre, do you think Wolfe will hint that the slaves are in Ireland or in New France?"

Pierre laughed. "Francois, knowing the boss, he is liable to send that peacock to the Azores, just to throw him off the scent. I wonder who he really is. He really does look like he could be related to de la Cruz."

D’Artagnan sat up and stretched as if he had just taken a nap. With some slight-of-hand, he put the beeswax plug back into the ear.

Pierre frowned. "Think he heard us?" He walked up behind the Musketeer. "Heard enough?" When D'Artagnan did not respond, Pierre grabbed the supposed servant. D'Artagnan was quick, too quick for Pierre and the bar fly suddenly found himself on the ground with a dagger at his neck. Ramon rushed over and tapped his ‘servant’ on the shoulder. Making a show of sign language, the two men conversed as Pierre was helped up.

Wolfe walked over. "Pierre, what is going on here?"

"He was listening to us."

Wolfe frowned. "How much can a deaf man hear?" He walked up to Pierre and shoved a stiletto into the man's chest. "If you hadn't been flapping your gums, there would have been no reason for you to be suspicious." He looked at Ramon. "Juan, I am sorry for the intrusion, but I think our meeting is over for today. Come back tomorrow about the same time and we will discuss this some more. Francois, clean this mess up.”

Chapter 24

A cascade of cold water jolted Jacqueline back to consciousness, and she looked up to see that same blonde from before standing over her with an empty bucket. “Didn’t think I’d let ya sleep all bleedin’ day, didja?”

The captive stared for a moment, still trying to figure out what her keeper was saying. Jacqueline understood English well enough, thanks to Geoffrey’s lessons, but the blonde’s odd English accent had her butchering the language so badly that she was lucky to understand even half of what was being said. Slowly, Jacqueline rose to her feet, realizing as she did that her hands were now bound together in front of her, with the excess length of rope tied to an iron ring that was set into the nearby mast. Shaking her head, she drew herself up to full height and looked the blonde right in the eyes. “Who are you?” she asked slowly. “What do you want with me?”

The blonde smirked, tossing the bucket aside. “Name’s Shell, and that’s all you need to know.”

“The hell it is,” Jacqueline growled. She moved closer to ‘Shell,’ only stopping when she hit the end of the tether. “Obviously, you’re not the one in charge. So I want to know who is calling the shots here and what they want from me, and I want to know now!”

“What’s it matter? It ain’t like you got a choice now, is it? You go where the boss says ya go.”

“And just who is this ‘boss’ of yours?”

The blonde shook her head. “Now that would be telling, wouldn’t it?”

“That’s the idea.”

“Nice try, but you ain’t gettin’ it outta me that easy.”

“Well, whoever your boss is, you can tell him he’s wasting his time. When my husband gets hold of him…”

Shell interrupted her with an annoying high-pitched giggle. “Your ‘usband? You really think Greyhawk’s comin’ here?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t he?”

“Why would he? From what I ‘ear, you can’t even give ‘im proper kids. All you got is a couple o’ mangy cats.”

Jacqueline glared. “Who told you that? That’s none of your damned business!”

“But it’s true, innit? Face it. If Greyhawk cared so bleedin’ much, he wouldn’t ‘ave left ya in Paris all by yer lonesome in the first place, would ‘e? Wanna know what I think?”

“Not really.”

Shell ignored her. “I think that yer ‘usband is bleedin’ thrilled to be rid ‘o ya. I bet he’s already found ‘imself a new girl ta take yer place.”

“You…you’re wrong.”

“Am I?” Shell asked, moving closer to the captive musketeer. “Greyhawk’s a pirate, ain’t ‘e? Last I checked, pirates ain’t exactly known for their loyalty. ‘A girl in every port’…that’s what they say, innit?”

“Stop it! You don’t know the first thing about him…about either of us!”

“And you’re sure you do? I mean, if your ‘usband really cared that much, don’t ya think he’d ‘ave been here by now?”

Momentarily forgetting about the rope, Jacqueline growled and lunged for Shell. The tether quickly halted her progress, and she found herself staring up at the blonde from the floor.

“Oooh,” Shell mocked. “Seems I touched a nerve there.” Grinning, she knelt down next to Jacqueline and leaned forward, bringing herself almost nose-to-nose with her captive. “You know I’m right though, don’t ya?” In response, the musketeer’s bound hands shot up and latched onto the blonde’s throat. After a few moments of panic, Shell managed to land a blow to her stomach, forcing her to let go. A second blow followed in short order, and before she had a chance to recover, Jacqueline found a knife being held to her throat. “Listen ‘ere, little girl. The boss may want ya in one piece, but I could give a toss. Try anythin’ like that again, an’ I’ll kill ya.” One look into Shell’s eyes was proof enough that the woman was teetering on the edge of madness. There was absolutely no doubt that she’d carry out the threat if pushed. Jacqueline meekly nodded, not wanting to provoke her further. Seemingly satisfied, Shell shoved the knife back inside her bodice and stood up. “Pathetic,” she sneered. Spitting on the musketeer’s prone form, she planted a heeled boot into her side before turning and walking away. As Jacqueline curled up, trying to will the pain away, she didn’t see her tormentor walking into the arms of the cloaked man waiting outside the hold.

“Magnificent performance, ma Cherie,” he drawled, pulling Shell into a searing kiss. Once they parted, she wrapped her hands in the soft material of the cloak and gave him a coy smile.

“Told ya I’d make it worth yer while if ya sprung me from that shit’ole brothel, didn’t I?”

“That you did, my dear. Very worth my while, indeed.”

“So…what’s next?”

“I think we’ll let our…guest…reflect on your conversation while I reward you properly in my cabin. After that, I want you to keep on her. The more she doubts Greyhawk, the weaker their connection will be. And the weaker their connection, the less reason she’ll have to resist when I begin the cleansing ritual, which gives it the best chance of working as it should.”

Shell shrugged. “Whatever you say, boss. But why can’t we just get the bleedin’ thing over with now?”

“Because it has to be performed at a certain time and in a certain place. That’s why my earlier experiments failed…because I thought I could get away with not following all the conditions set down in the text. I can’t afford to fail this time. Understand?”

“I guess. Can we shag now?”

He chuckled. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Meanwhile, unaware of her captors’ exchange, Jacqueline was lost in her own thoughts. Though deep down, she knew that Geoffrey loved her and was probably searching for her at that very moment, Shell’s words still stung. ‘What if she’s right? I was the one who drove him away, after all. He didn’t even stay in Paris long enough for me to apologize. What if he has given up on me…on us? Oh Geoffrey…where are you when I need you?’

****************

After Ramon and D’Artagnan, along with Will, made their way back the way they had come and changed back to their own clothes, they reported to Geoffrey. As Will jumped up to Geoffrey, Ramon sat down. “I am not sure whether what we heard is the truth or misleading information. D’Artagnan heard two possibilities from one of the men, who Wolfe promptly killed. I am not sure if Wolfe is suspicious of us or just being careful.”

The privateer nodded. “Wolfe is paranoid. If he suspected you, we would not be having this conversation. He would have killed you.”

“True, but he did ask me to come back tomorrow. I have an idea that after the little display of loyalty, D’Artagnan should not go.”

Before the Legend’s son could speak, Geoffrey held up his hand. “I agree. This time, I will go.”

D’Artagnan frowned. “He knows you.”

“Yes, he knows Geoffrey, but he doesn’t know Estienne Faivre, an old man who is hard of hearing. I will be in disguise complete with my ear horn. Actually two. One will be plainly visible and the other, hidden.”

Ramon laughed. “The last time you did something like that, you didn’t expect Bernard to pick up the goblet with the listening device still attached.”

Geoffrey snickered. “I will be more subtle this time.”

The next day, Ramon followed his original path but left Will behind. As he walked into the pub, he looked around the room. Two toughs sat just behind the person he came to see and one more by the door. Two tables were in front of Wolfe, one was occupied by a sailor with a woman on his lap while the other by a drunken old man, asleep as his head rested on his outstretched arm.

Wolfe looked up. “Juan, good to see you. Where is your servant?”

“I gave him the day off. He was rather upset after yesterday afternoon.”

“Good idea. Even a deaf man makes people nervous. Has he been with you long?”

“Three or four years. He was a powder monkey on an English ship that we captured. My father felt sorry for him and took him in.”

“A generous man, your father.”

“It was a fault that got him killed. I do not intend to follow him. You asked me to come back, so here I am.”

Wolfe smiled. “Have a seat, Juan.” As the disguised Musketeer sat down, Wolfe leaned forward. “Exactly what is it you need my help with?”

Keeping his voice lowered, the would-be slaver also leaned forward. “I have heard from mi familia that you are the man to speak to about certain, ah, properties. I wish to acquire some, but naturally, I need to see the merchandise.”

Wolfe nodded. “A reasonable request. You understand, of course, that the merchandise is not in France. The merchandise had to be sent out of the country due to the new laws. Do you speak Gaelic?”

Ramon shook his head. “No, but I do know someone who does. Don’t tell me the merchandise is in Ireland?”

Wolfe smiled. “We ship them to Ireland before transport to New France. So if you can find a ship to Ireland, then we can conclude our business ventures there.”

Ramon nodded. “Let me get back to you on that. I must wait for my brother-in-law to arrive and that won’t be for two weeks.”

“Not a problem, Señor. The Merchandise is being kept in a cool dark environment so it will not spoil.”

Ramon stood up. ”I will see you in two weeks.” He turned around and walked into the table where the drunk sat, spilling him onto the floor. Ramon helped the man up. “Come, you old fool. You need to get some air as you are smelling up the place.” He looked at Wolfe. “Really, you should open the windows to let in fresh air. He reeks.”

Wolfe laughed and motioned to his henchmen to open the windows. “Not a bad suggestion.” He watched as ‘Juan’ helped the old man out of the pub while gagging for air.

As Juan helped the drunk out of the pub and down the street, they kept their voices low. “Geoffrey, were you able to hear?”

“Perfectly. I know exactly where he claims the slaves are being held. I don’t think they are at the Grange at all, since that is just a huge mound near Drogheda. My money is on the Mellifont Abbey. We will ask Cian if he knows more."

An hour later, the Musketeers gathered, all except D’Artagnan. Geoffrey pulled out a rough map of Ireland. “Cian, show us where Drogheda and the Mellifont Abbey is.”

Cian pointed to the parchment. “The Grange itself sits on the top of an elongated ridge within a large bend in the Boyne River about five miles west of the town of Drogheda. The river itself passes Trim, Trim Castle, the Hill of Tara, Nava ,the Hill of Slane and Brú na Bóinne and Drogheda, here.”

“Can we get the Rose up the river?”

“Probably not, and you would be seen. The river is not that deep or wide. Maybe a barge.”

Geoffrey stood up. “Alright. Tomorrow, we take the Rose out under sail and then heat up the steam. We should be there in a day and a half, maybe two. From there, we will take half the crew and make our way to where the slaves are being held. Ramon, you and D’Artagnan—when you find him—will stay here continuing your cover in case Wolfe is misleading us.”

****************

While ‘Juan’ and ‘Estienne’ confronted Wolfe, D'Artagnan sat in the Inn. He noticed Violete as she walked out of the side door and followed her. He followed the woman through alleyways and then to the same building that he and Ramon had changed clothes in, watching from around a corner as the door closed. A few minutes later, he moved forward, cautiously opened the door, and crept in. He ducked to the left as a club headed towards his head, rolled as it struck air, and came up into a diving position. D’Artagnan lunged at the hooded figure and they both ended on the floor. Reaching up, he pulled the hood back.

"Violete." He grabbed both of her wrists. "Why did you attack me and who are you?" He released her wrists and stood up.

The woman looked at the Musketeer before taking his outstretched hand. "I go by the name of Vigilanti, and I am in the Queen's Secret Service. I am trying to locate Maria Mancini for the Queen." She walked over to an armoire and opened it. Pushing on the back of the cabinet revealed an opening. She looked at the startled Musketeer. "Follow me."

The Musketeer followed the woman down stairs and a long hallway until they reached a room. As Vigilanti opened the door, D'Artagnan's mouth dropped open. "Captain Duval?"

"Close your mouth, Musketeer. My real name is Lee Stetson, but you may call me Scarecrow." Scarecrow laughed. "I am not Captain Duval, although we resemble each other. I am an agent for the King of Portugal. Your Captain Duval is, at this time, on his way to Scotland on a diplomatic mission and before you ask, yes we have met."

D'Artagnan shook his head. "I am confused. How long have you been here and when did the Captain leave?"

Vigilanti put her arm on the Musketeer's. "Your Captain left early this morning by a small ship."

"But why?"

"Catherine of Braganza, the daughter of the King John of Portugal, was once considered the one to marry King Louis before Marie Therese. There had been a movement to join her with Charles as Queen Consort, but it took awhile as Charles had to regain the throne and the only way was to get rid of Cromwell."

D'Artagnan shook his head. "I don't understand. Cromwell is dead and Charles is king of England."

Stetson nodded. "That is true, but the marriage to Catherine is on hold because she is Catholic and the Protestant parliament objects."

"So what is Duval going to do that others can't?"

"Offer a neutral proposal, now that Louis is betrothed to Marie Therese. I understand that you are still looking for Louis’ mistress."

The Musketeer looked at Scarecrow. "What do you know about it?"

"A little more than you. For instance, I know that she was taken by an old friend of Greyhawk's on the orders of a man you are familiar with, but I will not name him at this time until the proof is unquestionable."

D'Artagnan moved aggressively towards the doppelganger. "Where is she?"

"That is what we are going to find out. We want you and Vigilanti to work together."

The Musketeer frowned. "Who is ‘we’?"

"We call ourselves Les Combattants de Anne. We have sworn allegiance to the Queen."

D'Artagnan frowned. "Queen Anne runs this…uh…organization?"

Lee laughed. "Actually, no. We are a secret society whose job is to gather information and protect the Queen. We report to one man and he has the Queen's ear."

D'Artagnan rubbed his chin with his right hand. "Alright, suppose I go along with this explanation. Who is the top man?"

"I can't tell you. Only three others know besides myself and we are sworn to secrecy for obvious reasons. Now will you join us?"

"I am a King's Musketeer and I have sworn to protect the King."

Lee nodded. "I understand, but let me just say that there are several Musketeers loyal to the King who are also members. Protect the Queen, protect the King. That is our motto. I ask you again D'Artagnan, will you join us?"

The Musketeer drew his sword in salute. "I swear to protect the Queen and therefore the King."

Vigilanti hugged D’Artagnan. "Well said, D'Artagnan. I knew you would say yes."

D'Artagnan smiled. "My hesitation is that Ramon has depended on me for his support."

Lee clasped the Musketeer's shoulder with his hand. "That will not change, for now. I do have it on good authority that a certain Privateer has joined him. For the time being, you and Vigilanti will focus on a different agenda."

D'Artagnan looked at Scarecrow. "And what would that be?"

"Find Jacqueline Greyhawk."

“Wait a minute. Why are the Queen and her protectors so interested in a simple farm girl?”

“She isn’t just a simple farm girl, D’Artagnan. Jacqueline is a King’s Musketeer for one, the wife of the King’s champion Privateer, and other than that, it is on a need to know basis. I don’t mean to be rude, D’Artagnan, but at the moment, you don’t need to know. Just trust me.”

****************

Fog still shrouded the port of Le Havre as the Rose d’Orleans set sail for parts unknown. Geoffrey had ordered the crew to total silence and only the creak of rigging and the soft flap of the sails could be heard. As the ship cleared the port, the mist lightened into wisps and the Captain was joined on the quarterdeck by Cian, William, Luis, and Porthos. Miette sat patiently by the railing overlooking the main deck, watching in anticipation.

Picking up the speaking tube, Geoffrey blew into it. “Full speed ahead. We are headed to Ireland.”

Cian looked around. “Why didn’t D’Artagnan come with us?”

“He and Ramon are following another lead in case this one does not pan out.”

“I thought Captain Duval was also coming with us.”

“Something else came up that he wanted to pursue.”

Chapter 25

Jacqueline sat back against the mast, waiting for the pain in her ribs—courtesy of Shell—to subside. She had no idea how long she’d been down in that hold…hours, days…maybe even longer…but the tawdry blonde had been a near-constant presence, taunting her about Geoffrey’s seeming lack of interest in her welfare, then following up with a few blows to her side if she didn’t think the words had quite enough impact. The only times Jacqueline had any privacy anymore was when Shell went off with whoever was always waiting for her outside the hold, but even then it was hard to get much sleep. Even if she was able to tell whether it was day or night, her increasingly morbid thoughts were more than enough to keep her awake.

Try as she might to not let Shell get to her, the blonde’s taunts were leaving their mark. And the longer she remained captive, the less hope she had that Geoffrey would come and prove Shell wrong. ‘No…if I have any chance of getting out of this, I’ll have to do it on my own. I can’t afford to wait for him any longer.’ Luckily, during their most recent encounter, Shell’s knife had slipped out of her bodice. As soon as it happened, Jacqueline had quickly snatched up the blade and concealed it before her tormenter even realized it was missing.

Briefly glancing around to make sure she was alone, Jacqueline retrieved the blade and started sawing at her bonds. Her hands were starting to go numb again, making it hard to maneuver the knife, but she managed. Carefully, she cut through just enough of the rope to set things up so that, when the opportune moment arrived, she could free herself with ease. ‘That harlot won’t even know what hit her,’ she thought, slipping the knife between her hands as she sat back to wait.

She didn’t have to wait long. Just moments after concealing the blade once again, Shell re-entered the hold, the usual smug grin plastered across her face. “Jus’ talked ta the cap’n,” she announced. “Seems we’ll be pullin’ inta port soon.”

“Oh really? And which port might that be?”

“You’ll see…not that it really matters. Either way, yer Geoffrey ain’t gonna be there.” Grinning, she leaned forward, bringing her face uncomfortably close to her prisoner’s. “‘Course, even if ‘e was, he couldn’t do nuthin’ ‘bout it. Where we’re goin’, Greyhawk’s still thought of as a bloody pirate. ‘e sets one foot on those shores an’ he’s a dead man.”

Jacqueline nodded, discreetly maneuvering the knife from its hiding spot as she did. “Well, in that case….” Before Shell even realized something was off, she found herself nursing a bloody nose, courtesy of Jacqueline’s forehead. Seconds later, the musketeer was on her feet, free of the ropes. Shell took a swing at her, which she easily dodged before grabbing the arm and twisting it behind the blonde’s back. She slammed her face-first into the mast, then put the knife against the back of her neck. “Don’t move,” the female musketeer growled. Shell whimpered a bit, but didn’t put up much of a fight as Jacqueline took the discarded rope and bound her hands behind her back. Once that task was complete, she pulled the blonde away from the mast, using one arm to hold her in place as a human shield while the other brought the knife up to her throat.

“Wha-what are ya doin?” Shell whined.

“Turning the tables. You’re my hostage now. You and I…we’re going up to the main deck and, unless you want to be shark bait, you’ll make sure that the captain does what I tell him to. Got it?” The blonde quickly nodded, allowing Jacqueline to push her forward. They made their way out of the hold and up to the deck, pausing only for a moment to allow the musketeer’s eyes to adjust to the sunlight.

The reaction of the crew was immediate, as Jacqueline soon found herself surrounded by sailors brandishing various sorts of weapons. Undeterred, she pressed the knife a bit harder into Shell’s throat, drawing a slight amount of blood. “Drop the weapons or she’s fish food!” Nobody moved. Practically growling in frustration, she grabbed Shell’s bound hands and yanked them back, causing the blonde to yelp.

“D-do as she says, boys,” she stammered. At her plea, the men immediately complied, tossing their weapons to the deck.

“That’s better. Now who’s in charge here?”

In response, a tall gentleman with graying hair stepped forward. “I’m captain of this ship, and you’re wasting your time. I don’t negotiate with prisoners.”

“Even if it means the life of your boss’ girlfriend? Honestly, who do you think he’d be more upset about losing, me or her?” The captain paused for a moment, considering her words. Jacqueline took his hesitation as a sign that she was winning. “Now, if you don’t want to see Shell here end up at the bottom of the ocean, you’ll have your men lower one of the cutters, then turn a blind eye while I make my escape with her as a bit of insurance. Don’t worry, I’ll leave her someplace where you lot can find her again. Understand?” The captain nodded, motioning for his men to do as she’d asked. Once the cutter was in the water, Jacqueline backed towards the rail, dragging Shell with her. She twisted around to look down at the boat, and that was where she made her mistake. The blonde stomped on her bare foot with the heel of her boot, forcing her to loosen her grip. Seconds later, the musketeer felt the cold steel of a gun barrel pressing into her neck.

“Drop the knife!” Hearing the ominous click of the hammer being cocked, Jacqueline quickly did as the captain ordered. Raising her hands, she took a moment to consider her options. Stay on the ship with the psycho and her mystery man, or take her chances in the water. Taking a deep breath, she slowly inched one foot towards the rail, having decided to take a dive. Unfortunately, the movement did not go unnoticed by the captain. “Don’t even think about it, girl! One more step and I’ll fire!”

Jacqueline paused. For a moment, she was tempted to call the captain’s bluff and jump over the side anyway. Then she thought of Geoffrey. If the captain wasn’t bluffing after all, and she got herself killed trying to escape, where would that leave him? No, if there was any hope of her getting out of this, it wouldn’t be helped by her taking some foolish risk. Resigned, she stepped back from the rail, at which point several sailors rushed over and grabbed her arms. “That’s better,” the captain drawled, uncocking the pistol and pulling it away from her neck. “And just in time, too.” He motioned towards the bow, and Jacqueline could see that they were rapidly approaching a port. There was a flurry of activity on deck as the crew made preparations to dock, and as they came closer to shore, she caught sight of soldiers waiting for them, alongside what looked like some sort of prison wagon.

She grinned. “Looks like we have a welcoming committee. I’m guessing they don’t take too kindly to smugglers around here.”

Surprisingly, the captain smiled back. “That’s a bit premature, don’t you think?” Before she could ask what he meant, the ship was docked and the gangplank lowered, allowing the soldiers on board. The captain quickly walked over to the leader and spoke quietly to him for a moment. Jacqueline was sure she saw money change hands, but didn’t have much time to think on it as the soldiers approached her next.

“Jacques LePonte?”

“T-that’s me.”

Nodding, the lead soldier pulled a scroll from his tunic and began to read. “By order of His Majesty, Charles II, you are hereby under arrest for aiding and abetting the criminal activities of the pirate Geoffrey Greyhawk. You are to be taken immediately to the Tower, where you shall remain until such time as His Majesty renders a decision on your fate.” He rolled up the scroll, and Jacqueline barely had a chance to register the fact that she was in England, let alone that she was under arrest for some invented crime, before the other soldiers rushed forward and grabbed her away from the sailors. They shackled her wrists and ankles and, in spite of her protests, dragged her from the ship and threw her into the waiting prison wagon. Looking back at the ship, she saw Shell standing by the rail with a cloaked figure who had an arm around her waist.

“See ya ‘round, Jacques!” she called out, giggling and waving as if Jacqueline were merely going on holiday. And that was the last thing she saw before the soldiers slammed the back door of the wagon shut, plunging her into darkness.

****************

Two days after leaving Le Havre, the Rose d’Orleans dropped anchor in a cove south of Drogheda and the Boyne River. Geoffrey and Cian had an argument about not sailing up the Boyne River. Cian finally won out. “Captain, you forget the massacre of 1649 in Drogheda when Cromwell’s troops massacred over 3200 soldiers, civilians and priests…even two hundred soldiers who had laid down their arms. Others were burned to death in a church. No, the best thing to do is stay out of Drogheda. We will cut across country and then drop onto the Boyne River upstream. I do not think that you will find anyone at the Grange, but we may at Slane Castle.”

“Why does that name ring a bell?”

“The Hill of Slane overlooks the Boyne River valley from you can see the Wicklow mountains to the south and east to Drogheda and the Irish Sea, northward into the North of Ireland, southwest to the regal Hill of Tara and West. There used to be a Franciscan Monastery that was built over a hundred years ago. Now it is only ruins and a Castle below.”

William elbowed her husband. “Tell it like it is. Saint Patrick came to the Hill of Slane early in his attempt to convert pagan Ireland to Christianity. On the eve of Easter, 1200 years ago—which coincided with the feast of Beltane and the spring equinox—St. Patrick built a huge bonfire upon the Hill of Slane. The law was that no fire could be lit because there was the festival of fire blazed the Hill of Tara. The King and his Army raced up to capture Patrick, who was armed with a shamrock. They were taken away to Tara but by morning, Patrick and his men were spared and Patrick was allowed to preach.”

Cian led the five long boats full of armed crew members onto Irish soil. He led the men across Meath and past Fuair Cnocs towards the Grange. It took several hours of hard running for the attack force to reach the site where they had been told the captives were being held. As Cian walked around the site, he looked up to the Hill of Slane. "That is where they will be."

Geoffrey pulled out his naval telescope. "Why there?"

"Because from there you can see the whole of the Brú na Bóinne. Our best bet is to wait for nightfall in about an hour and split into three groups. Captain, William will lead you up the west side and I will lead the east side. You should lead the third straight up the hill. Set up to attack at first light."

"You plan on taking them by surprise?"

"The wall around the Slane Abbey is only about five feet high and surrounds the ruins. Focus your telescope on the tower."

Geoffrey peered at the tower. "Yes, one man lounging as if they sort of expect us." He searched the grounds. "I see several men sitting on the wall looking inward and only two looking this way." He looked at Cian. "Just how do you know about this area?"

"Will and I were born in Baile Mhic Gormáin, just south of where we landed.” Cian laughed. “The Preston family has owned the property for over two hundred years. Tradition ordains that when the head of the Preston family is in his final hours, the foxes of County Meath, except for nursing vixens, emerge from their earths and make their way to the door of Gormanston Castle to keep vigil until his Lordship has passed from this life. This tribute is in thanksgiving for the deliverance and protection from marauding predators of a vixen and her young by a previous Lord Gormanston.”

“You’re joking.”

“The Saints strike me down should I be fibbing….Hey, where is that cat going?"

Geoffrey watched as Miette took off towards abbey ruins, then went after her. He ran to the base of the hill and belly crawled up the slope until he felt a blade pressed into his neck. "My, my, my…it's Grubbie come a-visiting."

Greyhawk rolled over. "You son of a bitch!” he spat. “Where is my wife?"

"Somewhere that you won't find her." Tony stepped back. “Put him with the others, since he already knows how to be a slave. The rest of you keep watch. I’m sure there will be a few of his friends with him….No, wait. Take him up to the top of the tower. If his friends attack, he will watch them die." Geoffrey was pulled up the steps of the ancient tower and made to sit on the floor amongst several captives, including Maria Mancini.” Be polite Grubbie,” Tony mocked. “Say hello to the future Queen of France…or should I say the future slave of some heathen brave in New France.”

Geoffrey remained silent, but his eyes watched as guards came and went with food and water for the captives. He moved into the corner where he could save a little room for a small feline who crept behind his back. With his hands tied behind him, he felt for the small knife at the base of his spine and pulled it out. Working quickly, he sliced through the ropes with the knife, but did not try to escape. With his fingers, he petted Miette to calm her. He was rewarded by a lick. Slowly he looked around to see the face of every captive on the roof, but the only one who was recognized was Mancini. He tried to catch her eye, but she was almost catatonic.

Darkness fell and Tony ordered the men to stand guard all night. As daylight began to rise and men’s eyes start to close from being on guard all night, the men of the Rose crept to the wall and waited.

Tony climbed the stairs to the roof, grabbed Geoffrey by the collar and pulled him up. “Where are your friends? They are too cowardly to attack. They probably had to sleep all night so they will be rested for a fight. Well, the first one I see will be the signal for me to throw you off this tower.” As Tony finished his boisterous speech, the attackers rose as one and vaulted the stone wall. The defenders didn’t have a chance and those who had not fallen immediately quickly surrendered


On the roof, Tony ran over, grabbed Mancini and forced her to the side. “Here is your future Queen. See if she can fly.” Tony felt a hand on his arm as he was pulled around to face Geoffrey. The pirate twisted away and ran for the stairs as a fur ball launched towards his back. Claws ripped into his shirt as he fell. Screams could be heard by all as he rolled to the bottom.

Cian came running up the stairs. “All secured. Captives are being freed and the prisoners tied up.”

“Good, get everyone ready to move out. We will go back the way we came. It is too bad that Tony didn’t survive.”

“You mean the guy who rolled down the stairs? Miette has him cornered and hissing at him. Besides the blood, I think the guy wet himself.”

Geoffrey led the captives downstairs. He stopped and laughed as he saw Tony cowering in the corner and an ocelot no bigger than a small dog sitting on her haunches and licking her face, claws extended. “Afraid of a little kitten, Tony? Miette, come.” The kitten looked up at Geoffrey before racing at Tony and using him for a jumping board to land in Geoffrey’s arms. “Good Miette, you just keep an eye on Tony.” He looked at William. “Take this bag of garbage and let’s go.” He watched as the Musketeer pulled Tony up and tied his hands behind him. A gag was stuffed into his mouth and a lasso led from his neck to the others of his kind. Some of the freed captives picked up sticks on the ground and whipped their former captors as they walked along towards the sea.

William marched beside Geoffrey on the way to the sea. “It’s been two days, but it seems like four.”

Geoffrey laughed. “You forget, we were moving quickly. But now we have to get these people back home and turn the scum that took them over to the powers that be.”

“What about your wife?”

“Tony will talk with the proper persuasion.” He stopped as he saw Miette race to the top of a hill and go to ground. “Everyone take cover and be quiet.” He motioned some of his men into flanking position and crept up to the hill. Going to ground himself, he belly crawled to the top and peered over. He saw the Rose d’Orleans right where he left her, and in a cove to the south he saw the masts of another ship.

Cian crawled up beside him. “Do you recognize that ship, Geoffrey?”

He shook his head. “Do you?”

“Is it the slavers’, perhaps?”

“No, too small. Definitely not built for transporting any sort of cargo.”

“Then whose ship is it?”

“If I knew that,” Geoffrey snapped, “we wouldn’t bloody well be having this conversation, would we?”

Unknown to the arguing musketeers, Tony had managed to slip free of his bonds and was creeping up behind Geoffrey, holding the gun he’d stolen from the musketeer who’d been guarding him. Standing over his nemesis, he quietly drew back the hammer and took aim at the younger man’s back.

BANG!

Chapter 26

Geoffrey whirled around just in time to see Tony drop, a round bloody hole in the middle of his forehead. Moments later, a figure emerged from the shadows, holding a smoking pistol. It was a raven-haired woman about Geoffrey’s height, wearing men’s clothes but making no effort to hide her femininity. Smirking, the woman tossed the pistol aside and put her hands on her hips as she stared down the pirate. “Why is it that every time we meet, I end up having to save your ass?”

He sat up, propping himself up on his elbows. “Nice to see you too, Faith.”

Shaking her head, Faith held out a hand. He took it, and she pulled him back to his feet. “Mind tellin’ me what you’re doin’ here, G?”

“You first. And don’t call me ‘G’…you know how much that irritates me.”

She grinned. “Why do you think I do it?” He rolled his eyes, and she chuckled. “You’ve gotta quit takin’ yourself so damned seriously, G, before you give yourself a stroke or somethin’.”

“Faith…,” he warned.

Faith sighed. “Look, I heard some rumors about somethin’ involvin’ that bastard….” She gestured to Tony’s corpse. “…and decided to check them out. Good thing I did, too. He almost had ya.”

“And he also had information that I needed.”

“Sorry,” she shrugged.

“It’s fine,” he muttered, waving her off. “I can’t say I blame you, really, seeing as he tried to force himself on you the last time you sailed on the Cutlass. Guess I’ll just have to start interrogating his comrades…maybe one of them will have what I need.”

“Want me ta help?”

Geoffrey grinned. “Do I really have to answer that, cousin? Come on, I’ll introduce you to my new crew.”

“And I’ll introduce ya to mine, G.”

“So that’s your ship out there?”

“‘Course it is. Why…expectin’ someone else, are ya?”

William and Luis raced up the hill, swords drawn, as Cian shot to his feet and did the same. Geoffrey waved them off. "Easy does it. This is my notorious cousin, Faith."

Faith cocked an eyebrow. "Me? Notorious? No one’s tried to hang me yet. From what I hear, though, you already had that pleasure."

"A slight misunderstanding."

Faith laughed. "Right." She looked down at the furball that circled her cousin's feet. "And who is this ferocious one?"

Geoffrey reached down and picked up the feline. "This is Miette. She is on the hunt for her human, my wife Jacqueline. She was kidnapped and Tony was involved somehow."

"You married? What woman would actually marry you? Never figured you for the type to settle for one woman, anyway." She turned at the snickering.

Geoffrey cut in, ignoring the comment about his former reputation. "This is William, Luis and Cian."

As Faith shook their hands, a strange look came over her face and she traded looks with her cousin. "I think we need to talk in private, G. Should we do it before or after we interrogate the prisoners?"

"Before. Cian, have the prisoners bury Tony and make it deep. We don't want some poor animal to be poisoned. When you are done, turn them over to Porthos."

Faith's mouth dropped. "Porthos? The Porthos? You know Porthos the Pirate?"

"I know the Musketeer Porthos, formerly known as Porthos the Pirate, but I merely call him Uncle."

Faith shook her head. "Uncle? I didn’t know old William had a brother. Or is he your uncle in the same way my father was?"

“Porthos is my father’s half-brother, which makes him my uncle by blood.”

“So what is he to me?”

A gravelly voice cut in from behind her. "Your friend." Faith whirled around to see a large man with a graying beard and holding a Musketeer rapier.

"You."

Porthos laughed. "Watch it. I saw you save our boy here. Nephew, where are your manners? Who is this lovely vixen?"

"I am Faith Porter, cousin to Geoffrey Greyhawk."

Porthos narrowed his eyes. "And daughter to Richard?"

"You knew my father?"

Porthos laughed. “We’ve met.” His expression turned serious, and he laid a hand on her shoulder. “Though his choice of friends was questionable—no offense, Geoffrey—Richard Porter was a good man. He didn’t deserve what happened to him.”

Faith nodded, fighting back tears as the horrible memories resurfaced. “I saw you that day. If you two were such good friends, why the hell didn’t you save him?”

“I wanted to, Faith, but I got there too late. I’m sorry.”

“Whatever,” she muttered, shoving his hand away as the walls went back up. “Can we get outta here now, G?”

“Yeah, sure.” Giving Porthos an apologetic look, he threw an arm around Faith’s shoulders. “Look, why don’t we go back to my ship….I’ll even show you my latest invention.”

As they walked towards the ships, Faith looked at Geoffrey. "You know…I’ve kept track of you, cousin. Even when you changed your name. Wasn’t easy, but if you know the right people….Couldn't believe that you’d actually gone straight. Then I heard that Geoffrey Greyhawk was back, and now ya tell me you’re married. Next you’ll say that Luis there is the Princess of Spain." Chuckling to himself, Geoffrey flashed his cousin an enigmatic smile before suddenly breaking into a run towards his ship. Faith couldn’t help but grin at the challenge, and quickly took off after him. She soon managed to pass him by, thanks to her long legs, and reached the Rose just seconds before he did. Grudgingly, he handed her a few coins—the usual wager—and the pair made their way onto the ship together.

