Chapter 28

H ear me, Amaury!” It was hard to temper her voice, but necessary lest he draw more attention than he had when he gripped the railing, lowered his head between his shoulders, and drew great breaths as if long deprived of air.

Pressing a hand to his back, she entreated, “’Tis the year 1355, you stand on The Pleiades anchored in the harbor of Ravenser Odd, I alone am at your side. Come back to me.”

His breath stopped, then he shuddered as if with relief.

Fira looked around the deck. Though the crew had returned to their duties and only a few glanced their direction, doubtless all remained aware of their employer and the woman at his side.

She leaned near. “‘What you experienced was dark and terrible, but they are only memories now.”

Slowly, he raised his head and considered all ahead and to the sides before settling on her. “Oui, memories.”

Certain what happened the night at the inn before he awakened from his watch over Richarde was caused by them, she said, “They haunt your sleep as well.”

“They like to pry open my dreams.” He breathed deep. “As for Gert putting me in the sea, since you know of keelhauling and there is no gentle way to tell what I experienced without infecting your dreams, I shall share what came after I was drawn from the water.”

Though Fira’s relief at being spared the details made her feel a coward, she said, “I think that best.”

His smile was almost sickly. “For the hit to my skull and being long without air, I recall nothing between surfacing and returning to consciousness on the deck.”

“You were revived.”

His nostrils flared. “And in such pain I would have lost consciousness again and possibly drowned in the water yet in my lungs were Pietro not commanded to flip my bloodied body and…support me as I wretched.” Momentarily, he closed his eyes. “Like my ancestor, Ma?l de Chanson, my face is scarred. Unlike him, not horribly so, the healed cuts on it and my hands nothing compared to what was dealt my unprotected shoulders, arms, back, shins.”

Tears stinging, Fira recalled what he said the day she sliced his knuckles when she feared he meant her harm—that it was hardly felt compared to something he had not named. Now she knew, and neither did the rod slammed to her knuckles compare.

“But it was only the beginning of your sentence,” she prompted.

“Oui. As Gert required more suffering, I was kept alive in the bowels of her ship when it set sail, being in and out of consciousness for the hammer in my head and burn of deep cuts—and that the one most often tending me to ensure I did not expire enjoyed making me feel my injuries more. When I was conscious, I struggled to remember exactly who and what I was and what happened and why, to capture thoughts and order them and form words for my ears alone. Not until the ship put into a Normandy port did I learn what lay ahead, and only for Pietro being the one to salve my injuries that day. He said I was…destined for an open-pit quarry outside Caen to labor until word was sent to break what remained of me—which could be weeks, even months.”

Recalling the day in the wood she listened in on him and Richarde and talk had turned to digging and the inhumane conditions at Caen, her emotions lurched. When later she had probed where he learned mining, he said it was enough she know it was that which kept him from his son.

“Pietro beseeched my forgiveness, and I gave it, though my words were so disjointed I doubted they made much sense. That frightened since I had enough wits to know something was wrong with my mind.” He took her hand and raised it to his head. “There the greatest damage done me.”

Fira slid her fingers into his hair, found the crease in his skull. “It could have killed you.”

“It should have.” He withdrew her hand. “Instead, it closed doors on memories—some taking years to tear off their hinges—and stole unobstructed thought, making it difficult to work through problems, of utmost importance that of escape. And words… Often it was impossible to express myself within the limits of a listener’s patience, but eventually most was restored, and now only occasionally one eludes me.”

“It is the same for Rémy.” She frowned. “Rather, similar. ’Tis as if a word gets stuck in his mouth and finds its way forward only to cling to the tip of his tongue or purse of his lips.”

“Though stammering is different, the result is fairly the same, impeding one’s speech and often making one rethink the need for words.”

She nodded. “None of my brothers are talkative, but Rémy the least.”

“Therefore likely more observant and less vulnerable to exposing his belly to those who would ill use him.”

“That is true—good come of bad.”

Amaury’s lips curved, but flattened when he looked to his men, the surrounding vessels, docks, and establishments whose patrons’ revelry was on the rise the same as the moon.

Settling his gaze on the estuary’s mouth, he said, “Before I was bound hand and foot, Gert appeared and told regardless of what was done me, it would be a sting compared to her suffering over the murder of her husband. Having previously explained those events to her, I knew even had I clarity of thought and words, it would be useless to defend myself.” His jaw shifted. “She punched me, then I was carried from the ship and dropped in a wagon that delivered me to a quarry where I would labor hard, though not for weeks nor months.”

“Years.”

“Years,” he repeated. “A sennight passed before I healed sufficiently to work alongside other chained men. When months later the order came to end my life, the owner for whom I produced well to gain adequate sustenance showed me Gert’s missive and told he would report he broke me on the stone providing I continue to cut and haul more than the others. Since further time was needed for my mind to straighten, memories to sharpen, speech to flow, and body to fully heal, I accepted his terms, hopeful of deferring death long enough to escape.”

He looked to her. “Though I told myself it would be no more than a year before I recovered enough to gain my freedom, it took years to put myself back together, and years longer to free myself for being chained, under close guard, and severely punished when suspected of plotting escape.”

