Chapter Sixteen

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The Navia

"M e pregunto qué quiere decir mi viejo amigo? "

Santiago de Fernandez spoke those words to the man by his side, an older man who was the uncle of one of his officers. Luis Sabio, or Wise Luis, as he was called, was something between an oracle and a sage old grandfather when it came to giving advice, so naturally, Santiago asked him.

But Luis Sabio had no quick answer.

"Who knows what your old friend wants?" he said. "Mayhap he is bored and needs conversation of intelligent men. God only knows he will not find it among his own kind."

Santiago grinned. He wasn't a big man, rather short and round, but very sharp. He had wavy hair that was a mixture of silver and dark, and a beard with a cultivated point on it. But in contrast to St. Abelard's loud mouth, Santiago was soft spoken and smiled a good deal. Hardly the behavior of a man who cut the feet off his captives. Even with his smaller stature and amiable demeanor, he was more than a match for St. Abelard.

De Bottreaux's ship, Athena , had come bearing a white flag of parlay and lingered just inside the mouth of the river for most of the day before Santiago sent a boat out to meet it. Of course, it told Santiago that his secret mooring location for his vessels was no longer secret, but that didn't matter. He knew exactly where St. Abelard moored his vessels, too. The Athena relayed to Santiago that St. Abelard wanted to parlay, a not-so-unusual request, and it wasn't one that caused Santiago any great distress. He and St. Abelard had a treaty of sorts, but he hadn't seen the man in well over a year. Perhaps things had changed. Whatever the reason, he agreed to see him.

Not that Santiago could avoid the man, considering he knew where Santiago hid his fleet.

Therefore, at dawn the next morning an a particularly clear day, Santiago set out with two ships—the Navia and the Santa Maria , which had been the most prepared to take to sea—and left the shelter of the River Taw then headed to open sea, where St. Abelard and his four ships were waiting. In the early morning light, Santiago could see the vessels dotting the horizon, and the white flags were reflecting the sunlight like tiny dots against the sky. The smell of the sea was strong, the air damp, and it felt good to be at sea again. The truth was that Santiago had been gone for nearly eight months, having only recently returned to his base in England. He was still offloading booty he'd obtained on his quest into the Mediterranean.

But he was more than curious about a parlay request.

Closing in on St. Abelard's ships, he could see something approaching from the south. It was a foggy further out to sea, so by the time he realized what he was seeing, it was too late. The Irish pirates that clung to the Eire coast, troublemakers more than they were businessmen like Santiago and St. Abelard, were coming up from the Celtic Sea. Santiago saw, quite clearly, when they fired a salvo at St. Abelard's ships, and he saw quite clearly when St. Abelard fired back. In fact, St. Abelard was turning his ships toward the Irish contingent and preparing to engage.

"Ah!" Santiago said with excitement. "The Irish bastardos have made this a great day! We will help my old friend!"

Santiago only had two ships, but they were his biggest and he was proud of the cannons he had on board. The wind was picking up, blowing them in the direction of what was already sizing up to be a naval battle. Calling themselves Clann mhac Fragarach , or the Sons of Fragarach, which was the sword that the Celtic sea god Manannan wielded in battle, the Irish were a smaller faction but a vicious one. As they closed in on Triton's Hellions, the Demons of the Sea came in on their southern flank.

It was a short battle.

*

Using a rope that had snapped from an overhead sail, Payne went flying overhead, over the gap between the Argos and the ship that had attacked them, and landed on the deck of the Irish cog. St. Abelard had managed to damage it with his cannonballs, so the ship was beginning to list slightly and the rudder was smashed. It wasn't going anywhere. Swords and fists were flying as the men from the Argos boarded the Irish vessel that had fired on them.

"See?" Payne yelled above the smoke and fighting. "I do make a good pirate!"

Sinclair had to laugh at the Scotsman taking down Irish pirates who got in his way. He was heavily armed, dressed in mail though without his helm, and he was having a fine time beating Irish arse. Sinclair came over after him, boarding the Irish ship at St. Abelard's order by leaping from one ship to the other, and was immediately confronted by unhappy Irish sailors.

The Swordsman lived up to his name that day. There were headless bodies everywhere, and by the time more ships got involved, the battle was nearly over. Anteaus, who was the first one to board the Irish ship when it came close, did his own serious damage below decks. Bloodied men were struggling to come up from below, but the sounds of fighting down there were savage. Anteaus finally appeared dragging a man with him, tossing him at St. Abelard's feet once the man boarded the Irish ship.

Anteaus pointed at him.

"He was hiding below, dressed like a lad," he said. "I do believe we have the captain."

St. Abelard glared down at the man at his feet. "You're not MacPhee," he said suspiciously. "Who are you?"

