Chapter 30

N ever had she seen Sir Achard in a mood blacker than displeasure. But then, never in her presence had he been vulnerable as he became when his men on the docks were attacked by what looked to be pirates but proved something more for how great the struggle to put them down compared to the first who sought to capture Orion’s Song.

That distraction had provided Captain Girarde and his crew the opportunity to reclaim their ship and get it off the dock before more pirates boarded. Fortunately, the feat was accomplished without shedding the blood of King Edward’s men. Less fortunate, such humiliation could incite a warrior as much as the loss of blood—perhaps more.

Fira thanked the Lord she was present, certain there would have been injuries, perhaps deaths, were her safety not of import. Though she believed Amaury’s crew would not harm her intentionally, Sir Achard and her brother did not know that. Thus, they and their men were relieved of their weapons and secured the same as the pirates earlier defeated .

Now Pietro, trailed by Donal, strode to Fira and went to his haunches where she sat between her brooding kinsmen who were flanked by fellow warriors. Though her own hands were not bound and fixed to various items in the deck, she was watched closely by two of the crew lest she free the king’s men.

“Regrets, Lady Fira, but it had to be done,” Pietro said, voice more accented and less refined than Amaury’s. “I believe you know the reason.”

As she considered the former pirate who had lessened the severity of Amaury’s keelhauling, Sir Achard growled, “I know the reason.”

“You must aid your employer,” Fira said.

He inclined his head. “As is our duty.”

“You place my sister in grave danger!” Rémy said.

“Regrettable but, God willing, we shall answer for that to one due an answer,” Pietro said, then, “Until the king’s men on the docks fend off this larger force, your sister is safer distant from Ravenser.”

“Mayhap, but not in pursuit of Les Fléaux!”

Pietro turned up his hands. “It cannot be helped. Fortunately, she is a lady of much fortitude.”

Desperate to change the subject for strained emotions both sides of her, Fira said, “Is Sir Achard right in believing this second force is more than pirates?”

The slight smile Pietro gave the king’s man showed fairly white teeth. “You saw what the captain and I saw, and with which we are familiar for a fair number of our crew being as efficient fighting on land as water.” He jutted his chin toward the receding docks. “When men are cursing and raging and metal beats metal, it is difficult to detect accents, but in numbers as great as these?—”

“I know ’tis foul Scots mixed with those of Les Fléaux,” Sir Achard did not temper his ire. Or perhaps he did …

“As my employer suspected,” Pietro said, “the sea brigands’ alliance with the Scots not only provides them a friendly harbor but your northern enemy is trained in pirating English vessels and coastal towns. We believe the third ship that attacked ours after we departed Boston had a good number of Scots among the French and got men into Ravenser by way of the northern coast.” He raised an eyebrow. “Enemies, Sir Achard, and though you believe the same of us, we are not.” He rose. “You may have proof of that this eve.”

“You endanger my sister!” Rémy repeated, still without faulty speech.

“Rémy!” Fira set a hand on his arm.

He opened his mouth as if to rebuke her, but Pietro said, “We will do all to keep her safe, young Wulfrith.” He indicated the men guarding them, then strode the moonlit deck as if it were as still as land.

“I appreciate being so loved that you fear for me, Rémy,” Fira said, “but my greatest concern is not for my well-being but Amaury de Chanson who you must know is a relation even if you do not attend well to readings from The Book of Wulfrith.”

Emotion moved his broad shoulders. “A v-very distant relation, and just as some nearer in blood do not hold with our values, neither d-does he.” The stammering to which he was more susceptible in times of great stress was back.

“’Tis true as a young man Amaury de Chanson strayed”—she looked to Sir Achard—“but like you, he seeks to end Les Fléaux. And ’tis not merely vengeance for the years stolen from him by the woman who took the name by which he was known while he served France as a privateer.”

Whereas Rémy sank into the silence of disapproval, Achard angled his head, causing moonlight to reveal the brown of one eye and blue of the other and what might be softening about them. “From Baron Wulfrith’s correspondence, we know some of what transpired since you disappeared from Stern. As this could be a very long night and there may be little light at its end, I would have you fill in the holes.” He narrowed his lids. “Though I require no details of what is behind your devotion to a man with whom you are recently acquainted, I would know how deeply your woman’s heart is engaged.”

She nearly asked the reason, but though his visits to Stern were far between, she knew him fairly well. If she loved Amaury even a little, he would exercise restraint given the opportunity to deliver him to London. And might even defend the man whose capture King Edward long awaited.

Lifting her chin, Fira fixed her gaze on The Pleiades that sought to evade Gert’s ships. “Here is my tale and Amaury’s. Our tale.”

The helmsman was a master of his craft, quickly executing Amaury’s commands each time evasion forced them to alter course—and now for Les Fléaux attempting a pincer move that could be as deadly on water as land. Were The Pleiades caught between the ships, it would be nearly impossible to defend against grappling hooks and clambering pirates intent on slaying Amaury’s men and delivering him to Gert.

When a serpentine maneuver allowed The Pleiades to slip to the port side of its largest pursuer and make for the sea beyond the estuary, the pirates’ taunts became bellows of rage. To continue the pursuit they believed near its end, they must bring their ships about. And less efficient that since most of the crew were positioned to board its prey rather than work the rigging.

As the stern of Amaury’s ship cleared the one on which twice he had glimpsed the large woman who sought to further avenge her husband’s death, he looked behind. Mantle flapping, white-grey hair escaping the thong at her nape, Gert rushed the rear railing. “This night you are mine, De Chanson!” she screamed.

