‘Putain d’enfer!’
The beach is empty. Loup, Ver and Poilu exchange an uneasy look as Lucien Grimaud paces angrily in front of them. ‘Why would they take him?’ he whirls to confront his own crew with this question. They shrug and shake their heads. They do not want to speak aloud their own conclusions – Odysseus is either dead or held for ransom. Most likely dead.
They are standing on the beach inside the Wrecks cove. They sailed from the coves south of La Rochelle searching for the Belladonna. Lucien put men high in the rigging to search the seas but there were no sightings. Whatever cargo that ship was waiting for had been delivered. The ship was gone, returning to some unknown port, although Lucien, knowing the Belladonna was a ship belonging to the Ogre in Hispaniola, assumed that was the Belladonna’s destination. But he also assumed the captain of the Belladonna would return his sailing master, leaving him on the beach to find his way eventually back to the Aigle.
But Odysseus is not on the beach. Loup points to the headlands, ‘I believe that is Benoit.’ A man is hurrying down the path leading from the headland to the beach, moving quickly over a steep but familiar trail.
‘Good to see you Lucien. We did not expect you,’ Benoit exclaims.
‘I don’t suppose you know the whereabouts of my sailing master,’ Lucien ignores pleasant greetings to dive into his problem.
‘Odysseus? Was he on the Belladonna? ’ Benoit quickly assesses the problem, ‘Odysseus did not land with the long boats that took away three passengers.’
‘Merde!’ Lucien curses and rakes a hand through his hair, ignoring the information about three passengers. ‘Did you see their direction?’
‘Straight out to sea,’ Benoit says, ‘there was a storm, as you know. You must have been caught in it too. They could not stay or risk being driven on the rocks.’
‘Why not leave Odysseus?’ Lucien demands, ‘what captain steals a sailing master?’
‘It was a bad storm Lucien and how would Odysseus seek shelter on this beach?’
‘You have an answer for everything Benoit,’ Lucien mutters sarcastically, ‘was he even allowed the beach?’ Benoit makes a small smile, ‘I do not mean to be irritating.’ He knows Lucien’s affection for the young Greek sailor. ‘May I ask how he ended up on the Belladona?’
‘He thought to secure some mutual cooperation against the Spanish,’ Loup explains. ‘The situation took a turn before he could return to the Aigle,’
‘So, he may be well, alive and safe on the Belladonna.’
‘A ship likely going to Hispaniola, ‘ Lucien snaps, ‘he should be alive and well on the Aigle! Who is this damned captain of the Belladonna?’
‘Someone must know him,’ Benoit ventures, ‘perhaps in …’
‘St Malo,’ Lucien says, facing a northerly direction. ‘That is where we go next.’
⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️
‘Peter!’ Lucien Grimaud crosses the tavern and takes the tall Englishman into a hearty embrace. ‘Are you meeting Elizabeth?’ He refers to the captain of the Sa Revanche, with whom Captain Peter Eastman often sails in consort.
‘I was to meet her but delayed by a bad blow and now I fear I have missed her.’
‘She may have been caught in the same and be here yet,’ Lucien signal to the serving woman. ‘Did Elizabeth locate her husband? Peter Eastman nods, ‘I believe he is in a prison barge in the Thames estuary.’
‘Ugh, poor man,’ Lucien commiserates. ‘Can we buy him out or do we actually have to go and make a lot of noise and kill someone.’ Eastman grunts, ‘I hope it is the former.’ He narrows his eyes at Lucien, ‘this is your fault. Promising her to help her get her husband back.’ Lucien shrugs, ‘we needed her help in the Cantabrian. I even paid for a dress!’ he complains.
‘A beautiful dress as I recall,’ Eastman mocks a deadpan expression, ‘and yet not enough to convince her to come into battle with us! I am shocked.’
‘No! I still had to promise more. I didn’t realize she liked this husband,’ Lucien grumbles. Eastman grunts, ‘most inconvenient.’
‘How did the unloading go in Rouen?’ Lucien changes the topic and for a few minutes they discuss business, Simon Magus as their business agent in Rouen and the cargo.
