Chapter Fifteen

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The Argos

T he seas were surprisingly calm.

The only instance where Sinclair had spent any time on a vessel was when he sailed to Toxandria and then back again, and that was on a cog crowded with men and animals.

This time, it was much different.

Setting off on a misty morning from Blackchurch with Payne and Anteaus beside him, Sinclair followed St. Abelard and the small escort the man had brought with him north to the rambling seaside village of Minehead. It was less than twenty miles from Blackchurch, which meant the travel took less than a day. They arrived in Minehead with plenty of daylight left and St. Abelard headed straight to his vessels.

It was rather impressive seeing them from the top of the bluffs overlooking the sea. Not strangely, there were several of them, but four larger ones had men all over them. Sinclair could see them even from the distance. All of the ships had sails—the smaller ships with two sails and the largest one with three—but they also had the ability to row them because Sinclair could see oars peeking from holes in the hull of the ship. As the wind blew and the seagulls cried overhead, St. Abelard took Sinclair, Payne, and Anteaus to the largest ship he had.

The Argos .

As St. Abelard had explained, the smaller ships dotted around the inlet were ancient ones left to him by predecessors. Some of them seaworthy, some not. Some were so old that they were half sinking into the water and never used. But the larger ships were ones that he'd managed to confiscate over the years, and he was quite proud of that. The Argos was a former Grecian vessel that was absolutely magnificent. It had a former name that St. Abelard couldn't pronounce, so he named it the Argos in honor of that ancient vessel that carried Argonauts.

When Sinclair boarded it, he had to admit that he felt rather like an argonaut himself.

It was in the spirit of another adventure at sea that St. Abelard and his four largest ships departed the next day for the western Devon coast where Santiago hid his ships—poorly—from his rivals. It took the ships more than half a day to reach the bend in the coast where they began their southerly travels, and the mouth of the River Taw was less than ten miles from that point.

That was when the maneuvers began.

Up until that moment, Abelard had been using his captives to row the ships westward. Because of the flow of the tide, the ships moved rather quickly. But once they reached the curve in the coastline where it started traveling south, St. Abelard sent the smallest ship toward the River Taw under a white flag while he unfurled the sails on the remaining three ships and took them out to sea, about three miles from the mouth of the river. They could see the coastline, and the river from that vantage point, but more importantly, they could be seen. White flags were flapping in the wind.

The white flag of parlay.

"This is where the fun begins." St. Abelard came to stand next to Sinclair, who was watching the coastline from the stern. "As I said, Santiago has been gone for many months, but my spies tell me that he has returned recently. However, he may be too busy to talk, but we shall see. You saw me send the Athena into the river to catch de Fernandez's attention. Mayhap we can draw him out."

Over to their right, Payne vomited over the side of the boat, coming up with a smile as he wiped his mouth with his arm. "I'm born tae be a pirate," he declared. "I'll get my sea legs soon enough."

Sinclair started laughing as Payne tried to laugh with him, but he ended up dry heaving instead. Anteaus, standing on his other side, was far gone with giggles as Payne struggled against his seasickness. St. Abelard shook his head in disgust.

"And you are a Blackchurch trainer?" he asked.

Payne nodded, wiping the tears from his eyes caused by the upheaving. "Aye, m'laird."

"What do you teach?"

"How tae fight a man," he said. "How tae assess an enemy and discover his weaknesses. How tae exploit the weaknesses."

"I see," said St. Abelard. "And what are your weaknesses?"

"I have none, m'laird."

St. Abelard rolled his eyes. "If this ship were to be boarded at this very minute and we had a fight on our hands, you could not kill a man by vomiting on him," he pointed out. "How do you intend to fight if everything is coming out of your stomach?"

Payne didn't miss a beat. "I'd vomit on the deck and cause him tae slip and hit his head," he said. "When he's down, I kill him."

St. Abelard looked at Sinclair in disbelief, but Sinclair was still chuckling. "And he would do exactly that," he said. "There is no wasted movement with Payne. He would kill him one way or the other."

St. Abelard grunted. "I'd like to see that," he admitted. "And you? How do you feel?"

Sinclair's smile faded. "I feel quite well," he said. "But quite anxious to get on with it. I have no way of knowing if my lady has already been forced to marry. The sooner I can get into Fremington, the better."

"What if she's already married?"