He parted his lips to reveal side teeth she had noted as being short. “The guards who discovered I loosened the iron ring to which my chains were fastened each night, said this was my due. We fought, and though I bettered one by…whipping the chain in his face, the other dealt me the same, resulting in a swollen cheek and broken teeth that cut my tongue and inner lip, forcing me to file them down with a small, rough stone.”

“Dear Lord…”

“Oui, much pain. Fortunately, the damage is barely noticeable.”

“Outside of a genuine smile, which you have had little reason to form,” she said. “But I am certain you will smile and laugh again when your son is restored to you.”

Something flickered in his eyes that made her wish for her spectacles to better know how certain he was. “That is what I reach for, Fira, hopeful it does not exceed my grasp.”

“And prayerful,” she reminded. The Lord had not answered her prayers for The Gloaming to pass from her, but perhaps he would restore this man’s life. “My imaginings can do no justice to the hell of those seven years,” she murmured.

“Be glad they cannot.”

“How did you finally escape?”

“With aid from the guard who broke my teeth years earlier. The most violent of those paid to prevent our escape, he proved most receptive to the teachings of a young priest enslaved five years after me. Since nearly all my fellow miners had lost hope God would deliver them, the priest turned his efforts to our persecutors. Though often struck for it, he persisted while cutting and hauling as well as possible for one so small. Despite his gentle preaching and being slow to anger, most were deaf to him. However, drop by drop he reached the brute who remained a brute, though with less provocation.”

“How did he aid you?”

Deeply, he breathed salt air. “One night I was among the last secured due to extra labor required of one who ate relatively well and kept fit with exercise. The opportunity long awaited appeared when the guard who partnered with the keeper of the keys clutched his belly, told he would soil himself if he did not see to his needs, and ran from the cave that was one of many in the quarry that held laborers. As the guard left behind called for another to aid in securing me, I had little time to escape and even less for needing to help others there, some of whom would raise the hue and cry if I did not share the chance to flee. After knocking the guard senseless, I cast off my chains, released the priest, and told him to free the others while I dealt with the replacement guard soon to appear.”

“As I neared the cave’s torch-lit entrance, I saw the brute there with sword in hand. But he retreated, and not from fear since he was armed and the priest had managed to release only one other slave. When I exited, he was leaning against the stone wall, blade pointed at me. Knowing my life could be forfeit if I did not put him down or our clash drew other guards, I prepared to engage. But then he said he was not to blame for my escape since he was called to duty past the time he could prevent it. He lowered his sword and told that having been taken by surprise and struck down, he would not rouse for many minutes. After adding the price of my escape was that I deliver the priest to safety, he departed.”

“You trusted him?”

Amaury looked down at her. “Not entirely, but enough that all who wished to flee were able.”

“Some did not?”

“Two of the eight who made their dirt beds in that cave declined for fear of capture and suffering a torturous death.”

“Rather than the long-drawn one to which already they were condemned,” Fira said.

“At first I thought that, but as they were fairly old, they would slow and possibly reveal us to our pursuers. Unfortunately, since they could sound the alarm, whether fearing their silence would see them punished or hopeful of some reward, they had to be knocked unconscious. As for the one needing to empty his bowels, finding him beyond the cave beginning to stir from a blow dealt by the brute, I delivered another blow to slow his recovery. Since there were few guards on duty once laborers were secured for the night, our escape from the quarry was without event. Once fairly distant, all but the priest and I went separate ways to increase the chance of evading those seeking to re-enslave or kill us.”

“You got the priest to safety?”

“Oui, though it delayed my return to Calais where I doubted I would find my son for having learned of events in France from quarry newcomers. Among those events was the town’s fall to your king shortly after I was taken on the beach. When I reached what could never again be my home, I began searching for Mace and Séverine, my greatest hope that they survived the siege and someone would know where they could be found.”

“As Calais was in English hands, it was difficult to discover what was needed to recover them. And though less effort was required to learn of Gert—that her privateering prospered and brother was second in command—it took much to discover the whereabouts of those who stole about Calais, keeping her apprised of English shipping while she allied with the Scottish to harass your vessels and shores.”

Anticipation tightening Fira’s chest, she waited for him to tell what came next that must be as worthy of inclusion in The Book of Wulfrith as what came before.

“Richarde, who returned to Calais once select former citizens were admitted to ply their trade, was my source— after mostly convincing me he played no part in my capture.”

“Then how was Gert able to take his place in the foraging party?”

“He told she and Hugh struck him down and bound him. Though I remained cautious with him and others for whom he vouched, I accepted his aid in plotting against the sister and brother.”

“You wanted to put an end to Les Fléaux. No small undertaking.”

“Hence, a good sum of money needed.”

“How did you raise it?”

He smiled. “That proved unnecessary since I was not destitute as I knew was possible. While Richarde made discreet inquiries about my son and niece, I set to reclaiming what I left behind, starting with my home that had been purchased by an English nobleman.”

“You broke in?”

“Oui, hopeful coin and valuables remained concealed beneath my chamber’s floorboards, I entered once I was certain none were within.”