A short time later, Faith stood on the deck of the Rose d’Orleans and admired the ship. “She’s mighty fine, cousin, but what is that thing sticking out of the hold?”

Geoffrey grinned. “That is a smoke ventilator for the steam engine.”

Faith shook her head. “You’re insane, G.”

He motioned her to the door leading to his quarters. “Probably, but most of my inventions work. Come…we’ll go to my cabin and talk.”

Faith whistled as she saw the cabin. Four inches of parchment strewn across the desk, a wall full of edged weapons, and another of pistols and muskets. Geoffrey noticed her eyes were full of admiration. “Alright cousin, what is it?”

“You have two imposters on board. That William and Luis, they are not who they say there are. And Cian…can I persuade you to let him sail with me?”

“Easy, Faith. What about William and Luis?”

“You’ve been at sea too long, G. Those two are women.”

Geoffrey shook his head. “How could I be so blind? A woman masquerading as a man to join the Musketeers.” He opened the door. “William, Cian, Luis…get in here now.” As they entered, the Privateer closed the door. “Faith has accused William and Luis of not being who they say they are, and she wants Cian to join her ship. Is there an objection to Cian going with Faith?”

William stepped up. “I object.”

Faith frowned. “You have nothin’ to say about it.”

Geoffrey laughed. “Faith, let me introduce you to William…whose real name is Meallá and she is Cian’s wife.” He waited for shock to subside on Faith’s face before he continued. “Luis is Princess Marie-Therese of Spain, the future Queen of France.”

Faith rubbed her temples with her fingers. “Wait…if she’s the princess, then who got kidnapped?”

“Maria Mancini, the King’s mistress who was supposed to be shipped off to Italy. The kidnappers mistook her for the Princess, who has been playing the part of a Musketeer. Actually…playing is the wrong word. She is a Musketeer, as is William.” He walked over and sat down. “Just so you know, my wife Jacqueline is also known as Jacques LePonte, and is a Musketeer as well.”

Faith grabbed a second chair and flopped into it. “You married a Musketeer? This is rich…does the King know that three of his Musketeers are women?”

“Only Jacqueline and Marie. He doesn’t know about William yet.”

“And your wife was the other one kidnapped, right? Any idea where she was taken?”

Geoffrey’s face changed as he pulled a main gauche from his boot and threw it against the bulkhead where it quivered. “That’s why I needed Tony. Cian, go get one of those prisoners and bring him to the quarter deck.” A few minutes later, Cian brought a cocky prisoner to meet with Geoffrey and his guests.

The privateer got up. “I have one question, and you have only one answer to escape being tossed to the sharks. Where is my wife?” The man kept quiet. “Cian, tie his feet to the hoist and swing it out over the side. Put his head about three feet above the water.” The man squirmed as he was lowered, he smiled up at Geoffrey. His smile faded when he looked and saw a dorsal fin coming directly at him. As he screamed, he was jerked upwards and the fin dove under the water. Hanging upside down, he felt himself being spun around and he looked at the Privateer.

"You are still aren't getting anything from me."

Geoffrey nodded. "Cut him loose and leave him to the sharks."

Cian took out his knife and sawed into the hemp, one strand at a time. Terror showed on the man's face as there were two strands left. "They went to England." He jerked as one strand unraveled. "I swear." The last strand snapped and he fell screaming into the sea as a dorsal fin passed by. He bobbed to the surface a minute later being pushed by a bottle nosed dolphin. Geoffrey shook his head. "Get him back on deck. If he’s lying, he’ll go swimming again…and it won't be with dolphins."

Faith chewed on her lip. "G, he may be lying, but I remembered something."

“Oh?”

“Well…a few months ago, this blonde tart came down to Canvey Island—that’s where me an’ my crew usually stay when we’re not at sea—lookin’ for mercenaries ta do a kidnap job in France.”

His eyebrow shot up. “And you’re just telling me this now?”

She shrugged. “Didn’t think much of it at the time. I did tell her ta get lost when she tried ta ask me, though.”

“Good to know…but how exactly is this useful?”

“Thing is, it wasn’t just any ol’ tart. I recognized her.”

“Really?” Geoffrey asked hopefully.

Faith nodded. “Name’s Michelle Dockley, ‘Shell’ for short. Completely mental, that one. Last I saw ‘er, she was workin’ at this brothel that my crew likes ta visit when we’re in London. Chateau Larkhall, it’s called.”

“Chateau Larkhall? What kind of name is that?”

She laughed. “Think some of the girls there came up with it as a joke. Trust me, the place isn’t nearly that fancy.”

“Can you take me there?”

Faith was about to respond when Porthos walked onto the deck. “If you’re planning to go to England, you’ll have to be careful. Word is that Charles Stuart has a price on your head, Geoffrey.”

Geoffrey’s jaw dropped in shock. “What the hell for?”

“Because of William, I’d wager. He may have been English, but he wasn’t exactly picky about whose ships he plundered.”

He swore, and Faith laid a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, G. We’ll just have to go in disguise.”

“I thought I was supposed to be the genius here.”

She laughed, lightly punching him in the shoulder. “You’re not the only one who can have good ideas. I think it should probably just be you an’ me, though. Too many people are bound to attract unwanted attention.”

“And what about the people we just rescued?”

“I think your friends can handle it. I’ll even let that handsome Irishman use my ship. You do know how to run one of those, don’t you?”

Cian nodded. “I know what I need to.”

“Good.” Geoffrey turned to his uncle. “Cian, Will, and Luis can use Faith’s ship to get everyone home—not to mention dropping a certain ambitious female off to her Count in Italy—and you can hold the fort here. Keep the Rose out of sight either until Faith and I return or we send word that it’s safe.”

“Will do, nephew. Just promise me that you two will come back in one piece, and bring Jacqueline back with you.”

“That’s the plan, Uncle. Don’t worry about us…right, Faith?”

“Yeah, sure. Why don’t we go get those disguises figured out, eh? I think they can handle things from here.” With that, she turned and headed below, leaving Geoffrey little choice but to follow.

Chapter 27

After what seemed like an eternity stuck in the dark, dank dungeon of the White Tower, Jacqueline was surprised when a couple of guards came and brought her up to the Royal residence. Considering that Charles was the one who’d ordered her arrest, the last thing she expected was to be granted an audience. Not that anything that had happened since she left Paris had made much sense. She still had no idea why she was taken, who that harlot Shell was working for, or what the King of England’s part in it was…though, with any luck, she was about to get an answer for the latter.

On reaching the top floor of the tower, the guards shoved her into a small bedchamber and locked the door. Moments later, a second door at the other end of the room opened, admitting His Majesty inside. And it was clear that he had her at a disadvantage, resplendent in his silken doublet and hose—not to mention the expensive-looking brown wig covering his close-cropped hair—while she stood before him in chains, filthy from her captivity and wearing only the tattered remains of her musketeer uniform.

“Your Majesty,” she ground out, looking him right in the eyes. She saw the corner of his mouth twitch slightly in amusement, but he otherwise seemed to ignore this act of defiance.

“It’s lovely to see you again, Jacqueline, though I wish the circumstances could’ve been better.”

She snorted. “Circumstances? You had that insane harlot and her mysterious boyfriend kidnap me and hand me over to be arrested on charges that you and I both know aren’t entirely true. What the hell is going on here?”

Charles laughed. “You give me far too much credit, Jacqueline. Believe it or not, this was their idea.”

“And they twisted your arm to get you go along? I somehow doubt that. Last I checked, no one made the King of England do anything. So tell me…what’s in this for you?”

“You.” He drew closer, running a hand along her cheek. She immediately recoiled from the King’s touch, staring at him in shock.

“What?”

“I’ve desired you ever since the moment I first saw you, Jacqueline. You rejected me before, but maybe now that I’ve taken my rightful place on the throne….” He leaned in for a kiss, only to have her back away.

“As…flattering…as this is, Your Majesty, I’m a married woman. Very happily married, in fact.”

He shrugged. “A minor inconvenience.”

Jacqueline’s expression turned to one of disgust. She was absolutely appalled at the man’s audacity. “Inconvenience? Have you no respect for the sanctity of marriage?”

“Marriage is sacred, I agree. But unless I’m mistaken, I believe the vows include the phrase ‘‘til death us do part,’ do they not?”

“You wouldn’t.”

His smile faded, and he leaned in closer. “I know very well who your husband is, Jacqueline. A pirate, just like his father and grandfather before him. Should he have the nerve to ever set foot in my kingdom, I’d have every right to have him executed for his crimes. Of course, there is one way you could prevent that.”

“How?”

“As head of the Church of England, I have the authority to grant you a divorce. Leave Greyhawk and marry me, and I’ll give him a full pardon.”

She shook her head, horrified that he would even suggest such a thing. “I don’t know if you noticed, Your Majesty, but I’m Catholic. I don’t believe in divorce. And even if I did, only His Holiness the Pope has that authority. The only reason you have any religious authority at all is due to a selfish king—himself the so-called ‘Defender of the Faith’—who turned his back on Pope Clement VII simply because he wouldn’t allow him to cast aside his wife in favor of a younger woman. So, suffice it to say, I’m not the least bit interested.”

“You don’t understand, Jacqueline. I can give you so much more than Greyhawk can. Marry me, and you’ll be Queen of England, with every luxury that you can imagine. How can you possibly refuse?”

Her eyebrow shot up, and she lifted her manacled hands as far as the chain between them and the leg irons would allow. “Well, the fact that you had to take me prisoner to even get me here is certainly a factor. Not to mention the threats that you’re making against my husband. Did you honestly think that any of this would make me more receptive to your proposal?”

“It’s not as if you left me much choice. If you’d just accepted the first time….”

“You mean after you lied to me…used me in your scheme to get back at Cromwell? At least Geoffrey has integrity. He’s ten times the man that you’ll ever be.”

“Then why isn’t he here with you now? From what I heard, you two had been separated for at least a week before you were taken.”

“We had a fight. So what? Lots of couples have fights. It doesn’t mean that Geoffrey and I love each other any less.” She frowned. “How do you know all of that, anyway?”

“I’m the King of England. I have my sources, and I certainly don’t have to reveal them to you.”

“So it was your perverts who kept trying to break into our home? You’re just as bad as the scum you hired.”

“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think? I told you, the kidnapping wasn’t my idea.”

“Sure it wasn’t.”

Glancing around, Charles suddenly grabbed hold of the manacles, pulling her close. “Look…just say you’ll marry me, and things won’t have to get ugly.”

She glared. “This whole situation has been ‘ugly’ from the moment those thugs drugged me and packed me off on a ship like a piece of cargo.” She tried to snatch the chains from his grip, but he held fast.

“Jacqueline…”

“I won’t betray my husband.”

“Why not? He’s already abandoned you, or so it would seem.” With that, the King leaned in and kissed her, keeping hold of the chains so she couldn’t escape. After a moment of panic, she managed to drive a knee into his groin, forcing him to release his grip as he collapsed to the floor. He lay there for a short time, holding the injured area, before finally managing to call for the guards. They responded immediately, rushing into the room and grabbing hold of Jacqueline’s arms as the King collected himself and climbed back to his feet. “Return LePonte to the dungeon,” he ordered before turning his attention back to her. “Perhaps you’ll be more cooperative once we’ve taken Greyhawk into custody. Surely it’s only a matter of time before he shows his face here, looking for you.”

She spit at his feet. “If you hang Geoffrey, you’ll have to hang me as well, because that’s the only way you’re keeping me in England.”

“So be it,” he growled, waving the guards away. Jacqueline soon found herself being dragged from the bedchamber and, in fairly short order, unceremoniously tossed back into the dank cell that had been her ‘home’ since her arrival in that God-forsaken country. The door slammed shut, thrusting her once more into near-total darkness, and she automatically reached for the cross that still hung from her neck. Why that had been left with her when just about everything else she had was taken—her wedding band included—was yet another of the many mysteries surrounding her current situation. ‘What’s so important about this thing, anyway? Could it have something to do with why Gerard came back from America to return it?’ She sighed. ‘Well, if it does, I’m not sure I want to know anymore.’ Letting go of the cross, Jacqueline curled up in the least uncomfortable pile of straw in the cell and, praying that Geoffrey would find some way to rescue her soon, attempted to get some sleep.

****************

As soon as Jacqueline was hauled from the bedchamber, Charles collapsed into a nearby chair and pulled the fancy wig from his head. Try as he might, he couldn’t wipe the hurt and betrayed look she’d given him from his mind. He’d never felt so low in his whole life…not even the first time he’d let her down by going after Cromwell despite his promise not to. ‘Is having her as my Queen really worth all of this? Maybe it’s time I just let her go…marry that nice Princess the Portuguese are offering.’ He started rubbing his temples, attempting to quell the headache that was coming on, and didn’t notice when someone else entered the room.

“My, my…not having second thoughts now, are we?”

Charles whirled around to see a cloaked figure standing in the doorway, accompanied by that irritating blonde.

“You lied to me,” he snapped. “I mean…kidnapping, for God’s sake! If I’d known you would take things this far, I never would’ve agreed in the first place.”

“Bit too late to back out now.”

The King stood up, staring the man down. “Watch me.” Then, faster than he could react, Charles found himself being slammed against the wall and pinned there.

“You forget your place, Charlie boy,” the cloaked man growled. Using his body to keep Charles pinned down, he pushed up the sleeve of the King’s doublet to reveal a familiar, obelisk-shaped mark. “You swore an oath…to me and to the Knights of the Black Tabernacle. And we take such oaths very seriously. Do you think you’d even have a throne now if it weren’t for us?” Charles stammered, trying to formulate a reply, but was quickly silenced. “Our whole claim to power rests on this marriage, boy! It was set into motion when you were just a mere child! Once you and Jacqueline are joined, France and England will be in our grasp, and it will only be a matter of time before the rest of Europe follows suit. So you just play your part, and let me worry about getting her to cooperate. Understand?” He nodded, too scared to do anything else. “Good. But know this…if you betray us, you’ll be replaced. I’m sure your head would look just lovely on a pike outside the Tower…give your father some company.” With a menacing glare, the cloaked man released his grip and stalked off with Shell on his heels, leaving Charles alone with his thoughts.

“How much longer we gonna have ta put up with that ponce?”

“Not much longer, my dear. The new moon is in less than a week. Once we’ve performed the ritual on Jacqueline and Charles plays his part, they’re both expendable.”

“So we get rid o’ them an’ Louis, an’ you’ll be King o’ both England an’ France?”

He smiled. “Precisely. France should have been mine to begin with, anyway. That infant doesn’t deserve to wear the crown. My family’s claim to power is far older than that of the damned Bourbons. But no matter. That wrong shall soon be rectified, and England shall come as an extremely pleasant bonus. And when I’m King, my dear Shell, my first official act shall be to make you my Queen.”

“Ya really mean that?”

“Of course I do, Shell,” he said, giving her a passionate kiss. “Now come…there’s still much to do before we can begin the ritual.” With that, the couple linked arms and disappeared into the bowels of the White Tower.

****************

For three days, Vigilanti and D’Artagnan followed leads that the Les Combattants de Anne had uncovered. The Musketeer was impressed at the leads, but nothing had turned out to be concrete. As a cover, the two acted as if they were lovers when they walked the streets of Le Havre. Walking the Rue de Calais, they discovered an unconscious man lying on the ground with an animal on his back.

D’Artagnan rushed forward. “Ramon? Mon Dieu, what has happened?” As he rolled the Musketeer over, Will jumped to the ground. He looked at the bloody face and the puffed up eyes of his friend.

Ramon groaned as he opened a slit in one swollen eye. “I must have hit a nerve. As soon as the Rose d’Orleans left port, they came looking for me. Wolfe must have put dos más dos and came up with me. Several men jumped me….Will? How is he? I heard him attack.”

“He was guarding you. There is a lot of blood; more than you could have lost.”

Ramon grabbed his friend’s arm. “Amigo, I found something out.”

“It will wait.”

“No. The Rose is going into a trap. Wolfe expects Geoffrey to go to Ireland to rescue the Princess. He did it to get back at the King for the slavery laws, and he doesn’t know he has the wrong woman. But he wasn’t the one who grabbed Jacqueline. It was someone else.”

“I am taking you to the Inn.” He pulled Ramon to a standing position and Vigilanti slid in to help. As they walked along, they saw a Black Musketeer standing with his back against a wall.

“Look how the mighty have fallen. Snatch a Musketeer’s woman and they all fall apart.” His taunting was cut short when he found that D’Artagnan had pushed him against the wall and the blade of a gauche pressed against his throat. He saw the killer eyes of the Gascon staring at him.

“What do you know about it? We told no one, so talk or die.”

“She was taken to England. If Greyhawk follows, they will hang him as the pirate that he is. If he doesn’t, then his woman will hang.”

“Who took her?”

A gun shot rang out and the man slumped. With a last gasp he looked at the Musketeer. “D--”

As Ramon and D’Artagnan looked around, Vigilanti checked the man’s clothes for clues. “I think he was telling the truth about England. How many Black Musketeers walk around with an English Shilling instead of a French Cardecue?” She shook her head, pocketing the coin. “So...what now? Do we go to England?”

D’Artagnan shook his head. “If we got caught, it might throw Duval’s mission awry. No, our best bet is to find out who killed this trash and who is behind it.”

Ramon nodded. “Your Violete makes sense. We need to find out who is responsible on this end and trust Geoffrey and the others to handle the other matter.” He pulled D’Artagnan to the side. “What is this about Duval and a mission? Come to think of it…why are you with my wife’s cousin?”

D’Artagnan started to stammer, but Vigilanti put her hand on Ramon’s arm. “Ramon, we are family, since you married Nikki. We will tell you all when we get to the Inn and get you cleaned up. Come on.” She looked at Will, who was nosing around the Black Musketeer’s coat. “Come Will.”

A short while later, the tall Musketeer sat on a bed, clean and bandaged. D’Artagnan laughed. “Be glad it was me that patched you up, it could have been our resident genius.”

“Very funny, Amigo.” He watched as Vigilanti brought a cup of coffee. “Now what is this about?” He was surprised when the woman sat down.

“I am known as Vigilanti and I am an agent for the Queen. D’Artagnan and I work for a doppelganger of Captain Duval who goes by the name of Scarecrow.”

“I am associating with spies? That is not even honorable.”

D’Artagnan smiled. “And what would you call Juan de la Vega de la Cruz.” He paused, glancing around the room. “Hey…wait a second. Where is Will?”

“Mrow.” Will sat on top of an armoire with an object in his mouth. The feline stood up, jumped to the bed, and deposited the object on Ramon’s lap.

The Spaniard picked up the item. "This is one of the masks that those perros wear in their sanctum…the ones who tried to sacrifice Jacqueline's brother."

Vigilanti paced the room. “I thought with Mazarin out of the picture, the Knights would have been disbanded. I guess someone else took over, but whom?”

Will jumped from the bed and ran to the door. D’Artagnan walked over and opened it. In a low voice he said, “Scarecrow.”

“For all practical purposes, call me Captain Duval,” he replied, also in a low voice. “I heard there was a shooting and that Musketeers were involved. Ramon, what happened to you?”

“Ramon was discovered by Wolfe, but we had nothing to do with the shooting. We were questioning the Black Musketeer when a shot rang out. This was found on his body.” He handed the mask to Duval’s double.

“It’s what I was afraid of. The Knights of the Black Tabernacle are alive and well, and continuing their evil ways. I am beginning to believe that the capture of Geoffrey Greyhawk’s wife was planned by the Order, and not by those wanting to reinstate slavery. I doubt she is in France…probably been taken elsewhere. Did that man say anything?”

D’Artagnan nodded. “He said that she was taken to England, and if Geoffrey followed they would hang him as a pirate and if he didn’t follow, Jacqueline would hang. I think that the two issues are interconnected somehow…being run by the same person or persons.”

Lee scratched his chin. “You may be right, my young friend, but we cannot go to England. We must stay here and protect the Queen. Leave England to Duval.”

Ramon struggled to get out of bed. “What do you mean, leave England to Duval? Who the hell are you?”

“D’Artagnan, please fill him in. I must think about our next step.”

D’Artagnan gave Lee a questioning look. “I thought Duval went to Scotland.”

“He did, but his mission is England.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door. As D’Artagnan opened it, a young woman handed him a note addressed to Ramon. He passed it to the Spaniard, who immediately opened it.

“I have to go.” Ramon began pulling on his boots.

The Legend’s son frowned. “Ramon, what is it?”

“A note from Nikki saying that Ana has had a vision and needs to be in Le Havre, which means that Nikki will have to be here as well. I am going to Paris to bring her back.”

Vigilanti nodded. “I am going also. It has been awhile since I have seen my kinswoman.”

D’Artagnan laughed. “Well, we might as well all go. How about it Will, ready for a trip?”

The cat looked at him and cocked his head sideways. “Mrow.”

D’Artagnan chuckled as Ramon got ready. “I have an idea, mon ami. Let’s takes the horses to Rouen and catch a barge to Paris. It will be an easier trip on Nikki to come up the Seine instead of bouncing in a carriage for several days."

"Not a bad idea. Violete, what do you say?"

The woman smiled. “I agree. Nikki would be more comfortable coming by boat.

Lee scratched his chin and tapped his cane on the floor. "Well, you all go do what you have to do and I’ll do the same."

Chapter 28

As the Rose d’Orleans and the Dulaman raised anchor, Geoffrey had ordered the boiler stoked and a long tow line stretched from the stern of the Rose to the bow of the Dulaman. With sails lowered, the two ships left the anchorage and were long gone before an English patrol ship arrived.

Cian and William took over the duties of Captain and First Mate on the Dulaman. William snickered. "Of all the ships of the world, we get to take command of one named Seaweed."

Cian laughed. "Well, it does sort of fit the way our lives have drifted. Oh man, I see trouble coming." He watched as a young woman came storming towards him.

"I don't imagine you pirates know who I am, but I demand that you return me to France and the King. I am his Princess."

William stepped in front of the woman. “Actually, we do know who you are. You are Maria Mancini, and we have orders to deliver you to your betrothed and that is in Italy, not France."

"How dare you! You are nothing but pirates."

Cian laughed. "We are the King's Musketeers and we are sworn to protect him from all evils, including you. Now, unless you want to spend the trip in the hold, you will return to your quarters. You are the only one to have private quarters on this ship."

"Let me guess…you are friends with that pitiful woman who masquerades as a Musketeer by the name of Luis."

"If you mean the woman who helped rescue you, then you are correct."

Mancini laughed. "What do you mean, helped rescue me? No mere woman could have gone up against those men…especially not a spoiled princess."

"Guess again, dearee. And if you make any more comments about women fighting pirates, I will personally see to it that you never see dry land again."

The arrogant Italian rolled her eyes. "I am so afraid of the big bad boy who thinks he’s a Musketeer. Don't they take an oath to protect women also?"

"Actually, all but three won't harm a woman. Then there is Jacques, Luis, and me."

Mancini snarled. "Don't even think of threatening me. That Cian is a better man than you and he will protect me. After all, he is a good looking man."

William squinted her eyes as a Cheshire cat grin grew on her face. "You are right…he is a better man than I am. I prefer my husband to be a man, he prefers his wife to be a soldier, and I daresay I am a better woman than you are. Be glad that Captain Porter isn't aboard, she would take exception to your words."

Cian walked up behind the two women. "I heard what you two have said. William, take the night crawler below decks. We will be cutting loose from the tow line in a little bit, then we’ll be on our own.

On board the Rose, Geoffrey looked into the Captain's mirror to see a swarthy individual with scraggly black hair and a soot-covered face. Slipping outside of the cabin, he made his way to the deck where a group of men stood at the bow. He saw Porthos and stopped next to him. Faith stood on the other side.

She slammed her hand on the railing. "How long does it take him to get ready?" Glancing around, she saw a man next to Porthos. "You there, go find Captain Greyhawk and tell him to get his scrawny arse up here." Her anger grew when the man didn't move. "I told you to get Captain Greyhawk. Are you deaf?" She looked at Porthos. "Is this the way my cousin runs his ship?"

Porthos looked to the left and laughed. "Faith, you wanted this man to get Captain Greyhawk, but it seems a tad redundant to have him search for himself, doesn’t it?"

Faith squinted. "G is that really you? You son of a....You do get into your part, don't you?"

Geoffrey laughed. "It's my neck on the line. We just rounded the Dover cliffs, so we should get ready to lower the longboat once we get close to shore. Once we are off, Porthos will take the ship to London and drop anchor."

An hour later, the skiff was lowered and Geoffrey and Faith sailed into the night.

****************

D'Artagnan and Ramon stepped off the barge in Paris and went to the Inn, where Nikki and Ramon spent the night together. The next morning, Nikki finished packing. "Ramon, as happy as I am to have you here…why? I am perfectly capable of taking a carriage to Le Havre."

"Mi amore, it will more comfortable for you on the barge than on the bumpy roads. It will also be better for our son."

Nikki frowned. "Son? Who says it is a boy? Maybe I am carrying a girl."

Ramon looked at his wife. "Impossible. We de la Cruz men always have sons first."

For the next two days, they argued about the sex of the baby. When they arrived at Le Havre, the first person they met was Louis, the King of France. The King walked up to them. “Where is Maria? Why are you taking boat trips when she is missing?"

D'Artagnan bowed. "Your Majesty, Captain Greyhawk found out that she was taken to Ireland and he sailed there to rescue her, but we have not heard from them yet."

Louis clapped. "Good, there is some activity then." He looked at Nikki. "Madam de la Cruz, are you alright? You looked flushed."

Ramon shook his head. "She is upset. We have been arguing about the baby. I say we are having a son, but she insists that it’s a girl."

Louis laughed. "I will settle the matter. Madame De la Cruz, as the Sun King, I am ordering you to have only sons." He waved his hand. "The matter is closed."

Nikki's nostrils flared. "King or no King, who do you think you are to order what my child will be? God?" She stormed back onto the barge.

Louis' mouth opened, but no sound came out as he pointed to Nikki and looked at D'Artagnan. The Musketeer leaned towards the King. "Your Majesty, the one thing I have learned is to never, ever argue with a woman who is pregnant. It would be easier to lasso the moon."

****************

No one paid much attention to the pair of scruffy-looking sailors and their black kitten as the trio prowled the darkened streets of London.

“So where is this place, anyway?” Geoffrey whispered.

“Over in Cheapside. Not far from St. Mary-le-Bow, actually.”

“A brothel that close to a church? You’re kidding.”

Faith shrugged. “You’d be surprised, G. Now come on…sooner we get there, the sooner we can go rescue your girl.” She quickened her pace, turning into a back alley with Geoffrey and Miette on her heels.

Several twists and turns later, the trio emerged from the alley to find themselves staring at a row of non-descript, rather dilapidated buildings. Obviously, this wasn’t the best neighborhood in London.

“So…this is Cheapside, eh? Where’s the bloody brothel?”

“Right down there.” She pointed down the street to a small building that looked like an inn, complete with the sign hanging out front. In this case, the sign simply had a picture of a bright red bird.

“I get it,” Geoffrey muttered after staring at the sign for a moment. “The bird is supposed to be a lark, right? And the color must have something to do with what’s going on inside. Bloody brilliant…if you weren’t actually looking for the place, you could pass right by without a clue as to what kind of establishment it really was.”

“That’s the general idea, G. Old Cromwell didn’t exactly approve of their sort of business, so they had to be pretty damn clever to keep it open right under that big, pointy nose of his.”

He nodded. “Good point. So what are we waiting for?”

“Nothing that I can think of. When we get in there, though, be sure to steer clear of Hollamby.”

“Who’s that?”

“The bitter old cow that runs the place. Woman would be better off running a prison or something…certainly has the temperament for it.”

“Duly noted. How do you know so much about this brothel, anyway? Something you want to tell me?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

Faith rolled her eyes, smacking him in the shoulder. “Grow up, G. It just so happens that a couple of my old mates from the orphanage wound up working there, and I try to spend some time with them while my men are being ‘entertained.’ As long as the old bag doesn’t have them working too, that is.”

“I see….” He sighed. “Well, let’s get this over with, then. Sooner we figure out where this ‘Shell’ buggered off to, the sooner we’ll be able to find Jacqueline.” Shaking his head, Geoffrey pulled his hat down lower over his eyes and started towards the brothel, Faith and Miette following close behind him. As they approached, the front door suddenly burst open as a large, well-dressed gentleman was unceremoniously ejected from the establishment by a tall, skinny youth.

“This isn’t over, Wade!” the gentleman growled, whirling around. “I’ll have this bloody place shut down!”

‘Wade,’ who didn’t appear the least bit intimidated, casually leaned back against the doorframe while looking him straight in the eyes. “Empty threat, Fenner. The only folks who know what goes on in here are the ones making use of the services. Shutting us down would mean having to admit to your wife what you’ve been doing in your spare time. And somehow, I just don’t see you doing that. So why don’t you just piss off back home, already? Shell’s gone, and she ain’t coming back no matter how much you harass the other girls. Got it?”

“Fine. You win…for now. But I’ll be back.”

“Oooh…I’m scared.”

Muttering under his breath, Fenner turned on his heel and stalked off, nearly knocking Geoffrey over in the process. “Watch where you’re going, peasant!” he growled.

“Sorry, guv’ner,” he replied, affecting a horrible Cockney accent. He bowed, resisting the urge to draw his blade and teach the oaf some manners. Seemingly satisfied, Fenner continued down the street without so much as a second glance at the ‘grimy peasant.’

Once he was gone, the youth stalked over to where Geoffrey and Faith were standing. “Alright you two, clear off! This isn’t a bloody charity!”

Faith laughed. “Nice to see you too, Nik.”

‘Nik’ leaned in closer, squinting at them until recognition finally set in. At the same time, Geoffrey realized that this ‘youth’ was actually a woman…one who just happened to have short hair and wear men’s clothing.

“Bloody hell, Faith!” she muttered. “A sodding bit of warning would’ve been nice. What the hell are you supposed to be dressed as, anyway?”

“Sorry ‘bout that. We have to be inconspicuous ‘cause my cousin here ain’t exactly His Majesty’s favorite person right now.”

Nik’s eyebrow shot up. “So it’s like that, eh? What’s so bloody important that you’re risking your necks to get to this sodding dump?”

Faith opened her mouth to respond, but Geoffrey beat her to it. “We need to speak with you about Michelle Dockley.”

“Dockley? What the bleedin’ hell has she done now? Who are you?”

“Geoffrey Greyhawk.”

“The pirate?”

“Some call me that. Personally, I prefer the term ‘privateer.’”

She shrugged. “Whatever you say, mate. I’m Nicola Wade, but you can just call me ‘Nik’ or ‘Nicki.’ And you never did answer my first question. Why are you so interested in Shell?”

Geoffrey sighed. “I have reason to believe that she was involved in the recent abduction of my wife, and the only real lead I have at the moment is this place. So can you help me or not?”

Nicki nodded. “Come inside…we’ll talk there.” Turning around, she headed back inside with Geoffrey, Faith, and Miette right behind her.

Chapter 29

“Hey!” A squat woman with a face reminiscent of a bulldog emerged from the back as they entered, glaring at them disapprovingly. “Get that filthy beast out of here,” she yelled, pointing at Miette. “This is a business, not a bloody petting zoo!”

Nicki rolled her eyes. “Piss off!” Not giving the woman a chance to respond, she led Geoffrey and the kitten to a table near the back of the brothel’s tavern. Faith went off elsewhere, presumably in search of her friends, and the older woman was left sputtering in indignation. After a moment, she whirled around and returned to wherever she’d come from.

Geoffrey took a seat, Miette leaping into his lap as he did. He looked over at Nicki, eyebrow raised. “That was Hollamby, wasn’t it? You sure you want to be talking that way to your boss?”

She snorted. “A technicality. Woman spends more time with her bloody tea than doing any actual work. Without me, this whole bloody place would fall apart, and she knows it.”

“So you’re not….”

“Hardly. I’m just here to look after the girls. Bodyguard, babysitter, and head bloody prefect, that’s—”

“Nicki!” a shrill voice shouted from upstairs. “Me bleedin’ perfume’s been stolen!”

Nicki sighed, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. “See what I mean?” She shook her head. “Nothing’s been stolen,” she yelled back. “The bottle was empty. I’ve already sent out for more.”

“Oh….”

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Nicki said, turning back to Geoffrey. “Anyway…what do you want to know about Dockley?”

“Whatever you can tell me, starting with where she is.”

“I’m not really sure how much help I’ll be in that department. She hasn’t worked here in months.”

“Why did she stop?”

Nicki took a deep breath, turning to look out the nearby window. “I remember that night very well…in fact, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget it. It started normally enough…usual crowd coming in for their regular ‘services’ and all that. There was this French bloke in the crowd, too. Never did catch his name, but he looked pretty well off.”

“French, you say?”

“Yeah. Must have been an ambassador or something. Like I said, I never did catch the name. Didn’t have time, really. Almost as soon as he walked in, Shell started laying into this other girl, Rachael. Thought she was trying to move in on her territory.”

“Territory?”

“One of her regulars…the ‘honorable’ Sheriff James Fenner.”

“You mean that jerk that you threw out of here earlier?”

“The same. At any rate, I didn’t have time to learn much about our mystery guest because of having to rush over and break up the fight. By the time I managed to wade through the crowd and pull Shell off of Rachael, the poor girl had been beaten half to death—and that’s not an exaggeration. Frenchie seemed to get a real bloody kick out of it, though. Soon as the fight was over, he took Shell up to her room, and they stayed in there for a good couple of hours.”

“And what happened to Rachael, if you don’t mind my asking?”

She sighed. “That was the worst of it. I’d taken her to her room to rest, and went back to check on her while waiting for Shell and her new ‘friend’ to come up for air. When I did, I found the poor girl hanging from the ceiling. Shell had been tormenting her for months, and the beating must’ve pushed her over the edge. I cut her down, laid her out on the bed and covered her over with a sheet. Then I went to find Shell. Honestly, I could’ve killed her for what she’d done. Rachael was a good kid…she didn’t deserve what that bloody bint put her through. But I never got the chance. I came out of Rachael’s room to see her and that Frenchman talking to Hollamby. He handed the old cow a sack full of gold, then walked out the door with Shell on his arm. I was sorely tempted to go after her, but under the circumstances, I decided that I’d best stay with the other girls. They certainly wouldn’t have gotten any bloody sympathy from Hollamby. All she cared about when Rachael died was how much money she was going to lose. But sometimes, I wish I had gone after the bloody bitch. Maybe if I had, things would be different…especially for you.”

Geoffrey shook his head. “No need to blame yourself. Whoever Shell’s working for now could just as easily found himself another little helper somewhere else. Shell just happened to get lucky.”

“True.” She took another deep breath, running a hand through her closely shorn locks. “There is something else, though. I saw Shell again a couple of days ago…at least, I think it was her.”

That got Geoffrey’s attention. He shot to his feet, forcing Miette to leap away for her own safety. She curled up underneath Nicki’s chair, glaring at her human. He paid the feline no attention, though, slamming his hands on the table and leaning in closer to Nicki.

“Where?”

“At the city docks. Hollamby had me up there waiting for a package, like I’m her bloody errand boy on top of everything else. So I was sitting there, bored out of my bloody skull, when this other ship pulled in. There was a pack of Royal Guardsmen waiting for it, and once it was docked they charged up and announced that they were placing some poor bloke under arrest for associating with….well…with you.”