‘I had a drink with Jacques before I left Rouen. He told me an interesting story about how my father got his letter of marque and the setup with our warehouses,’ Eastman says watching Lucien for his reaction, ‘I did not know the story and think you may not either.’ Lucien shrugs and indicates he should continue. Quickly, Eastman summarizes the story while Lucien listens without interruption. Eastman identifies only Richelieu in this tale, but Lucien sees also the hand of Benito de Soto. He listens quietly and says nothing except for a wry expression and a sarcastic chuckle. There will be time later to turn this information over and place it within a larger frame.
‘I shall go and settle in and wait for Elizabeth.’
‘Are you staying at my house?’
Eastman shakes his head, ‘I have a room at Caterina’s and will stay closer to the harbor. Do not worry Lucien,’ he has a sarcastic tone, ‘I will ensure you miss none of the fun in the Thames estuary!’
‘Before you go, what was your sense of the query on Guerin Spranger? Seems an unusual business for him to be in.’
‘I thought the same. He must have encountered setbacks raising investors for the colony.’
‘Auguste and Theo discovered a similar land sale near the bay of Aiguillon. My mother’s lands run close to another’s in that area,’ Lucien says. ‘I thought…’ he breaks off, ‘I will be damned…’ he mutters and stands abruptly, his chair flying backwards. He is across the room before Peter Eastman can register what Lucien is doing. Three Aigle crewmen are crossing the tavern, between them a man clearly not under his own power, his arms imprisoned by Fou on one side and Crotte on the other.
‘Look who we found Cap’n!’ Poilu chortles happily, ‘our old friend from Cadiz and Hispaniola, Sr Ambrosio de Ariasa!’
‘Sr de Ariasa,’ Lucien grips the arm of the tall, well-dressed mulatto man. ‘Me parece que me encuentro contigo en lugares inverosímiles.’
‘What is unlikely about meeting in St Malo?’ M de Ariasa asks archly, ‘for the two of us?’ He dislodges his arm cautiously from Crotte and Fou’s grip, careful not to show the slightest movement toward his weapons.
‘What brings you here?’ de Ariasa asks in a pleasant tone, deciding obedience is the best course and follows Lucien’s direction. He walks to the table, taking out a silk handkerchief to brush off the chair. He bows to Captain Eastman who regards him silently and unsmiling. Eastman turns to Lucien, ‘I will see you later.’
What brings you here?’ Lucien counters to Sr de Ariasa.
‘Land,’ de Ariasa answers cryptically, ‘now, again – why are you here?’
‘What land?’
‘Parcels represented by M Kryle, you must remember him.’
‘I do,’ Lucien replies, ‘I saw him recently in La Rochelle. You expect him here?’
‘He moves around to see his agents. So, what brings you to St Malo?’
‘A captain,’ Lucien replies brusquely. ‘A captain?’ de Ariasa repeats, ‘what captain.’
‘A captain of the Belladona.’
‘Hmm,’ de Ariasa looks around for the serving woman, stalling for a little time to compose his answer. Lucien sees through his ploy. ‘What is it?’ he asks. ‘I thought it was the Frisian Wijard, but clearly it was not Wijard.
‘How could you…’
‘Stop!’ Lucien interrupts impatiently, ‘do not waste time. It was not Wijard. You know the outcome of the fight with the Spanish galleons. The Belladonna took one as a prize.’
The look on de Ariasa’s face tells Lucien he already knows this news. He concludes that the Ogre had watchers on the headlands too…or else Raoul told him as it was Raoul who arranged for the Belladonna to take Henri and Agnes Bernard away. He frowns to himself – why would Raoul bother to tell de Ariasa?
‘Yes,’ de Ariasa replies in a delicate tone, ‘we do not think Wijard is currently captain of the Belladonna.’ Lucien waits, drumming his fingers on the table, his eyes fixed on Sr de Ariasa. ‘We?’ Sr de Ariasa shrugs but does not elaborate.
‘The quartermaster is captain now?’ Lucien suggests, mocking a delicate tone. Sr de Ariasa hesitates a fraction too long and Lucien frowns … a mutiny and not the quartermaster as captain… but before he can follow up de Ariasa decides to speak frankly.
