Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Tell me everything from the beginning.”
Elias leaned against the door jamb, pleased with the way he kept his anger under control. He was an even-tempered man generally, but even his forbearance had its limits. The idea someone was spying on them, spying on Laura, put that particular virtue in short supply.
Donato sat with his arms stretched before him on the kitchen table. A supplicant. No, just a youth who found himself caught up in a conspiracy far beyond his reckoning.
“After Gina was…” the young man cast a sidelong glance at his sweetheart.
“Gina,” Elias commanded. “Go look after Benjamin.”
The girl rose from the table and cast a glance at Donato before disappearing through the house. Both he and Elias waited until the footsteps faded.
“Gina’s father threatened me with a beating if I didn’t leave, so I left to find work in Palermo. I worked hard. I am a man. A man provides for his wife and baby,” said Donato with as much bravado as a seventeen-year-old boy could muster, Elias thought.
“I was unloading the ships one day when a man asked if anyone came from Villagrazia. I told him I did, and he asked if I knew of an Englishman who had a villa in that area.”
Elias listened as Donato related his tale. The stranger told him he was once a shipmate and wished to surprise him with a visit. The man mentioned the Calliope as well as Elias’ friends by name.
Elias closed his eyes, recalling every name and every face that had served on the Calliope and the Terpsichore before her. There were very few who did not stay on. Kit had been very choosy in accepting crew – and he could afford to be. Unlike larger ships, they only needed a crew of fifteen or so.
“Did this sailor have a name?”
“Tito. He didn’t give me a family name.”
Elias rattled through the index in his head a second time. The name Tito didn’t ring a bell.
“What did this man look like?”
Donato shrugged and Elias began to suspect the boy wasn’t that bright. “Just like a regular man. Tall…”
Elias was at the ragged end of his patience.
“Dark skin? Light skin? Fat? Thin? Bald? Grey hair? Dark hair? Answer me!”
Donato stammered out a response and Elias felt tension leave his shoulders. For one horrible moment there, he feared Ahmed Sharrouf had returned from the dead and the nightmare of the past three years continued.
And if he was one of Sharrouf’s men, this Tito was not one Elias recognized. “When you went through Miss Laura’s studio and her bedroom, what things did the man ask you to look for?”
“Letters. Tito told me it was all right. He and Miss Laura were friends, he said, and were in secret correspondence to plan a surprise for you. I was to take a letter from her desk and the next night I would return with the reply.”
And it hadn’t occurred to Donato it was the same letter he took and returned? Elias closed his eyes and counted to ten. The boy really wasn’t that bright. Even if he couldn’t read, he could at least notice…
“Can you read, Donato?”
The young man shook his head. Elias let out a long sigh. No, of course he couldn’t…
Who was this man looking at Laura’s letters? He had made no overtures himself. He just kept to the shadows. A spy. What information was in the letters that could interest this man – or his employer?
Laura kept all correspondence from her brother. What could someone learn from that? That Laura had a son. Why would that be important to someone? And if not Ahmed Sharrouf, then who?
The realization hit him swiftly and sickeningly.
What if Sophia had been wrong? What if Selim Omar was not dead? What if he wanted to retake Laura and her son?
His son…
For the first time in a very long time, Elias felt the icy fingers of fear grip his spine. And for the first time since joining Kit Hardacre’s ragtag band, he was completely on his own.
He hauled himself upright. The first thing to do is find out who this Tito worked for and why Laura’s letters held such interest for his employer.
“What time are you supposed to meet this man, Donato?”
“Soon after dark.”
“Show me where.”
On the far side of the village, Elias picked his way along a half-overgrown goat track at the edge of the forest, following Donato.
“This is the spot.”
Elias looked about. It seemed like the middle of nowhere with only a charred and blackened tree stump to mark this particular location. He spent the next half-hour walking in every increasing circles outward from the stump looking for any sign of an encampment. There was none.
Donato had trudged behind him silently.
“Does Tito usually meet you here?”
“No. We meet in lots of places. I told him about this place because I used to come here with Gina.”
“Where else did you meet?”
Donato recited a list – all were out of the way places, unlikely to be seen from the road or stumbled upon by a farmer or a goatherd.
Whoever Tito was, he was obviously familiar with the area – no one had mentioned a man lurking about the village and no news spread faster than a stranger in their midst.
“Have you eaten?” he asked Donato. The young man shook his head. “Then come on back to the house.”