“Me?”

“That’s what I said.”

Geoffrey sighed. “What was his name?”

She rubbed her chin for a moment, thinking. “I believe it was Jacques…Jacques LePonte.”

At that, all the color drained from his face and he collapsed back into his chair. “LePonte…are you sure?”

“Positive, mate. The guards dragged the poor fellow off the ship in chains once the leader finished reading the arrest order. He put up a hell of a fight, but they still managed to shove him into one of those prison wagons and cart him away. Once they were gone, that’s when I saw Shell. She was standing by the rail, watching the scene with this insane grin on her face, and there was this other fellow in a black cloak standing behind her.”

“The mysterious Frenchman?”

“That would be my guess.”

Geoffrey ran a hand over his features, struggling to maintain his composure. He now had a better idea of who’d taken Jacqueline, but the fact that Charles Stuart was obviously involved narrowed his rescue options considerably.

“Where did they take him? Did they say?”

Nicki nodded. “They said he was to be taken to the Tower until His Majesty decided his fate. Why are you so interested in this fellow, anyway? I thought you were looking for your wife.”

“Jacques is my wife.”

“Sorry?”

He sighed. “It’s the name she used to join the Royal Musketeers a few years ago. She’s still a Musketeer, actually…as am I. Obviously, the bastards who took her are trying to keep her identity hidden….I just wish I knew why. What the bloody hell is going on? What do they have to gain by taking her?”

“If I could answer that question, I would.”

“I know. Thanks anyway.”

“Any time.”

Geoffrey stood up. “Now, if it’s all the same to you, I’m going to go and get my wife back.” He started for the door, only to have Nicki block his path.

“Are you bloody insane? It’s the middle of the night.”

“So?”

Her eyebrow shot up. “Look at you. Not to sound like a mother hen or anything, but when was the last time you got any sleep?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know…last week?”

She frowned. “Well, that does it. You’re staying here. I know you want to get your wife back and all, but what good will you do her if you collapse from exhaustion in the middle of the bloody rescue? I’m sure your cousin would agree with me.”

Geoffrey opened his mouth to argue, but quickly closed it again, knowing that she was right. “Alright, you win. Where am I sleeping?”

“Well…most of the rooms are for ‘business’ purposes. Faith has a standing arrangement with her friends, though, and I’m sure we could dig something up for you. Come on, I’ll show you around.” She headed upstairs, and, after scooping Miette into his arms, Geoffrey went up after her.

****************

William led Mancini below decks and to her quarters. "For now, you will stay in your quarters. Don’t show your face unless you have been given permission." She saw a crewman coming up the stairs from a lower deck."You there, what's your name?"

"Fuiseog. Why?"

"I need your help in keeping our guest in her quarters."

"Aye, that can be arranged…but isn't she one of the ones we rescued?"

"Yes, but she thinks she is the future Queen of France."

Fuiseog laughed. "Don't worry, if she tries to go above deck, she might just go for a swim. You and Cian…you have sailed before, I can tell. Who did you sail with?"

"My brother, Cian and I all sailed together, but the Captain and the ship should best go unnamed."

Fuiseog squinted. "Wait a minute…was your brother named Conan?"

"Yes."

"Since the new captain is Cian, that makes you Meallá. But why the ‘William’ bit?"

The Musketeer pulled Fuiseog close. “You know that swim you want to have Mancini make? Any more questions and you will join her."

"I would never tell anyone."

William smiled as she released the woman. “Don't think I don't know what Fuiseog means. In French it is Alouette, in Spanish it is Alondra and in English, Skylark. So why would I trust anyone named lark? You would sing like a bird."

Chapter 30

Six days later, Cian allowed Maria to come above decks and get some fresh air. The wannabe Queen looked at the horizon off the port side before storming up to Cian. "When do we arrive in Le Havre? I need to freshen up and you will need to send one of those women to wait on me."

Cian chuckled. "Le Havre? We left that behind four days ago. We dropped anchor one night and the other former prisoners were put ashore along with the kidnappers. We will be entering the Straits of Gibraltar tomorrow morning."

"What?” she squawked. “You were to leave me in Le Havre. Turn this ship around at once! I order you!"

"You have no power over this ship."

"The King will hear of this and you will be punished."

"By now, the King is already aware of the situation. If you will notice, this ship does not fly the French flag. We will be dropping anchor off the coast of Northern Italy and you will be taken to meet your future husband in Milan."

"Milan? You think you are so smart…that is where Cardinal Mazarin is from. I will be able to return to France before you can sail back."

Cian laughed. "It is a long walk back or a long swim. Here is some more information for you to chew on. Milan is in Italy, that is true, but it is under the control of Spain…which, as you know, is ruled by the King of Spain. I see by your face you don't get it. The King of Spain is the father of Maria Theresa, the woman who will be what you never can, the Queen of France.” His expression turned serious, and he leaned in closer to Maria. “Besides,” he continued, “I know full-well that Mazarin came from Sicily. Nice try. Just how stupid do you think I am?"

Maria's eye grew wide. "You stinking Irish pig." She started throwing anything she could find to throw at Cian, who merely moved out of the way.

"Fuiseog, take care of this woman."

"Aye, Captain." She came up behind the infuriated French woman, grabbed her hair, and pulled her to the rail. "You need some cooling off." With a quick shove, Maria fell over the rail and dropped into the ocean.

Cian ran to the rail. "Go get her." He picked up the Irish woman and tossed her over the rail. "Bosun, lower sails and the longboat. MAN OVERBOARD!

Men scrambled to drop sails and lower the longboats, William came up to her husband. "What happened?"

"I guess Fuiseog took my comment about Maria a little too literally. I said take care of her, not kill her."

"Alright, but how did she end up in the sea?"

Cian laughed. "I tossed her overboard with orders to save Mancini."

William looked at her husband. "Oh, you are evil.” she grinned. "That's why I married you."

Cian frowned. "And here I thought it was for my money." He nodded to the two women who were now in the boat. "I have an idea. Since the two of them went swimming together, perhaps they should share quarters."

William laughed. "Evil…pure evil. I love it."

A while later, the two women stripped off their wet clothes in their shared cabin. Maria glanced at her cabin mate and gasped. Staring at the ugly gashes on Fuiseog's back, she fought back the bile in her throat. "How did you get those?"

"From an English lord when I was thirteen. He liked young girls and when I refused, he raped me and then he whipped me nearly to death."

"What happened?"

"When I recovered, he had me brought before him, but he didn't see the knife I had hidden. He forced me to my knees to service him. Well, I bit him and then used the knife to cut his throat. I escaped that night and hid aboard a ship. It turned out to be the ship of William Greyhawk. Faith was on board and when I was discovered, she and Geoffrey hid me below decks as a powder monkey. From that time on, we have been friends. About a year later, William discovered I was on board and took me to a convent in Paris so I would have a decent upbringing. A few years later, after she had a ship of her own, Faith found me and offered me a position on her ship."

Maria looked at her roommate. "Fuiseog…what kind of a name is that?"

"It is the Gaelic translation of my real name, Alondra. It means Skylark in English."

Maria pulled her dress on. "I know why you threw me overboard, but why did you come after me?"

"I didn't. Cian tossed me overboard and told me to get you."

"Alondra, have you and Cian ever…you know…?"

"Cian? No, he came on board when you did. Look, if you have any ideas about going after him, I wouldn't. You would find yourself in a watery grave and no witnesses."

"He wouldn't dare."

Fuiseog shook her head. "He wouldn't, but his wife might. She is on board, but you will never see her. A word of advice. Do what you are told, marry who you are told and you might be surprised how happy you will be. I hear tell that the man you are to marry is a wealthy nobleman. Better than being made the slave of a savage chieftain in the colonies, which is where you were headed."

Maria shuddered, but kept quiet. A few minutes later, she walked over to her cabin mate. "Will he whip you?"

"Who?"

"That brute, Cian. Will he whip you for throwing me overboard?"

"Cian is a good man and a Musketeer. No, he punished me by making me share a cabin with you."

"Am I that bad?"

Fuiseog laughed. "In a word, oui."

"I was told that the Princess actually helped rescue me. Is that true?"

"Were you able to see our men as they came over the wall?" Maria nodded. "The first one over was the Princess herself. You should be grateful. Anyone else would’ve left you to your fate."

Maria went back to her bed and sat down. “Alondra, thank you. When we get to Italy, will you come with me?”

“To take you to your future husband, yes.”

“No…I mean come with me, permanently.”

“Give up the sea? I would have to think about it. I’ve had a ship underneath me for quite a while now and I love it.”

****************

Two nights later, William walked up to Cian. “How long are you going to let Luis stay in the crow’s nest?”

He looked up at the Main mast. “Hey, it’s not my decision. She said that she loved the nest, especially at night. During the day, she hides out on the Orlop deck.”

“But why? She is among friends here, even in her disguise.”

“She said that if she ran into Mancini, there would probably be a fight, in which case someone would go over the side.”

“We are the ones caught between a rock and a hard place. Louis expects us to protect his mistress, and we sail with his future Queen.”

“Just keep them apart and we should be alright.”

****************

Louis, King of France, had been upset ever since he got word that the kidnapped people had arrived on shore one night in a longboat. Finally, he made a decision and stormed out of his quarters. A little while later, he stormed in D’Artagnan’s room. “Where is she?”

The musketeer jumped out of bed. “Your Highness, whom do you mean?”

“Maria Mancini, of course. I heard that the people taken by the slavers have been returned under the cover of night.”

“The Rose d’Orleans returned?”

“No, some ship called the Dúlamán.”

“Your Highness, I have never heard of that ship. What about Captain Greyhawk?”

“That’s what I would like to know. According to some of the people, Greyhawk transferred the freed captives to this other ship and sailed to England. How could he do that?”

“Who is the captain of that other ship?”

“That’s the strangest part. Apparently, three of Greyhawk’s crew took over.” The King described the crew.

D’Artagnan sat down for a moment, then stood back up. “Wait…the descriptions. That was Cian, William and Luis.”

“You mean Marie—my Marie—is on the same ship as Maria? Mon Dieu. One of them will not be coming back. Why would Greyhawk allow this?”

“Your Majesty, the captives were freed, Mancini was safe, his mission was over. He has a more pressing matter to attend to.”

Louis frowned. “What could be more pressing?”

“His wife was also kidnapped on the road to Le Havre. Possibly by the same group. If he did not return, he has a lead.”

Louis pulled up a chair and sat down. “What is happening?”

“Your Majesty, there is something you should know. Captain Greyhawk had orders that if he was able rescue Maria, he was to take her to Italy to marry."

Louis stood up. "I am King! Who would dare tell him that?"

"Me."

Louis turned to see his mother standing in the doorway. "Mother?"

"Yes. I ordered her to be removed from France and married to a very wealthy Italian nobleman. She is jeopardizing the treaty with Spain."

Louis swallowed. "But Mother…."

"Don't you ‘but Mother’ me. Young man, you will marry Princess Marie Therese. From what I hear, she left the palace to hide among the Musketeers and she has made a good one. Where is she now?"

Louis looked at D'Artagnan. "She is on the ship delivering Maria to Italy."

"Son, you have a good woman in Marie Therese. Don't lose her." She started to leave. "Of course, since she is a Musketeer, she may end up throwing your mistress off of the ship."

Louis' mouth dropped. "She wouldn't….Would she?" He looked at D'Artagnan. "I am not having a good day. First Madame de la Cruz defies me, and now this." He looked at his mother for help.

The Queen frowned. "What is he talking about?"

D'Artagnan laughed. "He ordered Madame de La Cruz to only have sons."

She turned to Louis. "You didn't….You can't order a woman to do that. Are you insane?" She looked at her son and shook her head. "It would serve you right if Marie tossed your mistress into the sea."

"Mother!" He cocked his head. “Wait….When did you get to Le Havre, anyway?"

"You are not the only one who has resources. I was on board the barge that brought Madame de la Cruz and her husband. I was having a delightful conversation with Ana on the way. I had the pilot let me off at a small dock before he entered the city." Smiling, Queen Anne walked away, leaving her son alone with his favorite Musketeer.

D’Artagnan looked at Louis. “No offense, Your Majesty, but I thought you were planning to break up with Mancini anyway. Why are you so upset about her being taken to Italy?”

“I…uh…” the young King stammered, not quite sure himself why he was so upset. Finally, he shrugged. “I don’t know. I just wanted to end things in person, I suppose. I’m going to go now…see what the people Captain Greyhawk rescued have to say. Excuse me….” Louis made his way towards the inn where some of the former captives were staying. His services no longer required, D’Artagnan headed off to find Violete.

****************

Two days out of port, Cian allowed the Royal Mistress to come above decks at night when most of the crew was sleeping. Mancini roamed the deck for a couple of hours with Fuiseog before she started back down to her quarters. She had her foot on the first step when she realized that there was a crewman halfway up the narrow stairway. Knowing full-well that there was only room enough for one person, she decided that the crewman would have to go back down. “You there, get out of the way, I am coming down.” She was startled when the crewman kept coming. “Do you know who I am? I am the future Queen of France.” A laughed echoed up the gangway.

“You mean the King’s puta. He will never marry you.” Luis’s face came into sight and Maria backed up. Just as Luis was almost to the top of the stairs, Mancini reached forward and shoved the real future Queen down the stairs.

Fuiseog pushed Mancini out of the way. “Cian! Will!” She ran down the stairs to see Luis at the bottom of the stairs, not moving. “Luis, are you still with us?”

Luis opened her eyes. She shook her head before grabbing Fuiseog’s arm to help her stand up. Luis grabbed the stair rails and stomped up to the deck. Sighting Mancini, she headed to the Royal Mistress.

Mancini stood her ground with a smug look on her face until Luis’ fist caught her on the chin, sending the woman sprawling. Struggling to stand up, a boot caught her in the side. As she looked up, she saw her attacker being pulled away by Will and Cian right beside her. “Captain, your crewman struck me. I will expect no less than 100 lashes.”

Cian nodded. “I agree. Striking someone above your station deserves 100 lashes. Bos’n, get me the cat o nine tails and tie her to the mast.”

Mancini smiled in victory until she was grabbed and led to the mast. “Wait, your crewman struck me. You saw it.”

Cian walked over to her. “By your own words, you condemned yourself. I know who Luis is and you struck a Royal Princess. A Royal Mistress is nothing more than a woman of the streets.” He looked at Luis then back at Mancini. “Even if Fuiseog didn’t say anything, I saw you from the foc’sle.” Cian felt a hand on his arm and turned to see Luis and Will. “Let me guess, you want me to forget this? Alright. Mademoiselle Mancini, you will spend the rest of the trip in your cabin.”

Fuiseog cut Maria down. “I don’t think I will be staying with you in Milan.”

****************

In the town of Grenoble, on an alluvial plain of the River Isere, a man in nondescript clothes rode up to an inn on the outskirts of town from the south. Dismounting, he noticed a single horse showing signs of recent use was tied to a hitching rail. He checked his rapier to ensure an easy glide before examining the two pistols tucked into his belt. Satisfied, he entered the inn and stopped to the side of the door, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. He caught sight of a man sitting in a corner, back to the wall. The traveler walked over and sat down. "Scarecrow, we need to stop meeting in places like this. There’s barely any light for me to see what I eat."

Scarecrow laughed. "Trust me Marcel, it is better that you don't see what they serve. In fact, that is why I bring my own. The first time I ate here, the main course got up and ran away." He reached into a bag and pulled out a loaf of bread and a large chunk of cheese, then handed Marcel a knife. "Here, have some.”

Marcel took the knife and cut off a piece of cheese and some bread. "Okay Lee, what is the progress? I heard some disturbing news that she was kidnapped."

Lee nodded. "She was, but I have a reliable source that told me she was rescued and is, in fact, on her way to Milan. She should be there by the time you reach home. That is, of course, if someone doesn't chuck her overboard first."

Marcel frowned. “Who would dare do that to the King's Mistress?"

Lee smiled. "The King's future Queen. She is hiding as a Musketeer and is on board the ship. From what I hear, she is a very good Musketeer.”

Marcel shook his head. "It will not help us if she dies."

"Don't worry, there are two other Musketeers who I trust to keep that from happening. I just wished I could persuade them to join the Brotherhood."

Marcel laughed. "You? Since when are you unable to persuade someone to join the Brotherhood?"

"The issue is that we are a Brotherhood, not a Sisterhood. One of them is a woman and they are married."

"Good God, The Princess is a Musketeer and there is another woman? Can it get much worse for the King?"

Lee nodded. "You remember Captain Greyhawk? His wife is a Musketeer and she was recently kidnapped . I pity the bugger who did it when Geoffrey gets him."

"And the King knows this? At this rate, women will want to be doctors and priests."

Lee smiled. "Actually, only a few people know. I only found out because they thought I was Duval."

Marcel looked around to be sure no one could hear. "What are we doing about the Order?"

Lee leaned closer. "I knew that Wolfe was involved with the kidnapping, but not where they went. Some fool mistook Mancini for the Princess, who he was supposed to kidnap. If Mazarin was still in charge, he would have had the lot executed. The survivors had better hope Mazarin does not hear about this."

"Who grabbed Madame Greyhawk?"

"Our friend who took over the Order."

"Mazarin underestimated the Musketeers and I think his replacement has underestimated Greyhawk."

"Do you think Greyhawk will find his wife?"

Lee leaned back. "If he doesn't, England will rue the day they took Madame Greyhawk. I can see London Bridge falling down and Greyhawk watching London go up in flames."

"You know, I was really surprised when our young Siroc changed back to Greyhawk. Remember, I met him shortly after he became a Musketeer."

"I remember. That was the first time that Duval and I changed places for a bit. But enough of that. Are you ready for Mancini?"

"Yes, I am ready to make her forget the King."

Chapter 31

Geoffrey stood at the bow of the Cutlass, watching the dolphins leap playfully around the ship. He sensed a presence behind him, and turned to see….

“Jacqueline.” She looked like she’d been through several kinds of hell, but her eyes still held the same fire that he loved so much. He reached forward, half-expecting the image to fade into nothing the second he tried to make contact. But it didn’t. He felt warm, solid flesh beneath his hand, and he could barely contain the tears of joy that threatened to spring forth. “You’re here…you’re really here.” Geoffrey pulled her close, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. “H-how is this even possible?” he asked, once they parted.

She shook her head. “Oh Geoffrey…I’m so frightened. Why is this all happening to me? Why?”

“I wish I knew. But don’t worry, my love. They’re not going to get away with this. I’m here now, and I’m going to get you out of there. I promise.”

“Please hurry. They’re planning something big, I can feel it. Something dark…powerful. Don’t let them take me…please….” She held on tighter, burying her face in the soft fabric of his shirt. Struggling to maintain his composure, he gently stroked her hair while murmuring soothingly into her ear.

“Nothing’s going to happen to you, Jacqueline. I won’t give them the chance. This time tomorrow, we’ll be halfway to Tortuga…finally go on that honeymoon we’ve been planning.”

She looked up, cracking a small smile in spite of herself. “Geoffrey, I—” All of a sudden, a giant wave slammed into the deck, knocking them both down. When the water subsided and Geoffrey finally regained his bearings, Jacqueline was gone.

****************

Jacqueline sat up, coughing and sputtering as she tried to wipe the water from her eyes. She looked up to see Shell standing over her with an empty bucket, that same insane grin playing across her features. “Wakey, wakey,” she giggled, tossing the bucket into the far corner of the cell.

“W-what’s going—” Shell kicked Jacqueline in the stomach, then placed her foot on her chest, forcing her onto her back. Jacqueline tried to push her off, but that only made Shell lean on her even harder.

“Come on in, boys!” she called. Several rough-looking men entered the cell, and Jacqueline closed her eyes, expecting the worst. However, much to her surprise, all they did was remove the chains while Shell continued to hold her down. When they finished, she backed off a bit, and Jacqueline dared to open her eyes again. Unfortunately, they weren’t quite done with her yet. While Shell watched, the men rolled her onto her stomach and proceeded to bind her hands behind her back. A gag was tied into her mouth, and a rough sack was pulled over her head and secured with some rope. The sack was damp and had an odd smell, which Jacqueline immediately recognized as the same thing the thugs who’d attacked her and Marie on the road to Le Havre had used. She tried to resist the potion’s effects, and was able to for a little while, but it was a losing battle nonetheless. As she fought to remain conscious, she felt the men pull her to her feet and drag her from the cell. Jacqueline soon found herself being tossed into what felt like a small boat of some sort. They tied her feet together, and the last thing she heard before succumbing was a man’s maniacal laughter.

****************

Geoffrey shot up in his bed, practically hyperventilating as his mind worked to process his dream. He had no idea how it was possible, but he knew that he’d really been talking to Jacqueline and, more importantly, that he couldn’t wait any longer to go to her rescue. Something was happening, and if he didn’t act now, he’d lose her forever.

Wiping the last bit of sleep from his eyes, he glanced over at the clock in the corner. It was almost midnight. He’d barely been asleep for even an hour. Shaking his head, Geoffrey hastily pulled on some clothes and, calling for Miette, made his way over to the room Faith was staying in. He knocked on the door and, when no one answered, cautiously made his way inside. There were two girls in the bed, neither of whom could’ve been much more than sixteen. A small, impish blonde was curled up against a taller, darker-complexioned girl, and they were both sound asleep. ‘Faith’s friends, I presume.’ Glancing around, he finally saw Faith herself lying on a cot that had been set up near the foot of the bed. Slipping over there, he none-too-gently nudged her with his boot. When she didn’t respond, he nudged a bit harder, sending her to the floor.

“Wha-what the hell, G?” she grumbled, rubbing her eyes. “D’ya have any idea what time it is?”

“Yes, but we have to go…now. Jacqueline’s in trouble.”

“I know she’s in trouble. That’s why we’re here, innit?”

“Look, if we don’t go now, I’ll never get her back.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do, okay? Now come on!” With that, Geoffrey turned on his heel and left the room. Muttering apologies to her friends, Faith quickly pulled on some clothes and joined him.

“Okay, so what’s the plan?” she asked as they made their way outside.

“Nicki says they took her to the Tower, so—”

Faith grabbed his arm, turning him to face her. “Whoa…the Tower? As in the Tower of London?”

“Yes.”

She shook her head. “How the hell do you expect us to get in there? It’s a bleedin’ fortress! I did not sign on for a bloody suicide mission.”

“Actually…I was thinking we’d walk in through the front door.”

Faith stared at him for a moment, not sure she’d heard him right. “Okay…you know that fine line between genius and insanity? I think you just crossed it, G.”

“It’s not that crazy, Faith. In fact, it’s one of the oldest tricks in the book.”

“Ya lost me.”

Rolling his eyes, Geoffrey ducked into an alley for a few moments. When he re-emerged, his hair had returned to its natural color.

“Are you mad?” she hissed. “Do you want to get yourself locked up?”

“That’s kind of the idea.”

“What?”

“It’s the old ‘Trojan horse’ trick…only, instead of a wooden horse, they’ll get me.”

“I still don’t follow.”

He sighed. “You’re going to pretend to be a bounty hunter, looking to turn me in for the reward. Let the King think he’s getting what he wants…it’s the fastest way to get inside.”

“And what if they drag you down to the bloody dungeon and leave you to rot?”

“They won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because His Majesty is going to want to see me for himself…even if for no other reason than to gloat about his supposed victory. And once we’re inside, I’ll be able to question him about Jacqueline.”

Faith shook her head. “I still think you’re completely mental.”

“Maybe, but it’s the best chance we’ve got. And I can’t do it without you, Faith. He’d never believe in a million years that I’d actually turn myself in.”

She thought for a moment, then sighed. “Fine. But we’ve gotta make it look convincing.” With an evil grin, she reached into her coat and produced a set of manacles.

Geoffrey groaned, rubbing his temples. “You know what…I’m not even going to ask.”

“Good, ‘cause I wasn’t going to answer. Now hold still….” She tried to grab his hands, but he quickly squirmed out of the way.

“Wait a second…you do have a key for those, don’t you?”

“Of course I have the bloody key,” she snapped, pulling it out to show him. “What do you take me for?”

“Okay, okay….” This time, he stood still while she snapped the cuffs onto his wrists, securing them behind his back. “Ow…did you have to make them that bloody tight?”

“Don’t be such a baby, G.”

“I think you’re enjoying this a bit too much.”

Ignoring the comment, she circled him once, appraising his appearance. “Well…it’s a start. But I think we need one more thing if we want to make this really convincing.”

“What do you—” All of a sudden, her fist slammed into his jaw, nearly knocking him over. “Hey…what the hell—” Another blow, this one opening a small cut over his eye. “Bloody hell, woman!”

“Come on…you don’t really think they’ll believe you came quietly, do ya? Just one more….”

“No…I think that’s plenty. Let’s just get this over with, shall we?”

“Party pooper,” she muttered. “Alright, come on.” She grabbed his arm, and the two made their way to the infamous Tower with Miette following a short distance behind. As they neared the Tower Bridge, she started to drag him along a bit more roughly.

“Bloody hell,” he whispered. “You don’t need to be that convincing.”

Rolling her eyes, she told him to shut up and gave him a none-too-gentle shove towards the nearest guards. Miette leapt onto a nearby barrel and lay down to watch the proceedings.

“Halt! Who goes there?”

“Name’s Faith, and I’ve got something His Majesty wants.” To illustrate, she pulled Geoffrey into the torchlight, giving the guards a good look at his face.

“Blimey…it’s ‘im,” one guard whispered to his comrade. “It’s Greyhawk.” Clearing his throat, he turned back to Faith. “We’ll take it from here.” He reached towards Geoffrey, only to have Faith grab his hand and squeeze.

“I don’t think so, pal. I want the King to know it was me that brought ‘im in. How else am I s’posed ta collect the reward? Now…why don’t you boys go ahead an’ point me in the direction of the Royal chambers, eh?” She released her grip, glaring. The guard paled, nursing his bruised hand, and quickly did as she’d asked. As he escorted them to Charles’ residence, Faith discreetly slipped the key into Geoffrey’s hand.

Almost immediately, he started working the key into the lock. It was a bit awkward, given the fact that his hands were behind him and he couldn’t see what he was doing, but he soon managed to get both cuffs unlocked. He caught the chain before the manacles could drop to the ground, and held onto it with both hands to keep up the pretense that he was still chained up.

Several twists, turns, and staircases later, they finally came to what Geoffrey assumed was the Royal residence. The guards let him and Faith into the room, then shut and locked the door, leaving them alone…well, almost. Glancing around, they caught sight of the King himself, slumped in a chair and looking anything but regal. After a moment, he raised his head and met their eyes. “Captain Greyhawk, I presume.”

Before Faith could stop him, Geoffrey dropped the manacles, drew his dagger, and lunged for the King. He grabbed the monarch by his doublet and slammed him against the nearest wall, putting the blade to his throat. “Faith, watch the door,” he commanded, never taking his eyes off of Charles. “And don’t even think about calling the guards, Your Majesty. It won’t do you any good. Understand?” He nodded. “Good. Now…where is she?”

“Who?”

Geoffrey growled, putting a bit more pressure on the blade. “Don’t toy with me! You know damn well who I’m talking about! Where is my wife?”

“Jacqueline?”

“Yes, Jacqueline! Where is she? What have you done to her?”

At that, Charles seemed to falter. “I-I’m sorry…I didn’t know, I swear….”

“You expect me to believe that? You signed the damn arrest order yourself!”

“For LePonte! I had no idea that he and Jacqueline were one and the same when I signed it. It wasn’t until he told me—”

“Who told you?”

Charles shook his head. “I don’t know…I’ve never seen his face. I just know that he’s in charge of the Knights of the Black Tabernacle. My father had been a member, and this other chap tricked me into taking the oath myself. He said if I did, he would make Jacqueline my queen and, through her, restore England’s claim to the French throne.”

“How would marrying Jacqueline make you ruler of France? She’s not Royalty.”

“He didn’t exactly bother to explain. I just took him at his word.”

“You fool! You put my wife in harm’s way just on this man’s word?”

He sighed, hanging his head in shame. “Look, if I’d known he would take things this far….”

“What are you talking about? What’s he done to her?”

“He’s been talking about something he calls a ‘cleansing ritual.’ I don’t know much about it…just that it has to be done on holy ground beneath the new moon. Whatever it is, it doesn’t sound good. They took her from the dungeon about an hour ago. I think they’re planning to do it tonight. I swear, I never meant for her to be hurt. If there’s anything I can do….”

Frowning, Geoffrey sheathed the blade and released his grip. “Give us your fastest horses, so we at least have a chance at catching up to them before they can hurt her.”

“Done.” He scribbled something onto a bit of parchment and handed it to Geoffrey. “Give this to the groom. He’ll see to your request.”

Geoffrey nodded. “Thank you.” His expression changed, and he drew the dagger once more, brandishing it right in front of the King’s face. “Know this….If anything happens to my wife because of you, I will come back here and kill you myself. I don’t care who you are…nobody harms the woman I love and gets away with it…nobody.” He punctuated the threat by slamming the dagger into the wall right by Charles’ left ear, then turned and joined Faith by the door. “Don’t bother calling for the guards. Faith and I shall see ourselves out.” She already had the door unlocked, so the pair walked right out of the room and made their way back to the courtyard, where Miette was patiently awaiting their return. From there, they found their way to the stables. Geoffrey handed the note to the groom on duty, who immediately supplied them with what he hoped were the fastest horses Charles had at his disposal, saddled and ready to go.

As they led their mounts outside, Faith turned to her cousin. “Not that I’m complaining or nothin’, but these horses ain’t exactly gonna do us much good if we don’t know where Shell and her new boy-toy took Jacqueline.”

Geoffrey rubbed his goatee, thinking. “Well, His Majesty said that the ritual was to be performed on holy ground, beneath the new moon. And ‘new moon’ actually means that there’s no moon…like tonight. So they can’t have gone far.”

“So we’re lookin’ at churches, then?”

He shook his head. “Not exactly. It’s the way the King worded it… ‘beneath’ the new moon. That implies somewhere outdoors, which makes me think ruins…old druidic temples and such. But the only such ruin that I know of is Stonehenge, and there’s no way they could reach that one in time.”

“Ruins, you say?”

“Yeah…why?”

Faith sighed. “It might be a long shot, but there is one place that I know of…just outside the city, along the banks of the Thames. Father showed it to me once. Doesn’t look like much…most folks would just pass right by without even realizing what it was. Just some runes and a crude altar. Father said that the site once belonged to Merlin himself.”

“Merlin’s just a legend.”

“Maybe, but the site is real enough. And I’d say it’s our best bet.”

Geoffrey nodded. “Alright. Take the horses, grab Miette, and meet me by the bridge. I’ll only be a moment.”

“Doing what?”

“Just borrowing a few supplies…I’m sure His Majesty won’t object.” With that, Geoffrey turned and, after asking directions from the groom, made his way to the armory. Grabbing a couple small kegs of gunpowder and a few fuses, he then headed to the bridge and proceeded to secure the items to his mount’s saddle.

“What’s all that for?” Faith asked as she mounted her horse.

Geoffrey shrugged, lifting Miette onto his saddle and climbing up behind her. “Never know when it might come in handy. Now…show me where this place is.” Nodding, she urged her mount into a gallop, and Geoffrey quickly followed her lead, praying that they’d reach Jacqueline in time.

Chapter 32

Jacqueline had no idea how much time had passed since leaving the Tower, but once the hood had been removed and she’d regained consciousness, the first thing she realized was that she had been tied down to some sort of stone slab. She tried to wriggle free, but the ropes were too tight. And that’s when things got worse. Looking around, she found herself surrounded by figures in identical dark robes and masks. The Order. “Wha-what’s going on?” Jacqueline gasped, once she managed to spit out the gag. “What do you want from me?” Her questions were met with stone silence. A moment later, one of the figures—the leader, she presumed—stepped forward and marked her forehead and temples with some warm, sticky substance that she hoped wasn’t blood. He then moved back and, opening a large, leather-bound tome, he threw his head back, face to the sky, and began chanting in some language that she most definitely didn’t recognize. Jacqueline closed her eyes, praying that the dream she’d had earlier was real and Geoffrey actually was on his way. Seconds later, her thoughts were interrupted by a strange sensation, more painful than anything she’d ever felt before. Her eyes snapped open, and she did the only thing she could do under the circumstances. She screamed.

****************

Riding hard along the Thames, Geoffrey and Faith heard a woman’s scream, and the familiarity of the sound sent chills down his spine. Miette reacted first, leaping from the saddle and running off in the direction of the sound. Her human companions quickly followed suit, urging their mounts to the fastest speeds they were capable of. They soon found the cursed gathering, the tiny kitten reaching the group first. With a roar that sounded like it should’ve come from a much larger creature, she broke through the circle and, in one smooth move, leapt onto the altar and spring-boarded from there to the exposed throat of the figure holding the book. Clamping down on his jugular with surprisingly powerful jaws, she cut off the chant. The man collapsed in a pool of his own blood, the kitten still attached to his throat.

Seeing their leader fall, the rest of the robed figures scattered. Most—including Shell, who’d been standing off to the side—headed for the hills as Geoffrey and Faith rode in, cutlasses drawn and ready. The few who chose to remain and fight the interlopers soon realized their mistake. Geoffrey flew from the saddle, tackling the nearest one, then rolled back to his feet and threw himself into the resulting melee. No pretense of style—just hacking and slashing at whoever got in his way, as if he were on board a ship. Faith fought in a similar manner, but with a good deal more grace and agility than her cousin. Though outnumbered at least three to one, the pair quickly decimated the cultists.

As soon as the last man fell, Geoffrey abandoned his now-bloody cutlass and rushed over to the altar. Jacqueline’s eyes were closed, and her body was still—too still. Forcing himself not to panic, he cut her free with his dagger, then gently lifted her from the stone slab and laid her out on the ground nearby. “Jacqueline,” he whispered. No reaction. He shook her shoulders, calling out a bit louder—still nothing. “Oh no….” His hand flew to the side of her neck in search of a pulse. There was none to be found. “No….” He closed his eyes, fighting back tears as he cradled her lifeless form to his chest.

Dimly, he felt a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Geoffrey.” Not even acknowledging the fact that his cousin had used his full name for a change, Geoffrey shook her off.

“No,” he snapped, glaring. “I’m not giving up on her…not yet.” Pushing her back, he turned his glare to the heavens. “You hear that, God? You’re not taking her from me…not like this!”

“Geoffrey….”

Ignoring Faith, Geoffrey gently laid Jacqueline back on the ground. He pinched her nose and, after making sure her airway was clear, proceeded to breathe into her mouth. Repeating the action twice, he then started pumping on her chest—just like with Ramon the previous year. “Come on, Jacqueline,” he pleaded as he worked. “Come back to me, my love.” A seeming eternity passed in this manner before he finally heard the loud gasp that signaled she was breathing once more. Breathing his own sigh of relief, he lifted her head to look into her eyes, only to find her still unconscious. He touched her neck once more, reassuring himself that she now had a steady pulse, before gently laying her back on the ground. Smoothing back her hair, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead, then turned to Faith, who was staring at him in shock.

“H-how’d you do that?”

He shook his head. “She’s alive…that’s all that matters right now.”

Faith nodded. “So who were these guys, anyway?”