‘Not every sailor appreciates a decisive character like Captain Wijard demonstrates…’
‘You mean they object to the daily floggings as being good for their character,’ Lucien mutters. De Araisa murmurs, ‘no doubt that played into events.’
‘Who led the mutiny?’
‘A man about to be flogged, who had been flogged previously for no obvious infractions other than being a young helmsman,’ Sr de Ariasa, ‘he offered his opinions too freely for Captain Wijard’s liking.’
‘A helmsman is to advise – tactics in battle, all manner of handling the ship, it is part of his duties. That is not a matter of insubordination!’ Lucien exclaims. ‘The helmsman was in the right of it and his quartermaster was obligated to speak up for him.’ He pointed a finger at de Ariasa, ‘we are not royal navy, thanks be to heaven. We do not blindly follow idiots promoted not for merit but because of who their father is or who they are married to.’
‘Was it right for him to encourage mutiny?’ de Ariasa sputters.
‘Pfft,’ Lucien scoffs, ‘I will warrant the men were primed for it and little encouragement needed.’
‘Apparently the crew agreed with you, as they named him captain, put the crew who remained loyal to Wijard in a longboat and sent them to shore. They were off the African coast.’
‘Wijard swung from a yardarm?’
‘No, but he was not put in the longboat. He is apparently still on board the ship, in the hold I presume.’
‘He deserved the yardarm,’ Lucien declares. ‘The captain of the Belladonna is a good seaman, leads his crew well and he took one of the galleons as a prize. A young man on the way.’
‘You speak forcefully in defense of this mutineer captain,’ de Ariasa says with irony, ‘you do not even know him.’
‘I know how he thinks and how he sails,’ Lucien says, ‘I need nothing more. What will the Ogre do with him?’
De Ariasa shrugs, ‘I do not know. It is not the Ogre’s way to forgive mutineers in the fleet.’
‘Tell that captain that he has a place with me. Although I want my sailing master back first,’ Lucien thumps his fist on the table, ‘I will take him and his ships into my fleet.’
‘I am not sure the Ogre would appreciate that message,’ de Ariasa chuckles. Lucien scoffs, ‘what makes you think I worry about the Ogre’s appreciation?’ De Ariasa holds up a placating hand. ‘I have enjoyed our chat, but I must be off. Allow me to pay for our drinks. I am glad…’ he glances at Lucien’s men ringing the table still staring at him, ‘I am glad we … had a chance to meet.’
Sr de Ariasa pulls out a soft pouch of coin and tosses it to the table. A few coins slip from the opening forming a small pile on the table. Lucien glances at the coins, his hand holding the tankard stopping midair. He sets it down, still staring at the coins. He sorts the coins with his forefinger, separating out a large round coin stamped with the profile of the Spanish King. In the gloom of the tavern, it glows gold.
‘Spanish doubloon,’ Lucien says almost in an absent tone. ‘Who pays for a drink in St Malo with gold Spanish coins?’
De Ariasa shrugs, ‘I do. My employer paid me in doubloons,’ he answers with a smug smile.
‘The Ogre pays you in gold?’ Lucien mocks incredulity.
‘Not directly,’ de Ariasa explains patiently, ‘the lawyer for the Ogre pays me and sometimes there are doubloons.’
Lucien is studying the coin his mind racing back in time … it cannot be …. His gold stolen in Le Havre … it is not common to see Spanish gold. He looks up at de Ariasa.
‘You have moved up in the world Sr, if Spanish doubloons are crossing your palm.’
De Ariasa straightens proudly, lifting his chin, ‘I was rewarded for my service.’ He leans forward with a self-assured air, ‘I was honored to be taken as a guest to an exclusive establishment for many diverse entertainments, including gambling tables. My patron gave me gold to use. You can imagine how well received we were.’
Lucien raises an admiring brow, ‘you must tell me of this place. I may want to visit it myself.’
‘It is, I am sad to say by invitation only. An elegant Spanish noblewoman is the proprietress, with an exclusive clientele. It is rumored even the King has visited Madame Zola’s. My host is an important lawyer in Paris – M Giraldo de los Reyes and he…’
… Madame Zola … sister to his former lover, Madeleine, mother of his bastard son Gabriel…Lucien hears nothing more and it is by sheer force of will that he shows no reaction to Madame Zola and Giraldo de los Reyes, other than mild curiosity. ‘I know that name, but I cannot place it.’