Elias picked up a fallen branch, long enough and sturdy enough to use as a makeshift quarterstaff if needed. There were still a number of hours to go in the afternoon, let alone nightfall, so there was little point in waiting, particularly since he was not as prepared as he wished.
If the crew of the Calliope were here, Elias would have them fan out ahead of time to prepare an ambush. The faces of Matteo and Serafina’s nephews, Angelo and Pasquale, drifted across his mind. He shouldn’t involve them, they were not fighting men – they were youths not much older than Donato. But what choice did he have?
They reached the edge of the woods and Elias followed the gentle undulations of the emerald green grass to Laura’s studio that gleamed like a pearl in the sunlight. Further up was the villa itself and beyond, the olive trees standing in regimental order. He loved his little Eden but, unlike Adam, he would deal with the snake.
A bell rang out, its merry peal tumbling down toward them. That was Serafina calling everyone for the noon meal.
“What is it that Tito expects you to bring him?”
Donato shrugged. “More letters.”
“And he does not read them in front of you?”
“No. It’s too dark.”
“And then in a day or two, he gives you the letter to return?”
“Yes, sir.”
They walked through the rear door into the kitchen and saw an extra place setting. It seemed Serafina had already anticipated Donato.
Serafina put a dish in front of Elias, but his appetite had gone. He sat at the end of the table and bowed his head. One by one Matteo, Angelo, Pasquale and Gina put down their spoons. Out of deference to their hunger, Elias did not linger over saying grace.
He was also mindful of the how carefully the young men watched him. Apart from Donato, they all knew how he felt about Laura. And now she was gone.
He waited until the household had eaten before he pushed his own half-finished dish away.
“I think you already know Donato from the village. He will now be working with us. Angelo, Pasquale, show him around. Serafina, please prepare a bunk for him with the rest of the boys. Matteo, I want to have a word with you before you go.”
He watched the young men look at one another before one rose, and then the others. He turned to Gina who had been uncharacteristically quiet.
“It seems we know the truth about Miss Laura’s missing objects and I want to acknowledge you are not to blame. If Miss Laura were here, I’m sure she would offer an apology for her accusations. As she is not here, I am giving you my apology instead. Now go and help Serafina and then you can tell Donato about what happened to your baby.”
The young girl’s eyes filled with tears. She gave a brief nod and a curtsy before hurrying off. That left Matteo in the kitchen with him.
“You found out who was taking Miss Laura’s possessions? Who was it?”
“It was Donato, but in his defense, he was borrowing them on behalf of someone else. This person told Donato a tale and he believed it.”
The puzzled expression on Matteo’s face remained.
“In the course of my time at sea with Captain Hardacre, we made a number of enemies. I believe one of those enemies wants to harm Miss Laura.”
Matteo’s eyes widened in understanding. “Then it is as well that she has left for England.”
Elias nodded.
“I’m concerned that when he learns Laura is gone, he will turn his attention to Benjamin instead.”
Matteo’s expression became resolute. “I will kill anyone who hurts our bambino.”
“You’re a good man, Matteo, but let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. But I do need you and the lads to be vigilant. At this stage, this fellow has been content to lurk at our borders. He doesn’t know yet we have the truth from Donato. We need to keep that to ourselves until he shows his hand and we know who he is working for.
“Then what would you have me do?”
Now there was a question.
Elias wasn’t sure he had an answer. He needed time to think – just as Kit had before every battle. The captain would lock himself away and puzzle through every possible outcome until he came up with one that delivered hell to their enemies but put his crew to the least amount of risk.
It was a fine balancing act, a walk of a knife’s edge that Kit seemed to instinctively perform. And it was a skill that Elias owned only in a half-measure. His only thought was to keep Laura’s son – his son – safe.
“Just be vigilant – that’s all we can do. The man has arranged to meet with Donato tonight. I plan to lay in wait. Perhaps I can persuade him to tell me why he is spying on my family.”
Elias felt sweat bead between his shoulder blades and trickle down the back of his shirt. He waited.
Waiting was so much easier when you knew what you were supposed to be waiting for. And if you had a plan. He had neither.
Matteo, Pasquale and Angelo had insisted on accompanying him, which was another reason he sweated. The men aboard the Calliope were seasoned, accustomed to violent fighting; these young men were not. However, Matteo’s argument that he needed extra pairs of eyes to follow Tito was unassailable.
“You are not to get close enough for him to take a swing at you or take a shot at you, do you understand?” Elias had given orders and saw their eyes widen at the possibility their quarry might be armed. He prayed they had enough sense to follow his direction.