Sinclair sighed heavily as he pondered his answer. "I do not know," he said honestly. "I've tried not to think about it."

St. Abelard's gaze lingered on him for a moment. He seemed to be in a much better humor than he was at Blackchurch, and that was because he'd gotten the cog he wanted. St. Denis had promised to have the thing partially disassembled and sent up to him, so he was eagerly awaiting that delivery. He had shipbuilders that could piece the ship together in a week, and she would be perfectly seaworthy, so he was thrilled about that.

Until that could happen, however, he had a task to perform, and given he was dealing with honorable men in the Blackchurch trainers, he was being true to his word. Since he'd spent a few days with Sinclair already, he was becoming more emotionally invested in the situation more than he should be. Emotionally invested was probably too strong a term—he was interested in the situation, as an outside observer. He could see the expression in Sinclair's face when he spoke of Lady Elisiana, and that fascinated him. He remembered the times in his life when he'd felt that way for a woman. It had been a while, but he remembered.

Sinclair was starting to bring it back.

"You'd better let yourself think about it," St. Abelard said after a moment. "If de Fernandez tells you that she's been married and taken away, do you intend to pursue her?"

Sinclair was watching the coastline. "I know you think this is a foolish endeavor, my lord, and I do not blame you," he said. "Were I not involved, I would probably think so also. But there are situations that arise in a man's life that he knows are worth risking everything for, and this is one of them. If she has married the man and he has taken her away, I will follow. I will not involve you, but I will follow."

"And if you catch up to them? Then what?"

Sinclair shrugged. "The man she was betrothed to is a knight for the Earl of Lincoln," he said. "I will go there and I will claim her. I do not know how, but I will. And then I will take her back to Blackchurch where he can never get at her."

"You will not kill him?"

"If he fights me for her, I will do what I have to do."

St. Abelard turned and leaned against the railing, focused on Sinclair. "I'm fascinated by this," he said. "What is it about this woman that lures you so? It is like the call of the siren, and you are answering."

"True," Sinclair said, smiling weakly. "I am not certain what makes her different from other women, only that she is. The one woman who looks into my soul and makes me feel things I've never felt before. Things I want to feel the rest of my life. Have you not ever felt that way before?"

St. Abelard thought on that, nodding. "Aye," he said. "I married her before anyone else could."

"And you do not regret it?"

St. Abelard cleared his throat softly, looking down at his feet. "Not really," he said. "Mary is my wife. We have been together many years. We have two daughters together, but no sons. I know you heard Denis speak of other children, and I do have others. Two boys from a woman in Minehead, a woman who is kind and understanding. I do not regret them, either. A man must have sons to carry on his name."

"And these boys will take over Triton's Hellions?"

"Already, the eldest says he will be a greater pirate than me," he said. "Remember the name St. John de Bottreaux. He likes to be called Black Jack."

"How old is he?"

"He has seen nine years. He'll be formidable in a few more."

"Given that he is your son, he is probably formidable now."

St. Abelard snorted, lifting his gaze to look at Sinclair. "Do you want some advice from an old man?"

"I would accept your advice regardless."

St. Abelard leaned forward. "No mercy," he muttered. "When it comes to the man the lady is supposed to marry, show no mercy. If you do not kill him, it could have fatal consequences."

A smile played on Sinclair's lips. "You are telling a Blackchurch trainer to show no mercy?" he said. "My lord, that is what we train on. No mercy given, no mercy taken."

"Good," St. Abelard said. "If you like, I can take him on board my ship as a captive. He'll never see land again. It will be the same as being dead."

Sinclair's smile broadened. "I can think of no worse fate for any man," he said. "If you are serious, mayhap I will consider it."

"I never jest."

"I would imagine not, my lord."

St. Abelard chuckled and turned around, looking out at the sea again, the coastline, the sky. Off to their right, Payne was dry heaving over the side of the ship because there was nothing left in his stomach, but he still swore he'd make a fine pirate.

Sinclair had no doubt.

The day turned into night and with still no response from de Fernandez, St. Abelard invited Sinclair and Payne and Anteaus down below deck for supper. They ate and drank long into the night even though Payne could hardly keep any of it down. Still, it was a good night of stories, of bonding, and of planning their next move. When Sinclair retired to bed late that night, sleep came easily with dreams of flying fish and stormy waves.

He was awoken in the morning by a cannonball flying over the bow.