Chapter Eight
He’d been avoiding her for an entire day.
Literally, half of the day before and most of this day as well. For a man who had wanted to greedily soak up every possibly moment with Gregoria, he wasn’t acting like it now.
He was confused.
But that wasn’t like Constantine at all. The man was always supremely confident, always knowing the right thing to say or do and then completely comfortable with those decisions. He’d gone through life knowing he could handle any situation, and that included anything that happened with women. He controlled his destiny, and everything else around him, so when something occurred that he wasn’t entirely in control of, Constantine found himself confused more than anything.
Bedding the woman hadn’t been merely bedding her; perhaps that was the most confusing thing to him. Something about the act had gone beyond the mere physicality of it. Now, he was feeling something, although he wasn’t sure what it was. All he knew was that Gregoria lingered in his mind, her soft body and sweet voice, and he couldn’t seem to shake her.
Gregoria…
Gregg.
He hadn’t slept at all the night before. He’d stayed up all night, on watch, up on the poop deck as the Gaia glided effortlessly over the sea. They were heading north, nearly parallel with the Devon coast. He knew that simply by the position of the stars, which had been bright against the nearly moonless night.
Off to the right, buried in a forest that lined the edge of the coast, was Baiadepaura Castle, a massive and dark structure that had been built upon the ruins of an old Roman fort. Legend said that a ghostly Roman legion haunted the place. Further up the coast and off to the left would see Lundy Island and, beyond that, the Bristol Channel. Eynon Bay would be on the other side of the channel and then, finally, Three Crosses Abbey. In about two days, his time with her would be at an end. As much as he wanted to keep his distance from her, there was a large part of him that wanted to resume where he’d left off with her.
If Lucifer and Remy had noticed Constantine behaving oddly, they didn’t say anything. In fact, everything had been normal when he emerged onto the deck after his romp with Gregoria up until this very moment. Lucifer had even remained on watch with him last night and they spoke of the stars, of the French, and of the coming winter. Many subjects bounced around but not one of them had been about the lady in Constantine’s cabin.
It was a good thing, too – Constantine didn’t want to discuss it, not even with himself.
“Ship off the port bow!”
The cry came from the crow’s nest and Constantine moved to the port railing, straining to see what the lookout saw. The wind was picking up, blowing east, and they were moving against that wind. They were having to use a maneuver called tacking, which meant they were zig-zagging over the waves in order to make headway against the wind. Even so, the captives rowing below were still having to strain against the current and it had been slow going the past several hours because of it. But the ship that finally came into view was heading in their direction, quite swiftly, and Lucifer came up behind Constantine, handing him his spyglass. Constantine peered through it.
“A merchant vessel,” he finally muttered. “They must be coming from either Wexford or Dungarvan. The sails are white with blue… a blue outline of something. Wait… I see it now. A horse.”
He handed the spyglass over to Lucifer, who took a good look at the incoming ship. “That is Efford out of Plymouth,” he said. “That fat idiot who has the fleet of those new ships from Copenhagen. Remember? We met up with him last year when he presented a Letter of Marque from Henry, giving him permission to destroy pirates like us.”
Constantine nodded and took back the spyglass, taking another look. “I remember,” he said. “He thought he was clever, calling himself a privateer, when he was simply a merchant whose pride exceeded his common sense. As I recall, we sank one ship out from underneath him when he tried and damaged two others.”
Lucifer cast him a long look, an amused twinkle in his eye. “Then he is a fool to travel these waters, alone.”
Constantine had to agree. “As I said, his pride exceeds his common sense,” he said. “But he is also richer than Midas himself. If he is coming from Ireland, then he must have a heavily-laden vessel, rich for the taking.”
Lucifer could smell a battle in the air. “That is true, but he is usually armed,” he said. “Do we take the chance of an engagement with a lady on board?”
Constantine looked at him as if the man had lost his mind. “Why would we not?” he asked harshly. He thought perhaps that Lucifer had been reading his tumultuous thoughts and he didn’t want the man knowing how confused he was over the lady. But when he saw Lucifer’s startled expression as he snapped, he forced a mischievous grin, trying not to look like a fool. “What I mean to say is that we cannot pass up such an opportunity. If Efford is armed, then all the better. We will take his goods and his ship if he angers me enough. Relay the orders to the men and raise the red banners.”
Lucifer was on the move, bellowing orders as the men beat to quarters. They weren’t a big crew, but they were very efficient, each man worth his weight in a fight. Constantine didn’t tolerate lazy or fearful men, so every man on the ship was running for his weapon and his position. Overhead, the red le Brecque standards were raised on the yardarm of the mainmast.