‘Sr De los Reyes represents the Ogre on many business ventures.’ De Ariasa shrugs, haughty with his important Paris associations.
Lucien stays silent, rolling the gold coin absently through his fingers, his mind working and in one of those strange ways in which seemingly unrelated events suddenly connect, Lucien asks, ‘who is the lawyer M Kryle works with the documentation for buying and selling land parcels?’
‘Why the same man,’ Sr de Ariasa does not realize the significance of the connection, ‘Sr De los Reyes.’
Benito worked with Giraldo de los Reyes, a consummate broker of goods and a master forger turning stolen merchandise into legitimate goods and business ventures for the long dead Comte de Wardes. De los Reyes’ name had also come up when he helped Layla trace her dead husband’s estate … but he shoves the thought of that sham marriage away. If the man were not already dead… But, clearly, de Ariasa has no idea who he works for, and it is not the Ogre in Hispaniola…
…the bluest water he ever knew, hot sun beating down, his skin burning under his shirt, the long low plantation house, shaded by heavy palms, breathing in the intoxicating scents of tropical flowers. The Ogre gave him a cool drink, spicy and fragrant, Benito clapping a proprietary hand on his shoulder, ‘Lucien is the one I spoke of … the Ogre smiling, ‘you will have a great legacy…’
He wonders if Benito would have, one day, told him everything. It had always been complicated between them – bonded in a way of life. There were arguments, loyalties tested, sometimes hate, more often love as between a father and a son. Lucien shakes his head to clear it … he cannot jump to conclusions… he must think this through.
Abruptly, he stands up, ‘I thank you for the drink Sr de Ariasa.’ He turns to his men, ‘please escort Sr De Ariasa to his rooms. As you know Sr, the streets of Saint Malo can be dangerous at night.’
⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️
Gray scudding clouds drift across the starry night, the moon appearing and disappearing. Tavern, laughter and music weave through the narrow dark streets in rhythm with the clouds. Lucien walks slowly, hands clasped behind his back, his mind working over what he learned tonight. He has yet to map it properly in time and with other events before, after or concurrently. Occupied with this puzzle, he does not hear what otherwise would have brought him immediately to full alert.
A dull clink of steel on steel, men grunting, the slid of feet on cobblestones. A man cries out in pain. He stops and turns his head to set the direction of the fight clearly underway. It seems one street over from where he is standing. An alleyway is directly ahead of him. He considers, there is always a fight somewhere in St Malo … he wants to go home, put up his feet before a warm fire, pour out a glass of good wine and sift through the information…but he could at least take a look. He walks into the alleyway.
One man cloaked and wearing a strange hat is confronting a group of attackers. He has managed to get his back to a wall. He is a foreigner foolish enough to walk the dark streets of a pirate city. Lucien shakes his head and watches for a moment, thinking the man is more than a capable swordsman, two men are down already. Perhaps the funny hatted foreigner does not need him … when two more attackers appear from the shadows of the building. So, Lucien concludes these bastards have come prepared with reinforcements. Lucien blows out a breath – that is hardly fair. The attackers are facing their victim. Lucien draws his sword and pokes the back of a man closest to him. He whirls, shocked to find Lucien behind him.
‘What the…’ he barks at the man next to him, ‘we have another! You should leave,’ the man shouts angrily at Lucien. ‘You do not care about some picaroon merchant!’
‘I’ll take you two first,’ Lucien says briskly not waiting for them to set their stance or weapons. A quick series of steps, sword moving and dagger slashing and only one remains standing, bleeding from a cut to his side.
‘I know you!’ the man says to Lucien trying to circle, taking a deep thrusting lunge and swipe with the dagger.
‘Of course you do,’ Lucien replies batting away his thrust and leaning back from the dagger. ‘I am getting bored, when do you start fighting?’
‘This fight is not your business,’ the man cries.
‘Everything here is my business!’ Lucien roars, attacking fast and viciously, slashing the man’s neck and leaps into the fight to take on two more.
Twelve Years After 