“You speak of the space where your family’s treasures were kept that Séverine brought to Wulfenshire to prove your son was Wulfrith kin!”

“I do and was relieved to find the cask gone, having instructed Séverine to take it to support her and my son should anything happen to me and they were forced to flee. As the other valuables there had escaped discovery by the new owners, I was assured it was in her possession. Though what remained would supply my needs for quite a while, it would not be sufficient to ruin Les Fléaux and secure a good life for Mace and me.”

She swept her gaze over the ship beneath their feet, next the one at the dock. “More was needed to finance The Great Mercia Shipping Company.”

“Which would be had providing the bulk of my riches remained intact.” Light shone from his eyes. “Just as the pirate of me could not resist seeking treasure, I was disposed to burying it.”

“Where?”

“The warehouse of my business that was sold to a different Englishman.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Another break in.”

“In neither case wrong. As the properties were mine to sell and the money paid for them filled another’s purse, retrieval of what I hid was the least due me.”

“I would not dispute that.”

A slight change in the direction of the wind causing his lengthening hair to shift across his brow, he said, “Had a recently constructed room in the warehouse been slightly larger, what I had buried would have been lost to me.”

“It must have been a grand amount.”

“More than enough to take on partners to be the faces of the shipping company so Gert continue believing me dead. After giving Richarde and another I mostly trusted—Charles—a fifteen-percent interest in the company, I provided funds to purchase ships and hire crews comprised of pirates who had served under me and others who would have to prove themselves to secure permanent employment. Since the owner of a small shipping company in Flanders had passed and his son wished to sell the business, Richarde and Charles journeyed there to purchase however many vessels my coin would buy.”

“Hence, The Pleiades and Orion’s Song . ”

He inclined his head. “I departed Calais the same day, but went a different direction in the hope what I learned of my son and niece would lead me to them.” His brow lined. “Though redirected time and again, the trail remained warm, and when I reached the Barony of Valeur, I secured a secret audience with a D’Argent from whom you and I are both descended.”

“As your niece revealed what happened upon Valeur, I know you speak of Lady Eugénie whose wardship and that of the heir was sold to one descended from their family’s enemy.”

“Oui, three hundred years descended. His name—Louis fitz Géré.”

“I am guessing the lady revealed Mace tried to aid her little brother in escaping his cruelty and gaining the aid of a neighboring baron.”

His next breath flaring his nostrils, he swung his gaze to the docks. “She said the boys were intercepted and Fitz Géré had my son whipped. For that, Séverine fled, bringing Mace to England to seek sanctuary with your family.”

“She and your son were courageous, but again, I will let her tell it.”

He looked back at her. “Having the opportunity to kill Fitz Géré when he pounded on Lady Eugénie’s door and demanded she join him for a ride, I would have taken it had she not beseeched me to remain silent lest I endanger her and her brother. After she slipped out of her chamber to join the man she loathed, I departed. Unfinished business, that.”

“You speak of revenge against Fitz Géré.”

“Oui, which will also aid the D’Argents if done right.”

“And in a timely manner,” Fira said. “Séverine told he is determined to wed the lady who fears were she entirely in his control, her brother’s life would be forfeit, allowing him to claim the barony for himself. ”

“She has cause to fear,” Amaury said, then asked, “You have seen my son’s back?”

“Aye, ’tis scarred, but not terribly.”

“For being quite young when tortured,” he growled.

Regrettably, that word described well what was done Mace. Hoping to move his thoughts elsewhere, she said, “Did you return to Calais after Valeur?”

“I did and found Richarde and Charles had done well. Two fine ships were in port and over half the crews hired. Unfortunately, as port authorities were overly interested for the owners being French, they conducted several searches and harassed the crews. Lest my name surface and find its way to Gert, I sent the ships to England to establish the company along the eastern coast pirated by Les Fléaux. Though I knew English authorities would be equally interested, it was less likely Gert would learn who was at the company’s helm.”

“I see, but why did you not sail with them?”

“Since elimination of Gert’s infiltrators was integral to my plan—and more so for evidence her brother led them—I needed to uproot all and anonymously alert the Captain of Calais where each could be found. Of those arrested and imprisoned, I recognized only two from my past, one being Hugh. He did not see me, but I looked well upon him as men-at-arms thwarted his attempt to flee and beat him for resisting.”

“Then you departed for England?”

“Non, I had one more infiltrator to locate, but no sooner was he tossed in a cell than word came the King of France and his son marched on Calais.”

Fira frowned. “That would have been when Lady Vianne was hastily wed to my second eldest brother to ensure a place for her on a ship carrying women and children across the channel lest the town fall to the French. After Warin saw her onto the boat that would deliver her to the ship, he returned to the town to prepare for the attack.”

“I am aware.”

“How?”

“I was a rower on the lady’s boat and exchanged a few words with she whose heart for her new husband was in her eyes.”

She blinked. “A rower? For what purpose?”

He started to answer, but their attention was wrenched back to the present when a commotion arose dockside. And now a flash of light as if a great candle were lit. Something on the deck of Orion’s Song was aflame, a portion of its crew seeking to douse it while others beat back swords drawn against them.