The red standards had a purpose; they were cut to look like dragon’s wings to match the flag that few on the top of mainmast, so in the wind, the banners snapped and writhed like massive wings. Since the figurehead on the Gaia was the head of a dragon, the winged banners gave it the illusion of a serpent flying over the water. Every sailing man from the Mediterranean to the North Sea knew the sight of Constantine le Brecque’s red-wing banners and his dragon ship.
Beside the Gaia, the Persephone also raised wing-like banners, snapping briskly in the wind, and followed the Gaia on a parallel course towards the very large merchant ship, which had clearly sighted them. They began to turn due south, showing the Gaia and the Persephone its broadside, and Constantine’s ships adjusted course accordingly. It wasn’t long before the four-pounder cannonballs began to fly.
Cannon fire could be heard, echoing across the water, but they were warning shots. Constantine’s ships weren’t close enough to hit, so it was a waste of ammunition on the part of the merchant ship but it was meant to send a message. Of course, Constantine ignored the warning shots. With his men positioned at the bow of each of his ships with two four-pounder cannons, he was about to send a message of his own.
But he was smarter than the captain of the merchant vessel. He waited until they were in range and took aim at the mainmast, lobbing off two shots in short time. The first one barely missed the mainmast but the second one plowed into it, causing the thing to list dangerously. Over on the Persephone, Augustin and Kerk came around the rear of the merchant vessel and with seven cannon bursts, shot out the rudder.
Very quickly, the large merchant vessel was dead in the water.
Dead, but not out. They managed to load their portside cannons and blast out at the Gaia, hitting her twice on the gun deck while the other five skipped over the main deck or simply brushed past and out to sea.
At that point, however, the Gaia was in too close for them to accurately reload without damaging their vessel further, and Constantine had his men throw out grappling hooks, pulling the vessels closer so they could board the floundering merchant ship. The Persephone closed in on the ship’s starboard side, effectively boxing the vessel in.
After that, it was pandemonium.
In Constantine’s cabin, Gregoria was well-aware that something terrible and frightening was going on.
And it had all happened rather quickly. Ever since setting sail yesterday morning, the seas had been calm and the trip had been smooth as far as trips went. But, much like Constantine, she was still grappling with what had happened between them the day before. Every time she thought of it, she had to fan herself, swept away by the memories of heat and lust as Constantine had backed her into a corner and had his way with her.
She couldn’t decide if she was more embarrassed at her lack of resistance or more angry that Constantine had pushed himself on her. Truthfully, he didn’t exactly push himself on her. Gregoria was convinced that she could have repelled him had she truly taken a stand, but she hadn’t. She’d melted like butter at his touch, becoming boneless and spineless and foolish. Her maidenhood, which she had maintained these twenty-two years, had been lost all in a swift, passionate moment. For dignity’s sake, she knew she had to show Constantine that she was outraged by his conduct and that she would never again tolerate him taking advantage of her but, secretly, she was hoping he would come back to his cabin and kiss her again.
He had such wonderful kisses.
It was, therefore, a strange game she played for the rest of the day and into the night, torn between embarrassment, anger, and hope. She’d vowed not to let herself become interested in or otherwise attached to Constantine, but given what had happened between them, that was now impossible. She already felt a great deal of interest in him, like it or not, and when Constantine didn’t join her for the evening meal, she had been vastly disappointed. One of his men, the one named Remy, had brought her supper, carried upon silver trays by two fairly well-dressed seamen. Gregoria noticed that all of Constantine’s men were well-fed and well-dressed, the evidence of a prosperous pirate.
In fact, the serving utensils and plate that she was served with were fine and expensive. The plate was pewter, inlaid with semi-precious stones, and the knife and spoon were solid silver and heavy. The food was some kind of fresh fish, cooked over a flame, with a sauce of mushrooms. It had been delicious, accompanied by a fine wine, and Gregoria ate until she could eat no more. Upon a silver plate that one of the seamen had left on the table were battered apple slices, fried, and then coated with honey. Full as she was, Gregoria still managed to stuff apples into her mouth.
After a meal like that, with sweets and wine, sleep came easily. She collapsed on the fine bed, swathed in silks, and the dogs slept next to her all night long. She only awoke because someone brought a meal to break her fast, and she rose sleepily to devour a steamed dish comprised of bread, eggs, apples, currants, and nuts. It was the second fine meal she’d had shipboard, which led her to believe that Constantine and his men ate very well when they were at sea. She had hardly eaten so well when she was on land.