From his hiding place behind a boulder, Elias could see part of the blackened stump and the thin, pale path, turned gold in the afternoon sunlight that crossed below him.
It would be another hour before the summer evening sky turned too dark to see. He hoped this Tito would be as blind in the dark as they were. He also prayed that Tito came alone.
And, as annoying as it was, he was glad of Donato’s nervous habit of tuneless whistling. The youth had done that for nearly an hour now, but as long as he whistled, he knew the lad was alone. Then it stopped.
The crickets took up the chorus, becoming more shrill as the light faded.
“Do you have money for me?” the youth asked the man who approached.
“You are impatient, my little friend,” the man called Tito answered with a touch of laughter. “Do you have a letter from my beautiful Laura?”
Elias clenched his fist at the sound of her name on his lips.
After a pause, Donato answered. “There are no more letters.”
“No more?”
“She’s gone.”
“Gone where?” The two words were delivered with a menace that was palpable even at that distance.
“I don’t know. Just gone, I—”
Elias heard the snap of a twig just a foot away, a split second before the rustle of clothing. He rolled to his right, and caught a glimpse of a club as it missed his head by a fraction of an inch.
Launching from his position, he tackled his would-be assailant to the ground.
“Tito! Sveglia!” the man called as he fell.
Tito! Danger!
The words were out of the man’s mouth before Elias could silence him with a numbing blow to the jaw. From habit long ingrained in battles fought with the crew of the Calliope, Elias sought to make sure of his attacker’s disability. He grasped and delivered another blow from the man’s own club.
He rose quickly from his position and saw the silhouette of the man he believed was Tito. The path was in semi-darkness, dangerous under any conditions, but with God knows how many other men, and the inexperience of his farmhands, it was a recipe for disaster.
Donato finally reacted and started to run but he slipped and stumbled. Tito grabbed and hauled up the boy to his chest. Elias hurled himself forward but halted when he caught the glimmer of a knife.
“This was not the surprise I had planned for you, Elias Nash,” he said. “This knife was meant for you.”
Elias advanced one pace. Donato whimpered and Elias stopped. About now, the crew of Calliope would have emerged from their hiding places; Jonathan’s steady hand would have a pistol pointing unerringly at Tito’s head.
There was no point wishing for what could not be. Knowing his own face to be in shadow, he allowed himself to scan around, trying to determine whether the dark shapes about him were friend or foe—or just shadows.
“Well I’m here, and you have a knife, so I suggest you don’t need the boy,” Elias answered, and damned if he didn’t sound a little like Kit Hardacre. A measure of outrageous arrogance in the face of the enemy was good to unsettle them – as well as for disguising nerves. He stepped forward once more and Tito stepped back.
“If you know who I am, then you know the reputation of the men of the Calliope. If you value your life, I suggest you let the boy go. There are no fewer than three riflemen aiming at your head.”
Elias would pray forgiveness for his lies if God let him live tonight.
“Bluffare! You English are deceitful. You try to trick me.”
As though on cue, the unmistakable sound of tramping feet could be heard advancing toward the position.
“Just give the word, Mr. Nash!”
Matteo’s voice, strong and commanding, was never more welcome than at that moment. Tito started, shoving Donato, propelling the lad toward him. The boy had gained mastery of his legs and managed an ungainly run past and behind where Elias stood.
Elias took another step forward, growing in confidence that Tito had brought only one companion.
“Who sent you?”
“Someone who paid me plenty to return what belongs to them.”
“Like what?”
“An escaped concubine for one. But, of more importance, her boy child.”
At that, Elias swallowed dread that effervesced. His worst fears were realized.
“Then your master has wasted a great deal of coin.”
The last of the light slipped away. The moon had not yet risen enough to illuminate the ground around them.
“I will admit, the loss of the woman is unfortunate, but she is a secondary concern for my client.”
“The child is mine.”
Even in the semi-darkness, Elias saw Tito shrug his shoulders. “We shall see who wants him more.”
“Elias! The other man has gone!” Pasquale yelled.
“Get back to the villa! Now!” he ordered.
Before he could consider the wisdom of it, he had launched himself at Tito, aiming for the hand with the knife. Tito gasped, winded as he landed flat on his back but he still grasped the blade. Elias, cursing himself for not doing so sooner, was about to withdraw his own weapon from the belt at his waist when the light of a thousand suns filled his vision. The heat of those suns seared the back of his head with excruciating pain.
Then they went out, leaving him in total blackness.