Just as there was nothing to say to appease her, nothing would enrage her more than silence. And rage he wanted, certain the reason she had not questioned why the keelhauling did not rake him to the bone—nor suspected Pietro aided him—was her hatred burned so hot it had warped her mind. Though some of her followers had expressed surprise, she had been in no mood for any to question what was done Amaury. Too, wanting to prolong his suffering, she had not ordered a second keelhauling.

Now, turning his back on her ships, Amaury looked to the harbor. Though too distant to know the state of its docks, he would wager the king’s men prevailed. Regardless, Fira would be safe whether she remained aboard Orion’s Song or earlier disembarked under escort.

As he started to turn forward and firm his mind on what lay ahead, movement between Ravenser and The Pleiades made him look again.

A vessel approached. Though it ran unlit, he was certain it was Orion’s Song and had not departed the dock only to avoid being overrun by pirates. Was Fira aboard? An instant later, he rejected the possibility. Whether Sir Achard decided to pursue Les Fléaux aboard ship or she persuaded him to release the crew to aid Amaury, she was safely ashore. Unless…

Had the crew overpowered the king’s men? Unlikely, he told himself, then more firmly, Not so.

Now to ensure Orion’s Song did not come to the notice of Les Fléaux. No easy feat with the ships coming about and lookouts seeking what he saw, but were they focused on extinguishing flames .

Glad he had not earlier loosed fire ahead of Les Fléaux hoisting their great sails, he stepped nearer the railing. “To bows, Archers!” he commanded those trained to deliver missiles. “Put arrows to flame and aim for lookouts.”

None questioned him though they had to be surprised by the timing and their targets. Understanding would come once Orion’s Song was visible to all.

Minutes later, flaming arrows sped across the water. One in the first volley dropped a screaming lookout to the deck, while other arrows lit flammables, including an immense coil of rope.

As intended, the chaos allowed Orion’s Song to remain unseen long enough to go wide around the enemy and The Pleiades to pass out of the estuary.

It was a good beginning to what Amaury prayed a good ending to ridding himself, his son, and England of Les Fléaux.

When the returning sun dimmed the stars and melted the night sky into greys, more form was given those in the wake of The Pleiades . Thus, Amaury saw the ships of Les Fléaux beyond Orion’s Song raise their great sails. Once they had light and wind enough, they would close in.

He knew his strategy could be better, but no matter how much he altered it, circumstances rubbed against its grain. Still, more he believed he and his men would be victorious than not. Once his ships were near enough to communicate what depended much on dividing enemy forces between his captaincy and that of Captain Girarde on Orion’s Song, the sea between England and France would become the stage on which Le Fléau and Les Fléaux resolved their differences.

In what can only be a violent manner, Amaury thought, then worked through his plan again. Following what would look a failed attempt to outrun the enemy, in which Orion’s Song would appear tantalizingly vulnerable to draw off the smaller ship, Gert’s larger one would be allowed to force itself alongside The Pleiades and cast grappling hooks. Amaury and his crew would be prepared.

That belief firmed further when the gold, orange, and rust of the rising sun ascended toward the horizon, sharpening the lines and colors of Orion’s Song and revealing previously unseen crew.

Over his shoulder, Amaury ordered the helmsman to reduce speed to bring the smaller ship within shouting distance, which would yet be outside the hearing of Les Fléaux who sought to gain the wind needed to overtake their prey.

Hardly was Orion’s Song near enough to insert it and its crew in his plan than his strategy broke on the shore of what he had rejected. The crew had overpowered the king’s men—worse, while Fira was aboard.

“Lord!” Amaury barked as he stared at the woman who, steadied by Pietro, crossed to the railing below the forecastle as her brother and the king’s men could not for being bound. This changed everything, increasing the risk to those Gert would not hesitate to slaughter. And now the sails of the enemy billowed.

“Pietro!” Amaury shouted the same moment Fira called to him.

His man was near enough for his grimace to be seen, but just as Amaury knew this was not the time to confront him and Captain Girarde, Pietro knew it was not the time to explain their actions.

“We await your command,” his man spoke for all at their stations who exuded resolve alongside excitement for the pending battle. Not so Roche and his men, but they were in no position to defend or aggress against what would come. To protect Fira and sever the head of the snake that was Gert, that must change.

“Sir Achard!” Amaury called when the ships were level, allowing him to face the seated knight. “Our common enemy come for me and my ships. Since I would not risk Lady Fira, I am ordering that you and your men be released to aid in defending the ship should Les Fléaux give chase when Captain Girarde sails for the nearest port.”

“Amaury!” Fira called again.

He kept his gaze on the king’s man. “Since my death is sought above all, I believe Orion’s Song will depart without event providing it does so immediately. As I trust its crew will not be punished for seeking to protect the merchant they serve, I give my word if I succeed in doing what will benefit many, I will surrender upon making land.” He glanced at the ships bearing down on them. “As there is no time for discussion, I must assume you agree.” He looked to Captain Girarde on the sterncastle, inclined his head, and returned to Pietro who was joined by Donal. “Release them and their weapons and give the lady into their care.”

“Do not do this!” Fira cried as Pietro drew her toward the bound warriors. “With Sir Achard’s aid, you can?—”

The remainder of her words could not be heard for Pietro shouting orders to those guarding the king’s men, but it mattered not. What mattered was she be as far from here as possible under the protection of kin.

Amaury held her gaze, impressing her disarrayed loveliness on his mind lest he not see her again, then turned his back on her and those whose bindings were being cut.

As The Pleiades must bar the way until Orion’s Song slips out of reach, much to be done, he thought as he considered the enemy ships. And only minutes in which to accomplish all.