Chapter Five
“I do not like it.”
The statement came from Augustin as he and several other men sat in a small chamber at the entry of Perran’s keep, a guard room that had been turned into an armory. There were all kinds of weapons in the chamber, organized on wooden racks, and Augustin, Lucifer, Remy, Kerk, and a few other men were wandering through the racks, ensuring that weapons were properly repaired and maintained. Most of the weapons had been brought off the ships, so it was important they be kept clean and at the ready.
As quartermaster, it was Augustin’s job to maintain the fitness of the weapons used by the men. He did it with great efficiency. But he was also a man with opinions this morning, a result of their meal with Constantine the night before and a woman who identified herself as Miles Tenby’s daughter. The woman seemed meek and polite enough, but no one was thrilled with what she’d requested of Constantine – a journey into Wales to return a holy relic to some abbey in Gowerton. The story was rather complicated, but Constantine seemed certain it was something he needed to do.
As Augustin grumbled, the men around him were quiet with uncertainty. Lucifer stood on Augustin’s left, inspecting some long swords, but he wasn’t going to discuss the situation in front of some of Constantine’s lesser men. A few were still in the chamber, racking up weapons. When Augustin opened his mouth again, Lucifer elbowed him.
“Quiet,” he muttered. “Not now.”
He was leaning his head in the direction of the men who weren’t in Constantine’s inner circle. There were four of them, setting up the last of the trigger-action crossbows, and Augustin begrudgingly remained silent until those men quit the chamber. But once they were gone, he started up again.
“Surely I cannot be the only one who is upset by all of this,” he said as he pulled a short sword from a rack to inspect the blade. “Do you all agree with this – this folly?”
Remy didn’t say anything. He tended to side with Constantine no matter what his personal opinion, so he kept his head down as he sat on a stool to use a pumice stone against a scratch on a dagger’s blade. But Kerk, who was fussing with a broken leather strap on a sheath, spoke up.
“The woman paid him a good deal of money,” he said. “Who cares if she is Miles Tenby’s daughter or not? She is paying us for a task and the money she has paid him will trickle down into our pockets.”
Augustin sighed sharply. “You do not see anything odd with this?” he asked. “She simply appeared out of nowhere and demanded Con escort her to Wales on the morrow. Has Con even thought to check out her story? He’s been led astray by a woman before, you know.”
“How do you know?”
“Because that is what made him a pirate in the first place!”
Kerk piped down after that. He didn’t have an argument. But Lucifer did; he was looking at a big, beautiful long sword they’d confiscated in a fight against a small band of Spanish pirates a couple of months before. He knew exactly what Augustin was referring to.
“It was a good thing for you that Con embarked in this business,” he said. “Swearing allegiance to Shaw MacDougall and becoming part of the pirates of Britannia has made it so you are a very wealthy man.”
Augustin couldn’t believe that the others didn’t see the strangeness of this situation; perhaps they didn’t realize how Constantine became involved in piracy in the first place and sought to educate them.
“I am not complaining,” he said. “All I am saying is that it was a woman’s lies that brought him to ally with Shaw MacDougall. Con was a naïve young man when the woman he loved told him lies, telling him that MacDougall had killed her brother and asking Con to avenge her. Con believed her, tried to kill Shaw, and then they both discovered the woman had lied. Con’s merchant father disowned him after that, which is how he came to be a pirate. Has Con learned nothing from women who prey upon his weakness for them?”
Lucifer turned to him. “For a married man, you are very suspicious of women,” he pointed out. “Do you believe so badly about your own wife?”
Augustin backed down, but only slightly. “My wife is a good woman,” he muttered, turning back to the blade in his hand. “She would never do such things.”
“And how do you know Miles Tenby’s daughter would do such things?”
“We do not even know if she is Tenby’s daughter. He never told us he had a daughter. He never told us anything at all.”
“I have never told you anything, either. That is not unusual with men in this line of work.”
He had a point and Augustin could see that his arguments were not being supported. There was no point in continuing if no one agreed with him, but he still couldn’t help himself.
“He wants to depart on the morrow,” he muttered. “I thought we were going to have time ashore. He promised us.”
Lucifer shrugged. “Stay here with your wife if you wish,” he said. “It is your fault you married her in the first place, knowing you would be out to sea frequently. You cannot blame Con for that.”
Augustin shut his mouth after that. He could see that his comrades didn’t agree with him, so he simply stopped talking. But over in the corner, Kerk spoke up.
“Still,” he said thoughtfully, “the woman appeared right after Dureau’s warship caught us off-guard in the channel. Now, she wants us to take her right back to the area where we last saw that warship.”
Lucifer looked at him. “What are you saying?”
“That it is a trap set by the French,” Augustin couldn’t keep silent. “She comes to Con with a sad story of a blighted land, a holy relic, and wants Con to escort her right back through the channel where we last saw Dureau. It is possible he is still there, waiting for us. Did anyone ever think of that?”