A young, pale man lifted his head and pulled off the hood of the cloak he was wearing. "MacPhee is dead," he said, spitting blood and eventually a tooth on the deck. "I'm Berkant."

St. Abelard frowned. "Berkant," he repeated as if it sounded familiar to him. "You're one of his crew, I think. Did I not see you in Dublin once? In that place down by the sea called the Wind and the Woman?"

He was referring to a tavern heavily visited by most of the pirates along the west coast of England, Wales, and Scotland. Somehow, the Wind and the Woman wasn't off-limits for them to visit as long as they spent a good deal of money. Berkant was rubbing his jaw where Anteaus had hit him, shrugging to the question.

"I've seen a lot of people," he said, mostly avoiding giving an answer. "Are you going to kill me now and take my ship?"

St. Abelard turned to look at the Argos , which hadn't sustained any real damage other than the sails. Then he looked at the boat they were standing on, stomping on the deck to test the sturdiness of the wood.

"Where is MacPhee?" he asked pointedly.

"I told you," Berkant said. "He's dead."

"Did you kill him?"

Berkant looked at him, irritated. "He died a month ago off the coast of Porto," he said. "The fleet is mine now. We fought for it and I won."

"Nay, you did not," St. Abelard said. " I did."

"What do you mean?"

"This ship is now mine!"

He motioned for his men to take Berkant and his men away, dragging them over to the Argos to meet a captive's fate. The English were swarming on the larger vessel, but St. Abelard had caught sight of other ships to the south during the battle and now could see them clearly. The bright red skeleton against the white sail told him exactly who it was.

"It looks as if the Demons have the other ship," he muttered. "Damn scavengers. This was my battle."

Sinclair had no idea what the man meant. He and Anteaus were standing together, trying to figure out what he was referring to, when Payne walked up carrying a sack that was full of something that was quite heavy. It was also making noise, and if Sinclair didn't know better, he would swear it was coin. Payne was pale from having been vomiting since yesterday, but the fight had energized him. So had the bag of coin. Like most warriors, he was happiest in a battle.

"Who are those fools?" he demanded, pointing toward the smaller ship off the stern. "I saw them come in from the east."

"The Demons of the Sea have arrived," St. Abelard muttered, watching the larger of the two Castilian ships approach the vessel they were standing on. Ropes began to fly over to the listing ship so they could come alongside and secure the ships from floating away from one another, but St. Abelard marched over to the starboard side and started shouting to them.

"This is my ship!" he boomed. "I'll let you have the smaller one, but this one is mine!"

Some men yelled back, speaking Spanish, and a few of them laughed. Somewhere in the crowd of Castilian pirates, a voice rose.

"I am disappointed that you do not wish to share with me, my old friend," said a man. "After I took care of the second ship attacking you, still, you will not share?"

St. Abelard recognized the voice but couldn't see the man who was calling to him. On his right, Sinclair was standing with his sword ready, and on his left, Payne and Anteaus were prepared to leap across the water and descend on the arrogant men who were evidently laughing at them, but St. Abelard held up a hand to ease them. He knew they wanted to fight, but there was no need now.

The very man he wanted to see had arrived.

"De Fernandez?" he called. "Show yourself!"

A short man with long, wavy black and silver hair came to the railing, waving at St. Abelard with a joyful smile on his face.

"It is good to see you!" he said. "It has been a long time!"

St. Abelard's lips twitched with a smile. "That is because you have been gone a very long time," he said. "Now you are home, and look what I have given you—a new ship to take with you."

He was pointing to the second, smaller Irish cog, and Santiago acknowledged it with a firm nod of his head.

"I accept," he said. "I am coming over to see you!"

St. Abelard shrugged. He supposed one ship was as good as another to meet. He stood back as the Castilian sailors began to use their ropes to pull the ships closer together.

"The devil has appeared, de Reyne," he said in a low voice. "Be prepared to tell the man what you want quickly. Do not waste his time."

Sinclair nodded, watching the Castilians as they began to vault over the side of their ship and onto the Irish cog. St. Abelard ordered his English pirates back onto the Argos because whenever two pirate factions were too close to one another, it was inevitable that a fight would break out, and he didn't want that happening. As his men went back about their ship, more Castilians came onto the cog, including Santiago. He went straight to St. Abelard and embraced him like one would a long-lost brother.

"My dear man," Santiago said, patting St. Abelard on the cheek. "You have sent for me and here I am. Did you send for me just to help you with the Irish?"

St. Abelard snorted. "The Irish were most unexpected," he said. "But thank you for your assistance, and you are welcome for your new ship."

Santiago glanced off to the southwest where the ship was bobbing in the current. "Not as grand as this ship, but it will do," he said, returning his attention to St. Abelard. "Now that I have come, tell me what you wish to speak of. How can I be of assistance?"

