Chapter 25

T he lady sought to conceal how she felt about movement beneath her feet, salt water spray, and brisk air loosening her braids.

Which I should not imagine loosening myself, though I would do a better job, Amaury let in the thought as he continued masking his own feelings about being under sail. Whereas he was certain she subdued delight over something new and exciting, he would not have her see how greatly he was moved to be on the water again, though it was only the crossing of an estuary with a single canvas raised.

This was not the first time he had sailed since stowing away on the ship that brought him to England. However, for how often he dreamed of the beauty of this while a captive—as opposed to the horror of the same that scarred him head to foot—he was far from getting his fill of the otherworldly experience.

For this and commitment to his partners and men, he was more determined that if all settled in his favor, The Great Mercia Shipping Company would become an enterprise so prosperous its name would truly fit.

“Is this where you belong, Amaury de Chanson?”

Realizing how far he was inside himself for how distant Fira sounded, he raised his lids and saw she gripped the railing at his side. For the bright of her eyes and flush beneath pretty freckles, he admitted, “Greatly I have missed it.”

Now a curve to lips he had acknowledged were the sweetest ever tasted. For that and her responsiveness, he had been grateful they were far from alone when reason reminded him of his purpose in Grimsby and that she required only his protection until returned to her family.

Turning her face up to the sun, she pronounced, “’Tis wondrous.”

Lest she mistake the calm of the Humber for the sea that, with little warning, could turn the blue sky grey, cause thin clouds to billow, and move a breeze to violence, he thought to correct her. But then she added, “Aye, wondrous, perhaps even at its wildest. Or should I say deadliest?”

She thought right, and it made him long to enfold her again. Wishing what he felt was mere infatuation as he named her feelings for him, he said, “Either word serves well, though the end result determines the best fit.”

She looked around. “Then as you are alive, the better fit for you is to name it wondrous at its wildest.”

He did not require the railing’s support even when errant waves made the vessel pitch, but he took hold of it lest he take hold of her. “Oui, wondrous at its wildest, though not for want of being named deadliest.”

She turned toward him, braced herself, and picked her gaze over his face.

Feeling every fine scar, he said, “Oui, that was the nearest I came to meeting the sea at its deadliest. ”

“A terrible storm,” she said knowingly, but she was wrong—at least about the type of storm that night since his scarring could not be blamed on the weather nor the sea, the former being mild, the latter given no choice but to be an accomplice.

“Non,” he said and would have left it at that even had the captain not shouted the name given him—Mason.

Amaury turned to where the grizzled, well-dressed man stood at the stern before his helmsman, then peered the way he pointed.

When last he looked to the northeastern hook of land that was more on the sea than inside the estuary, the town’s buildings had less form than the ships in its harbor that included two of his own. Now Ravenser Odd had much form, confirming the town had reason to boast of its prosperity.

Despite battles with the sea that sought to eat its shoreline, Ravenser appeared to prevail with little cost to its economy. However, being narrow and bounded by water both sides, eventually the sea would have its way with the town, perhaps before the century was done.

Focusing on the green-hulled ships— Orion’s Song in a deep-water dock and The Pleiades anchored nearby—Amaury eyed flags that, barring trickery, evidenced his men remained in command. “Regardless of what happens, Fira, you are to remain at my side.”

She who had followed his gaze turned so swiftly the movement conspired with a gust to raise her skirt. Had he not insisted she wear Donal’s spare chausses, her hosed legs would have been exposed. Though the reputation of this captain and crew was lauded in Grimsby, and Amaury had paid well for that, it was wise to temper temptation.

“And if for any reason that must alter, do as I say immediately,” he added. “Agreed?”

“Agreed. ”

“Once we anchor, I shall have the captain send a boat to deliver my men here.”

One moment questioning lit her eyes, the next understanding. “Then God willing, soon this will be resolved.”

He inclined his head. “God willing.”

Quite the tale told by the captains of The Pleiades and Orion’s Song, as well as Pietro who had joined the larger ship’s crew when it departed Boston. And yet the core of the tale hardly surprised, astonishment reserved for an outcome that could have been disastrous for what both crews overcame to arrive in port fairly whole.

Amaury looked at those gathered around a table in the small cabin whose privacy was bought for a few coins more and paused on Orion’s captain. His arm was in a sling, the injury likely to heal since a number of the crew were adept at cleaning, medicating, and stitching flesh.

Catching movement amid shadows to the right of the cabin’s half dozen steps, Amaury glanced at Fira where she had sat throughout the telling, exuding distress over events that forced his ships to put in here rather than Grimsby.

Though he would not have her know as much as he did, there was no way to avoid it for needing to keep her close. Thus, greater her awareness of the danger for learning what transpired following his ships’ departure from Boston.

Despite the captains’ knowledge of the hidden cove and going wide of it, the leagues added to their journey by sailing east before continuing north had not discouraged three enemy ships that exited the unseen mouth. Fortunately, as the wind was not in the pirates’ favor, two were slow to advance, but not the smallest that surprised on other fronts—that it was La Bonne Mort , the ship on which Amaury was keelhauled, and was captained by a young woman. As it sought to come alongside Orion’s Song , her shouts were more distinct for an accent different from those she ordered. Then Hugh, known to Pietro who watched from The Pleiades, revealed who was truly in command.