“The Order of the Knights of the Black Tabernacle…a secret society that was once headed by Cardinal Mazarin. I don’t know who heads it now...so let’s find out, shall we?” With that, he stood up and walked over to the fallen leader. Miette was still firmly latched onto his throat, and it took both him and Faith to pry her loose. Faith held onto the kitten once she’d been dislodged, while Geoffrey bent down and pulled off the man’s mask. As he did, all the color drained from Faith’s face. Luckily, the change in demeanor went unnoticed by her cousin. “Well I’ll be damned…it was DeMolay all along!”

“W-who?” she stammered, doing her best to cover her shock.

Geoffrey looked at her, eyebrow raised. “Something wrong, Faith?”

She shook her head. “No…nothing’s wrong. Just didn’t expect there to be so much blood, is all. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah…anyway, who was he?” she asked, gesturing to the corpse.

“Claude DeMolay, duc d’Nemours. I knew that bastard was up to no good…,” he growled, talking more to himself than Faith. “He was way too interested in Jacqueline’s cross. And anyone who would seek out the services of those hooligans that Mazarin dared to call ‘guards’ had to have been involved in something crooked. So why the hell didn’t I see it before…?”

“Who knows? My question is, why the bloody hell was he so interested in your girl? What does she have to do with all that Royalty stuff His Majesty was going on about?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea. DeMolay was overly ambitious, that much I know. But there’s no reason that I can think of that he’d have had to do all of this.” Glancing around, he finally noticed the large book lying by the dead duc’s side. “Perhaps this could shed some light on the matter,” he said, picking the tome up and looking at the page it had been opened to. He swore. “Egyptian…this’ll take me ages to translate. Why couldn’t it have been a nice, easy language like Latin?”

“You think Latin is easy?”

“Don’t you?”

Shaking her head, Faith snatched the book from his hands. “Look, this place is startin’ ta give me the creeps. So why don’t we just take your girl and get the bloody hell out of here?”

“Alright…get Jacqueline into that boat they used and take her back to Chateau Larkhall.”

“Why there?”

“Because, should any of the remaining cultists decide to come back and finish the job, the last place they’ll look for her is a brothel. Besides, between you, me, Miette, and Nicki, I don’t think any of those guys would stand a chance.”

She nodded, shoving the book back into Geoffrey’s hands before going over to the still-unconscious Jacqueline and gently lifting her up. “What about you, G?”

“I’ll be along. I just have a few more things to take care of here.”

“Fine…just don’t go and blow yourself up or nothin’. I don’t want her to wake up an’ kill me.”

“I’ll be fine, Faith. Now go on…get her out of here.”

Another nod, and Faith disappeared into the darkness. As she left, Geoffrey felt something scratching at his leg. He looked down to see Miette staring up at him, a small golden object in her mouth. “What’s this, little one?” he asked, holding out his hand. She dropped the item into it, and, on closer inspection, Geoffrey realized that it was the ring he’d given Jacqueline. “Where did you find this?” Miette looked at DeMolay for a moment, then back at Geoffrey.

“Mraow.”

“He had it? Bastard…” he hissed. Pocketing the ring, Geoffrey quickly went to work cleaning up the mess. Not even bothering to see who they were, he dumped DeMolay’s henchmen into the Thames; one by one—after making sure they were properly weighed down, of course. As for the mastermind himself, Geoffrey tied the bloody corpse to the horse Faith had left behind. “His Majesty is going to get quite a surprise when I return the horses, won’t he girl?” Miette, still licking the blood from her mouth, meowed in approval.

The late duc taken care of, Geoffrey turned his attention once more to the altar. More specifically, to the item in the center. It was the true obelisk of the Order, he was sure of it. Said obelisk had been placed in a hole in the middle of the altar, right beneath where Jacqueline had been lying. Geoffrey reached down and attempted to remove the artifact, only to find it firmly embedded in the stone. Another scathing curse. “Normally, I’d be against the destruction of such a valuable piece of history—or mythology, as the case may be—but if destroying this holy place is the only way to rid the world of this damned obelisk, then so be it.” Decision made, he went to his own mount and, after moving both horses a good distance away, retrieved the supplies he’d ‘borrowed’ from King Charles. He set two small kegs of gunpowder on either side of the altar, running the fuses from them up to the center and joining them just above the obelisk. Stuffing a few packets of flash powder he’d brought from home into the hole for good measure, he lit the fuse with one of his ‘fire-strikers,’ grabbed Miette and the book, and dove for cover. Moments later, a tremendous explosion shook the land.

Geoffrey waited for the smoke to clear before daring to look. When he did, he found nothing but a charred crater where the altar had been. Glancing around, he couldn’t even see any fragments large enough to be of use to anyone. The obelisk—the source of the Order’s power—was gone. As sweet a victory as that was, Geoffrey didn’t take time to revel. He had far more important things to attend to. Stuffing the book into one of the saddlebags, he mounted his horse and, after making sure Miette was balanced on the saddle behind him, made his way back to the heart of the city. He returned both mounts to the stable at the Tower, along with a note for the King explaining the corpse, and continued to Cheapside on foot with Miette trailing behind him.

On reaching Chateau Larkhall, Geoffrey was met at the door by Nicki. “Where is she?”

“Upstairs, in the room you were using.”

Before she’d even finished the sentence, he and Miette were already halfway up the stairs. Geoffrey rushed inside the room to find Faith sitting by the bed where Jacqueline lay, still unconscious. “How is she?” he asked, sitting on the bed and gently stroking his wife’s hair. Miette jumped up there as well, curling up next to her human’s side.

Faith shook her head. “Still the same. A doctor’s already been in. Pretty sure the King sent him…probably trying to make up for what he’s done. Not sure how he found the place, though. We certainly didn’t—”

Geoffrey held up a hand, cutting her off. “What kind of doctor?”

“Don’t worry G, it wasn’t one of those idiots who like to bleed people. I think he was a Turk or something…knew an awful lot about herbs and such. Anyway, he looked her over and, other than some cuts and bruises, he said there weren’t nothin’ wrong with her…nothin’ that should be keepin’ her from wakin’ up, anyhow.”

Geoffrey nodded grimly. “So it comes down to whatever that son of a bitch was doing with that bloody obelisk. Bastard…if Miette hadn’t ripped his throat out, I’d run him through myself.”

“Maybe there’s somethin’ in that book that’ll help.”

“Perhaps…but unless you know someone who can read ancient Egyptian, the thing is bloody useless. Looks like we’ll have to just wait it out…pray she wakes up on her own.”

“Yeah,” Faith nodded. “Well, I think I’ll leave you guys alone now…go get some sleep. Unless you need me to do something for ya….”

“No, you’ve done more than enough,” he said, giving Faith a small smile. “Without you, I might never have found her in time. So go on…you deserve a rest. We’ll be fine.”

“Alright…if you’re sure.” He nodded, and she turned and left the room. Once they were alone, he turned his attention to Jacqueline.

“I don’t know if you can hear me, love, but you’ve got to fight this. If there’s one thing I know for certain, it’s that you’re stronger than all of those bloody cultists put together. Whatever that bloody ritual was meant to do, you can beat it. I know you can.” His voice started to break, and he found himself fighting back tears as he looked at her pale, unmoving form. “God, Jacqueline…I’m so sorry for the way I acted back in Paris. I’d do anything to take back those things I said. I was a bloody fool, trying to push you away…no matter how noble my intentions might have been. If only I’d taken you with me, that heartless bastard wouldn’t have stood a chance. Please…come back to me, my love. Give me a chance to make things right again. I love you more than I’d ever thought possible. I couldn’t bear to face another day if I lost you. Come back to me, Jacqueline….Please….” He placed a tender kiss on her unresponsive lips before he finally broke, sobbing into the sheet covering her chest. Before long, he actually managed to cry himself to sleep. When Nicki came in to check on them a few hours later, she gently lifted Geoffrey the rest of the way into the bed beside his beloved, then covered him over and left the little family in peace.

****************

After a buggy ride in the country, D’Artagnan and Vigilanti returned the buggy to the livery and walked down the street, arm in arm, with Will following close behind. A man came out of a store and bumped into the couple. Both men apologized and moved on. As the man stopped and watched the couple, his eyes caught sight of the cat following them.

D'Artagnan kept walking. "Keep walking and don't look back. That was Wolfe. Let's just hope that he didn't recognize me."

Wolfe stared at the couple and the animal that trailed behind. Only one person he knew of had a cat and that was Carlos, the deaf-mute companion of Juan. He followed the couple to a small house near the Inn and got the shock of his life when Juan opened the door, except the man he saw was not ‘Juan’ any more than Carlos was a deaf-mute. He hurriedly went to get some of his associates to teach these men—whoever they were—a lesson.

An hour later, five men kicked in the door and raced inside. Ramon and D'Artagnan reacted quickly, pulling their rapiers while Nikki moved to the back of the house with Vigilanti. Once Nikki was out of the way of the attack, Vigilanti looked to see what was going on. Four men battled the Musketeers and one lay bleeding on the floor. Seeing the bleeding man's rapier on the floor, she picked it up and engaged one of the four men.

Wolfe noticed that a woman had entered the fray, so he avoided the fight as he made his way to the back room. Catching sight of the pregnant woman, he forced her towards the fight with a dagger at her throat. "Drop your weapons or she dies." The two Musketeers and Vigilanti froze, as did the sole remaining attacker. “I mean it! Drop your weapons or you will die. No one tries to fool me and lives to tell about it. Who are you anyway?"

Ramon, sword still in hand, moved forward. "We are the King's Musketeers and that lady is my wife. Unhand her."

"Not likely ‘Juan.’ Yes, I know who you are, you and Carlos."

"Then let us introduce ourselves. I am Ramon de la Cruz and this is D'Artagnan. Maybe you have heard of his father, Comte D'Artagnan."

"Somehow I don't ....." He let out a scream and loosened his grip on the dagger as four pairs of claws shredded his shoulders and back while four canine teeth bit into his neck. Nikki reached up and grabbed the dagger, turned around and thrust the blade into Wolfe's chest. She placed her hands on her belly as the man reeled back and Will jumped off.

"No one threatens my child." Wolfe's eyes glassed over as he died.

The Musketeers turned to the remaining attacker, who decided that running was the better part of valor. D'Artagnan looked at Ramon, who had come up behind the pregnant woman. "Ramon, let me be the first to caution you about fighting with your spouse.”

Nikki glared at him. "Ramon, you had better take his advice."

D’Artagnan started to comment when Vigilanti pulled him aside. “We need to get these bodies cleaned up and let Ramon and Nikki alone, since Ana is out doing whatever she does.”

The Musketeer nodded. “Ramon, I will go to the Police Inspector and report this attack. I know he won’t do anything but get the bodies out. Will, protect Nikki.”

The cat jumped onto of the armoire and settled in.”Mrow.”

Chapter 33

A short while later, after reporting the incident, Vigilanti persuaded D’Artagnan to go for a ride. Retrieving their mounts from the stable behind the Inn, the two rode out of the city. D’Artagnan frowned as he looked at the saddlebags on Vigilanti’s horse. “When did you have time to get food?”

“Don’t question, just enjoy. I know of a small cottage a short way from here.” She kicked her mount into motion and laughed as she left D’Artagnan in the dust. Shortly, the Musketeer caught up as she was dismounting in front of the cottage.

"Vigilanti, just what are trying to do? Seduce me? I think we better have a talk before we do anything."

The woman looked at the Musketeer and kissed his cheek. "That is sweet D'Artagnan, but I only want to have a nice picnic with a handsome man. Know of any?"

D'Artagnan cleared his throat as he looked at the sky. "You get inside while I stable the horses. It looks like it is going to rain."

"At least the ants won't come visiting." She laughed as she sashayed into the house with the food. A crack of lightening and the rumble of thunder rolled towards them. D'Artagnan was quick, but not quick enough. By the time he got the horses settled and ran to the cottage, torrents of rain hit. A drenched Musketeer closed the door and stood in a puddle as the clothes he was wearing shed the rain. He noticed the blazing fire in the fire place.

"I wish Geoffrey would come up with some sort of a coat that would shed dirt and water."

She laughed. "Yeah…he could call it a duster. Better yet, we could come up with one. I can sew and you could be the model." She back away as he came closer. “You look like a drowned rat. Take off your clothes and hang them near the fire. I will get you a blanket."

"What about you?"

She winked at him. “I didn't get wet." She tossed him the blanket before turning away. "You know, if I could get some used sails, I could make a coat, say, that was slit up to the hip so you could wear it while riding. I like it."

D'Artagnan snorted. "You can turn around now. You wouldn't have any sails here, do you?"

"No, but I know of someone who might. In fact, Uncle Porthos still has a warehouse for storage. Tomorrow we will go a-raiding." She grinned. "Come, sit…we have this good food and excellent wine."

"How do you know the wine is excellent?"

"Because I stole it." Laughing, she picked up the clothes and hung them so they would dry. She went into the bedroom and came back with a quilt as D’Artagnan lay on the floor by the fire. Spreading the quilt out, she sat down and cuddled up to the Musketeer.

“Vigilanti, I can’t. As much as I want to, I can’t allow myself to get attached again and I am not into one night flings.”

“Since when? I hear that the famous son of the Legend knows most of the women in Paris.”

“All a fabrication, I can assure you.”

She sighed. “So…who was she?”

“Who was who?”

“The woman who broke your heart.”

The Musketeer was quiet as he stared into the fire. Finally he sighed. “Them. There were three. The first was when I was seventeen. Her name was Anne, and she was the greatest horsewoman I had ever met at that time. Her father didn’t approve, so one day we decided to run away. A stupid mistake, I know. Anyway…she was coming to our chateau to tell me when something must have startled her horse and he galloped away. I had seen her on runaway horses before, and she should have had no trouble…except this time, a low tree branch caught her and impaled her. I found her a few hours later, barely alive.” He took a deep breath. “Naturally, her father blamed me and threatened to make me pay. That was when I left home and joined the Musketeers. Then there was Jacqueline.”

“Madame Greyhawk?”

“The same. She had been falsely accused by Mazarin and was in hiding as a Musketeer when I accidentally found out that she was a woman. I fell in love with her, but she only thought of me as a friend. You know where that ended.”

“Who was the last?”

“Luis.”

“The Musketeer Luis? You went from to women to a man?” She pushed away from him.

“No…it’s not like that. Luis is really Princess Marie-Therese of Spain.”

Vigilanti’s mouth dropped open. “The future Queen of France? Boy, you sure know how to go from complicated to impossible, don’t you? How did you two…?”

“I was escorting her to France when we were attacked by pirates, and we both ended up in the sea. Then we ended up on a naval ship and fought pirates, side by side. She had a falling out with the King over his mistress and hid as a Musketeer. I really do love her, but as a friend and nothing more. So that’s my story.”

Vigilanti snuggled back up with the Musketeer and kissed his cheek. “You are a romantic, my friend. I too have issues that I am ready to leave behind.”

D’Artagnan looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“One of the guests at the Inn thought I belonged to him and forced himself on me. Uncle found out and the man disappeared, but I have not been able to trust any man since…not until you Musketeers came into my life. Geoffrey and Ramon are married, Luis is a woman and that leaves Cian and William.”

D’Artagnan laughed. “William is a woman and married to Cian.”

She shook her head. “We two can sure pick them.” She leaned her head on his chest.

He chuckled. "Maybe we should just quit while we are ahead."

Vigilanti looked up at the Musketeer and lifted her hand up to his head. Pulling his head down, she kissed him. Just a quick brushing of lips at first, then more urgent until the Legend's son pulled back. "Jacqueline…I-I can't."

She sat bolt upright. "Boy, you do have it bad, don't don’t you? If you ever want a woman, you had better get that name out of your head. She is married to another man."

"I know that, but what am I to do?"

“I thought you Musketeers were supposed to be on top of everything.” As she took his hand, pulling him to a standing position, she quickly kissed his cheek. Laughing, she twirled around the main room before finding her way the bedroom where she pulled him on top of her and kissed him, tongues intertwining.

D'Artagnan pushed away. "I said I can't. It wouldn't be right."

He turned around, not even realizing that he no longer possessed the quilt, and stormed into the living room. Pulling on his pants, he stuffed his feet into his boots and grabbed his shirt. He walked to the door and opened it. Rain poured from the roof onto the porch. Vigilanti ran after him. “D’Artagnan, I’m sorry. Please come back in before you catch your death."

He looked at the rain and then the fire. "Alright, but no romance. I only came here for a relaxing time with a friend."

"You're not exactly the way I had heard." She smiled at him. "Another time then. Until then, platonic friends."

He nodded. "Agreed."

****************

The next morning, Geoffrey awoke with the sun, though more out of habit than for any other reason. After taking a moment to check on Jacqueline, who still hadn’t regained consciousness, he gathered some supplies and headed downstairs, hoping that the English were as fond of coffee as the French. Miette raised her head and watched him go, but otherwise made no move to leave Jacqueline’s side.

On reaching the main floor of Chateau Larkhall, Geoffrey found the place eerily quiet. After a moment, he realized that everyone else had to have been in bed. ‘Who else would be up at this ungodly hour?’ he chuckled to himself. Setting his supplies on a table in the rear corner, he found his way to the kitchen and managed to make himself a cup of what passed for coffee in that place. Beverage in hand, he then returned to the table and set to work writing two letters. The first was to Captain Duval in Scotland—he’d told Geoffrey how to contact him before he left so as to be kept informed on the progress of Jacqueline’s rescue—and the second to King Louis, informing him of the late duc d’Nemours’ treachery. As soon as he finished, Geoffrey sent the letters off with the first messenger he could locate, then headed back inside to work on translating that tome. Not that it would do much good—he was a scientist, not a sorcerer—but at least it gave him something to do other than sit around and worry.

He was still no closer to deciphering the text when, several hours later, people began wandering into the main room, both from the rooms upstairs and from off the streets. Hollamby had come down first, glaring at him before waddling off to the back, muttering to herself about ‘freeloading foreigners.’ Much as he wanted to point out that his father was English—meaning that, technically, he wasn’t foreign—Geoffrey decided he was better off just ignoring her. He set the book aside, knowing he wasn’t likely to make any progress at this point, and contented himself with observing the various goings-on of the brothel. There were few customers at this hour—not very surprising, as he assumed they did most of their business after dark—so the girls were all just sitting around, laughing and gossiping as if they were ladies of leisure and not working in a house of ill-repute. Even Nicki seemed more relaxed than she had been the night before, chatting animatedly with a smaller, lighter-haired woman whose voice bore a rather distinctive Scottish lilt.

As Nicki was the most familiar face in the room, Geoffrey found his attention focused on her and her companion. He wasn’t close enough to hear more than the occasional snatch of conversation, but what he did catch made it pretty obvious that the two were quite close. Then, right before his eyes, the conversation went from friendly to heated, ending with a loud ‘Sod you, Nicki’ from the small Scot. She shot to her feet and started to leave, only to have Nicki jump up as well, gently grabbing an arm to halt her progress. There was a quiet, intense exchange between the two women, right before the Scot reached up and slapped her taller companion. The blow was actually hard enough to turn Nicki’s head, and while she was recovering, the smaller woman used the opportunity to shake off her grip and storm back upstairs.

Muttering some extremely unladylike curses, Nicki turned and stalked off outside, ignoring Hollamby’s threats to dock her pay. Watching her leave, Geoffrey failed to notice the fact that he suddenly had company at his table.

“I see I just missed the Nicki and Helen show.”

Geoffrey turned to see his cousin sitting next to him, her boots propped up on the tabletop. “What?”

“Helen…the Scottish woman who just stormed back to her room.”

“So that argument wasn’t exactly an unusual occurrence, I take it.”

Faith shook her head. “The way those two go at it, you’d think they were married or something.”

“I see….”

She shrugged. “So.…Made any progress yet?” she asked, gesturing to the book.

“No,” Geoffrey growled. “Thing’s bloody useless. Probably should’ve let it burn with the damned obelisk. I’m no closer to finding out what those bastards did to Jacqueline than I was last night.” He sighed. “Maybe I should head back to the Tower…have another go at Charles. I’ll bet he knows more than he was letting on.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, G. We managed to get in there last night, but that trick ain’t gonna work a second time…‘specially since you were in there making threats on the King’s life. I mean, I know he let us walk outta there and all…even gave us a couple o’ horses an’ sent a doctor ta look in on your wife…but I ain’t ‘bout ta stake my life on how long his good will might last.”

Geoffrey closed his eyes, running a hand through his long locks. “You’re right,” he conceded, after a moment. He swore, slamming his hand on the table so hard that his cup fell over and rolled to the floor. Luckily, it was empty.

“Damn…you okay, G?”

He shook his head. “I hate this…sitting around, not being able to do anything to help my wife when she needs me. If the damage was purely physical, I could deal with it on my own. It wouldn’t be the first time. But all this mystical mumbo-jumbo? I’m in way over my head here, Faith.”

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to wait for her to wake up, like you said last night.”

“I know. Doesn’t mean I have to like it. What the bloody hell am I supposed to do with myself until then?”

“I’m sure there’s some stuff here that could use fixin’ up. Talk ta Nicki when she finishes sulking. She can probably find somethin’ for ya to do.”

“I suppose….” He sighed, letting his gaze drift back over to the tome. Useless as it seemed, something in the back of his mind told him that the book held the answers he sought. And if there was any chance of helping Jacqueline…. “Actually, I think I’m going to head over to that church.”

Faith’s eyebrow shot up. “Since when do you go to church?”

He shrugged. “What could it hurt? Maybe a bit of divine inspiration is just what I need to figure out this bloody book’s secrets.”

“Suit yourself. I’ll just stay here…see what my mates are getting up to.”

“Alright. Just try and keep an eye on Jacqueline, too. I’d hate for her to be in a strange room all by herself should she happen to wake up while I’m gone.”

“Sure thing, G.”

“And if she does wake up—”

“I’ll send someone over to get you. Don’t worry...I’ll see that she’s taken care of.”

“Good.” Satisfied, he grabbed the book from the table and headed to St. Mary-le-Bow in hopes that a change of scenery might help him get closer to understanding what had happened to his wife.

Chapter 34

The splash of an anchor woke Mancini up and she looked around the cabin for her cabin mate. Fuiseog opened the door. “Good, you are awake. Get your things together, as we have to make shore within the hour before the tide goes out.”

“Are you going with me?”

“I will be an escort along with Cian and Will. Your intended should be waiting for us with his entourage.” The Irish woman helped Mancini get ready and then up to the main deck. As they were getting ready to lower Mancini to the longboat, another swung over from a rope and got to the boat before her. As Mancini’s feet touched the hull, the Musketeer smiled.

“I trust you will have a pleasant life, Madame.” Mancini started to respond when she realized that the Musketeer was none other than Princess Marie-Therese of Spain.

Fifteen minutes later Mancini’s feet touched shore, the first time since Ireland. A distinguished older man took her hand and escorted her to a carriage.

“Mademoiselle, I am Marcel. May I assist you?"

Mancini looked at him. "Oui." She held his hand as she stepped into the vehicle. "Merci." As she settled back against the seat, she was surprised when Marcel entered and sat across from her.

"Who are you? Are you taking me to the man who I am forced to marry?"

Marcel smiled. "No Mademoiselle, I am not taking you to him. I am he."

"You? I don't believe it. You don't look very rich to me. I was told you were very wealthy."

Marcel laughed. "Never judge a person by his appearance. I never do. We will marry and trust me, Mademoiselle, you will forget France and what was there. You will find Italy and being married to me to be a memorable experience." He leaned out of the window. "Salvatore, to my estate, forthwith." He saw Cian and his companions, nodded and waved.

Cian turned to his companions. "Shall we go home now?" They turned and walked back to the longboat. After reaching the ship, the Dulaman hoisted anchor and headed for Le Havre.

At the beginning of the second day under sail, disaster struck. As they entered the Straits of Gibraltar, the lookout called out that two ships were approaching from the west. One of the ships fired across the bow, showering Cian, Will and Luis with sea water as they watched the approaching ships.

Cian grabbed his telescope. “What the hell? Who are they?” He looked through the scope. “Those are Spanish frigates.”

Fuiseog ran up. “I was afraid of this. Faith had a run in with the Spanish fleet before.”

As Cian whirled around, he caught sight of Luis. “The only thing that will save us is for them to see the Princess. Marie, go put on a dress. As far as they will be concerned, I am under official orders from the King of France to escort Princess Marie-Therese back to Le Havre.” He looked up at the crew. “We will probably be boarded, so do not offer any resistance.”

As one of the ships came close, Cian noticed that the gunports of both ships were open. He saw the Spanish captain standing on the bow. “This is the captain of the Princesca Theresa. Faith Porter, you are ordered to stand down and surrender.”

Cian walked up to the bow. “This is Captain Cian Lenanne. I am a French Musketeer and we are escorting Her Royal Highness, Infanta Maria Theresa of Spain and the future Queen of France.”

There was a silence. “Prepare to be boarded. You will present this woman to me.”

Fifteen minutes later, several Spanish sailors and their captain came aboard. He walked up to Cian, who was wearing his Musketeer jacket. “Welcome aboard, Captain.”

The arrogant Spaniard looked around. “I am Captain Villenova. Where is this imposter?”

“Marco, how dare you say I am an imposter without seeing me first?”

Villenova’s eyes widened as he turned. Immediately he dropped to one knee. “Your Royal Highness, I beg your pardon. I heard that you were in France, not sailing the Mediterranean.”

“Marco, when have you ever known me to do the normal things of a Princess? Wasn’t it you who taught me to climb to the top of the mizzen mast?” She winked at Cian. “Marco…oh, do get up. Wait here.”

Marco watched as she turned around, swirling her skirts, and disappeared below decks. He stayed frozen in that position for ten minutes until a slender Musketeer appeared. His mouth dropped open as he saw her smile. “Your Majesty.”

“Marco, when I am dressed like this, I am Luis Borbon, Musketeer to the King of France.”

“The disguise is perfect. I just hope no one attempts to put you to a test.” He turned towards Cian as the Musketeer laughed. “What’s so funny?”

“Luis is one of the better swordsmen of the Musketeers.”

“But it is not proper for a Princess to be on a ship of men without a proper chaperone.”

Will walked up. “What am I chopped liver?”

“And who might you be, young man?”

Will grinned. “I am Cian’s wife.”

“Two women in the Musketeers?”

Will showed three fingers. “Don’t ask.”

Marco shook his head. "Captain, I offer you the protection of my two ships while you are in our waters. It is the least I can do, since you are carrying a very important person."

"I understand your duty to the Princess."

"No, this is a duty to a friend. Marie-Therese and I grew up together. My father was a high ranking naval officer and a cousin to the King."

Cian nodded. "Tell me Marco. Why are you after this Faith Porter?"

"There was a man who had committed crimes against Spain. We almost had him when he escaped on this ship. We believe this woman was a conspirator."

"Who was the man?"

"We only know his last name. DeMolay."

"What exactly what was his crime?"

"He pretended to be an ambassador from the King of France, but we found out he was working with Cardinal Mazarin. What he was doing was kidnapping young girls and sacrificing them to some evil deity."

Cian looked at Marco. "You are taking this personal, aren't you?"

Marco's eyes teared up. "One of the girls was to be my wife. You are right, I am taking this personal."

"So why would that make him run so fast?"

"Marie-Therese is my cousin on her mother's side. Estelle was a cousin to the King."

***************

For two days, Cian watched as the Spanish ship sailed close enough to yell back and forth. Finally, Cian saw Marco wave as the ships parted. When they were far enough away, Cian stomped down the gangway to Fuiseog's quarters and kicked in the door. Pulling the woman out of cabin, he hauled her back up to the deck. "Now that we are away from our escorts and they cannot harm us, you will tell me what the hell is going on or I swear I will throw you overboard."

She swallowed hard. "Alright, we were in port and low on money. Faith tried to find a source of funds, but was unable to. One day, a Frenchmen approached her with a proposition. He told the Captain and the First Mate that he needed to leave Spain and immediately and he was willing to pay handsomely, so the Captain agreed. The only condition was that no names would be given. Faith agreed. It was only later that we learned what the man had done and the Spanish were looking for the Dulaman."

"If Faith and the First Mate knew, how did you find out?"

"I am the First Mate under Captain Porter."

"You are the First Mate? Why in the hell should I believe you?"

"No reason, but hold judgment until Captain Porter returns."

Luis walked up with Will behind her. "Why should we hold judgment after what you did? I say we throw her overboard and when we catch Captain Porter, we turn her over to the Spanish Navy."

Will tapped her on the shoulder. "I do not think that is a very logical course of action."

Luis turned and frowned. "And why not?"

"Simply because there are three of us and four hundred and fifty of Captain Porter's crew on board.”

Luis thought a moment. "You do have a point. Then what are we to do?"

"Nothing at the moment. When the Rose and Dulaman meet up, Captain Greyhawk can decide."

Cian shook his head. "Greyhawk would not be impartial. We will turn her over to the King of France. Louis can make the decision.”

A short time later, Cian, William and Luis sat around a table in the Captain’s quarters. The Princess was furious. “I don’t care that we are outnumbered! We have to show how we will deal with traitors.”

William shook her head. “Technically, she is not a traitor. She is Irish and Faith is English. If what Fuiseog says is true, then they didn’t know who DeMolay was. We should give her the benefit of the doubt, at least until we arrive in Le Havre.”

Luis stood up. “Your soul to the devil, Cian and you too William. I am the daughter of the King of Spain and I have a say in this matter.”

Cian stood up and looked down at her. “Thanum o'n Dhoul, yourself. You may be the daughter of the King, but you are also a Musketeer and, as such, you are under my command so long as I am acting ship’s Captain.” He motioned for her to sit. “Look, I know that this is personal for you, but we must maintain clear heads. If we watch her, we will know if she is telling the truth. Then, when we meet up again with Faith, we can sort this out. Marco’s judgment is a bit clouded and you are on his side. I’m on no one’s side. I only want the truth and to protect this ship. I pray that you will submit to my command.”

Luis frowned. "There is merit to what you say, and you are right…as Luis, I am a Musketeer under your command. I will do as you say, but I don't have to like it."

"Good….Meallá , please get Fuiseog. We need to have a talk." She nodded and, a few minutes later, she returned with Fuiseog. Faith's First mate sat down when Cian motioned her to the chair. "We have a bit of a challenge. Luis wants to throw you overboard for helping DeMolay, but I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt until we are able to address this with Faith. Will you serve under my command?"

Fuiseog nodded. "I will serve under you, under one condition. You must understand that we did not know any of the things that man did until later."

Cian shook his head. “I cannot promise that…not until we’ve discussed the matter with your captain. However, as I said, I am willing to reserve judgment until that time. Is that agreeable to you?”

“It is.”

Luis looked at her. "I also agreed to serve under Cian, so for the time being, I will give you the benefit of the doubt as well…at least until we meet up with Captain Porter." Fuiseog nodded and left as Luis watched. 'I will work with you, but that doesn't mean I trust you.’

Chapter 35

The next evening, Will walked up to Cian at the till. "Where are we headed?"

"Bidossoa."

"Where?"

"It’s a river that forms the boundary between France and Spain, better known as the Bay of Biscay. We will anchor in the bay and wait for Geoffrey in Hendaye…unless you would rather be in Spain, then we could go across the bay to Hondarriba. We made an arrangement to meet here when we were finished our business."

"How long do we wait?"

"Until he shows up. Do you have somewhere else to go? Geoffrey has a faster ship, and I am sure that he will rescue Jacqueline."

"When did you make this arrangement?"

"We made a secret arrangement when no one else was around."

Will frowned as she put both hands on her hips. "And you kept this from your wife?"

Cian shook his head. "We figured that it would be better if only the two of us knew. Even Faith doesn't know. If you had known, would you have told Luis?"

“Well of course, why wouldn’t I?”

“And she would have told Marco and the entire Spanish fleet would be waiting for us.”

“I see…I guess you were right.” She looked him squarely in the eyes. “I hope that is the only secret you are keeping from me.”

“Trust me, my love. I have no other secrets.”

She turned around and left. ‘You better not, I am still a better fencer than you are.’ A slight smile came over her face. She saw Luis as she walked down the gangway.

Luis arched an eyebrow. “What is that look for?”

Will laughed. “Husband and wife stuff” She whistled a tune as she continued walking.

Shortly before dawn, the lookout called out that a ship was coming from astern under full sail. Cian hailed her and found out the merchant ship was headed for Le Havre and then England.

Cian rowed across to the Flounder, as she was called. “Captain Du Pont, I have a letter that needs to be delivered to Captain Geoffrey Greyhawk on the Rose d’Orleans, which is probably somewhere near London. Can’t miss her, as she has a smokestack between the masts. If he is not on board, then give it to Captain Porthos, who will be.”

“Porthos the pirate? Aye, I know him well. Good man. Greyhawk? Any relation to the pirate Greyhawk? I have heard of him. They say he was a Musketeer.”

“Actually still is, but that is another story. I have something to give you for your troubles. A cask of Italian Brandy.”

Du Pont laughed. “A man after my own heart. The letters are as good as delivered. I would have done it for free, but the brandy will go down just as easy.”

Cian saluted Du Pont and left for the Dulaman.

Three hours later, he spied the entrance to the river and turned towards it, easing the ship into the bay. "Drop anchor." He watched as the crew set about to bring the ship to anchorage. "Bos’n, after we are settled, a third of the crew may have three hours of shore leave."

The Bos’n saluted. "Thank you Sir."

****************

Captain Duval walked into the Le Havre mini-palace to see the King. He handed a letter to the steward and left. As Duval started to walk out of the palace, Lee Stetson was seen descending the steps, a cane and a wig having been stuffed in a hidden compartment behind a statue. In his chambers, Louis read the letter. "That no good cousin of mine." He looked up to see his mother running into the room at the scream. "Read this." He handed the letter to the Queen, who took it and read it. She sat down.

"What are you going to do?"

"I will kill him. I will have him brought before me in chains and have him beheaded."

"Don't you think that beheading him would be inappropriate?"

"Mother, why would you say that? He has betrayed the Crown."

"Well according to this letter, DeMolay is dead."

Louis flopped down in his chair. "Oh pooh, that takes all the fun out of it."

****************

D'Artagnan knocked on the door of the little house where Ramon and Nikki were staying. Ana opened the door. She looked pale. "D'Artagnan, I am glad you are here. I had a vision about Jacqueline. Much evil."

"Ana, can you be a little more specific and when is this to happen?"

"Soon. Someone wants her.”

D’Artagnan shook his head. “So when is this someone who wants her going to act?”

“I think it is happening now. I feel much evil.”

The Musketeer pushed past her. “I need to see Ramon.” As he walked by, he rolled his eyes and looked up. ‘Why me, Lord?’ He saw Ramon coming downstairs. “Ramon, you look like a she-devil is after you.”

“My wife. She is imposible…always demanding things I can’t provide.”

“Like what?”

“Well for one she wants me to change the August heat to November’s cooler weather. You would think she thinks me a god. Then she blames me for her being in this condition.”

“Well, you are half responsible, remember? Maybe Geoffrey will invent some sort of machine to cool the house, then you would find life easier.”

“An air cooler. Now that would be a boon to man and woman.” He looked at D’Artagnan, eyebrow raised. “Why are you here?”

“I received a note from Duval…the real one, I think…and one from Geoffrey. Come, we will talk where there are no ears.”