Lucifer would have liked to have blown it off as paranoid speculation, but he found he couldn’t. In this line of work, men who disregarded clues often ended up dead. Suspicion was their nature but, in this case, Lucifer wasn’t so sure the suspicion was warranted.
Still… given what had happened as of late, with Constantine stealing most of Dureau’s wealth and the fact that Dureau had sworn vengeance upon him, it couldn’t be completely discounted.
“To me, the woman did not seem the type that Dureau would send,” he finally said. “Did you look at her? She is beautiful, cultured, and did not have the look of a decoy.”
“Then where did she get all of that money?” Augustin demanded. “I shall tell you where – the French gave it to her!”
More and more, Lucifer was starting to see their point. He was starting to feel the pangs of doubt. Still, he couldn’t let on. Constantine didn’t take kindly to men who doubted or disagreed with him, and most especially his inner circle. Constantine’s control was absolute and his commanders had to display that unwavering loyalty to him because when dealing with pirates, one hint of doubt with a commander could send the entire crew into chaos. The only thing that held Constantine’s crew together was Constantine’s sense of absolutely control over everything. He was the captain – and the captain was beyond reproach.
Especially on the sea.
“I would suggest you keep your opinion to yourself,” Lucifer turned to the men, his voice low and threatening. “If the crew gets wind of your doubt in the validity of this task, then we may have trouble on our hands. You know that as well as I do.”
Augustin did, indeed, know that. He was well aware of the blind obedience given to Constantine. After a moment, he sighed heavily and put the blade aside, standing up from the stool.
“I will say no more,” he said, sounding disgruntled. “But if we are to depart again, then I shall seek out my wife and spend what time I have left with her.”
Lucifer let him go. He knew that Augustin had been looking forward to spending more than just a few days with his wife. Remy, feeling uncertain with the talk of French traps, left the room with a mumbled excuse. Now, it was just Kerk and Lucifer left in the chamber, and pregnant silence filled the air. Kerk finally spoke what they were both thinking.
“I am frankly surprised that Con has not considered Lady Meyrick’s true motivation,” Kerk said quietly, rubbing at the blade of a small dagger with a cloth. “Given the trouble with the French as of late, it is very possible she is a decoy.”
Lucifer shrugged. “And it is equally possible that she is not,” he said. He glanced at Kerk and saw that the man wasn’t entirely convinced of that, so he sighed. “Still… mayhap it would be wise to seek help in this matter. If Constantine will not protect himself, then mayhap we must take that initiative.”
Kerk was interested. “What do you intend to do?”
Lucifer set the blade in his hand down, appearing thoughtful as he did so. “The last we heard, Shaw was sailing south from Scarba,” he said. “That was a few weeks ago, and we know that at this time of year, he anchors off the coast of Bardsey Island and goes hunting inland. He does it every year around this time.”
Kerk was increasingly interested in what Lucifer was leading to. “And?” he said. “Do you intend to let Shaw know what has happened?”
Lucifer looked rather guilty as he glanced at Kerk. “Mayhap it is nothing,” he said. “But mayhap this is a French trap, as has been suggested. If it is, then we will need Shaw’s assistance. Con will need it if he is going to go into this blindly.”
Kerk had to admit that he was rather relieved by what he was hearing. “Con can be single-minded when it comes to a woman.”
Lucifer nodded. “That is true,” he said quietly, “but we all have our weaknesses. Constantine le Brecque is the finest battle commander I have ever seen, but when it comes to women…”
Kerk held up a hand. “Say no more,” he said. “This will be our secret. We must do this to protect him.”
“Agreed.”
“When will you send the missive?”
“This morning,” Lucifer said. “Will you make sure the Ligeia is manned with a small crew? She is our fastest ship. Put Felix d’Vant in charge of her. He was raised in Cornwall and knows these waters. I will write a missive for Shaw and you will tell Felix he is to make all due haste to Bardsey Island. But I will tell you this…”
“What?”
Lucifer picked the blade back up, turning it so that the steel caught the light. “I will be watching the lady,” he rumbled. “If, at any time, I feel she is putting Con in unnecessary danger, I will not hesitate to slit her throat and toss her overboard. I will simply tell Con that she must have slipped and was lost at sea. He’ll never find her body, I assure you.”
That was the assassin talking. Lucifer had a streak of darkness in him that ran bone-deep, hence his nickname. Lucifer. He would slit the lady’s throat and suffer no guilt in the process. It was also why most of the men avoided him, knowing that it would only take a wrong look or a misspoken word to set Lucifer’s murderous instincts off. Lucifer was a man to be feared, for many reasons.
Kerk knew he meant every word.
Therefore, he simply nodded, pleased that they had a plan. But Kerk couldn’t help but feel they were somehow undermining Constantine. To send word to Shaw that Constantine might be in trouble was assuming a great deal, including the fact that Constantine’s judgment might be twisted by a beautiful face and a sad story. If Constantine found out, he would not be happy.
Kerk hoped he could explain it to the man before he made them all walk the plank.