He was to the point and so was St. Abelard. He pointed to Sinclair. "This man serves my cousin at the Blackchurch Guild," he said. "He is one of their trainers, a man known as the finest swordsman in all of England. He was also a master knight at Kenilworth, so he is highly skilled, highly trained. This man is an elite among elites and from a good family. Now that I have introduced you properly, I will let him tell you why you have been summoned."

All eyes turned to Sinclair as he faced a man who looked more like a merchant or someone's grandfather than a pirate, but here was Santiago de Fernandez in the flesh. This was the moment he'd been waiting for and it had come swiftly.

But he was prepared.

"My lord," he said, dipping his head in a show of respect. "I come on behalf of your cousin, Elisiana de Fernandez y de Verra. She is in distress, my lord. She hoped you could help. I hope you can help. That is why I asked Abelard for help securing an audience with you."

The mention of Elisiana changed Santiago's demeanor immediately. He went from smiling at St. Abelard to being instantly concerned with the subject matter. Sinclair could see a deadly flicker in those dark eyes that hadn't been there before, something that hinted at who this man was and what he was capable of.

The Demon of the Sea.

"What's this?" Santiago said. "What has happened to my dear Lisi?"

Before he answered, Sinclair quickly turned to Payne. "Clear everyone off this ship," he muttered. "This is conversation between me and Santiago alone and I may only have one chance, so move everyone. Quickly."

Payne nodded and turned to Anteaus, whispering the orders. They swiftly moved away and began shouting at the men, moving them away from Sinclair and St. Abelard and Santiago. Abruptly, everyone was moving off the ship, heading back where they belonged, and when Sinclair was satisfied, he turned to Santiago.

"Apologies, my lord," he said. "I do not think we need an audience for this."

" What has happened to Lisi?" Santiago demanded.

Sinclair could see how anxious the man was. Good , he thought. This may yet go in my favor.

But he wasn't counting on it.

"If you will allow me to briefly describe the situation first," Sinclair said. "Lisi and I met because she had run away from home. Her father is forcing her to marry a man of his choosing, a man most foul. He has not been respectful or even kind to Elisiana. Because of this, and because of her father's refusal to break the betrothal, Lisi ran away and ended up in Exebridge."

Santiago was frowning. "Adriano is forcing her to marry?" he said. "Why is he doing this?"

Sinclair shook his head. "I do not know," he said. "But Elisiana does not like this man. She cannot even tolerate him and, as I said, he has been most crude with her. When I met her, we were friendly at first. Simply polite conversation. But… Well, to explain it concisely, we wish to be married, but her brother found where she had been hiding and took her back to Fremington. Most violently, I might add, because she put up a fight. I have come to you in the hope that you would intercede. Truly, my lord, you are our only hope, and if you believe Elisiana should be married to a man who adores her and who will always be good to her, then I hope you will, indeed, intercede on our behalf. And that is why I have come. Thank you for listening."

There it was, all wrapped up neatly for Santiago to process. But it wasn't the conversation he was expecting, so he appeared a bit baffled at first. He looked between St. Abelard and Sinclair before it finally began to sink in.

" Who is this man that has been forced upon mi corazon ?" he asked.

"His name is Adolph de Rade," Sinclair said. "He is a knight with the Earl of Lincoln, but he is also the stepson of Elisiana's Uncle Robert."

"De Norbury?" Santiago said, aghast. " That man?"

"Aye, that man."

Santiago made a face. "I never liked him," he said, rather forcefully. "He is greedy. He sees what his sister has and he covets it. But why should Adriano betroth his daughter to his wife's son? Surely there are far better prospects out there for the daughter of a conde castellano ."

"I do not know, my lord," Sinclair said. "All I know is that it was so terrible, Elisiana ran away from it. But her brother found her several days ago and had to fight to take her back to Fremington. It was a terrible scene. For all I know, she has already been forced to wed de Rade, so time is of the essence. I pray you consider helping us. Please."

Santiago was already nodding. " Si , of course," he said. "But what do you want me to do?"

Sinclair shrugged. "If they are not already married, then convince Adriano to break the betrothal," he said. "I know you do not know me, my lord, but St. Denis de Bottreaux can vouch for my character. So can anyone at Kenilworth Castle. I may not have a great title, or great wealth, but I will be a good husband to Elisiana. She is a very special woman, my lord, although I'm sure I do not have to tell you that."

Santiago's gaze drifted over him. "Special enough that you want to break her betrothal and marry her?"

"Aye, my lord, that is the idea."

"What if they are already married?"

St. Abelard had asked him the same question. Sinclair could do nothing more than shrug. "I do not suppose I could convince you to take him prisoner and drop him in the sea somewhere?" he said. Then he grinned weakly. "I did not mean that. Forgive me."

"That is the greatest thing you have said yet," Santiago said, elbowing St. Abelard. "Take this man and drop him in the sea? I have done more with less provocation. Of course I will rid you of him. I will be happy to."