“Bueno, amigo. I have to get out of here before she wants me to have a horseless carriage brought around for her. Imagine such nonsense. Mark my words, D’Artagnan, stay single.”

D’Artagnan simply shook his head and looked upwards. ‘Again, why me?’

The two men walked out of the house and found their way to the Seine which was less than a quarter of a mile away. Ramon stopped and sat down by a tree. “What do we need to discuss?”

“For starters, you should distance yourself from Ana, she is either unbalanced or a fraud.”

Ramon frowned. “How can you be so sure?”

“Well, for one thing, I have it on good authority that Jacqueline has been rescued, but Ana told me that there was much evil and that someone wanted her.”

“Maybe there is something else going on that we don’t know yet. What else is there?”

“Scarecrow is gone as Duval is on the way home.”

Ramon stared at D’Artagnan. “So what does that mean for you and Violete?”

The Musketeer shrugged as he skipped a stone across the water. “Who knows?”

****************

Later that day, D’Artagnan was sitting by himself at a table in the Inn, thinking. It had been several days since his and Violete’s picnic, and Ramon’s question had gotten him thinking about her even more. Feeling something rub against his leg, D’Artagnan glanced down to see his feline shadow. “Will, I thought Geoffrey left you with Ramon while he was gone. Or do you just think that things will be more exciting with me than watching Ramon squirm when Nikki is one of her moods?” He turned his attention to his coffee. Will looked at the Musketeer and cocked his head.

“Mrow.” Will suddenly turned his head and stood up, head lowered.

Vigilanti walked up behind the Musketeer. “May I sit down?”

The Musketeer looked up and, as recognition set in, almost fell as he turned to stand. She gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I didn’t mean for you to kill yourself.” She bent down and scratched Will behind the ears and on top of his head.

“Purrrrr.”

D’Artagnan laughed. “Some guys have all the luck.”

“Why D’Artagnan, I think you are jealous of a cute little kitten.” She stood up and scratched him behind the ears and on top of his head before kissing him on the mouth. “Mmmmmm.” Vigilanti laughed “Just another child huh? Well, if I have to choose between the two of you, I will take Will. He is cute.” She patted her lap. Needing no more encouragement, the ocelot jumped to her lap and curled up.

D'Artagnan noticed a package on the spare chair. "What is that?"

She smiled. "Remember what we were talking about during the rainstorm? Well, I have been busy scrounging some sail and made you a rain jacket."

"When do you think I am going to use that?"

"Now. Haven't you noticed it is raining outside? Of course, I could just let you get wet when you walk me to the dress makers."

"What about you? Won't you get wet?"

"I will be wearing my own coat, and I have a parasol."

The Musketeer frowned. "It's raining, and you want me to escort you to the dress makers. Why?"

"One, I want to try out these jackets and two, I need you to carry the purchases I make. I can't do that in the rain, now can I?" She stood up and put on her rain jacket. "Come on, put on your jacket."

"What about Will? He'll get wet."

"I’m not that cruel. I will tuck him under my jacket. Come on Will, let's go for a walk." The kitten jumped into her arms and tucked himself into the jacket, leaving only his face exposed.

****************

About a week later, Geoffrey was up in ‘his’ room, tending to a still-unconscious Jacqueline. He was really starting to get worried. He’d hoped she would have woken up by now, but he had yet to see any sign that things would be changing anytime soon. Even Miette was worried. She had barely left Jacqueline’s side since they arrived at the brothel.

Geoffrey sighed, running a hand over his wife’s hair. The only glimmer of hope he’d had in the past week was his visit to the church, where he’d run into a monk who offered to help translate that book. He’d left the tome with said monk, and was now waiting for some news of his progress. Geoffrey wasn’t expecting a miracle, by any means, but perhaps the translated text would at least give him some idea of what DeMolay had done to her.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. “Come in,” he called automatically. The door opened, and he turned to see Nicki enter the room.

“Some bloke’s downstairs, asking for you.”

“Tall, grey hair, walks with a cane?”

“That’s the one. Want me to get rid of him?”

He shook his head. “No need. I’ve actually been expecting him.”

“Ah. Should I send him up here, then?”

“No, that’s alright. Tell him I’ll be down in just a moment.”

“You sure?”

Geoffrey nodded. “I’d rather fill him in on what happened first…give him an idea of what to expect when he sees Jacqueline.”

“Alright then,” Nicki said, giving him a slight nod. She turned and walked back out of the room, leaving the Greyhawks alone once more. Geoffrey gave another sigh as he gently caressed Jacqueline’s cheek.

“Well…time to go and face the captain. I shouldn’t be long…providing that Duval leaves me in one piece. He’s not going to be happy when I tell him what happened, I know it. Anyway…I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Geoffrey leaned down, placing a soft kiss on her lips. He glanced over at Miette. “Take care of her, girl. I’ll try to make this quick.” Miette rubbed her head against his arm, purring as if she understood. Scratching the kitten behind the ears, Geoffrey kissed his wife once more before finally getting up and leaving the room.

When he got downstairs, Geoffrey found the captain sitting at a table, being chatted up by a couple of the girls. “Hey…clear off!” Giving the Musketeer-pirate dirty looks, the girls quickly moved on to the next available man, leaving him alone with Duval. He sat down on the opposite side of the table, avoiding the elder Musketeer’s eyes.

“Well….” Duval began, after a moment. “You certainly picked an…interesting…place to meet.”

Geoffrey shrugged. “I know it’s not exactly the best neighborhood or anything, but it’s the safest place we could find.”

Duval arched an eyebrow. “We?”

“My cousin Faith and I. She’s been helping me since Ireland.”

“I see….So why did you have me come here, anyway? There’s a perfectly good church right down the road.”

“Like I said, this place is safer. But if you’d rather talk at the church, that’s fine.”

“That would probably be best. There are a few things we need to discuss that I’d rather not have overheard by some strangers. By the way…” he said, glancing around. “Where is m—Jacqueline?”

“That’s something else we need to discuss.”

“What do you mean? Where is she? Can’t I see her?”

“She’s upstairs, but I really think we ought to talk first. The situation is rather…delicate.”

“Delicate?” Duval yelled, shooting to his feet. “What do you mean, ‘delicate’? What’s happened?”

“Captain…” Geoffrey cautioned, rising from his seat and raising his hands. “Calm down….”

“Calm down!” he roared, closing in on the younger man. “I’ll calm down when you tell me just what the hell is going on!” He tried to grab the front of Geoffrey’s shirt, but the smaller Musketeer managed to squirm away.

“W-we did manage to rescue her, Sir, but not before the Order got hold of her and started doing some strange ritual. I’m not sure what it was, but Faith and I managed to put a stop to it before they could finish. Unfortunately, Jacqueline has been unconscious ever since.”

“Unconscious?”

Geoffrey nodded. “I’m afraid so. I’ve done everything I can. Nothing left but to wait…and pray.”

With a grim nod, Captain Duval turned away from Geoffrey. A moment later, the younger Musketeer had to duck as the captain suddenly grabbed a cup and hurled it at his head. Thanks to his quick reflexes, the cup sailed past him, almost hitting Hollamby instead—not that anyone particularly cared.

“You should have been there! You’re supposed to protect her!”

“I tried, Captain. I swear! I got there as fast as I could!”

“Not fast enough, obviously.”

“You think I don’t know that? If I could’ve gotten there even a fraction of a second sooner, I would have…believe me. You’re not the only one who cares about her, you know.”

At that, Duval seemed to deflate a bit. “Y-you’re right. I’m sorry…just worried about her, is all. Is she…?”

“Other than the fact that she’s unconscious, she’s fine. Far as I can tell, anyway.”

“Okay.”

“You know…perhaps we ought to take this to the church,” Geoffrey said, glancing around to find that he and Duval were suddenly the center of attention. Noticing the same thing, Duval readily agreed, and the pair quickly headed from Chateau Larkhall to St. Mary-le-Bow.

Chapter 36

Jacqueline slowly opened her eyes, feeling unusually well-rested. Glancing out the nearby window, she found herself wondering why she’d been allowed to sleep so late. She stretched her arms and sat up, getting her first look at her surroundings. And that was when she realized something was wrong. This wasn’t her room…not even close. ‘Where am I?’ she thought, starting to panic. Something rubbed up against her side, and she looked down to find what appeared to be a wild animal of some sort. She screamed. The animal scrambled off the bed, and moments later, the door to the room opened to reveal two dark-haired women—both of whom were wearing men’s clothing—and a lighter-haired one.

“W-who are you people?” Jacqueline demanded. “Where am I?”

Two of the women looked at each other, confused, but the third—the one with short, dark hair—seemed to understand. She walked over to the bed, kneeling down next to it so as not to tower over Jacqueline.

“It’s alright,” she said, in flawless French. “We’re not going to hurt you. My name is Nicki Wade, the one by the door with dark hair is Faith Porter, and the other is my friend Helen. You can trust us.” Jacqueline nodded, but didn’t look quite convinced. “It’s Jacqueline, right?” Another nod. “Your dialect…it’s from near Belgium isn’t it? Think as you speak and listen to my speech. You do know how to speak Parisian French, trust me.”

Jacqueline paused and concentrated on Nicki’s speech. She began to form her words and was surprised when they came out as Nicki said they would. “How do you know I speak Parisian? I am a simple farmer’s daughter and have never been to Paris. How could you possibly what dialect I am speaking?”

Nicki laughed. “Trust me girl, all will be revealed. I one knew a man from Wallon who spoke Meridional French, which is what you were speaking. Faith, as I understand, only speaks Parisian French.”

“I see…What is this place, anyway? How did I get here?”

“Believe it or not, you’re in England…in a place called Chateau Larkhall. As for how you got here…well…I’m probably not the best person to explain that. But your husband should be back soon…he’ll be able to explain everything.” She gave Faith a pointed look, and the raven-haired woman quickly left the room, followed by the wild animal. Nicki then returned her attention to Jacqueline, who was suddenly looking at her as if she’d grown a second head.

“Husband? What are you talking about? I’m not married…unless….” She groaned. “Don’t tell me Father got so tired of me turning down suitors that he’s gone and shipped me to another country.”

“Uh….” Nicki fumbled, not quite sure how to respond. “I…well…again, I don’t know all the details, but I can assure you that no one ‘sent’ you anywhere. When your…when Captain Greyhawk gets back—”

“Greyhawk! The pirate? You’re telling me I was kidnapped by pirates?”

“Greyhawk’s son, actually, and no…you weren’t kidnapped by pirates. From what I understand, you were abducted by some crazed cult, and it was Geoffrey—the younger Greyhawk—who rescued you from them.”

Shaking her head, Jacqueline got out of the bed and walked over to the window. “Why should I believe you?” she asked, staring out at the unfamiliar streets. “Last thing I remember is going to sleep in my own bed, in the room I share with my twin brother, Gerard. I should still be there…not in some strange country in the company of a known pirate…or his son.”

Nicki sighed. “Honestly, I don’t know what to tell you. It’s probably best if you just stay here and wait for the captain. He’ll be along any minute.”

Jacqueline turned, glaring at Nicki. “Wait for Greyhawk? I want to go home…now! Father and Gerard are probably worried sick…why haven’t they come for me? Why are they trusting some pirate?” She snorted. “Listen to me…eighteen years old and crying for Papa. I’m old enough to be looking after myself, aren’t I?”

“Eighteen?” Nicki asked, sharing a worried look with Helen. According to Geoffrey, his wife had just turned twenty-one a few months before. “This may be a stupid question, but…indulge me. What year is this?”

“What year is this?” Jacqueline laughed. “And you’re looking at me as if I’m the one who’s lost my mind. It’s sixteen hundred and fifty-one, of course. How can you not know that?”

Nicki was about to respond when she heard something crash behind her. She turned to see Geoffrey and his friend standing there, mouths hanging open in shock, while whatever the pirate had been carrying lay in pieces on the floor. Thinking quickly, she told Helen to stay in the room with Jacqueline—ignoring the Scot’s protests about not speaking French—and quickly ushered the two men, along with Faith and the kitten, into the nearest empty room.

“What’s going on?” Geoffrey demanded, once the door had been closed. “Why’s she saying it’s 1651?”

“Isn’t it obvious, G?” Faith chimed in. “Whatever that bastard did messed with her memory.”

The Musketeer-pirate sighed, collapsing into a chair and dropping his head into his hands. “This can’t be happening,” he muttered. After a moment, he raised his head to look at Nicki. “Has she said anything else…anything about me?”

“She recognized the Greyhawk name, but only for what your father did. I’m sorry, but she didn’t seem to know you at all. She did keep asking for her father and brother, though. Wasn’t sure what to tell her.”

At that, both Geoffrey and Duval grew even more worried. After a moment, the Musketeer captain shook his head. “It’s probably best that you didn’t mention anything, mademoiselle. I’m afraid that her father and brother were both killed a couple of years ago. It’s going to be enough of a shock for her to learn that she’s lost the past three years worth of memories without adding that blow.”

“But doesn’t she have the right to know?” Geoffrey asked. “I mean, we can’t just lie to her. Sooner or later, she’s going to figure out that something is wrong. She’s not stupid.”

“Perhaps, but given the circumstances, I think we ought to be taking things slow…not tell her more than she absolutely needs to know. We don’t want to overwhelm the girl.”

Geoffrey glared at Duval. “And you think treating her like a child is going to help matters? Memories or no, she is a grown woman. Trust me, Captain. The Jacqueline I know—”

“This isn’t the Jacqueline you know,” Duval snapped.

“Only by about a year or so. Things can’t have changed that much. She’s not going to like being lied to, Captain. You’re making a mistake.”

“Need I remind you, Greyhawk, that you’re only captain on your ship. On land, I outrank you. And you are going to stay right here and let me handle this. She’ll trust me. I’m a Musketeer.”

“And I’m her husband!”

Duval smirked. “Nice try, but that argument would only work if she actually remembered being married.” Not giving Geoffrey a chance to argue further, he turned and left the room, heading for the one Jacqueline currently occupied.

Geoffrey sighed, and Nicki gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “If it helps, I think you’ve got the right idea. She’s going to need answers, not coddling. Why’s your captain so overprotective, anyway?”

“Sorry Nicki, but it’s a bit more than my life’s worth to answer that. Suffice it to say, it’s complicated.”

She nodded. “I see. In other words, it’s none of my bloody business…right?”

“Something like that,” he shrugged. Miette leapt into his lap, snuggling her head into the crook of his arm and purring in an attempt at comfort. He responded by stroking her fur, cracking a small smile in spite of himself. Sensing that their presence was no longer required, Nicki and Faith quietly left the room.

Meanwhile, Duval opened the door to Jacqueline’s room and slipped inside. She was still standing by the window, staring out at the city and seemingly ignoring his presence. As soon as the Musketeer captain entered, Helen took the opportunity to leave.

Duval cleared his throat and, after a moment, Jacqueline finally turned around. Taking in his appearance—particularly the uniform—she gasped.

“You-you’re a Musketeer!”

He smiled. “I’m Captain of the Musketeers, actually. Captain Martin Duval, at your service,” he said, giving a slight bow.

She nodded. “I’m honored, Captain, but…why? Since when do the Royal Musketeers go out of their way for some farm girl? I thought your job was to protect the King.”

“Yes, that is part of our job. But we’re also supposed to protect the people of France. I was in Scotland on a diplomatic mission for His Majesty when I heard what happened, and I came over here as soon as I could to see that you were alright.”

“So it’s true, then…what Nicki was saying? I was really kidnapped by some insane cultists and brought to England?”

“So it would seem. But I’ve been told that the cultists were taken care of. You’re safe now.”

Jacqueline snorted. “Safe? I’m in a strange country, surrounded by people I’ve never met, and you claim I’m safe? And Nicki…she claims I was rescued by a pirate. I never thought I’d see the day when the noble Musketeers would associate themselves with common criminals. Thought you were supposed to be above that sort of thing.”

“Porthos was a pirate, you know.”

“Well…he’s different. I’ve heard of William Greyhawk…a bloodthirsty monster, by all accounts. I can’t imagine that his son would’ve turned out any different.”

“Not everything is as it seems, young lady,” he snapped. His tone had suddenly become condescending, as if he were speaking to a child. “Before you pass judgment on anyone, you should get all the facts…facts that, unfortunately, I am not at liberty to discuss at the moment.” With that, the captain turned and started to walk out of the room.

“So that’s it, then? You’re ‘not at liberty’ to answer my question? Does that mean you’re also ‘not at liberty’ to tell me what happened to my father and brother?”

Duval paused, but didn’t turn around. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The hell you don’t,” she growled, stalking over and grabbing his arm, forcing him to face her. “I may not know much about what’s going on at the moment, but I do know that if Papa and Gerard were alive, they’d be here. They wouldn’t be sitting home, waiting for some musketeers and their questionable associates to bring me home. So what happened? Who killed them?”

He shook his head. “I wish I could help you, but I’m afraid I don’t have the answers. Like I said, I’ve been in Scotland.”

“You’re lying,” she snapped, glaring. “I thought the Musketeers were supposed to be honorable. Guess I was wrong.” Before Duval could stop her, Jacqueline shoved past him, ran down the stairs, and headed out the front door…into the unfamiliar streets of London.

Moments later, Geoffrey was standing by his side, also having witnessed Jacqueline’s departure. “That went well,” he muttered, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I suppose you could’ve done better?”

“Probably. I tried to warn you, Sir. Told you she wouldn’t appreciate being lied to.”

Duval sighed. “I really messed up, didn’t I?”

“That you did,” Geoffrey nodded. “But perhaps it’s not too late to salvage the situation.”

“You’re saying I should go after her?”

He shook his head. “No, I’ll go talk to her. You’ve done more than enough for one afternoon.” Not giving the captain a chance to argue, Geoffrey retrieved his rapier from the few belongings he’d brought into the city and left the brothel, intent on finding Jacqueline before anything else could happen to her.

****************

A couple of days after D'Artagnan's conversation with Ana, the Musketeer again went to the house, but neither Ana nor Ramon was there. He found Nikki alone. "You do realize that Ana is crazy, don't you?"

"She is not crazy."

"What do you call a woman who sees visions?"

"Look, D'Artagnan, I know you are hurting that Jacqueline is missing, but you can't blame Ana."

"Nikki, the woman is a fraud. She told me that evil surrounded Jacqueline and this was after I heard that she had been rescued."

"Maybe there is another evil." Nikki shook her head. "D'Artagnan, she is my midwife, I have to trust her."

"Just don't trust her too much."

“D’Artagnan, I think you are jealous that people look to her for wisdom instead of you.”

The Musketeer frowned. “People?”

“Ramon for one.”

D’Artagnan laughed. “Ramon can think for himself.”

“He looks to you. They all do. I still trust Ana, and will until she does something to break that trust. You would be wise to give her the benefit of the doubt.”

“Fine. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He bowed to the pregnant woman and took his leave. As he left, he saw Ramon headed his way so ducked behind a bush. He just didn’t want to get into the Ana thing with his friend. D'Artagnan waited until Ramon had entered the house before he moved out of the bushes.

WHACK!

The Musketeer let out a yowl as a heavy cudgel caught him on the side. He turned to see Ana. "Why did you do that, woman?"

"Why did you tell Nikki not to trust me?"

He rubbed his side. “Well, telling me that there is evil surrounding Jacqueline when I know she was rescued already is nuts."

"You idiot. I know she had been rescued, but evil still follows her. Did you think of that?"

D’Artagnan stared at her for a moment before dropping his gaze, unable to argue that point. "I guess I owe you an apology…I didn't even consider that."

"Next time, consider all of the possibilities before rushing to judgment." She threw down the cudgel and went back to the house.

The Musketeer held his side as he watched her leave. "Psycho woman."

Chapter 37

It didn’t take very long for Jacqueline to regret walking out of…whatever that place was. Because of her haste to distance herself from the man who claimed to be a Musketeer—though his behavior seemed to suggest otherwise—she now found herself alone, wandering the streets in a city completely foreign to her. And, to make matters worse, she was dressed in male attire that had definitely seen better days. The ‘male’ part didn’t bother her so much—she borrowed her twin’s clothes whenever she needed to get away from the farm for awhile, which was mostly when her father was on one of his ‘marriage’ kicks and bringing suitors around to try and play matchmaker. Mostly, she was concerned with the state the clothes were in—tattered and filthy, like she’d been thrown in a dungeon or something.

Spotting what looked to be an abandoned dress shop, Jacqueline came to a stop. She didn’t really like the idea of stealing, but considering the facts that she had no money and didn’t speak a word of English, she really didn’t have much of a choice if she wanted to get out of the rags she was currently wearing. ‘Besides,’ she thought, ‘it doesn’t look like anyone’s used the place for quite some time. Surely, if the owners wanted what was inside they would’ve taken the items with them.’ The attempt to justify what she was about to do was weak, but it did ease her conscience a little. Taking a deep breath and glancing around to make sure no one was watching, Jacqueline quickly made her way over to the shop.

The front door was hanging open, barely even attached to the hinges. Cautiously, she pushed it the rest of the way open and was about to slip inside when a strong hand wrapped around her arm, pulling her back into the street.

“And just what do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, pulling her close enough that she could smell the alcohol on his breath. By his clothes, she could tell that he was someone fairly important—a local magistrate, perhaps, though he obviously wasn’t enforcing the laws on public drunkenness. And even in his obviously inebriated state, he seemed to have a good grasp of French, as she understood the question perfectly.

“I wasn’t doing anything wrong, Sir,” she insisted, shaking her head.

“Don’t lie to me, girl!” he growled, tightening his grip. “I saw you come out of that brothel. What’s the matter…Sylvia not paying you enough? Thought you’d nick a few dresses and sell them to put a few extra quid in your pocket?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right….If you want more money, try earning it properly.” With that, the man shoved her back against the wall, pinning her there with one hand while the other fumbled with his breeches. Jacqueline reacted immediately, putting her hands on his chest and attempting to shove him backwards. Unfortunately, he was a bit stronger than she anticipated, and her efforts to resist only seemed to entice him more. Laughing, he grabbed hold of her wrists and pinned them to the wall above her head. She brought her knee up, but he seized it with his other hand before it could reach the intended target. “Come now,” he scolded. “That’s not very nice.”

Fortunately, before things could go any further, someone tapped the man on the shoulder with what looked to be a Musketeer blade. Releasing his grip on her leg, the man turned to face the interloper—the blonde who’d appeared alongside Captain Duval not long after she’d woken up.

“Can’t you see I’m a bit busy, boy?”

“Looks to me like the lady would prefer you to be busy elsewhere. So I suggest you back off right now, before my feline friend here decides to have you for her lunch.” As he spoke, the same wild beast Jacqueline had seen on her bed earlier appeared from behind the blonde man’s legs. Unfortunately, the drunk didn’t seem very shaken.

“You don’t scare me, peasant. Do you know who I am?”

The blonde smirked. “As a matter of fact, I do. And frankly, Sheriff, I could care less. Now let the lady go, or face the consequences.” He raised his blade, and the cat growled, backing up the threat. The so-called Sheriff looked around and, seemingly deciding that it wasn’t worth the trouble, released his grip on her wrists. Immediately, she ran to the blonde’s side. She didn’t know him, but his company was certainly preferable to the other man’s. Sneering at them both, the Sheriff turned on his heel and stalked off.

Once he was gone, the blonde sheathed his blade and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

She nodded, feeling an odd sense of déjà vu. “Yes, I’m fine. He didn’t get the chance to do very much.”

“That’s good…wait a second,” he said, giving her an odd look. “You speak English?”

“What are you talking about? I’m not…am I?”

He chuckled. “I think you and I need to have a talk. Why don’t we head to the church? It’ll be much safer than out here on the streets.”

“Yes…that would probably be best.” Nodding, he offered his arm, which she immediately took, and escorted her in the direction of the church, his cat following close behind. Once inside, the blonde man took her to a pew near the back, where both of them took a seat. The cat, for her part, curled up underneath. “So….” Jacqueline began, after a moment. “Are you going to tell me how it is I can speak a language I don’t even remember learning, or are you planning to give me the run around like that captain?”

The blonde sighed. “No, I’m not going to avoid the question. Honestly, I think the captain should’ve been honest with you from the start, but he doesn’t seem to think you can handle the truth.”

“And what is the truth, exactly?”

“Well, as far as the language thing goes, you actually have been learning. I’ve been teaching you, in fact. As for why you don’t remember it…did anyone mention how you came to be in England in the first place?”

She nodded. “That woman…Nicki, I believe…said something about crazed cultists, and I believe the captain mentioned them as well, though no one would tell me why I was targeted.”

“I would, but we still haven’t quite figured that part out. At any rate, when you were rescued, the cultists were in the middle of performing some ritual on you. Not sure what they were aiming to do, but the end result seems to have been the loss of the past few years’ worth of your memories.”

“What are you talking about?”

He sighed again, gently laying a hand over hers. “This may be hard for you to hear, but I swear it’s the truth. The year is not 1651, but rather 1654.”

She glared, crossing her arms. “Prove it.”

Nodding, the blonde reached into the pouch at his side, fumbling a bit before producing a small scroll, which he then carefully unrolled and handed to her. She read it, and was barely able to contain her shock at what it contained. The scroll, as it turned out, was a Royal pardon, written in her name, and dated May of 1654. The signature seemed genuine enough, as did the seal, leaving little doubt as to its authenticity. That didn’t answer all of her questions, though.

“Alright…you’ve proved your point, monsieur. And yet, I don’t understand…why would I be in need of a pardon? And just who are you that you would be in possession of this?”

“I’m a Musketeer, Jacqueline, and your friend…even if you don’t remember it.”

“You’re a Musketeer? Where’s your uniform?”

“Under the circumstances, it was better for me to wear civilian clothing. An armed Musketeer marching unasked into the Tower could easily have been misconstrued as an act of war, which is the last thing His Majesty needs at the moment.”

She nodded. “Makes sense, I suppose. But that still doesn’t answer my question about the pardon, and why you have it.”

“Well, I was holding it for safekeeping, in case anyone ever attempted to challenge it. The pardon was necessary because Cardinal Mazarin had made you a fugitive…accused you of killing the captain of his personal guard.”

“Did I?”

“You did, but it wasn’t murder. I wasn’t there, but I know the story nonetheless. A couple of years ago—late summer, perhaps early fall—the cardinal and his men stopped by your family farm on the way back to Paris, seeking water for their horses. Your father told you to stay out of sight, but you didn’t exactly listen. He tried to protect you, as the captain was making some rather crude comments. Gerard spoke out, insulting the cardinal, and was arrested. Your father protested, and the captain whipped out his blade and killed him on the spot. You reacted immediately, stealing another guard’s blade and killing the captain in turn. After you escaped, the cardinal declared you a wanted woman, and up until last May, you were in hiding.”

Jacqueline nodded grimly, wiping away tears. She’d been expecting something like this, seeing as neither her father nor her brother had come to her aid, but it was still hard to hear. Even worse was the fact that she’d killed someone. The person probably deserved it, but a life was still a life, and she’d taken it. “So…so Papa is dead?”

“Yes.”

She stood up, running a shaking hand through her hair. “It’s all my fault.”

“What are you talking about?”

Jacqueline turned to face her companion, tears still glistening in her eyes. “You said yourself that Papa told me to stay out of sight when those men came. I should’ve listened to him. If I had….” Her voice broke, and the blonde quickly stood up, putting his hands on her shoulders.

“Listen to me, Jacqueline. It’s NOT your fault. What happened was no one’s fault but Mazarin’s. I know how those men operated, and it’s likely that your father would’ve been killed no matter what you and your brother had done. That’s just their way.”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand….”

“Yes, I—”

“I killed someone! How is that Mazarin’s fault?”

He sighed. “I know how hard this is, Jacqueline. I’ve gone through it myself. It’s not easy. But if you hadn’t killed that man, then you and your brother would likely have been taken to the Bastille and neither of you would ever have been heard from again. You’d have disappeared like all of the cardinal’s other twisted experiments. You saved your own life, and were then able to find help to save his before anything bad could happen. Besides, the captain’s death is probably the closest to justice your father has gotten. If you’d let him live, Mazarin would’ve simply covered everything up, and no one would ever have learned the truth of how your father died.” He paused, taking a moment to wipe the tears from her eyes. “Look, I don’t like killing any more than you do, but in this case, there really weren’t a lot of other options. Besides, what’s done is done. There’s no use beating yourself up over it now.”

She nodded, knowing deep down that he was right. “So what happened to Gerard? Did he survive?”

“That incident, yes. However, Gerard was killed the following spring by Mazarin’s new captain, whom you also killed.”

“So that’s two deaths on my hands. And my family is…is gone….” Her voice broke again, and she found herself crying into the fabric of his shirt. He didn’t seem to mind much, though. Just held her as she cried, letting her take all the time she needed.

As the tears finally began to fade, Jacqueline remembered something else he’d mentioned. “Wait,” she said, meeting his eyes. “How could I have killed that other captain? I thought you said I was in hiding.”

The blonde grinned. “You were…as a Musketeer. Right under the cardinal’s nose.”

She arched an eyebrow, almost positive that this was some kind of sick joke. “A Musketeer…me? That’s impossible! Last I checked, they didn’t allow women to enlist.”

He laughed. “That’s still true, technically speaking, but you set sort of a precedent that’s been giving our poor captain headaches ever since.”

“Precedent…” she muttered, dropping back down into the pew. “But…I don’t understand. How could I have even enlisted in the first place?”

“That’s quite an interesting story, actually….” Joining her once more in the pew, he proceeded to recount the events of her first day, from the time she first walked into the common room to their daring rescue of her brother from the Order.

Jacqueline sighed, running a hand through her hair as she took it all in. The story seemed almost too good to be true, and yet there was just something about the blonde that made her want to believe him. “So…you’re saying that I managed to out-fence D’Artagnan himself, earned a place in the musketeers as this ‘Jacques LePonte,’ the four of us rescued my brother from Mazarin using your flying machine, and D’Artagnan discovered my secret after he and I managed to crash the machine into a tree?”

“That about sums it up.”

“I really bested D’Artagnan at fencing? THE D’Artagnan?”

He chuckled. “Close. His son, actually. THE D’Artagnan has long since retired…officially, that is. Unofficially, I’m pretty sure he’s still working for the Queen in some capacity.”

“So I’m friends with the Legend’s son? Have I ever actually met the Legend himself?”

“A couple of times. Father and son don’t get along very well, so D’Artagnan Sr. doesn’t come around the garrison very often. Though they’re not quite as hostile as they used to be. Last time I saw them together, it was actually quite civil.”

She nodded, then sighed again. “Mon Dieu…I wish I could remember. Why did this have to happen to me?”

The blonde shook his head. “I wish I knew, Jacqueline. But you’re safe now. That’s what matters. I’m sure the rest will come back to you in time.”

“I hope so. You have no idea how strange this feels…having to rely on other people to figure out who you are.”

“You’re right…I don’t know how it feels. But I’m here to help, nonetheless. You can trust me.”

“Thank you…uh…what’s your name, anyway? No relation to that vile pirate Greyhawk, are you?”

The man seemed to hesitate for a moment, but quickly recovered. He smiled, laying a hand on her shoulder. “You can call me Siroc.”

“Siroc,” she chuckled. “That’s an odd name.”

His eyebrow shot up. “Says the girl who calls herself ‘Jacques.’”

“Okay, okay,” she said, holding her hands up in surrender. “Point taken. So…you’re an inventor of some sort?”

Siroc shrugged. “I tinker a bit, here and there. Created a few things that have come in handy on our various escapades. When we get back to France, I’d be happy to show you around the lab.”

Jacqueline smiled. “I’d like that.” She would’ve said more, but a brown-robed man chose that moment to approach them.

“Brother Cadfael,” Siroc said, practically leaping back to his feet. “What brings you here?”

“We need to talk…about that book you showed me.”

“Oh, yes…of course.” He turned to Jacqueline, but she was already a few steps ahead of him.

“I think I’ll head back to the…uh…inn. Leave you two alone.”

Siroc nodded. “That would probably be best. You should take Miette with you, though…for protection.” As he spoke, the kitten in question leapt up into her lap, purring.

Her eyebrow shot up. “Protection?”

He laughed. “She may be small, but she can be quite fierce. Believe me.”

Jacqueline looked at the kitten, then the blonde. She wasn’t quite convinced, but Siroc seemed to know what he was talking about with everything else, so she supposed it was worth a try. Nodding, she stood up and walked out of the church, the kitten following close behind.

Once Jacqueline and Miette were gone, Geoffrey returned his attention to the monk. “I take it you’ve translated those passages I asked you about?”

Brother Cadfael nodded. “It’s not a perfect translation, I admit. But it would seem that the ritual you showed me is designed to—”

“Remove memories? Yeah, I kind of figured that part out already,” Geoffrey muttered, glancing in the direction that Jacqueline had gone.

“Oh…I see….”

Geoffrey sighed. “Is there any way to reverse the effects, Brother?”

The monk shook his head. “Hard to say. If there is a ritual to that effect, it’s no longer in the book.” To demonstrate, he held up the tome and opened it up to the page right after the one Geoffrey had asked him to translate. To the Musketeer’s dismay, the page that should’ve been there had been ripped out.

Cursing to himself, Geoffrey took the book back from Brother Cadfael with a grim nod. “Thank you, Brother. You’ve been most helpful.”

The monk bowed slightly before returning to wherever he’d come from, and Geoffrey waited a few moments to be sure he was gone. Then, with an angry bellow, he threw the book as hard as he could into the nearest confessional, watching with grim satisfaction as the wood shattered on impact. Still seething, he turned towards the front of the church, stalking up to the altar with a purpose.

“You!” he yelled, pointing accusingly at the crucifix hanging from the wall. “Damn you! Why must you always do this to me? Every time I come close to being happy, you rip it all away from me! Why? What the bloody hell did I ever do to you, huh?”

“That won’t help, you know.”

Geoffrey turned to see Nicki casually leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed as she stared at him.

“Like you would know,” he snapped.

“You’d be surprised. Now come on,” she said, gesturing towards the street. “Grab that book you threw, and let’s get out of here before Father Michaels gets back and throws us both out on our arses.”

Geoffrey grumbled a bit, but quickly did as Nicki suggested, knowing that she was right. Book in hand, he followed the tall, slender woman out of the church and back onto the streets of London.

Chapter 38

Before long, Geoffrey and Nicki found themselves on a bridge overlooking the Thames. With a sigh, the Musketeer-pirate leaned his elbows on the top of the wall and stared down at the water. Nicki joined him a moment later, pulling a pipe from the pouch by her side and filling it. She put the pipe in her mouth and was about to light it when she noticed Geoffrey staring at her.

“Filthy habit, I know. You don’t mind, do you?”

He shook his head, continuing to silently stare at the river as Nicki went ahead and lit her pipe. She took a few puffs, then turned and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“You alright?”

“Does it bloody well look like I’m alright?” he growled. “Not only does the women I love not even remember who I am, but I can’t even tell her my real name for fear that she’ll take off, and our best bet for getting her memories back has been destroyed. How the hell do you expect me to feel?”

She nodded. “I can’t blame you for being angry, Geoffrey, but throwing a temper tantrum in a church isn’t going to bring your wife’s memories back any sooner.”

“Don’t patronize me, damn it! You couldn’t possibly understand what I’m feeling right now, so don’t bleedin’ stand there and act like you do!”