The dogs slipped out when the seamen came to take her trays away and Gregoria was left alone in the cabin as the sun rose. She was coming to feel more foolish now as a new day dawned, foolish at her behavior the previous day and embarrassed because Constantine evidently had no plans to return to her. Perhaps he’d gotten what he’d wanted and there was no more reason to visit her. Disappointment turned into sorrow. Gregoria was coming to think it was justified punishment for the way she’d allowed the man to have his way with her.
She was getting no better than she deserved.
Therefore, she planted herself at the windows that overlooked the rudder and watched the sea pass by. It was a fine morning but as the day passed, it began to get windy. The sea became rough and, for the first time, she began to feel queasy. She was better when she remained by the windows with the breeze whipping in her face, so she planted herself there and didn’t move. As the day progressed, she’d given up hoping that Constantine might return, so now all she could do was wait until they reached Wales. Given the way her stomach was feeling, and the sad confusion in her heart, she was hoping Wales would make an appearance sooner rather than later.
It was time for her to get back to that house and garden near the sea and forget all about Constantine le Brecque.
But then, the explosions started to come. At first, they were distant, but Gregoria could tell that the ship had taken a turn; the land that had been on the horizon all morning was now at a different angle. She could hear the faint shouts of men and, somewhere, someone was beating on a drum, a cadence she hadn’t heard before. She came away from the windows and wandered the cabin in tense silence, trying to hear what was going on, when the entire ship abruptly shuddered as the cannons were fired.
With a yelp, Gregoria grabbed hold of the nearest wall, bracing herself against the concussion of the cannons. The ship was rocking from the blasts and she struggled to keep her footing as she stumbled back over to the windows to see if she could spy what was going on outside.
Smoke from the cannon fire blew back into the cabin and she coughed, waving her hands to scatter it so that she could breathe. Sticking her head out the window, she could see the bow of another ship alongside. But that was about all she could see because of the smoke; still, the ships were very close together and she could again hear the faint shouts of men. Suddenly, it occurred to her what was happening.
“We’re being boarded!” she gasped.
Terrified she was about to become a spoil of war, Gregoria raced about the room, looking for something to defend herself with. There were two closets in the room and she yanked the first one open, only finding things like silver cups and other treasures, which weren’t of any interest to her unless she planned to beat somebody over the head with a fine cup. But the second closet contained two swords, shoved into the back, and she grabbed one of them, nearly tripping over it when she realized how heavy it was. It was long, too, but she didn’t care. It would be better to protect herself with a long, sharp sword than a short dagger. Someone could get too close to her if she only had a little blade for protection. But with this sword, she could hold off a man at a good distance.
Then, she waited.
Sounds of battle were all around her. The door to the cabin was bolted because Constantine had told her to lock it, so she had. She’d only opened it for the men who brought her food, but she promptly threw the bolt again when they left the cabin. Too frightened to open the door and peek out to see what was happening, she simply stood back by the windows, the sword in hand, listening to the chaos going on around her and waiting for the bolted door to be kicked down. Surely, if thieving men were on the ship, they would want what was in the captain’s cabin.
She was in the captain’s cabin.
It seemed like forever as she listened to the shouts and cries of battle. Gregoria had never heard such things before and her mind began to race. God’s Bones… she’d lived a quiet life, hadn’t she? A good life? She’d been kind to her mother and did as she was told. She’d even let her brother put her in this position, thinking she was being an obedient girl. Not that she’d had much choice, but still… she’d been a good girl, hadn’t she?
God, please do not let me be killed in this madness!
More banging, more yelling. The sea was becoming rougher and a quick glance from the window showed black clouds moving in from the west. A storm was coming. And then she heard the screams; it sounded like women screaming.
In fact, she could hear the screams above everything else, the crash of the sea and the roar of the wind. It was horrifically unnerving, all of it, and suddenly the screaming was on the other side of the chamber door. There was yelling and fighting and screaming, and the door was being bumped against. Terrified that a woman was being killed on the other side of the door and she wasn’t doing anything about it, Gregoria summoned her courage and went to the door, unbolting it and yanking it open.
A figure in silks and ruffles came spilling in through the door, all kicking feet and swinging fists as she landed on her backside. Astonished, Gregoria looked up to see Constantine and Lucifer standing in the open door, with chaos on the main deck beyond.
It was all that she had feared, and then some. It was as if someone had just opened the door to hell.