Sinclair chuckled. "I did not mean to sign the man's death warrant," he said. "All I want is to separate them. What he does with his life does not concern me so long as it does not involve Elisiana. And although I do not have wealth that you are accustomed to, I will pay you for your efforts. Any agreement we can come to will be satisfactory with me."

Santiago looked him up and down. "Payment?" he said, grinning. Then he pointed to the smaller Irish cog. "I have already received my payment. Abelard is giving me this cog for my troubles. But I should have somewhere to keep it. Someplace safe."

St. Abelard snorted. "Take it up the River Taw like you do the rest of your vessels," he said. "You are not so clever that I did not know about your ships, Santiago."

"I was not thinking about the mouth of the river," Santiago said as he turned to him. "I was thinking of Lundy Island."

Immediately, St. Abelard scowled. "That is my island."

Santiago shrugged. "You have brought this man to me seeking my help," he said. "And I helped you with the Irish bastardos . I would think you would want to show me a measure of friendship and let me take my ships to Lundy Island. The river is so dirty—and the ships drag the bottom at low tide."

Sinclair looked at St. Abelard, trying to keep the pleading expression off his face, but St. Abelard saw it anyway. He clenched his teeth angrily.

"It is my island ," he repeated.

"I know, mi amigo ," Santiago said soothingly. He wanted something and knew butting heads with St. Abelard wasn't going to get it, so he was trying to sound sympathetic. "Let me have the western side and I swear I will not bother you. We can both have the island and it will be well protected from those Irish. And also from the French. They are a thorn in my side and I know they want the Fountainebleau returned. I will help you protect it."

Those were the magic words for St. Abelard. Someone to help him protect his prize? How could he refuse? "The French are dogs," he said flatly. "I hate every one of them."

"And they hate you," Santiago said, rather dramatically. "Let me help you protect your beautiful French ship. It seems like a small price to pay for me to help your cousin's man, eh?"

St. Abelard was verging on a tantrum again. He looked at Sinclair, jabbing a finger at him. "This is your fault," he said. "You did this!"

Sinclair struggled to keep a straight face. "But think of what you have gotten out of this deal already, my lord," he said. "Not only will Lord Santiago help you protect your island, but Lord Exmoor has given you the cog you very much wanted. It was certainly worth the deal, was it not?"

St. Abelard didn't think so but kept his mouth shut. He was wise enough, and experienced enough, to know how deals were made. He was still shaking his finger at Sinclair, without further berating him, before turning to Santiago.

"There is a big cove on the west side that you may use," he said. "But station no men on the island. And I expect fifty pounds a year in tribute!"

Santiago laughed. "There, you see?" he said. "It was not so painful for you to be friendly. I will give you the first year's tribute today, my greedy friend."

St. Abelard grumbled and stomped away, heading back to his ship, as Santiago continued to laugh at him. As St. Abelard climbed over the railing to the Argos and his men prepared to set sail, Santiago called after him.

"Where are you going?" he said.

St. Abelard scowled at him, leaning on the rail. "Home!" he said. "My work here is done. I promised to bring the two of you together and I have done that, so take that ungrateful, lovesick man with you and good riddance to you all!"

Santiago's laughter returned. "Do you not want to come?" he said. "We could work together, you and I!"

St. Abelard waved him off brusquely. "I am going home !"

Santiago continued to smile, waving at him as if waving at his best friend in the world. He even blew kisses, clearly making fun of him. The Castilians were having a good laugh at St. Abelard's expense. As the Argos began to pull away, heading back to her base near Minehead, Santiago returned his attention to Sinclair.

For a moment, he studied the man, looking him over again, perhaps trying to determine just how sincere he was about Elisiana and the betrothal. But that was a foolish thought because he could see it in the man's eyes.

He was missing something he very much wanted returned to him.

"Now," Santiago said quietly, "come with me, on my ship. We are going back to Fremington. I will see what my cousin has done with my lovely Lisi and why he is forcing her to marry this disgusting man."

Sinclair felt a surge of hope. "Thank you," he said with sincerity. "I shall forever be in your debt."

Santiago looked down at the big hand that was holding the enormous, bloodied sword. He may have presented a jovial, kind appearance, but that was far from the case. He was as sharp as a razor when it came to things he needed or wanted.

And it was possible that he wanted something.

"You are a swordsman, you say?" he said.

"Aye, my lord."

"Then mayhap you will pledge that sword to me to pay that debt."

"If you require it, it shall be yours."

That response made Santiago very happy. With a big smile, he clapped Sinclair on the shoulder and indicated his ship.

"I have a plan to get to Lisi," he said. "Come with me and we shall discuss it."

With Payne and Anteaus in tow, Sinclair became the guest of the Demons of the Sea.