Nicki sighed. “You think you’re the only one who’s ever loved someone who was either unwilling or unable to return those feelings? Granted, your particular situation is rather…unique…but the feelings certainly aren’t. I probably understand a lot more than you think, and if you’d bloody well calm down and listen ….” She trailed off, taking a few more puffs of the pipe.

Geoffrey opened his mouth to respond, but quickly shut it again. Whether or not he wanted to admit it, she had a point. Maybe he was being a bit selfish. “I’m sorry,” he said, after a moment. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you, Nicki. I know this isn’t your fault. Hell, without your help, I probably wouldn’t have found her in time to stop those lunatics. It’s just…frustrating. I hate feeling so damned helpless.”

“Yeah…I know what you mean. It’s not easy, is it? Bloody horrible….” Nicki trailed off again, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. Geoffrey watched her quietly, not wanting to intrude. After a few moments, certain things he’d observed over the past week finally clicked into place.

“It’s Helen, isn’t it?” he asked softly. “She’s the one….”

“The one I love? Yeah….Figure that one all on your own, did ya?”

Geoffrey chuckled. “You’d have to be blind and deaf not to notice the way you two act around each other. Even the way you argue….I’ve been slapped that way before, but never by anyone who was just a friend. Maybe it took me some time to put it together, but that’s mainly because I’ve been rather pre-occupied lately.” He sighed. “Anyway…if you feel that way about her, what’s stopping you from doing something about it?”

“Wait…you’re not even a little shocked by this?”

He shrugged. “King Louis’ brother prefers the company of men, and my wife spends half her life pretending to be one. Suffice it to say, very little shocks me these days. And you didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t know…it…it’s her heartless bastard of a father, this bloody shithole she’s stuck in….Bloody complicated, that’s what it is.” She sighed, taking a moment to dump the ash from her pipe. “Her own father sold her to Hollamby, you know that? Just because she wasn’t exactly the perfect, dutiful daughter he’d hoped for. Bastard…if I’d been there that day, I’d have ripped his sodding bollocks off myself for treating her that way. Even the Admiral—my father—wasn’t that bloody cruel. He booted me out of the house when he caught me acting ‘inappropriately’ with one of the maids—not my finest hour, I’ll admit. But at least that was the end of it with him. Poor Helen….Hollamby’s not going to let her go until she’s gotten back her investment—which, from what I’ve been told, was quite substantial. And as long as she’s stuck working for that miserable old cow, there’s no way we could be together…no matter how much we want it.”

Geoffrey let out a low whistle. “And I thought I had it bad.”

“Yeah…kinda puts things in perspective, doesn’t it? At least you two have some hope. I mean, she didn’t exactly run screaming from the room when you were talking to her, did she? If that’s not a good sign, I don’t know what is.”

He nodded. “I suppose….How did you end up working in that place, anyway?”

Nicki shrugged. “Just kinda fell into it. After the Admiral threw me out, I spent a few days wandering the streets, trying to work out my next move. One day, I happened by the brothel and pretty much walked right into the middle of a fight. I broke it up—mostly to keep them from kicking my arse—and the next thing I know, Hollamby’s offering me a job. She wasn’t exactly thrilled when she found out I was a ‘deviant,’ but as long as I didn’t try to ‘corrupt’ any of the girls, the job was still mine. And I really needed the money, so I agreed. Not that it’s really helped much, Hollamby being the bloody tightwad she is.”

“I see….” The Musketeer-pirate turned his gaze once more to the river, one hand finding its way to his pocket as he did. His fingers brushed against a certain object inside, and an idea struck him. “Say…how much would you need to get Helen away from that old bag?”

“I don’t know…a few hundred quid, give or take. Why?” she asked, eyebrow raised.

He pulled his father’s old signet ring out of his pocket, grinning. “This ring…it’s been in my family for centuries. Henry V himself gave it to my ancestor for services rendered at Agincourt. Piece of English history, right here in the palm of my hand….”

“What are you on about?”

Still smiling, he pressed the ring into Nicki’s palm. “I want you to have it. My Uncle Richard once told me about this fellow he knew in Dorchester who specializes in this sort of thing. Don’t know if he’s still there, but if he is, he’ll give you a fair price for it. Better than you’d get from some pawnbroker or street fence, anyway.”

Nicki shook her head. “I can’t take this. It’s a family heirloom…priceless, I’d imagine.”

He shrugged. “To be honest, the bloody thing has never meant all that much to me. I do have a few fond memories associated with it, but none of them have to do with family history. Besides…right now, your needs are greater than mine. You love her, don’t you?”

“Ever since I first laid eyes on her. Never thought I’d feel so strongly about anyone, but Helen managed to steal my heart with just a look. I can’t imagine not having her in my life.”

“Then take the ring. Just because I’m miserable at the moment doesn’t mean the rest of the world has to be. At least one of us should get their happy ending. That ring should get you more than enough to get Helen away from Hollamby and start over somewhere else.”

“I-I don’t know what to say….”

“You don’t have to say anything, Nicki. Just go to Dorchester and look up a fellow named Atkins. He’ll help you out.”

She nodded, putting the ring in the pouch with her pipe. “Thank you, Geoffrey. I think I’m gonna just head there now…before the old cow gets wind of what I’m planning.”

“Good idea.”

“When you see Helen, tell her…tell her I love her, and I’ll be back as soon as I can. Just don’t mention the ring, eh? I don’t want her thinking I’m begging for charity now.”

“Don’t worry…it’s our little secret. Good luck,” he said, shaking her hand.

“Same to you, mate. You gonna be here when I get back?”

Geoffrey smiled. “Of course…I wouldn’t miss this for the world. Jacqueline could probably use a few more days rest, anyway. Take care, now.”

“Always do.” Tossing off a mock salute, Nicki turned and walked off the bridge, leaving Geoffrey alone once more. He stayed there for a short while, staring at the water, before finally ripping the relevant pages from the tome and tossing it into the river, where its power could never be abused again. When the book finally disappeared from sight, he stuffed the pages inside his shirt and made his way back to Chateau Larkhall.

****************

D’Artagnan was still holding his side when he walked into the inn and was confronted by Vigilante. “D’Artagnan, what happened? What is wrong with your side?”

“I was attacked by a mad woman. I swear that Ana is psychotic…passing herself off as a mystic or some other such nonsense. Did you know that she tried to tell me that Jacqueline was in danger of much evil a day after I got a letter saying she had been rescued? Then today, she attacked me with a cudgel.”

Vigilante took him by the hand. “Come, we will go to my room and I will see what damage has been done.” She stopped at the door to her room and looked at him. “Ana is not psychotic. She really does get visions.”

The Musketeer frowned. “And how would you know?”

She closed the door behind them. “D’Artagnan, don’t judge someone because you don’t understand. My sister Justine was a wild girl and slept with several men, some of whom were married. I had just met Ana when she told me that my sister was in trouble, even though they had never met. Ana led me to a place where we found Justine. She had been beaten badly and we
discovered that she lost the baby she was carrying. Ana helped take care of my sister until she was well. So don’t you cast dispersions on her. Without Ana, Justine would be dead.”

He winced as Vigilante removed his shirt. “Where is she now? Your sister, I mean.”

“She is in a convent here in Le Havre. Once she’d recovered, Justine became a nun.”

“You don’t plan on becoming a nun do you?”

Vigilante started at him, then with a twinkle in her eye, put her hands on the back of his head and drew him to her, pressing their mouths together. She pulled away. “Does that answer your question?” She pulled off his jacket and pushed up his shirt. Gingerly she touched the area of his body with bruising. “Ana sure knows how to get your attention.” She started kissing the marks as she worked her way from his side to his mouth, which she captured again with her lips. The Musketeer gladly responded. D’Artagnan broke for air and grinned at her

“Save a horse, ride a Musketeer.” As he stood up to remove his boots, she demurely slipped off her top.

****************

Jacqueline found herself once more at the church, where the kind, handsome blonde who’d rescued her from the so-called Sheriff was still sitting in the pew, waiting for her. After a moment, he turned, smiling as their eyes met. Returning the smile, Jacqueline started to approach him when suddenly, the scene changed. The church disappeared, leaving her on a cold riverbank. She turned back towards the blonde, only to find him gone as well. In his place was a tall figure, wearing a black mask and black robes. The figure was soon joined by others, all dressed the same way. Several of them reached out and grabbed her, forcing her onto a stone slab that suddenly appeared and tying her down to it. Jacqueline struggled to free herself, but that only seemed to make the ropes tighter. The robed figurers surrounded her, chanting in some strange language. A sensation of indescribable pain washed over her, and she reacted the only way she could.

She screamed.

Geoffrey, who’d taken one of the other spare rooms after Jacqueline’s condition had made itself known, was jolted awake by a loud scream. He was out of bed in an instant, rushing to Jacqueline’s room with Miette on his heels. Easing the door open, he saw her thrashing about in the bed, obviously in the throes of some nightmare.

Geoffrey went right over to her, narrowly avoiding the flailing arms as he climbed into the bed and wrapped his arms around her. “Shh…,” he whispered. “It’s alright, love. I’ve got you.” This seemed to calm her a bit, and he continued to hold on, murmuring soothingly into her ear.

Eventually, the thrashing died down and Jacqueline went back to sleep. Geoffrey tried to slip away, but that seemed to agitate her, so he resigned himself to staying the rest of the night. Glancing at the door, he finally noticed that about half the girls in the brothel had gathered outside, along with Faith.

“Alright, show’s over,” he growled, keeping his voice down so as not to wake Jacqueline. “Clear off, the lot of ya!” Grumbling, the crowd dispersed, heading back to their own rooms. His cousin hadn’t moved, though. “That includes you too, Faith.” Making a rude gesture, she walked away as well, leaving the couple alone once more. Miette jumped onto the bed, curling up at their feet, and soon all three of them were sound asleep.

The next morning, Jacqueline opened her eyes to find herself not alone in the bed. Siroc was curled up next to her with an arm around her waist, and his wild cat was stretched out at her feet. Both were still asleep….at least, they were until she started yelling and smacking the blonde.

“Ow…hey…watch it….” he muttered, gently grabbing her hands before she could do any real damage. “What are you doing?”

Glaring, she snatched her hands out of his grasp. “I could ask you the same question. What kind of pervert are you…crawling into my bed while I’m asleep….”

He chuckled. “It’s not like that, I swear. You were having a nightmare, and I came in to calm you down before you woke everyone else up as well. I did try to leave once, but you started panicking again, so I decided it would be better to stick around.”

Jacqueline opened her mouth to respond, but quickly closed it again as color crept into her cheeks. “Oh….”

Sitting up, Siroc laid a hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright? Do you remember what the nightmare was about?”

She sighed, closing her eyes as she tried to recall her dream. “It’s kind of fuzzy, but I think I was near some river or other. There were these…figures…all in dark robes and masks. They tied me to this large stone, and started chanting over me. I screamed, and….and that’s all I can remember.” She looked up, meeting her companion’s eyes. “What does it mean? Who were they?”

“I could be wrong, but it sounds like the gathering we busted in on when we rescued you.”

“You mean the cultists?”

He nodded. “Yeah. But this is good.”

“What?” she squeaked, eyebrow raised. “How exactly is dreaming about mad cultists a good thing?”

“Because,” he said, smiling. “It means that your memory isn’t gone…not completely. The past three years are just buried. We just have to figure out how to dig them back up.”

“Really? And how would you suggest we do that?”

Siroc shrugged. “No idea. But I do know someone back in France who might be able to help. Think you’re ready for a little sea voyage with Porthos?”

Jacqueline’s eyes went wide. “Porthos? THE Porthos?”

He laughed. “Yes, THE Porthos. He’s waiting for us on the ship that brought me here.”

“When do we leave?” she asked, leaping out of bed and pulling on the clothes Siroc had lent her.

“Right after we eat, if you’d like.”

“Good.” Yanking on her boots, she rushed downstairs without waiting for her companion. Shaking his head, Geoffrey glanced over at Miette.

“Guess I should’ve expected that. Not every day you get to meet one of the Legends…again. Right girl?”

“Mraow.” With a yawn, Miette stretched and leapt off the bed, following in Jacqueline’s wake. After a moment, Geoffrey went to his room, finished dressing, and headed downstairs after them.

Chapter 39

When he got there, Jacqueline was already in the middle of her meal, so he grabbed something for himself from the kitchen and went to join her. She’d come to trust him more and more with each passing day—that morning’s incident notwithstanding—and it had become a tradition of sorts for him to regale her with tales of their musketeer exploits during mealtimes. This day was no different and, after only a bit of prodding, he soon found himself telling her all about the infamous leveler debacle and her ‘courtship’ of a certain persistent laundress.

When he got to the part about their dinner date, Jacqueline nearly choked on her coffee. “You can’t be serious! She put my hand WHERE?”

He chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m only repeating what you told me. Don’t shoot the messenger.”

She groaned. “Please tell me that’s ALL she did.”

“Well, she did try to kiss you after the two of you and her father were captured by the Order, but lucky for you Ramon and D’Artagnan got there and cut you loose before she could actually do it.”

“And we were captured because of a weapon you built?”

He nodded. “Not my proudest moment, but I certainly learned a valuable lesson from the experience. That was the first and last time I ever attempted to build anything so deadly.”

“That’s comforting….So what happened with Mireille?”

“You put on a blonde wig and a red dress, and you told her you were ‘Jacques’’ fiancée. She changed her mind about the whole ‘engagement’ thing pretty quickly after that.”

“Well, I would hope so,” she giggled. “And what about that machine of yours?”

“Turned it into scrap. Like I said, that was my one and only foray into the field of weaponry. And once I realized what it could do, I decided it was best to get rid of the thing before it could fall into the wrong hands.”

“Like Mazarin’s secret order?”

“Exactly….” He trailed off as the front door opened to reveal Nicki, who quickly became the center of attention. As everyone watched, the tall brunette stalked over to a rather irate Hollamby.

“Where the hell have you been, Wade?” she demanded. “I don’t pay you to go wandering off whenever you—”

“Dry up, you old bag!” Nicki snapped, causing the older woman’s eyes to go wide with shock.

“How dare you speak to me in that manner! Keep this up and you’ll bloody well be out of a job!”

“Fine by me, because I quit!”

“You can’t quit!”

Nicki leaned down, bringing herself almost nose-to-nose with her soon to be ex-employer. “Watch me.” Raising herself back to full height, Nicki pulled a bag of gold from inside her shirt and dropped it on the counter between them. “I’m leaving, and I’m taking Helen with me.”

Staring at the gold, Hollamby’s mouth opened and closed several times before she finally found her voice again. “W-where did you get all that?”

“That’s none of your bloody business. Let Helen go, and the gold is yours. End of discussion.”

The two stared each other down for several moments before Hollamby finally relented. “Fine. Girl’s more trouble than she’s worth, anyway. Get her out of here before I change my mind. Unnatural perverts,” she muttered, picking up the gold and waddling off towards the back.

Ignoring the older woman’s parting shot, Nicki practically flew up the stairs to Helen’s room and started pounding on the door. After several moments, it finally opened to reveal Helen herself, looking as if she’d dressed rather hastily.

“What now, Nicki?” she asked, exasperated.

“We’re leaving, Helen.”

The Scot’s eyebrow shot up. “Now?”

“That’s the general idea.”

“You’re crazy,” she muttered, shaking her head. “We can’t—”

“We can. I finally managed to get together enough gold to pay the old bat off.”

“How?”

“Never mind that. Point is, you’re free. You don’t have to answer to that windbag anymore.”

Helen’s face lit up at the news, but the joy only lasted a moment. Before she could respond, she was joined in the doorway by the room’s other occupant.

“Maybe she doesn’t answer to Sylvia any more, Wade, but she still answers to me until I’ve gotten what I’ve paid for. Isn’t that right, Helen?” His arm snaked around her waist and he pulled her close, completely ignoring the disgust written on her features.

“Fenner,” Nicki growled, her hands clenching themselves into fists. “Let Helen go right now or I swear I’ll—”

“You’ll what? Hit me? I somehow doubt that. Wouldn’t want to wind up in jail now, would we? What would happen to your precious Helen then?” Fenner smirked, pulling Helen even closer.

Watching the scene unfold, Geoffrey’s hand flew to his sword. Seeing Fenner accost Helen only reminded him of what the scumbag had tried to do to Jacqueline. He would’ve rushed up the stairs and helped Nicki out, but found himself being held back by both Jacqueline and his cousin, who’d joined them just as Nicki had made her grand entrance.

“Let it go, G,” Faith hissed. “This is Nicki’s fight, not yours. Let her handle this.” Realizing that she was right, Geoffrey nodded and sat back down, the girls joining him seconds later. Jacqueline looked a bit confused at the nickname, but held her tongue. There’d be plenty of time to ask about it later.

Heedless of the activity below, Nicki and Fenner continued to stare each other down. Nicki was reluctant to make the first move, fearful that Helen might get hurt in the process, while Fenner seemed content to wait for her to attack and give him an excuse to place her under arrest. Much to both of their surprises, it was Helen who acted first, driving an elbow into the Sheriff’s gut. Once he’d released his grip, she followed up with a punch to his nose, breaking it, and then brought her knee up hard between his legs. As he crumpled from the pain, Nicki ‘helped’ him back into the room, shutting and locking the door behind him.

“That felt good,” Helen drawled, her accent a bit more pronounced than usual.

Nicki laughed, brushing some stray hairs from Helen’s face. “Bloody brilliant, you mean. Never knew you had it in you.”

The Scot blushed. “Neither did I.” She smiled, raising her eyes to meet Nicki’s. “Did you really mean what you said before? Miss Hollamby’s actually going to let me go?”

“Bloody right, she is. You and I…we’re going to leave this sodding island and make a fresh start somewhere else…the New World, perhaps. That is…if you’ll still have me.”

“Oh Nicki…you’ve no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that.”

“So is that a yes?”

“What do you think?” Helen wrapped her arms around Nicki’s neck, and a cheer erupted from the floor below as the pair shared their first real kiss. Once they parted, Nicki scooped the smaller Scot into her arms and carried her out of the place amidst even more cheering. The only one not happy was Hollamby, who muttered something that sounded like ‘unnatural’ before yelling at the girls who still worked there to stop lazing about…not that any of them actually listened.

The ‘show’ over, all the girls soon returned to their usual activities. Smiling, Geoffrey turned to look at Faith and Jacqueline. His cousin was also smiling, thrilled that her friends had finally found happiness, while Jacqueline looked as if she wasn’t sure what to think. Geoffrey chuckled, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry…I’ll explain it to you when you’re older.” Still laughing, he narrowly avoided a smack to his shoulder. “What?”

“I’m not a child, you know. I’ve heard the rumors about His Majesty’s brother. I’m just trying to figure out where Nicki suddenly got all that gold from. From what Faith’s told me, she was almost broke when she took off a few days ago.”

“Yeah…I was kinda wondering ‘bout that too,” Faith chimed in. With that, Geoffrey found himself to be the focus of their attention.

“What? Why are you two looking at me all of a sudden?”

“Well, one of the girls told me they saw you talking to Nicki just before she took off. Awfully big coincidence, don’t you think?”

Jacqueline nodded. “She’s got a point, Siroc.”

“So?” Geoffrey asked, avoiding their eyes. “We talked. That’s hardly a crime now, is it?”

“No, it’s not a crime. But it’s still a bit strange that you two talk, and Nicki suddenly comes up with more money than any of these girls would see in several lifetimes. What’d you do…steal from the King while we were at the Tower and give her the gold as some kind of reward for her help?”

“No, nothing like that. Nothing dodgy going on here, Faith…not between me and Nicki, anyway.”

“Then how’d she get the money?” He opened his mouth to respond, and she held up a hand to silence him. “Don’t even think about trying to tell me you don’t know nothin’, ‘cause I know you too well to believe that for even a second. If it wasn’t anythin’ dodgy, then what’s the harm in just telling us the truth, huh?”

Geoffrey stared Faith down for a moment, then sighed. “Alright. If you must know, I gave her my father’s old ring to sell off.”

Faith’s eyebrows shot up. “What? You mean the one that’s supposed to have come from Henry V himself? Are you bleedin’ mad?”

“It’s my bloody ring. I can do with it what I want.”

“It’s a priceless antique! Not to mention a family heirloom. Good thing your old man’s dead, because he’d bloody well kill you.”

He shrugged. “Never really meant all that much to me, to be honest. The only good memories I’ve gotten from it have nothing to do with family history. At any rate, I figure it’s put to better use getting some decent people out of a bad situation than it ever has just sitting in my pocket, collecting dust. Okay?” Geoffrey gave Faith a pointed look, and she quickly backed down.

“Alright, alright. Point taken.”

“Good.”

“Can we leave now, Siroc?” Jacqueline asked.

“Sure,” he nodded. As he did, Geoffrey noticed a figure emerging from the room formerly occupied by Helen. “Look, why don’t you and Faith make sure we’ve got everything ready to go, and I’ll meet you outside.”

“What are you going to be doing, G?”

“No need to worry, Faith. Just one last bit of business to take care of. Come, Miette.” With that, he rose and moved to intercept the ‘good’ Sheriff, the kitten right on his heels. He caught up with Fenner at the top of the stairs, grabbing his arm and forcing him back into the room he‘d just vacated.

“Unhand me, peasant!” he snapped, jerking his arm from Geoffrey’s grasp as the latter was closing the door.

Geoffrey glared. “You know, that is really starting to get on my nerves. Why is it that every time we run into each other, Fenner, you feel the need to try and insult me?”

“That’s Sir Fenner to you, boy! Show some respect for your betters!”

“I will…when I see them.”

“Insolent brat!” Drawing a dagger from his boot, the Sheriff lunged at Geoffrey. Calmly, the young pirate sidestepped the charge, grabbing Fenner’s arm as he passed and twisting it, forcing him to drop the blade. From there, he hooked the larger man’s leg and sent him face-first to the floor, twisting that same arm behind him and kneeling on his back to pin him in place.

“That was pathetic…especially for someone who’s supposed to be enforcing the law.”

“I’ll have you locked up for this!” Fenner protested, attempting to twist around and get a better look at his assailant. Shaking his head, Geoffrey dug his knee in harder to keep him down.

“If anyone deserves to be locked up, it’s you. A pitiful little coward who thinks hurting women will make him more of a man. You know, I may not have agreed with most of my father’s views on the fairer sex, but one lesson I did take to heart was that they should always be treated with respect…a lesson that your education was obviously lacking.”

“What the bloody hell do you care? They’re just whores, for God’s sake!”

“Just whores?” Geoffrey asked, twisting the arm further and causing Fenner to cry out in pain. “These girls may be ‘whores,’ as you so delicately put it, but the fact of their profession hardly makes them less human or worthy of respect. Even a ‘whore’ has the right to say no….But you don’t care about that, do you Fenner? You take what you want, when you want it, and figure that they’ve consented simply because they happen to work in a place like this. Helen certainly didn’t want it though, did she? I saw her face…she was clearly disgusted by the thought of you even touching her. And my wife…she never consented either, did she?” As he spoke, Geoffrey continued to twist Fenner’s arm until he heard a rather satisfying snap, accompanied by a pained howl from the ‘good’ Sheriff.

“Y-your wife?” he finally stammered, the color draining from his face.

“The girl you attempted to assault outside that dress shop…or don’t you remember?”

Fenner shook his head. “Sorry, can’t say that I do.”

Growling, Geoffrey shot to his feet and launched a hard kick at the Sheriff’s ribs. He followed up with a second and third before shoving him onto his back and wrapping a hand around his throat. “A week ago, outside that abandoned dress shop. You attacked her, and I caught you before you had a chance to go through with it. I threatened to sic my cat on you if you tried it again.” Almost as if on cue, Miette emerged from the shadows, bringing herself nearly nose-to-nose with the prone figure and growling low in her throat, letting her teeth and claws show. Fenner went even paler, if possible, and Geoffrey could swear he saw a wet spot forming in the middle of the man’s breeches.

“W-what do you want from me?” he stammered.

Grinning, Geoffrey released his grip on the Sheriff’s throat and drew himself back up to full height. Fenner sat up a moment later, cradling his broken arm, but Miette’s menacing glare kept him from going further. As he watched, the young pirate drew a dagger of his own and knelt next to him, bringing the point of the blade dangerously close to his face.

“What I want, Fenner, is for these girls to be left alone…for them to be safe from the likes of you.”

“Are you going to kill me, then?”

Geoffrey shook his head. “Tempting, but no. If I kill you, I’ll be no better than you are. I’m not going to go down that road, no matter how much you deserve it. So consider this a warning. I have a brothel full of contacts who would be more than happy to keep me informed of your activities after I’ve returned to France. And if I find out that you so much as think about harming any of these girls…or any other woman, for that matter…I’ll bring my ship right back to England, hunt you down, and make cat toys out of your bits and pieces.” To drive the point home, Geoffrey rammed the dagger down between Fenner’s legs, sticking it into the floor only a hair’s breadth from his privates. The Sheriff went nearly as white as a ghost, and Geoffrey’s mouth twisted itself into an almost maniacal grin. He met Fenner’s eyes, part of him relishing the fear he saw there. “Savvy?” Fenner quickly nodded, obviously having gotten the message. Satisfied, Geoffrey stood up once more, pulling the dagger from the floor as he did. “This was your only warning, Fenner, so if I were you, I’d stay as far away from this place as possible. Come on, Miette…let’s go.” With that, Geoffrey turned and left the room, the kitten right beside him. He stopped briefly to inform one of the girls of Fenner’s injury so they could send for a doctor, then made his way outside to where Jacqueline and his cousin were waiting for him.

“He still in one piece, G?”

“More or less. And I don’t think he’ll be hurting any more women in the near future.”

Faith nodded. “Good. Shall we get going, then?”

“Yeah. There should be a cutter waiting for us at the city docks, so why don’t you go and get Captain Duval from the White Hart, and Jacqueline and I will meet you there.”

“Works for me.” Faith turned and headed for the tavern where Duval was lodging, while Geoffrey and Jacqueline headed in the opposite direction towards the docks.

Chapter 40

As Geoffrey offered Jacqueline his arm, the pair started down the main passages through the East End from the Inn to the docks, Miette padding along behind them. Dodging horse droppings, waste water being thrown from windows above and the occasional horse and buggy, Jacqueline glanced at her companion. “Siroc…I’m curious. Why does Faith insist on referring to you as ‘G’?”

The blonde sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he silently cursed the raven-haired pirate. “Faith only uses that infernal nickname because she’s my cousin, and as such seems to think it her calling in life to annoy me as much as humanly possible.”

“But how did she come up with it? I thought you told me your name was Siroc. There’s no ‘G’ in that.”

He shook his head. “God only knows how my cousin’s mind works, Jacqueline. And He’s certainly not sharing the information with me.”

Jacqueline laughed. “Kind of reminds me of Gerard. He never had any nicknames for me…not that I know of, anyway…but he always seemed to know how to get under my skin. That’s part of the reason I got so good with a sword…so I’d always have at least one thing to hold over his head. That way, whenever he started to get on my nerves, all I’d have to do is challenge him to a duel. Being out-fenced by his sister never failed in getting him to back off…at least for a little while.”

Geoffrey chuckled. “Yeah, I can see that. Wish I’d had brothers and sisters growing up but, alas, I’m an only child. Faith’s the closest I’ve ever had to a sister, and my Musketeer comrades have become like brothers.”

“Including me?”

“Well…that’s rather complicated. I mean, I know you as both ‘Jacques’ and Jacqueline. ‘Jacques’ is my brother-in-arms, as are D’Artagnan and Ramon, and Jacqueline…well, like I said, it’s complicated.” Jacqueline opened her mouth, about to say something, when a carriage driver rushed down the street and nearly plowed right into the pair. Geoffrey managed to pull her out of its way just in time, swearing at the driver as he passed. Miette barely managed to avoid the carriage herself, and added her angry growls to Geoffrey’s curses. Once the carriage had disappeared, Geoffrey turned to the female musketeer. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

He nodded. “Good. Damn nobles,” he muttered. “Don’t care who they hurt as long as they get where they want to go.” Putting a protective arm around her shoulders, he gently steered her to one side of the street, where they’d hopefully be out of the way of any more careless carriage drivers. Miette followed suit, her eyes darting nervously about the street in case another of those monstrosities made an appearance.

They walked in silence after that, but Geoffrey could tell that something was bothering her. As they drew closer to the docks, he decided to gently broach the subject…get it out in the open before they boarded the ship. “Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked. “You seem a bit upset.”

She sighed. “Actually, there is something that’s been bothering me…I just wasn’t sure how to bring it up.”

“What is it?”

“It’s probably nothing, but…well…when I woke up, Nicki…she said something about me having a husband. Might have just been a slip of the tongue, since she only mentioned it the one time, but still…there’s some part of me that can’t help but wonder if it’s true.” She glanced up, meeting his eyes. “Tell me the truth, Siroc. Am I married?”

Geoffrey paused for a moment, then nodded. “Yes…you are married, Jacqueline.”

“Since when?”

“This past May, around the time that pardon was signed. And no, it wasn’t a condition of the pardon or anything like that. Rest assured, it was entirely your choice. No one forced you into anything.”

Jacqueline stared at him, a bit taken aback by the revelation. “I chose to get married? Are you sure? I mean, I swore to myself years ago that I wouldn’t…not after….”

“Not after Angelique?”

At that, her mouth dropped open in shock. “H-how did you…?”

“You confided it to me, just before the wedding. Last minute jitters, I suppose. You wanted reassurance that you were doing the right thing.”

“Was I? Who am I married to, anyway?”

Geoffrey sighed. “I’m afraid I can’t answer that.”

“Why not? You don’t think I can handle it?”

“It’s not that, Jacqueline. Under the circumstances, though, I just don’t think it would be fair…to you or him. You married him for love, after all, and to go back to him just because you feel obligated by your vows…it would undermine everything the two of you have built. So there’s no point in revealing his identity if you can’t remember why you married in the first place. But I will say this: your husband loves you very much…more than anything else in this world. He wants you to come back to him, of course, but he won’t force you any more than he did the first time around. Hopefully, your memories will return soon, and everything can get back to normal. But if they don’t, the choice whether or not to return to his side is yours, and yours alone. He will respect your wishes, whatever they may be. That’s how much he loves you, Jacqueline. Trust me on this.”

“You really know him that well?”

“Yes. We’re quite close. He just wants you to be happy, Jacqueline. As do we all.”

She sighed. “I’d be much happier if I could remember the past few years. Right now, it feels like you’re talking about someone else’s life, not mine. What if my memories never come back, Siroc? What if I’m stuck like this forever? If my husband is really as good a man as you say, I couldn’t bear to see him hurt.”

“Believe me, Jacqueline, he understands. Besides,” he said, smiling. “With any luck, it won’t come to that. You just have to think positive. Alright?”

Jacqueline nodded, cracking a small smile of her own. “You’re right, I suppose.”

“That’s the spirit. Now come on…there’s a longboat in port with our name on it.” He gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze, and the pair continued on to the docks where, sure enough, there was a longboat waiting for them. The crewman gave Geoffrey a salute, then helped them both inside. Miette, for her part, managed to leap from the dock to the boat all on her own. “Where’s Faith?” the blonde asked, glancing around.

“No idea, Sir. She hasn’t shown up yet.”

Geoffrey swore. “Alright. Take us back to the ship now, then come back and wait for her and Captain Duval. If she’s off getting drunk, I swear I’ll….” He trailed off, muttering expletives that shocked even the crewman. When he finally ran out of curses, the longboat was untied from the dock and they started back for the ship.

Jacqueline watched in awe as they approached the Rose d’Orleans, never having seen anything like it before in her life. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing at the large metal cylinder sticking out of the deck near the mainmast.

“That would be the smokestack for my steam engine…one of my more brilliant inventions, if I do say so myself.”

“A steam what?”

He chuckled. “A steam engine. Basically, it’s a machine that allows the ship to run using steam for power instead of relying on the wind.”

“Amazing….”

“Yeah…well, just wait until you see it in action.” As he spoke, the boat came to rest against the side of the ship, and a rope ladder was lowered from the main deck. Geoffrey helped Jacqueline onto the ladder and made sure she got onto the ship before climbing up himself, Miette cradled in his right arm. A large hand clamped onto his left forearm as he neared the top, and Geoffrey found himself being yanked the rest of the way onto the deck and into a bear hug by his uncle, Miette leaping away just in time to avoid being squished by the over-exuberant Frenchman. After a few moments, Geoffrey finally managed to squirm free and find his feet, smoothing his clothes as he did.

Porthos was undaunted, though. “Geoffrey, my boy,” he boomed, clapping him on the back. “We were starting to get worried.”

“Your orders, Captain Greyhawk?” another crewman asked, before Geoffrey could stop him. He glanced over at Jacqueline, whose expression had suddenly turned angry. She stormed over to where he stood; only stopping when they were nearly nose-to-nose.

“Geoffrey Greyhawk? You told me your name was Siroc!”

“I…uh…well….”

“Bastard!” she spat, glaring. Then, before anyone could stop her, she reached out and shoved Geoffrey over the rail, sending him plummeting into the cold waters of the bay. Jacqueline watched him go under and then, once he’d resurfaced, sputtering and cursing, she turned on her heel and headed below decks. Miette, with her front paws on the rail, also watched as her male human hit the water. She waited until his head reappeared and then, giving a short ‘meow,’ brought her front paws back down to the deck and, with a swish of her tail, followed after her female human.

Porthos watched Jacqueline and Miette disappear below, scratching his head. “What in blue blazes is going on here?” he muttered. Then, remembering his nephew’s current predicament, turned to the crew. “Man overboard! You all know the drill!” Immediately, there was a flurry of activity on deck. A rope was thrown over the side, which Geoffrey quickly swam over and grabbed hold of. Once they were sure he had a good grip on it, the crewmen proceeded to reel him in…at least until he was close enough to grab the rope ladder again. As soon as he neared the top, Porthos grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him back up on deck. “Alright…would you care to explain just what the hell that was about?”

Geoffrey sighed, taking a moment to wring some of the water from his shirt before he spoke. “Sorry Uncle…I probably should’ve warned you. Jacqueline…she doesn’t remember the last three years.”

“How is that possible, Geoffrey? What happened?”

“To be honest, I’m still not entirely sure. Faith and I…when we found Jacqueline, the cultists that kidnapped her were in the middle of performing some sort of ritual. We managed to stop them before they could do too much damage, but Jacqueline was left unconscious for about a week. When she finally woke up, she thought it was 1651. It took some time to convince her otherwise.”

“And you felt the need to lie to her about who you were?”

“I didn’t lie, exactly….It’s just…she seemed rather hostile whenever the name Greyhawk came up, and I didn’t want her taking off in the middle of London. Figured it was safer to just use my old alias.”

“Well, I don’t think she agrees with that assessment.”

“Obviously.”

“Any idea why she was targeted in the first place?”

Geoffrey shook his head. “Not a clue. The only thing I know at this point is that DeMolay was the ringleader, and he’d bullied Charles II into going along. Not that Charles was exactly making much sense…kept ranting about how DeMolay promised him Jacqueline’s hand, claiming that marriage to her would somehow give him the French throne. Pure nonsense.”

“Perhaps, but if DeMolay believed it true, it would explain quite a bit.”

“I suppose….”

“Speaking of which….” Porthos paused, rummaging through the pockets of his coat. Finally, he came across whatever he was searching for and handed it to Geoffrey. It was a letter of some sort.