He confronted the Scotswoman, and the argument that ensued allowed Orion’s Song to increase the distance between it and its pursuer while the enemy’s other ships continued advancing and Gert became visible at the bow of the largest. Had the disagreement lasted longer, Amaury’s vessels might have entirely avoided Les Fléaux, but Hugh ended it with a backhand that dropped the woman.

While he issued commands that had his ship once more quickly parting water, she of bloodied nose gained her feet and, learning nothing from their first encounter, drew a dagger and rushed him. This time a fist dropped her to the deck from which she rose only as Hugh brought his ship alongside Orion’s Song. The woman had not challenged him again. Had she, the advantage Les Fléaux gained could have been lost.

Grappling hooks were sent over the rails of Orion’s Song, and despite efforts to cast them off, a dozen pirates boarded before The Pleiades could come about to give aid. When it did, Hugh’s ship was forced to veer away. Amid fighting on deck, Orion’s mainsail and its rigging were damaged by two pirates who scaled the mast.

As Captain Girarde positioned The Pleiades near the ships of Les Fléaux and Orion’s Song, his men prepared to engage with large crossbows fixed to bulwarks, boulders that could be flung at their opponents, and hand-to-hand combat. And then further the scales of war tipped in his favor.

The cannon bolted to the forward bastion of Gert’s ship, which she unveiled with much laughter, ill-served its master. As expected by those of The Pleiades bracing for the impact, the weapon gave a thunderous belch, fire and smoke marking the moment. As not expected, there was no impact. Then came the enemy’s shouts and cries.

Gert’s use of cannon that remained too recent an addition to warfare to be considered safe and reliable impeded Les Fléaux. Several pirates were injured, the bastion caught fire, and the nearest sail was threatened with the same. In the struggle to preserve the ship and its crew, pursuit of Amaury’s vessels was suspended, allowing them to continue their journey once those who trespassed on Orion’s Song were overwhelmed and tossed overboard.

Knowing pursuit might resume for how quickly the fire was doused, they had altered their course so it appear they made for France. And more imperative that for the damage to Orion’s mainsail and rigging. However, once out of sight, they returned to England’s coast and put in at Ravenser for the ease of maneuverability, availability of a deep water dock to complete repairs, and it being possible Les Fléaux knew Grimsby was their destination ahead of Scotland.

Though Amaury’s captains arrived in the port town mere hours before being summoned to meet with him, time was well spent on tending the injured, restoring the damaged rigging’s integrity, acquisition of a new sail soon to be hung, and gleaning information of events on the sea and estuary to determine the viability of collecting the rest of their cargo.

Amaury returned his regard to Captain Girarde and asked what had yet to be told, whether the answer was unknown or believed of little consequence. “What have you learned of Les Fléaux?”

The man clasped his hands atop the table that would slide splinters beneath pampered flesh as it could not calloused, which in the case of seasoned men of the sea was nearly as futile as a splinter trying to pierce a nut’s shell. “They have a presence in Ravenser, at times formidable, other times negligible.”

“And now?”

“So negligible as to be non-existent for learning of the arrival of King Edward’s pirate-hunting contingent on the day past and absenting themselves.”

Did he or the others hear Fira’s sharp breath? Amaury wondered. Or I alone for being so aware of her? Certain she wished to know what was of great interest to him as well, he asked, “Has the contingent departed?”

“This morn, not long before we dropped anchor,” said the captain of Orion’s Song.

Then they might yet be near enough to get word to Achard Roche to come for Fira, allowing Amaury to take charge of what he began and must end. “You did well. Hopefully, once repairs to Orion’s Song are completed, we will know the best way forward.” Since much of that hope depended on getting Fira to safety, he would send Georges and Raoul after the king’s man.

When Amaury told he would himself take command of The Pleiades and ordered Captain Girarde, Pietro, and Donal to accompany the incapacitated captain to Orion’s Song to oversee repairs, the captains agreed, though with some reluctance, one for yielding his captaincy, the other for sharing his captaincy.

Amaury stood and gestured at the door, and the four ascended the steps to the deck where Raoul kept watch.

Ignoring the pull of Fira’s gaze, Amaury told Georges of the task that required delicacy for former pirates approaching a warrior tasked with eradicating sea brigands and assured him use of the Wulfrith name and delivery of the missive to be composed would provide protection.

Once Georges departed, Fira moved into light provided by two lanterns in the absence of windows. Unlike that of the sun, the glow did not make fire of her hair, instead leisurely turning about red-blond tresses whose braids she had not restored when the ship dropped anchor.

Was any lovelier in appearance and disposition? he let in the question and affirmed there was no other a moment before she sighed and said, “As it seems the problem of me will soon be resolved, I wish I could say the same of the problem of you.”

Much in those words. Realizing a good portion was her heart—infatuated or not—Amaury said, “Since all is set in motion, there can be no better time to end Les Fléaux.”

“Nor for them to end you.”

As Gert thought long overdue. “Even if only for the sake of my son and the men willing to sacrifice their lives for a cause more mine than theirs, I must try, Fira.”

“And if it is not enough and Mace becomes an orphan in truth?”

Leaving her on that side of the table for his longing to sooth her worry with an embrace—and more—he said, “Then just as before I came to Wulfenshire, he will have his cousin and those of your family to fill the void of a lost mother and father. The only difference, if you choose to make it one, is him knowing I died much later than believed and as a warrior rather than?—”

He caught back words revealing the chained and beaten of him had been more slave than prisoner. And was grateful when she did not ask again exactly how he spent those years but turned toward the steps. More fortunately, she also left behind further talk of the problem of him that her feelings made her problem.