“What’s this?”

“I got that a few days ago. Seems your cousin might be in a bit of trouble.”

Geoffrey’s eyebrow shot up. “What kind of trouble?”

“Something having to do with that DeMolay. Just read the letter.” Nodding, Geoffrey opened the parchment and quickly scanned the contents. The letter was from Cian, and he claimed that the Spanish were up in arms because Faith supposedly helped DeMolay escape the authorities in their country after he sacrificed a number of young girls to whatever heathen god his cult worshipped.

Geoffrey shook his head. “I don’t buy this, Uncle. This doesn’t sound like Faith at all. I mean, I know she’s not exactly a shining example of honesty, but I just can’t see her knowingly helping someone as vile as DeMolay.”

“Maybe he tricked her.”

“Possibly.” He folded the parchment back up and shoved it into his own pocket. “Look, let me know when Faith finally finds her way back here. In the meantime, I’m going to try and smooth things over with Jacqueline.”

Porthos chuckled. “Good luck with that one.”

“Gee…thanks….” Shaking his head, Geoffrey turned and headed below decks to search for his wayward bride.

****************

Jebediah Barkley slunk along the alleyways of London in search of a mark for his pickpocketing skills. His attention span was broken as he saw a man and a woman pass by. He started to step out of the alley and follow when the growl of an animal made his step back, right into the leavings of a horse. He looked down at his shoe and wrinkled his nose. Wiping his shoe on the broken wagon wheel leaning against the wall of a building, he swore. Finally free of the mess, he followed the two people, stopping occasionally when the feline stopped and looked at him.

Finally, the pair reached the longboat and the cat jumped aboard. He watched until they reached the Rose d'Orleans and boarded before he turned and ran back the way he had come. Puffing and panting, he entered the Dragon’s Lair and searched the dark room. Finally, he saw the man he was looking for sitting at a table with a tart on his lap. "Captain."

The man looked up. "Barkley, why are you interrupting my dinner?"

"Greyhawk, he is in London."

The Captain laughed. "He’s probably drunker than a skunk…missing his woman, perhaps?"

"No sir, the woman is with him and they just boarded a ship in the harbor."

"Wasn't the Reine Anne, was it?"

"No Sir. It was the Rose d’Orleans."

The Captain's grin vanished. "Go round up the crew and get them to the Shark, we will be sailing on the tide. Come and get me when we are ready to sail."

"Aye Captain." He grinned as he saw the Captain's had slipped up the woman's skirt and Barkley wondered if she would enjoy what was coming. His silent question was answered when the girl squealed and then shifted on the Captain's lap.

The Captain looked up at Barkley. "Are you still here?"

Three hours later, Barkley found the Captain upstairs in a room. He knocked on the door. "Captain, the men are on board but we missed the tide." He heard a swear word from the other side when suddenly the door flew opened and a hand grabbed his throat.

"Idiot. Get out of my sight. Come for me when the tide is ready." The Captain shoved Barkley back and slammed the door as he headed back to his bed warmer. Barkley heard a giggle before he turned and left.

Chapter 41

After a bit of wandering, Geoffrey finally found Jacqueline in one of the cabins—the same one the two of them had shared following his rescue from the Cutlass. Not wanting to be rude, he knocked on the doorframe to get her attention. “May I come in?”

She looked up at him from the bed, glaring. “What do you want?” she snapped.

Geoffrey raised his hands, trying to show that he meant no harm. “I just want to talk, Jacqueline.”

“Why? So you can tell me more of your lies? Well, forget it! Just leave me alone, okay!”

Undaunted, Geoffrey made his way into the room, taking a seat on the other bed. “No lies, Jacqueline. I promise. Please…just hear me out.”

Jacqueline paused for a moment, considering his request. Finally, she nodded. “Alright, I’ll give you a chance. But you’d better not be wasting my time.”

He sighed. “Look, I’m sorry I wasn’t more honest with you before. Yes, my name is Geoffrey Greyhawk, and William Greyhawk was my father. You did know me as Siroc for a time, before the truth about my past was revealed. And when I saw how you reacted to my surname, I panicked. I didn’t want you running off again, considering how dangerous London can be, and I figured the best solution was to give you my alias instead. That’s no excuse, I know. I just didn’t want you getting hurt because you didn’t trust me.”

“And lying to me was supposed to earn my trust?”

“I wasn’t lying, exactly….Told you that you could call me Siroc. Never actually said that was my name. You just kind of assumed….”

“That’s not the point.”

“I know….Why do you hate my father so much, anyway? You’ve never even met him, far as I know.”

“He’s a pirate, isn’t he?”

“Was. He was murdered last year by an overzealous associate of Mazarin’s.”

Jacqueline snorted. “So? Am I supposed to feel sorry for you now? Considering the stories I’ve heard about William Greyhawk, he probably deserved what he got.”

“That’s not true!” Geoffrey snapped, shooting to his feet. “My father may not have been as good a man as yours, but that doesn’t mean he deserved to be killed any more than Claude Roget did. And if you’re going to bloody well sit here and judge both me and him because of a few stories, then I obviously don’t know you as well as I thought.” Seething, Geoffrey turned and walked out of the cabin, heading to his own and shutting himself inside. He dropped into his chair, slamming his hands against the desk in frustration. Tears threatened to spring forth at the memories the argument had dragged up, but he pushed them back. The last thing he needed was for someone to walk in and see him in that state.

Meanwhile, Jacqueline was still sitting on the bed, feeling like a real heel. Reluctant as she was to admit it, Geoffrey was right. If someone had said those things about her father, she would be pretty upset too. Whatever Geoffrey’s father had done, he didn’t deserve to be murdered…no one deserves that. With a sigh, she glanced down at Miette, who was curled up at her feet. “I should probably go apologize to him, shouldn’t I?”

“Mraow.”

A short time later, there was a knock on his door. “Come in,” he called automatically, his eyes focused on some paperwork he’d picked up to keep himself busy. The door opened, and he glanced up to see Jacqueline poking her head inside. “May I help you?”

Slowly, she moved the rest of the way into the cabin, her gaze turned to the floorboards. “I-I just wanted to say…well…you were right. I have no more right to judge you or your father than Mazarin had to judge mine. I’m sorry.” She sighed, daring to meet his eyes.

Geoffrey sighed as well, laying the paperwork aside. “I’m sorry too, Jacqueline. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. It’s hardly your fault that you can’t remember what’s happened over the past few years.”

There were several moments of awkward silence at that, as neither of them really knew what else to say. Finally, Jacqueline spoke up, staring once again at the floor as she did. “So…are you a pirate too? Like your father, I mean.”

Geoffrey shrugged, cracking a smile. “Depends on who you ask. The King of England thinks I am, but as far as King Louis is concerned, I’m a privateer under his command.”

“A privateer?”

He nodded. “Still a pirate, technically, but with the King’s blessing.” He reached into one of the desk drawers and removed a scroll, which he carefully unrolled and laid out on the desk for her to read. “See, it’s all right here. Letters of Marque, signed by His Majesty, Louis XIV of France.”

“Impressive,” she admitted, tentatively returning the smile. “But what about what you said before…about being a Musketeer?”

“That’s true too. I was a Musketeer when we first met, before anyone knew who my father was, and I returned to the corps once that whole mess was resolved. On land, I serve Captain Duval as a Musketeer private, like you, and at sea I command this ship in Louis’ name. Best of both worlds, really.”

“You’re nothing like the stories I’ve heard of your father. I’m sorry I made you think you had to lie to keep my trust.”

“That’s okay. No harm done, really. And you’re right…I’m not much like my father at all. Black sheep of the Greyhawk clan, I suppose. Me and Uncle Porthos.”

As soon as he said the Legend’s name, her eyes went wide. “Porthos is your uncle? You’re related to THE Porthos?”

He chuckled. “Yes, I’m related to THE Porthos. Believe it or not, he’s my father’s half-brother. I only found out about it myself last year. And actually, you’ve already met him. He’s the big guy who grabbed me when I came up on deck.”

“That was the famous Porthos? And nobody told me?”

“I guess they all assumed you knew.”

“Oh….” With a crestfallen expression, Jacqueline sat down on his bed, dropping her head into her hands. Geoffrey was by her side immediately, putting an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close.

“Hey…” he murmured. “It’s okay. Not your fault, remember?”

She shook her head. “It’s just not fair, Geoffrey. According to you, I have this whole new life…friends, a job, a husband…and I can’t remember any of it. And my fault or no, I can’t help but feel guilty every time I meet someone I should already know. I just want everything to be normal again…whatever that means.”

“And it will,” Geoffrey said, gently tilting her chin up so their eyes met. “Your memories will return eventually, I’m sure of it. I refuse to believe that this is permanent.”

“But what if it is?”

“It won’t be. If DeMolay was that powerful, he wouldn’t be a corpse right now. Everything will be alright, Jacqueline. You just have to have faith…and coming from me, that really means something. Okay?”

Jacqueline stared at him for a moment, then slowly nodded. “I-I suppose.” She sighed. “Why are you being so nice, Geoffrey? I mean, after the way I acted…the things I said about you and your father…I’m surprised you haven’t thrown me off the ship.”

“I told you, Jacqueline, it’s okay. Really. To be honest, my father and I never really got along that well, and you were right…he was a ruthless, bloodthirsty pirate. But he was still my father, and it still hurt when I lost him. You didn’t know that, though, and I can’t really say I blame you for reacting the way you did when you found out who I was. After all, the stories about his exploits are rather horrific.” He sighed, brushing some stray hair from her face. “Point is, I care about you far too much to let some stupid fight ruin our friendship.”

“You really mean that?”

“I do.” As he spoke, he found himself leaning in towards her, and she seemed to be responding in kind. Their lips drew closer, almost of their own accord, and were about to touch when—

“MRAOW!” Leaping apart, they looked down to see Miette sitting at their feet, giving them an odd look. A moment later, the door of the cabin opened to reveal Porthos, who was gripping a rather tipsy Faith by the arm.

“Look who finally decided to join us,” the elder seaman said, pushing her the rest of the way into the room. “Seems your cousin decided to go for a few drinks instead of retrieving your captain. Luckily, Duval found her in the White Hart’s tavern and was able to drag her away before she had too many.” Shaking his head, Porthos turned and walked from the room, leaving the youngsters alone.

Frowning, Geoffrey watched as Faith staggered over to his desk and collapsed into the chair. After a moment, he moved in front of the chair, leaning on the arms as he stared into his cousin’s bleary eyes. “Faith, what part of ‘find Captain Duval and bring him back here’ did you not understand?”

“You really need ta lighten up, G…all three o’ ya.”

Geoffrey glanced over at Jacqueline, eyebrow raised. “Did she just…?”

She nodded. “I’m no expert, but I think she’s way past ‘tipsy’ at this point.”

“Any ideas?”

Jacqueline thought for a moment, then grinned. “I’ll be right back.” With that, she turned and left the room, returning several minutes later holding a bucket. A devilish look playing across her features, she walked over to the chair and proceeded to dump the contents onto Faith’s head, dousing her in presumably freezing water.

The reaction was immediate. Faith leapt to her feet, cursing in several languages that Geoffrey hadn’t even been aware that she knew. When her tirade finally trailed off, she glared at both him and Jacqueline. “Jesus…what the bloody hell was that for?”

“We need to talk, Faith, and it’s rather difficult to do that if you’re barely coherent.”

“Barely coherent…what are you talking about, G? It was just a few drinks.”

Geoffrey’s eyebrow shot up. “Is that why Captain Duval had to drag you away from the tavern? And why you could hardly stand on your own two feet when Uncle Porthos brought you into this cabin?”

“Okay, so it was more than a few. I still don’t see what the big deal is.”

Glaring, Geoffrey closed in on her position, forcing her back down into the chair. “I gave you a direct order, Faith. You were to retrieve Captain Duval from the inn and bring him here so that we could set off for France. Instead, you decide to stop off at the tavern and get drunk. If you were a member of my crew, I could have you flogged.”

“Well, I ain’t a member of your bloody crew, so I don’t have to follow your bloody orders anyway.”

“As long as you’re sailing on my ship, you do.”

“Maybe I won’t be sailing with you, then.”

“Fine,” Geoffrey said, gesturing toward the door. “Good luck finding yourself another ship.”

Her bluff called, Faith slumped further down into the chair, crossing her arms and turning her gaze to the floor. “Whatever….So what’s so bloody important that you had to have her practically freeze me to death?” She glared at Jacqueline again, and the younger woman suddenly found herself feeling rather uncomfortable.

“Perhaps I should go…give you some privacy.”

Geoffrey shook his head. “No need for you to leave…especially since this concerns you too, in a way.” Turning back to his cousin, he pulled Cian’s letter from his shirt and laid it out on the desk in front of her. “This is what we need to discuss, Faith. Now, since you are my cousin, I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. I know that you would never do anything to hurt me or those I care about…not on purpose, anyway. But I need you to be completely honest with me.”

“Honest about what, G? I don’t understand….”

“It’s all in the letter, Faith. According to Cian, the Spanish government is after your head because they believe that you helped Claude DeMolay escape justice after he murdered several young girls in their country…including the princess’ own cousin. Is this true?”

At that, all the color drained from Faith’s face. “D-deMolay? The bloke that kidnapped Jacqueline?”

“Yes, that’s him.” Geoffrey paused, taking in the sudden change in his cousin’s demeanor. “You know something about this, don’t you?”

“I…uh….”

“I want the truth, Faith!” he growled, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he leaned over the desk. “Did you help that son of a bitch get away with murder?”

Faith stood up and started pacing behind the desk, nervously running a hand through her hair. She stopped after a few moments, turning to face her cousin but unable to look him in the eyes. “Yes,” she nodded, her voice barely a whisper.

Geoffrey straightened up, staring at her in shock. “What?”

“I’m sorry, G, but it’s true. I helped him.” Faith dared a glance up, and the betrayed expression she saw in her cousin’s eyes was almost more than she could bear. There was a similar look in Jacqueline’s, coupled with confusion—understandable, since the kidnapping was one of many things she no longer remembered. Swallowing hard, she turned back to Geoffrey, this time meeting his eyes.

“Why?”

She shook her head. “I swear, I had no idea who that bastard was or what he was up to at the time. I mean, it ain’t like he walked up and said ‘Hi, I’m a psychopath who gets off on sacrificing young girls to pagan gods. Would you mind helping me get to England so I can find more victims?’ He didn’t even give me his sodding name. All he told me was that he needed to get out of Spain quick and that he’d pay handsomely if we helped.”

“How handsomely?”

She sighed. “Two thousand gold pieces up front, and another two thousand when we reached our destination.”

“Four thousand pieces of gold to help a murderer escape justice,” he growled, his temper dangerously close to the boiling point. “So the rumors I’ve heard are true…you really are a goddamned mercenary.”

“It wasn’t like that, G. I swear on my father’s—”

“Don’t even think about bringing him into this, Faith! Do you have any idea how ashamed he’d be if he could see how his precious little girl turned out? Just another goddamned thug for hire, selling your services to the highest bidder. A mockery of everything your father stood for.”

“It wasn’t like that, G. I had my reasons.”

“Yeah…about four thousand of them, right?”

“No! Just let me explain….”

“Yes Geoffrey,” Jacqueline intervened, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Give her a chance. I get the feeling she’s telling the truth. Besides, she’s your cousin, isn’t she? I think you should at least hear her out before cutting her off the family tree.”

Geoffrey glanced back and forth between the two girls, then sighed. Reluctant as he was to admit it, Jacqueline had a point. He took Faith’s seat in the desk chair, crossing his arms and glaring up at her expectantly. “Alright, let’s have it then. How in the hell could you possibly justify helping a homicidal maniac to escape justice?”

“Look G, you of all people should know how tough it is to captain a ship full of pirates. We hadn’t had a decent prize in months, and the crew was gettin’ mutinous ‘cause we were runnin’ low on food n’ stuff. I had ‘em make port in Spain, since that was one of the few countries we’ve been in that hasn’t wanted us dead, and let them have leave while my First Mate an’ I tried ta figure our next move. That’s when some French bloke showed up, completely out o’ the blue, danglin’ a sack full o’ gold in our faces like the answer to our bloody prayers. All we had to do was get him to England. I thought somethin’ was off about it, but between taking gold from some creepy French guy and risking mutiny, I went with the gold. And you can’t stand there an’ tell me that you wouldn’t have done the same.”

He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. After a moment, he looked back up at his cousin. “You’re right…I can’t. Given the circumstances, I might very well have made the same choice. Still,” he said, rising to his feet. “That hardly excuses what you did. If you’d just left the bastard in Spain to face the music, he would never have had the chance to set his bloody plan into motion and abduct Jacqueline.”

“I know,” Faith nodded, turning her gaze to the floor. “So what now? You gonna hand me over to the bleedin’ inquisition?”

“No Faith, I’m not. You’re still my cousin, after all. What you did was stupid and irresponsible, but I can’t believe you did it maliciously. It was a mistake, but it’s over now. DeMolay is rotting in Hell as we speak, and I see no need for anyone else to die over this…least of all you.”

“Really?” Faith asked, a hopeful look creeping into her eyes.

Geoffrey nodded. “That being said, though, I still can’t let you off the hook. Someone has to answer for what happened. But I’ll talk to King Louis…see if we can’t work out some sort of compromise. However, until then, I’m afraid I’ll have to have you locked up. I need to be seen to be doing something about this, after all. You understand.”

“Yeah….” she muttered, knowing that he had a point. It hurt, but she knew that if their positions were reversed, she’d probably react the same way. She watched as Geoffrey pulled on a rope hanging in the corner, and a few moments later a couple of crewmen entered the cabin.

“Francois, Joshua…please escort Faith to her cabin. Until further notice, she is to be confined to quarters.”

“Aye, Captain.” With that, the pair took Faith by the arms and guided her from the cabin, leaving Geoffrey and Jacqueline alone once more. He turned towards his companion to find her staring at him, eyebrow raised.

“I can’t believe you’d lock up your own cousin for doing something you yourself would have done. Even with that DeMolay fellow involved, don’t you think that’s a bit harsh.”

He sighed, dropping back down into the chair. “You may be right, Jacqueline, but I have my reasons. It’s high time Faith learned to take responsibility for her own actions. All her life, she’s managed to just coast along…doing as she pleased with little or no thought to the consequences. True, she has matured some since the last time we sailed together, but still…. Besides, this is a small ship. Sooner or later, word of her involvement with DeMolay is going to get around. Even if I stand up and make an announcement myself, that won’t stop anyone from speculating. Especially since she’s my cousin. Because of that, I’m sure a lot of the crew will just assume I’m trying to protect her. So really, confining her to quarters is as much for her own safety as it is a punishment. I don’t want her getting hurt because some crewmen get it into their heads that she’s a traitor and decide to take matters into their own hands.”

“And how can you be sure that won’t still happen? I mean, if you aren’t the only one with access to the cabin….”

He stood up, running a hand through his hair as her comment registered. “Good point…I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. Bloody hell….” Cursing his own stupidity, he turned and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To make sure I’ll be the only one with access to that cabin. Much as I trust Francois, I’m not taking any chances with my cousin’s life. Excuse me….” Without another word, he walked out of the cabin and headed off after Francois.

Alone, it was Jacqueline’s turn to sit in the desk chair. She looked down at the kitten, who was currently seated at her feet. “Is he always like this?”

“Mraow.” Miette leapt into her lap, curling up and snuggling against her stomach. She started to purr, and Jacqueline couldn’t help but smile as she stroked the feline’s soft fur.

“You really like me, don’t you? And that Geoffrey…he seems pretty attached to me too. You both seem nice enough….I just wish I could remember how we all met.” She sighed. “If only you could tell me what’s going on. Maybe then, things would be less confusing.”

“Mraow?”

Jacqueline shook her head. “Never mind….” Seemingly satisfied, the kitten closed her eyes and went to sleep, leaving the human alone with her thoughts.

Chapter 42

Cian paced the quarterdeck of the Dulaman as William came up and wrapped her arms around her husband. “It is sort of romantic, isn’t it?”

“A war ship with almost one hundred men anchored on the border between two warring countries and you call it romantic?” He shook his, kissed his wife, then looked up to see the Bos’n coming up.

“Captain, do you really think it is wise for you to kiss William in public?”

“Póg mo thóin, is Éireannach mé!" He grinned. "Kiss my arse, I'm Irish! And William is my wife, Meallá, and she is all woman."

The Bos’n wiped his brow with his hand. “Whew, I figured the sea finally got you.”

“Not a chance. Now what is it?”

“Sir, we have been here a week and the men are getting restless.”

“I agree, so am I. We are going hunting. Get everyone back on board once the fresh water kegs have been restocked.”

“Sir, all the supplies have been loaded and the crew is on board.”

Cian looked up at the full moon. “The tide is in, light breeze blowing. Hoist sails and weigh anchor.”

“Aye Captain.”

Within the hour, the Dulaman slipped out of the harbor and into the Bay of Biscay and sailed north. Cian nodded to his wife. “We should reach Le Havre in about three days.”

“What if the Rose isn’t there?”

“Then, my dear wife, we shall go hunting the Rose. I just hope that Geoffrey didn’t run into too much trouble. We may have to break him out of the Tower of London.”

She grinned. “Now that would be just like him. Either that or have the Rose blow up.”

****************

Three days later, the Dulaman sailed into Le Havre and dropped anchor. As a longboat was lowered to the water, Cian kissed his wife. “Make sure Fuiseog stays on board.”

William smiled. "She will get off over my dead body."

With a nod, he slipped over the side of the ship. Not waiting for the longboat to come to come to a complete stop, he reached out, grabbed a rope ladder hanging from the dock, and climbed up. As soon Cian’s feet hit the boards of the dock, he walked to the inn and saw Gaston at a table. “Gaston, where are Ramon and your son?”

The former Musketeer looked up at the pretentious younger man. "Is that how you address your betters?"

"You mean elders and I am sorry, but my mission is urgent."

My son is either upstairs sleeping or escorting Violete around town. Ramon is probably at the house he is renting. Much more comfortable for Nikki. Why, did you find Jacqueline?”

“I don’t know. As you may or may not know, we rescued the captives and then Geoffrey took the Rose to look for Jacqueline while I took Mancini to Italy. We were supposed to meet up with the Rose, but she is overdue. Now I need to find Ana. Where is the house? Can you roust your son and tell him to get his bum to the Dulaman? She is that sleek ship in the harbor. We’ll be sailing as soon as supplies are loaded. We have another trip to make. I will fill you in, if you wish to come with us.” He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see the King of France standing behind him.

“I thought it was customary for a ship’s captain to report to the King after a mission.”

As Cian bowed, Gaston stood up. “Your Majesty. I am sorry, but we needed supplies as well as two Musketeers for a little sailing.”

“Oh goody” He clapped. “Mother and I will join you. This is exciting. We will see what this ship will do under steam.” He put his hand up to his mouth as he made an ‘oh’ with his lips. “I totally forgot. Did you find Geoffrey’s wife? Is she all right? I did receive the Captain’s letter."

"I have not heard, but we need to set sail as soon as possible. And it is Geoffrey’s ship that runs under steam power, not mine. At any rate, we have urgent matters to attend. In fact, Your Majesty, this is right up your alley."

Louis clapped his hand. "Oh goody. Well, don't just stand there, go get your people and let's set sail. Commander D'Artagnan, will you please advise my mother and transport her to the ship?"

The elder Musketeer nodded. "By your command." Bowing, he left the Inn.

As Cian went to find his comrades, Nikki sat at the table and was eating some fresh sausage when Ramon and D'Artagnan walked in. "Nikki, what are you eating?"

Nikki swallowed and took a sip of wine. "Blood sausage and potatoes."

"Didn't Ana tell you to watch what you are eating?"

"Ana? According to D'Artagnan there, Ana is a fraud and I shouldn't listen to her. So I am not listening to her."

Ramon whirled on his comrade. "D'Artagnan, will you please stay out of Nikki's and my marriage? Ana is her midwife, unless you want to take over that job."

D'Artagnan raised his hands. "Alright, I will back off."

Within two hours, the Dulaman departed Le Havre with two Musketeers, a pregnant woman, a servant and several commoners on board in addition to the crew. Once they were on the way, Cian looked at the assembled commoners. Both D'Artagnans, Ramon, Vigilanti, Louis, Queen Anne and, of course, one feline bodyguard. Cian offered the only two chairs in the room to The King and Queen Anne. Nikki sat on the bunk. "Your Majesty, welcome to the Dulaman.”

Louis clapped. "I love it. No one will know we left. It's like playing a trick on your parents, except Mother was in on it. Imagine playing the part of a commoner, with so many commoners around.”

Gaston looked at his son. “Good thing we are so common. It reminds me of a mission I did for the Queen when I was a young man.”

“Please Father, I don’t want to know about your exploits.” Queen Anne seemed to have overheard the two men from Gascony, as she frowned at them.

Cian cleared his throat. “Thank you all for coming on such short notice and under unusual circumstances. There have been some recent happenings that need to be addressed. Apparently, you are all aware that Jacqueline has been rescued, something you know more about than I do. The Rose is overdue and I intend to locate her. D’Artagnan has shown me the letter he received from Geoffrey and has brought me up to date. I have asked Ana on board as I have a feeling something is not right.” Cian picked up a parchment from the desk. “Something else has come up, and this issue has even graver ramifications. The issue would seem to be just another happening, but in fact it is related to the kidnapping of Jacqueline and the attempted kidnapping of the Princess. Some time ago Captain Faith Porter, the owner of the Dulaman, was in port on the Iberian Peninsula and innocently transported an evil man ahead of the authorities. This man never gave his name or even indicated that he was wanted. Unfortunately, by taking him aboard, Faith now finds herself wanted by the Spanish Government for aiding and abetting this man.”

Louis stood up. “That is terrible. We should find this man and turn him over to the King of Spain.”

“If only that were possible, Your Majesty. You see, that man is the one who masterminded everything that has happened. The man belongs to an evil Order of blasphemers and his crime was taking young people, women especially, and sacrificing them. From the letter I read, that is what he tried to do to Jacqueline. Faith and Geoffrey rescued Jacqueline just before he could complete whatever ritual he was attempting to perform and he was killed. The man, Your Highness, was Claude DeMolay.”

Louis sat back down as his faced turned white. He shook his head. “My own relations should have their heads removed.” He looked at Will. “That cute little kitten looks familiar.”

“Your Majesty, you have Bast, his mother, in captivity. These are Jacqueline’s and Geoffrey’s body guards. They are Mousekeeters as they will be keeping the rodents off of the Rose.”

Louis laughed. "Mouseketeers? I love it." He looked at the feline who now sat on his haunches and stared at the human. "I commission you, Will and your sister Miette as the King's Mouseketeers. Captain Lennane, you need to make them a uniform." He sat back down. "Have you discussed the charges with this Faith person?"

Cian frowned. "Not yet, Your Majesty. Captain Porter is with Captain Greyhawk."

On deck, Fuiseog looked at the sky. "Batten down the hatches. We will be having a bit of weather. Bos'n, better notify the captain and the passengers."

The bos'n nodded. "Aye." He disappeared down the gang plank and knocked on Cian’s door, then poked his head in. "Captain, Your Majesties…the First Mate has ordered us to prepare for storm sailing."

Cian nodded. "Very good, Bos'n." He looked at the Royal guests. "Your Majesties, I suggest you retire to your cabins."

Louis frowned. "Why don't we just return to Le Havre?"

"We don't want to get caught close to shore."

In her cabin, Nikki felt the swell of the sea and turned pale. "Ramon, get Ana."

"Why do you need her? You have me."

"Because you do not know what to do with a sea sick pregnant woman, now do you?"

****************

As the Dulaman made its way into the Atlantic Ocean, The Rose d’Orleans was pushed by high winds towards Ireland. Geoffrey fussed with the boiler, trying to build up a head of steam, but the tossing around of the ship threatened to put strain on the engine.

A boiler man braced himself against an upright. “Captain, what if we stoke the fires more, then we would have the power.”

“True, but if the water falls below the boiler plate, she will blow and we won’t have to worry about it. No, we will have to wait for calmer seas before we bring her back up. Keep an eye on the water tube. If it falls below that red line, get more water in the water tank.”

The man nodded. “Aye Captain.”

Several hours later, the winds calmed but the damage had been done. One of the topsail masts had cracked and the flying jib was gone. Geoffrey looked around and took sightings by using a recent modification of the sextant that Abu-Mahmud al-Khujandi had developed over 700 years before. Porthos walked up to the younger Captain. “Where are we?

“According to this, we are a few kilometers the coast of the South Kerry Gaeltacht area of Uíbh Ráthach.”

“If memory serves me, there are a couple of islands, namely Na Scealga, but there is nothing there but a few stone beehives that some Irish Monks used about around eight hundred years ago.”

“I know. My father took me there once. Those huts and the old monastery are up on a ledge that can only be accessed by climbing 500 stone steps.”

Porthos sighed. “You would never get me to climb those steps. Five hundred straight up?”
The whistle of a cannonball coming towards them stopped all conversation as the shot ripped through canvas and rigging before exploding as it hit the water. As the two men raced towards the stern, Geoffrey started shouting orders. "To arms, hoist sail and man the guns. Bos'n, have the boiler man stoke the boiler."

The ship shuddered as a ball crashed through the main deck between the main and mizzen masts. Geoffrey swore. "Who the hell are they?"

Porthos grabbed the telescope he carried in his coat. "Someone who has it in for you. Take a look." He handed the scope to Geoffrey.

"That son of a bitch. I should have killed him when I had the chance." He started to turn around when two figures appeared on either side of him. Faith on one side and Jacqueline on the other.

Faith pulled out her own telescope. "One of your many admirers, G?"

"A relative of sorts on my mother's side. The King spared his life. How did you get out of the cabin, anyway?”

“I took the key from your desk and let her out when I heard the cannonball hit,” Jacqueline replied before Faith had a chance. “Figured you could use the help.” She took Faith's scope and looked through it. "Lafette." Lowering the scope, she looked at Geoffrey. "How did I know his name? I mean, he looks familiar, but I don't know how. Is he after you?"

"If my suspicions are correct, he is after both of us. It's a long story, but we don't have time to discuss it now." He waved the bos'n over. "Ask Captain Duval to command the port guns." He turned toward Porthos. "Uncle, will you command the starboard guns?"

The former Musketeer nodded. "Aye Captain, and I recommend that we prepare for boarders as I have a feeling this is going to be very messy."

Chapter 43

As the Shark drew closer, Lafette felt a cold satisfaction that he would rid the world of the Devil's Spawn as he had the father, but this time he would not have to worry about the Admiralty or the King. He had the backing of DeMolay and the Order. Lafette just wondered why he had gone to the trouble of kidnapping the Roget woman only to have the King set her free. He was going to have to ask DeMolay about it.

Another round took out part of the foc'sle. Geoffrey wiped his brow. "Hard port at my command. Port gunners prepare to fire." He looked at the women. "I would tell you to go below, but it won't be any safer there than here."

Faith frowned. "I would be safer on the Dulaman, but since I’m here, I’ll just go get my weapons. Jacqueline, come with me."

Geoffrey scrambled up to the poop deck. “Hard port! Gunners, stand by!” The ship swung to port. “Port guns, Fire! Helmsman, hard starboard!”

The guns flamed and a 20 gun salvo spewed out of the cannon on the way to the attacking ship. Geoffrey smiled as the balls struck the enemy several times in the rigging and two in the hull, sending debris into the air. His grin faded when a return salvo fell, one round smashing the smokestack a third of the way down from the top.

Geoffrey ran to the bos’n “We’re getting cut to pieces and we may not make it very far.” He used his telescope. “See that island? Head for it. Then get the landing boats ready to drop, just in case we’re boarded. I’m going below to check the engine.”

Passing the gun deck, he went to Porthos. “Get the guns ready for boarding. I want every other gun aimed below the water line. I hope we won’t have to abandon ship, but we may not have a choice.” He left and raced down to the boiler area. A gaping hole stretched from the main deck to the boiler deck. Three men lay dead and two were wounded but patching their comrades up. He looked at the upper beam and paled. “How long has that been cracked?”

“It cracked when the ball came crashing down.”

His expression turned grim. “Men, we may have to abandon ship, so here is what I want you to do.” Geoffrey went over his plans before climbing to the main deck. He found Faith and Jacqueline near the main mast, and chuckled. Jacqueline looked as much a pirate as Faith, two pistols in her belt and a cutlass in her hand. Jacqueline looked at him. “Are you sure I know how to use these?”

“Trust me, you do.” He studied her. “Is that a trick question?”

Jacqueline laughed. “Of course. I may not remember joining the Musketeers, but I’ve been training with a sword since I was a child and many farmers know how to shoot to get rid of varmints, four legged and two legged.”

Geoffrey nodded. “You stay close to Faith, Porthos, Duval or me. When I yell abandon ship, I want you to dive overboard on the clear side as we are probably going to be boarded. Swim as if your life depends on it, for it will. You will know when it is clear to get into one of the boats and make your way to that island ahead.”

Jacqueline frowned, but did not reply as another cannonball whistled overhead. She saw that the island was only about a mile away, but the enemy was closing fast. She pulled the blade from its scabbard as she could see the men on the other ship preparing to board. Feeling the shudder of the cannon on the Rose fire, she ducked as rubble in the form of smashed timbers showered both ships. The two ships smashed together and grappling hooks were launched by both. Jacqueline watched as the first of the boarders propelled themselves onto the Rose and met the attack with her blade. After a few seconds, all doubt was gone and she dove into the battle automatically. On occasion she caught sight of Faith slashing out beside her. A bullet tugged at her sleeve and as she looked up, she saw Lafette holding a smoking pistol from the safety of his ship. Before he could bring a second one to bear, Jacqueline moved away to fight another boarder. As she did, she saw Faith fall. She ran over and saw that Lafette was holding another pistol, standing there with a grin on his face. Faith swore as she stood up, blood running down her left arm. The young pirate grabbed the shirt from a body and attempted to staunch the bleeding while Jacqueline fended off an attacker. She glanced at Faith, seeing the bullet wound in the older woman’s shoulder. “You’ve been hit!”

“No shit,” she muttered, twisting around to try and get a better look. “Care to take what’s left of that guy’s shirt and bandage me?”

Jacqueline grabbed the remnants and wrapped it around Faith’s shoulder as best she could. “You know that your moving isn’t helping me do this.” She stopped to swing at an attacker.

“Hey,” Faith growled. “Do you mind? I’m trying to get bandaged here!” The man stopped.

“Sorry.”

He moved off towards another combatant as the girls looked at each other. Jacqueline laughed. “I doubt that would have the same results if you tried it again. What would you have done if he hadn’t stopped?”

“Pulled the trigger of this pistol.” She shoved it back into her belt.

During the height of the battle, Lafette watched from the safety of the Shark. He suddenly saw the Roget woman. "Well, she may have been released by that idiot English King but not from me." He squeezed the trigger of his pistol, but the ship rolled and the shot went awry. He pulled his second pistol and fired again, swearing as Roget's companion took the bullet in the shoulder. Another woman. "Damn, is Greyhawk running a floating brothel or a war ship?" As he reloaded he glanced up to see that his intended target was watching him. He aimed, but several combatants got in the way and his target disappeared.

Down below decks, Porthos ordered every other gunner to fire. Flame and iron crashed into the attackers while the second salvo was aimed downwards below the water line. Men on the gun decks could see their counterparts getting blown to shreds.

Above decks, men swung from the attacking ship onto the Rose. The crew battled back with pistol and swords until the deck was slippery with blood. None of the combatants were clean, including Jacqueline and Faith who fought back to back, slashing at their opponents.

Geoffrey dispatched an attacker as Porthos came up the gangway. The former Musketeer grabbed a man and threw him overboard. “Geoffrey, it is time to leave. The beam over the boiler is split through and the water level is dropping fast.”

“Are the longboats down?”

“Aye.”

“Get the men up on deck and prepare to abandon ship.” He turned back to the fight as Porthos disappeared below decks. In a few minutes, the main deck was awash in fresh fighters and the attackers were pushed back.

As the attackers made a fresh run, Geoffrey turned to his men. “Abandon ship!”

Men dove over the side, carrying only the clothes on their backs and their edged weapons. Geoffrey ran to Jacqueline and Faith, who were being hounded by three men. As he cut his way through, he yelled. “I told you to leave! Now do it!” He decapitated the last of the three and prepared to dive when he caught sight Duval and Porthos near the foc’sle. His eyes were diverted to the enemy ship and he saw Lafette lift a pistol towards the two men.

“Uncle!”

Porthos saw the danger and pushed Duval overboard as the lead ball struck the Legend in the back, sending him over the side as well. Geoffrey dove overboard as a swarm of attackers headed towards him.

Lafette watched as the crew, Greyhawk included, dove over the side. “The ship is ours. Look at the cowards flee. Well, this is how we will treat them. Shoot them in the water.” He swung over to the Rose, grabbed a musket and fired a shot at the only figure he recognized, Jacqueline. Swearing, he threw down the musket as his shot hit the man next to her. Barkley ran up to Lafette. "Captain, the decks below are on fire and that thing we saw belching smoke is sitting at an angle. There are kegs of gunpowder everywhere."

Horror came over Lafette. "Quick, return to the Shark before…." The words died on his lips as flame belched from the hold and engulfed them. Many of the Shark's crew who had not transferred to the Rose were blown overboard before the two ships dissolved in flame.

As the young captain broke through to the surface, hands pulled him to the edge of one of the longboats. The attackers stood on the side of the Rose shouting taunts. Through the din of their laughter, Geoffrey heard an ominous crash and a second later, the Rose turned into an enormous ball of flame, taking both ships its fiery grip.

Coughing and sputtering, survivors climbed into the boats and helped the others, making sure that the injured were brought aboard first. It took about ten minutes for the survivors to be pulled from the water. Four boats had survived and were loaded to the gunwales with men and two women, about sixty all told. Another thirty were clinging to pieces of wreckage. Geoffrey stood up in one of the boats. “Take some rope and lash the flotsam together for rafts and then to the longboats. The boats can tow the others to island. Bos'n. Take a head count. Uncle, where are you?” When there was no response, he had the men quiet down. “Uncle! Captain Duval! Where are you?” Still no response. “Everyone look around. They may be injured. Check all of the bodies.”

Faith managed to make her way through the men on their longboat. “There are a lot of bodies, G. Not everyone was incinerated. Some of the men were knocked overboard during the fight.” She looked towards the island. “See…some of the men are swimming towards the island. They are survivors, cousin.”

Jacqueline pushed forward. “Look, over there.” She pointed to a piece of a cross beam from a mast just in front of the longboat. A very wet and visibly angry kitten walked up and down the timber.

“Mrow!”

Geoffrey ordered the men to steer towards the mast. When the boat was near, Miette leapt to the longboat and sat on her haunches at the bow, licking herself.

Faith reached over the side with her good arm and started to fall overboard when Jacqueline caught her feet. Two crewmen joined in to help pull the woman captain back aboard. Geoffrey worked his way to her. "What the hell did you think you were doing?"

Faith held up two items in her hand that she had retrieved from the remnants of the rigging on the mast. The hat that belonged to Porthos and Duval's broken cane.

As Geoffrey took the items and held them close, Jacqueline came up behind him. "The hat and cane mean nothing. They could have been left on board. When did you last see your uncle wearing that hat?"

Geoffrey shook his head. "I can't remember. He had just come up from below decks and he would not have worn it on the gun deck. Duval was never without his cane and he had it when Uncle pushed him overboard."

"Geoffrey, the force of hitting the water, especially if he fell on it, would have snapped it. Look, there are men swimming towards that island. Hold your grief until we get there."

"I suppose you are correct. Men, man your oars and head for the island. Pick up anyone in the water." He looked at Jacqueline. "Friend and foe alike. We will sort things out when we are on dry land."

By the time they had reached the island, debris from the wreckage had been caught in the current and was scattered over a large area. One hundred and twenty souls landed on the island, but five died of their wounds before even reaching shore. The bodies were returned to the sea, and once that task was complete Geoffrey turned to his remaining men. “Alright, listen up! Anyone who’s injured, come see me immediately for treatment. The rest of you, I want you to split up. Francois, take half of the men out in the longboats to search for more survivors. Joshua, I need you to take the other half and salvage what you can from the wreck. Anything that may be even remotely useful, grab it. We could be here for awhile, and there’s no telling what we might end up needing. Understand?” There was a chorus of ‘aye’s,’ and Geoffrey nodded. “Good. Now move out!”

For the next hour, Geoffrey examined the burns and wounds of the crew. Some were splinter wounds caused by the shattering of wood from gunshots and cannon balls. The more serious wounds were the gunshot ones, as bullets had a nasty habit of pulling strands of filthy cloth into the body. Arm and leg wounds could be just as fatal due to infection.

Several of the men had done shots to the arm that had hit a bone, shattering it. The only answer was amputation. Since he had no surgical tools, he had to rely on the only thing available, a cutlass. Locating the sharpest one he could find, he had the hapless sailor's arm stretched out while three men held the patient down. A quick stroke followed by a red hot piece of metal applied to the wound to cauterize it.

Tired and exhausted, Geoffrey sat down. He barely looked up as Jacqueline sat next to him.

"Geoffrey, you have one more patient."

He shook his head. "I don't have the strength to handle one more."

"This one is Faith. She is resting in one of the huts."

Geoffrey's face grew pale. "Faith? How bad is it? I saw her just a while ago and she looked fine."

"She was shot in the shoulder. I did what I could but she is getting weak. You have to look at her. She passed out."

“Bloody hell…why didn’t she come to me for treatment?”

Jacqueline shook her head. “I don’t know, Geoffrey. Too proud, I suppose.”

“Well, if she pulls through this in one piece, remind me to kick her arse.”

“Of course….” They walked in silence after that, and soon came to the stone hut where Jacqueline had brought Faith to rest. Geoffrey saw his cousin lying on the floor, covered up to her chest in the remains of someone’s coat. Her skin was pale, and she was barely moving.

Forcing his worries to the back of his mind, Geoffrey approached his cousin and knelt down next to her. He had Jacqueline pull Faith's shirt down while protecting the girl's modesty. "Damn. If only I had a probe. Then I could use an extractor without having to carve her up." Cleaning his hands the best he could, he stuck his finger in the entrance hole. "I can't find it. My fingers are too short."

Jacqueline looked at her hand. "Let me try. My fingers are longer and smaller than yours." She changed places and stuck her finger in the hole, pushing as hard as she could. "I found it."

Facing Faith, Geoffrey frowned. "Push again. I think the bullet may be close to the front." He placed his fingers to where he thought the bullet had stopped as Jacqueline pushed. "There. Keep the pressure on." He pulled his dagger from his belt and made a cross cut. Squeezing with his fingers, the lead ball popped out. "Get some water and wash the wound. It will need to bleed in order to wash out any cloth and, hopefully, prevent infection."

"Where are you going?"

"I am going to try and find something to sew up the wound." He started down the slope when a crew man stopped him, carrying a box. Geoffrey's face lit up as he saw a small cabinet like box with two doors. He opened it to see several rows of bottles and four small drawers. "Jacob, thank you. I wish you had found it earlier."

"It was floating with some debris, but I recognized it as the surgeon's kit."

"You did good Jacob. Thank you." Taking the box, Geoffrey rushed back to Faith. He removed a bottle from the case and poured the contents into the wound. "This is a concoction of my own. I use it to clean wounds. Can you thread a needle with some of the black thread in one of the drawers?" Within minutes, Faith had been stitched up and the bleeding stopped. Using some of the gauze, he and Jacqueline bandaged the wound.

"Will she be all right? I mean, it has been awhile."

"The sea water probably helped. Hopefully, she will not get infected."

"Ow." The sudden comment from Faith startled Geoffrey and Jacqueline. "I feel like someone has been carving on me." She looked at her shoulder. "You have, haven't you G? You always said you wanted to put a knife in me."

Geoffrey smiled. "Yes I did, didn't I? Well, in this case we got the bullet out and, other than healing, you should be alright. Just don't swing your left arm for awhile."

Chapter 44

It took Geoffrey another ten minutes to talk Faith into wearing a sling, and when he finally got her settled down, he stepped outside the hut to find Francois standing there with the rest of the uninjured crewmen. And none of them looked happy. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he moved forward to meet them. “Did you find them?”

Francois scowled, and a bad feeling settled itself into the pit of Geoffrey’s stomach. “Captains Porthos and Duval are gone. We searched the entire area several times, and there’s no sign of either of them.”

“A-are you sure?”

“Positive. Happy now, Sir?” As he spoke, Francois closed in on Geoffrey while the rest of the men surrounded them both.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That stupid invention of yours,” Francois growled. “I knew it was a bad idea from the start. But would anyone listen to me? No…of course not. Porthos told us to trust you. And now, thanks to that damned ‘engine,’ he’s dead!”

Geoffrey shook his head. “It was Lafette’s fault. My engine had nothing to do with it.”

“The hell it didn’t! If it wasn’t for that contraption, we would have been able to defend the ship properly. Instead, we were forced to abandon it because the cannonball turned that engine into a damned bomb! We had to leave men behind in order to escape the blast! And you actually have the gall to say it wasn’t your fault?” Francois spat in his face, then turned to the rest of the men. “I think we’ve had about enough of his so-called leadership. Let’s get rid of this garbage now, before he comes up with any more idiotic ideas to get us all killed.” The crewmen seemed to agree, and before Geoffrey could react they were on him. Something hit him hard between the shoulder blades, sending him to his knees. His arms were yanked backwards and his wrists were bound tightly with some sort of coarse rope. A gag was forced into his mouth just before he was shoved to the ground. His ankles were bound together as well, leaving him helpless as the men now started to kick at his prone form. He heard a loud crack, and the sudden pain in his side told him that at least one rib was broken, maybe more.

Then, for some reason, the kicking suddenly stopped and Geoffrey found himself being lifted into the air. “Alright men!” Francois shouted. “To the cliff!” Geoffrey’s eyes went wide at those words, and he immediately started struggling with his bonds. Unfortunately, his efforts quickly proved wasted as the crewmen simply tightened their hold and started carrying him towards the highest point on the island.

Meanwhile, Jacqueline was inside the hut attempting to clean herself up from the impromptu surgery as Faith watched from her makeshift bed, her good hand absently fingering the sling she now wore. She didn’t need her cousin’s expertise to tell her that it had been close. Too close. And, loathe as she was to admit needing help, Faith knew that she owed the female musketeer her life. Taking a deep breath, she pushed herself up into a sitting position. “J-Jacqueline?”

Jacqueline turned, wiping her hands on her trousers. “Did you need something, Faith?”

She shook her head. “No, not really. It’s just…well…thanks. For savin’ my arse, I mean. Most folks probably would’ve just let me bleed ta death for bein’ so bloody stubborn.”

“No need to thank me Faith. I would have done the same for anyone, stubborn or no.”

“Still, it was pretty decent of you. You’re alright, really.”

“Well, thanks…I think.”

Faith chuckled. “No problem. But if you tell anyone I got so bloody sappy, I’ll have ta kill ya.”

Jacqueline stared at her for a moment, trying to figure out whether or not she was serious. She was about to respond when a noise from outside drew her attention. It sounded like men shouting, and she had a bad feeling about what it meant. Signaling for Faith to keep quiet, Jacqueline tentatively peeked outside the hut and had to bite her lip to keep from crying out at what she saw. Geoffrey’s own crew had surrounded him and was beating him mercilessly.

“What’s going on?” Faith asked, straining to see past her companion.

Jacqueline glanced back, sharing a worried look with the female pirate. “Well, I’m no expert, but I think Geoffrey has a mutiny on his hands.” She turned back to the door in time to see a bound and gagged Geoffrey being carried off by his own men. Swearing, she rushed to the rear of the hut and started rummaging through their few remaining belongings for her pistols. She found them in fairly short order and, after making sure they were loaded and the powder was dry, stuffed them into her belt and headed out the door. A moment later, she turned to see Faith behind her, also gripping a pistol. “What are you doing?”

“What does it bleedin’ look like I’m doing? I’m going to save my cousin’s arse…again.”

“In your condition?”

“I don’t need both arms to shoot a bloody pistol. Now come on, let’s get going before one of those bastards does something I’ll make him regret.”

****************

Cian stomped around the deck working out a cramp in his leg as William, D’Artagnan, Ramon, Luis and the Queen looked on in amusement. King Louis was standing bent over by the rail, looking a mite peaked. Ana walked up the gangway. “Ramon, it is time for you to take care of your wife. She isn’t sea sick anymore, but she could use some broth now that the storm is over.” She walked over to Cian. “You needn’t make such a racket. Massaging the leg and walking will take the cramp out.”

“Woman, I know how to walk out a cramp. I am just mad that the storm blew us way off course. We are near the south eastern tip of Ireland.” He looked up as he heard a whistle from the crow’s nest. “What is it?”

“Sir, there is wreckage up ahead and some bodies.”

Cian turned. “Fuiseog, get a longboat ready to drop. Take care to retrieve bodies and anything that will identify the ship.”

For a half an hour, the lookout searched as the longboat made its journey. Several bodies were pulled aboard. Some had been stabbed or shot, but some had been burned as in a fire. Cian looked at the bodies. “We must be only a few kilometers from Bolus Head. We’ll head there.”

Luis walked up. “What’s there?”

“A monastery where we can bury these poor souls.”

“Captain.”

Cian looked up. “What is it?”

“Survivors.”

“Tell the longboat.” He went back to look at some of the wreckage that had been brought aboard. “This is bad.” He held up a large piece of wood with lettering on it. “Rose d’O--.” He turned to the bos’n. “As soon as those survivors are aboard, turn northeast. All of this had to have been carried by the current.” He looked at Will and the others. “Please come to my cabin. Luis, will you please see to the King?” He went below decks and left his cabin door open. When they all were present, he closed the door. He paced the cabin, still holding onto the wood. “As you can tell by the debris, there has been a sinking. From the condition of the bodies we have recovered, I can guess that the ship was attacked, burned and sunk. It appears that our friends ran into trouble.”

Louis stood up. “How can you tell all of that? Captain, you must be mistaken.” Cian turned the wood around, and the young monarch read the words. He placed his hand over his mouth as he sat down. “Oh, my word.”

"Your Majesty, we can go to Ireland and take the survivors to the monastery, or we can try to find where the Rose was attacked and maybe find more survivors."

Louis sighed. "Let's find the survivors."

****************

In spite of Faith’s weakened condition, she and Jacqueline managed to catch up to the crew just as they reached the edge of the cliff. Guns drawn and ready, they forced their way through the mob until they spotted the ringleader. Francois opened his mouth, presumably to order Geoffrey thrown over the edge, only to find the barrel of Faith’s pistol pressed against his neck.

“Don’t even think about it, pal.” She cocked the pistol, and Jacqueline quickly took up a position at her back, keeping her own guns trained on the rest of the crew. “Let my cousin go right now, or else.”

“Or else what?” Francois asked, eyebrow raised. “You’ll shoot me?” He snorted. “I somehow doubt that, girl. If you were going to shoot, I’d already be dead.”

“The only reason you ain’t dead yet is ‘cause you’re the bastard these sheep are following at the moment. Now tell them to drop Geoffrey before my mate and I get trigger-happy.”

“Sure…right off this cliff. And he’ll still go over if you shoot me, so you’re wasting your time.”

“That’s a chance I’ll have to take.” She pressed the barrel into his neck a bit harder, and was about to pull the trigger when a sudden wave of dizziness overcame her. Francois quickly took advantage, twisting her good arm behind her back and taking possession of the pistol. Jacqueline twisted around, bringing her own pistols to bear on the mutineer, only to find him holding Faith’s under her own chin.

“We have no quarrel with you, Madame,” he informed Jacqueline, sounding almost apologetic. “Drop the pistols, and I promise you won’t be harmed.”

“What about Faith and Geoffrey?”

“Not a chance. They brought this on themselves.”

“Hey!” Faith yelped, suddenly feeling a bit stronger. “What the bloody hell did I do?”

Francois growled, twisting her arm further. “You’re the reason we’re here in the first place! If you’d just left DeMolay to the authorities, we never would have had to come out here…taking our chances with your cousin’s blasted invention.” He turned to the crew. “I say we throw them both over the cliff!” The crew voiced their agreement, and Francois started to drag Faith over to where the others were holding Geoffrey. Cursing, Jacqueline quickly shoved the pistols back into her belt and rushed to block his path.

“Is this really what Porthos would want, Francois?”

“Porthos is dead! And all because of these two! Now get out of my way!”

“I won’t stand by and let you become murderers. You want to kill them, you’ll have to go through me.” She pulled her pistols once more and pointed them at the mutineers, silently daring them to move forward.

****************

With a stiff wind, the Dulaman made good time and soon an island showed in the distance. Cian, William and Louis stood on the bow. Will observed the goings-on from the safety of the foc'sle, while William watched through the telescope. "There are survivors. Look, there on the cliff! There’s a crowd gathered. Maybe they’ve seen us."

Cian nodded. "Gunners, get ready to fire a recognition round." He looked through the telescope, put it down, then raised it again. "Something is wrong. They have a man tied and being readied to be thrown from the cliff.” He watched the scene for a moment more, swearing when he finally recognized the bound figure. “Damn! It's Geoffrey.” A short distance from him, he saw Faith being taken hostage by one of the men, at which point another woman—Jacqueline Greyhawk, he assumed—stepped forward and pointed her pistols at the crowd. Cian put the scope down, turning to the crew. “Gunners, fire one warning shot. I want it to fall in the sea as a show of force." Within a minute, the gunners fired the warning shot which plummeted into the sea, ten feet short of the island. "Gunners, if they don’t release Captain Greyhawk in the next few minutes, be prepared to fire a broadside at that cliff. We’ll bring the whole damn cliff down if we have to."

****************

Jacqueline and the mob had reached a stalemate of sorts, as none of the men seemed willing to harm her, even to finish off Geoffrey and Faith. She, however, was under no such restraint. If any of them attempted to hurt her friends, she’d be putting those pistols to good use.

Shoving Faith into the arms of his comrades, Francois stepped forward with his hands raised. “As I said before, Madame, we don’t want to hurt you. Just drop the pistols and let us take care of these two before they cause any more trouble.”

“You’re holding them captive. What trouble could they possibly cause?” She slowly lowered one pistol, but kept the other firmly trained on the ringleader. “What right have you to judge them, anyway? Faith isn’t your captain, and Geoffrey is a privateer for the King. If anyone should decide their fate, it’s His Majesty.”

“The King isn’t here, and there’s no telling when we’ll be able to return to France. I say we have every right to take matters into our own hands.”

“According to Geoffrey, Faith’s ship is waiting for us to rendezvous. When we don’t show up, they’ll no doubt come looking. What you’re looking to do to Geoffrey and Faith…it’s murder, plain and simple. You’d all hang for it. I suggest you let them go now, and let the King decide what should be done with them when we return to France.”

Francois shook his head. “Don’t kid yourself, Madame. They aren’t—”

“A ship!” one of the crewmen suddenly called out. “It’s the Dulaman!” At that, everyone turned to see that, indeed, a ship was closing in on the island. A moment later, smoke belched from one of the cannon, and something hit a short distance from shore, sending up a huge spray of water on impact.

Francois swore. “What are they firing at us for?”

“Do we really have to answer that?” Faith snorted, earning a warning glare from the mutineers. Geoffrey started to struggle again, yelling through the gag for them to let him go. Unfortunately, he found himself ignored as the men stared out at the incoming ship.

Unseen by the mutineers, Miette returned from a hunting trip and jumped to the top of a stone hut. While cleaning the blood and feathers from her mouth, she watched the humans.

****************

Cian watched as the crowd moved towards the edge of the cliff. Geoffrey was still tied, and the men carrying him had brought him dangerously close to the edge. He looked at William, who was also watching. "I think another round might get their attention. Gunner, prepare to fire one round from gun number one. Aim for the crowd."

Fuiseog ran up. "Captain, that's Faith and Geoffrey up there. If you aim for crowd, you may hit them . Why not aim for that big rock on the left side of that valley-like area?"

"Good idea. Gunner, do as she says. Fire when ready."

Fuiseog grimly nodded. "Fire!"

The canon belched smoke and fire as the lead ball was launched. Even from the ship, the crew could hear the whistle of the missile and watched as it blew a chuck of rock into the air.

****************

Moments after the first shot hit the water, a second was fired. The mutineers scattered as soon as they saw the smoke from the cannon, dropping Geoffrey to the ground in their haste. Only he, Francois, Faith and Jacqueline were left when the shot hit the cliff side, sending rock into the air and knocking those still standing off their feet.

Geoffrey lay on the ground, struggling fiercely with the ropes that bound him as he tried to make out his friends through the cloud of debris. He finally managed to rid himself of the gag and started yelling their names, coughing as some of the debris got into his lungs. As the cloud began to dissipate, Geoffrey caught sight of Faith and Jacqueline, though Francois was nowhere to be found. Faith was using her good arm to push herself back to her feet, and Jacqueline….She was laying face-down on the ground, and he could swear he saw blood on the back of her head. “Jacqueline!” he screamed, fighting the ropes with renewed determination. Unfortunately, his efforts were getting him nowhere. Lucky for him, Faith chose that moment to intervene. She knelt down next to him, pulled a dagger from her boot, and started sawing at his bonds.

“Hold still, G,” she scolded when he didn’t stop wriggling right away. “I only got the one hand.” Nodding, Geoffrey managed to still his movements, and it wasn’t long before Faith was able to get him loose.

As soon as he was free, Geoffrey scrambled to his feet and rushed to Jacqueline’s side, placing a hand on the side of her neck. Her pulse was strong, but she wasn’t responding. Gently, he parted her hair where it looked bloody, discovering a bump just over her right ear that had been cut open by whatever had struck her. Glancing around, he saw a rock nearby that also had blood on it. ‘Probably went flying when that cannonball struck. What the bloody hell was Cian thinking? I could wring his neck….’

“She alright, G?”

Geoffrey shook his head. “She’s unconscious. Looks like she got hit by flying debris from that cannonball. No offense, cousin, but I’d say your gunners could use a bit of work on their aim.”

“That would’ve been Fuiseog. She usually hits what she aims at, and since we’re both still in one piece, I’d say it’s a pretty fair guess that she wasn’t aiming for the mob. And yes, I realize that Jacqueline did get hurt, but at least she’s still alive.”

He bit back a retort, knowing that his cousin had a point. At least the shot had kept the mob from tossing them both off the cliff. Jacqueline would recover soon enough. Shaking his head, Geoffrey removed his shirt and started tearing it into pieces. One part he folded up and placed over the bump before taking another strip and wrapping it around her head to hold it in place. That done, he took what was left of the shirt and, with what help Faith could provide with only one hand, he bandaged his ribs. “Faith, do you think you could help me carry her down to the shore? The sooner we get her onto your ship, the sooner she’ll be able to recover.”

Faith hesitated. “I don’t know…if I set foot on that ship, that princess will kill me.”

“I won’t let anything happen to you, Faith. ‘Luis’ does have a bit of a temper, to be sure, but I’m sure she’ll be able to reign it in long enough for an explanation.”

“I hope you’re right, G. But if I go down there and get myself killed, I’m never speaking to you again.”

Geoffrey rolled his eyes. “Fair enough. Now are you going to help me out or what?” Not waiting for an answer, he carefully lifted Jacqueline from the ground, gritting his teeth against the pain the action brought to his ribs. Faith quickly moved to help, lending support with her good arm. Between them, the pair managed to carry the unconscious musketeer down to the shore.

Chapter 45

As the second shot hit its mark, Cian turned to Fuiseog. "Have the men prepare for a fight. We don't know who is on that island, but they way they were treating Geoffrey and Faith, it can't be good."

The woman nodded as she turned away. “Prepare to engage." She checked the pistols in her waistband and made sure the cutlass moved freely in the scabbard, laughing as she caught sight of Will pacing the foc'sle. As the Dulaman moved closer to the small docking area, the kitten roared and then bounded towards the bow.

As Francois ran down the slope, a flash of fur and feathers rushed by him. Minutes later, he passed a rock where the feline sat, grooming the feathers out of her fur. Francois ran harder, but suddenly found that his back hurt and he was losing his balance. He turned his head to see fangs. "MROW!" The cat leapt away as the mutineer lost his balance and rolled down the hill. Coming to a stop, he shook his head and got up. He found his way to the dock just as the captain stepped forward.

Cian and William were not the first off the ship. Will was a blur as he leapt onto the dock and was met by another flash of fur. William laughed. "Now there is a happy sight."

As the survivors started coming down from the heights, Francois pushed his way forward. "I am glad you are here. We have two traitors that must be hanged immediately."

Cian stared at the man. "Who are they and what are their crimes?"

Francois puffed himself up. "Captain Greyhawk and his cousin for treason. Greyhawk convinced the King to let him build a steam engine that blew up our ship, and his cousin let a criminal escape Spain and come to France."

Cian scratched his chin. "So you appointed yourself judge, jury and executioner. Don't you think that these charges should be left to the King?"

"That wimp? He is safe at home hiding behind his mommy’s skirts."

A figure stepped from behind Cian. "So I’m a wimp, am I?" He pulled out his rapier. "You question my decision, usurp my authority and degrade my mother? The Rose d'Orleans was the property of Captain Greyhawk. I am aware of the accusations against his cousin Faith. Cian, when we leave, this person can remain behind, king of all creatures living here, or he can cross blades with me." Louis looked at Francois. "I have been trained by none other than D’Artagnan Senior, Captain Porthos and several other Musketeers."

"But Greyhawk is responsible for Captain Porthos and Captain Duval's dying. Without that contraption of his, we would’ve had a chance to defend our ship. Instead, one shot from Lafette was enough to blow that engine sky high, along with both ships. Captains Porthos and Duval never had a chance."

Louis stared at Francois for a moment, not quite sure of what he was hearing. The other Musketeers had made their way to shore as the sailor had made his pronouncement, and the young King could see the shock clearly written on their faces as the comment registered. Forcing his own grief down, Louis moved closer to Francois, looking him straight in the eyes and daring him to try and defy his King. “While I am saddened by the loss of those brave men, Monsieur, they both knew what they were getting into when they set foot on the Rose. As for Geoffrey, he is my privateer. You have no authority over him. And his cousin…she is not even a citizen of France. Her alleged crimes are against Spain, so her fate is in their hands, not yours. Am I making myself clear?”

Francois nodded. “Yes, Sire. Though I hope you aren’t going to let that filthy traitor and his tramp of a cousin get away with their crimes just because he’s one of your favorites.”

The King’s eyes narrowed as he raised his blade, bringing the tip just underneath Francois’ chin. “I have no intention of letting anyone get away with anything. And while we’re on the subject, mutiny against a Royal Privateer is also an act of treason. So I would tread very carefully from now on if I were you.” As he spoke, Louis brought the tip dangerously close to Francois’ flesh, eventually drawing a slight bit of blood.

“Y-Your Majesty, I was merely trying to stop a traitor. Any loyal Frenchman would do the same.”

“And what exactly did he do that was so treasonous?”

“Like I said, Sire, that contraption of his is responsible for the deaths of Captains Porthos and Duval. I know the Rose was his ship, but shouldn’t a good captain do what’s best for the crew and not himself? None of us wanted that thing on the ship. We only built it because Porthos insisted we trust Geoffrey. And now he’s dead.”

“And this is how you honor him? He was Geoffrey’s uncle, after all.”

“No, he’s right.” At that, everyone turned to see Geoffrey himself walk onto the shore, supporting an unconscious Jacqueline with help from his cousin. Geoffrey had heard what Francois said and, angry as he was about the attempted mutiny, he knew that the man had a point. He’d built the engine for his own reasons, and was so caught up in trying to make it a success that he never stopped to consider the potential drawbacks to having it on a privateer vessel. The explosion may have been an accident, but if he’d thought things through a bit more before putting the engine on the ship, they might not be in the position they were in now.

Louis lowered his blade, giving Geoffrey a rather confused look. “What do you mean, he’s right? As I understand it, he tried to kill you.”

Geoffrey sighed. “I alone bear responsibility for my invention, Sire. Lafette may have been the one to launch the attack, but my foolish pride over my creation placed the ship in danger. I know I referred to it as a ‘steam-driven warship’ when I presented it to you, but in truth, that engine was never meant to withstand any serious attack. While I do not agree with the charges of treason that my former First Mate is attempting to levy against me, I am willing to take responsibility for the results of my experiment.”

The King nodded. “Very noble of you, Captain. Of course, you realize that I shall have to revoke your Letters of Marque…at least for the time being, since you no longer have a ship to command.”

“Of course, Sire.” With his free hand, Geoffrey reached into his shirt and withdrew the oilcloth that contained his important documents. “What about my pardon?”

“That shall remain in place, for now. Unless the demise of your ship is proven to be a deliberate act on your part, which I doubt, I see no reason to send you back to the gallows.”

“Thank you, Sire,” he said, handing the documents over to the King. “And what of Faith?”

“Ah yes…Faith.” Louis turned to the woman in question. “As you are an English citizen, I have no authority in your case. You are, of course, free to resume command of the Dulaman. However, I would ask that, once we are back in France, you remain there until the matter with Spain is resolved.”

Faith nodded. “Thank you, Your Majesty. Whatever it takes to get this settled. I can’t afford to have the bloody Armada after my head.” She sighed. “I don’t suppose you’d let me keep Cian a bit longer...just to help me and Fuiseog run the ship until my shoulder’s healed.”

“I think that can be arranged. After all, we need your ship to get home.”

“That’s true. I hope Cian was kind enough to give you my cabin, since it’s the largest.”

Louis laughed. “Actually, I let Mother have that one.”

“Of course.” Geoffrey cleared his throat, glancing towards Jacqueline, and Faith quickly took the hint. “Hey, could someone get her to surgery to get looked at? The debris from that last shot gave her a pretty nasty bump on the head.”

D’Artagnan stepped forward. “I’ll take her,” he said, gently lifting her still-unconscious form into his arms.

Geoffrey ran a hand through Jacqueline’s hair before stepping back. “Be careful with her, D’Artagnan.”

“Don’t worry, I will.”

“Fair warning, she might be a bit confused when she wakes up. When Faith and I rescued her, DeMolay was performing some ritual that, as it turns out, took away the last three years’ worth of her memories. Some of them are starting to come back, I think, but don’t be surprised if she doesn’t recognize you.”

He nodded. “It’s not permanent, is it?”

“I don’t know.”

“I see…well, I’ll get her to the surgeon, then I’ll let the others know about the memory thing.” He started to walk away, then turned back. “Does she know you?”

Sadly, Geoffrey shook his head. D’Artagnan gave a grim nod before carrying Jacqueline to the ship. Geoffrey started to follow, only to find the King blocking his path.

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid you’ll have to be taken into custody until we can figure out exactly what happened to cost me both a ship and my Musketeer captain. Someone is going to have to answer for the loss of Captain Duval.”

“But it wasn’t even his fault,” Faith interjected. “Your Majesty, it was someone named Lafette who attacked us. Geoffrey did what he could to save the ship.”

Louis held up a hand. “I know how you must feel, Captain Porter, and I’m not accusing Geoffrey of sabotage by any means. But I would like to speak to everyone who was on board before I make any decisions, and until then I feel it would be best if your cousin was confined to quarters, at the very least. Francois too.”

“Hey!” Francois yelled. “What did I do?”

The King glared. “As I said before, mutiny against a Royal Privateer is an act of treason, no matter what your justification. Consider yourself fortunate that I’m not going to hang you right here and now.” He turned to the other sailors from the Rose, who had finally joined them on shore. “And where do your loyalties lie?” he asked. “Will you all go down with Francois as mutineers, or do you serve me, your King?”

The men glanced at each other for a moment before Joshua stepped forward, obviously having been made the spokesman for the group. He dropped to one knee, and the rest quickly followed suit. “We are loyal Frenchmen, Your Majesty. Your wish is our command.”

“Good." Louis stopped as he heard a ruckus and saw a small crowd pushing about fifteen men towards the dock. "What is the meaning of this?"

A young sailor came forward. "Your Majesty, these men are from the Shark, the ship that attacked us."

Louis nodded to Geoffrey. "Ask them which country they owe allegiance to and why they attacked a ship flying the French flag."

In English, Geoffrey did as he was requested. "Your Majesty, they are English. Lafette took over command after he killed their English captain. He convinced them that the Rose was a pirate ship from Hades. The smoke the Rose was spewing convinced them as they had never seen a steam ship before."

Louis nodded. "Cian, I want these men kept safe below decks and you can drop them off on the nearest inhabited piece of English land you can find. They are not to be harmed. No use causing any friction between England and France."

Cian nodded. "Alright. All of you, get on board, go to the lower gun deck and stay out of the way. We will get you some food once we are under way. You heard the King; the Shark's survivors are not to be harmed." He looked at Geoffrey. “Can I trust you to stay in your cabin?”

“No you cannot. I will be with Jacqueline until she wakes up.”

Louis put his hand on Cian’s arm. “Captain Lennane, under the circumstances, I believe Captain Greyhawk can treat his wife. D’Artagnan can stand guard.”

As Greyhawk started to board the ship, a fist connected with his chin. He shook it off and stared up at an angry Legend.

“You were to find your wife and bring her home, but instead you are responsible for the deaths of my friends.”

“I did find Jacqueline. She is below deck, injured and with no memory of the last three years.”

The elder D'Artagnan stopped. "No memory? What did you do to her?"

"Nothing. That bastard DeMolay and his fiendish friends did it to her." The Legend saw the pained look on Geoffrey's face. "Sir, you cannot say anything about the loss of Uncle Porthos and Captain Duval that I haven't said myself. There will be time to mourn later, but I must save Jacqueline first…even if she never remembers me."

Louis walked up. “D’Artagnan, please let us investigate this whole situation once we are out of English waters and Madame Greyhawk is awake. There is much to discuss and I promise you will be involved in the proceedings.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Within the hour, the Dulaman was underway towards France. Geoffrey immediately made his way towards sickbay and, after ejecting Faith’s pathetic excuse for a surgeon from the room, proceeded to treat Jacqueline’s injury himself. On closer inspection, he found that the head wound wasn’t quite as bad as it had seemed on the cliff. A few stitches were enough to stop the bleeding, and the rest was up to her. Feeling a rather distinct sense of déjà vu, Geoffrey settled himself into a chair next to the bed to wait.

To Be Concluded....