The Pirate and the Pagan

by Virginia Henley

  She climbed the cliff to Roseland, put on a pair of old breeches and boots, and rode Ebony down to the beach. By the time she got there, the races were ostensibly over and those who had bet on the Earl of Bristol were counting their winnings.

  Ruark came over and took hold of her bridle; he knew she was up to mischief.

  “Lord Helford, I challenge you to a race.” Her voice rang out clearly and sparked a great deal of interest from the guests. Those who had whispered about her being pregnant were now not quite so sure of their facts. Those who had whispered about the Helford’s great love match were also not quite sure of their facts.

  “Think you that misbegotten bag of bones can beat Ebony?” she challenged.

  Most thought Lord Helford would not take his young wife seriously, but the King murmured to Barbara, “Helford’s got a hell of a pair of balls; I think he’ll take her up on it.”

  “How much have I won, my lord Buckingham?”

  “Eight thousand,” he said, enjoying himself immensely. One of them would be beaten and brought low; it mattered not to him which.

  Helford said, “You have the advantage, madame, Titan has already run three races.” She smiled her secret smile. “I know.”

  He bowed in acceptance and took Titan’s reins from the Earl of Bristol.

  “Double the course … there and back,” Summer’s voice rang out.

  Once more he nodded, but his eyes narrowed at her behavior. She was aware of Ruark’s temper, but heeded not the warning signs. They lined up at the starting post and as the flag was dropped Summer shot ahead of Ruark. She had her heart set on winning sixteen thousand pounds and wiping out the mortgage. She had confidence that they could win if they put their hearts into it, for they had made this run almost every day of their lives. Ebony was fresh and he carried only half the weight that Titan labored under.

  She knew she was going to make the turn ahead of him. Elated, she glanced back and her eyes fell upon his hands. He held the reins strongly in check—he was actually holding Titan back! Her blood began to sing in her veins … he was going to let her win! In that moment she realized just how much she still loved him. Then he came up level beside her and shouted, “The loser comes to the winner’s bed tonight.”

  She looked at him in disbelief. “Go to hell!” she shouted angrily, and dug her heels into Ebony’s sides.

  It was very simple really. All he did was give Titan his head and the powerful Irish Thoroughbred did the rest. He thundered past her just before she crossed the finish line. Summer’s heart plummeted with her disappointment. Not only had she not won the sixteen thousand, but she had lost the eight thousand she had accumulated so easily that day. Ruark’s maddening words echoed in her brain: “All or nothing at all.”

  Gallant Jack Grenvile lifted her down from the saddle and a small knot of the men who had been championing her gathered about her protectively. She gave them a gay smile and said, laughing, “In the end I couldn’t shame my husband before such grand company.”

  They knew her horse had been defeated fairly, but there wasn’t a man there who wouldn’t have thrown the race to win her favor. She gave a rueful little shrug to Buckingham. “Since I called the tune, I’ll have to pay the piper. See that Lord Helford gets whatever I owe him.”

  As he watched her walk away Buckingham thought she would most likely give Helford one hell of a lot more than she owed him before she was finished.

  Barbara Castlemaine lounged in the tent pavilion, sipping champagne and eating oysters with Bess Maitland. As Summer came to get a drink Barbara called, “I’m surprised a rustic farm girl like you came such a cropper. Perhaps you bit off more than you could chew when you took on Helford for husband.” She whispered something amusing to her coarse companion and they went off in peals of laughter.

  “Unlike yours, my husband is somewhat old-fashioned. My husband would kill me if I cuckolded him. I hear your friend Anna Maria was dragged home in disgrace; her husband must be old-fashioned, too.”

  Barbara’s eyes narrowed and Bess Maitland was all agog to find out the gossip on the Countess of Shrewsbury.

  * * *

  The King was a very strong swimmer who had to content himself with a dip in the Thames when he was in London, but today he took advantage of a calm ocean where the water was warmed by the gulf stream. Charles, Ruark, and a half-dozen of their friends swam out quite a distance and some of the more daring and adventurous ladies removed their shoes and stockings so they could wade.

  Seabirds and kittywakes joined the party hoping for handouts, and daring seals and otters swam in close out of curiosity. Summer’s heart ached. She wanted to swim out to sea and never return. She was a good swimmer but she’d raised enough eyebrows for one afternoon without disrobing and plunging into the briny.

  The King came out of the sea and toweled himself vigorously. All the men except Ruark were coming out now and she shaded her eyes against the late-afternoon sun as she watched his head bob up and down behind the waves. Charles saw her pensive look and joined her. “He’s very like you, you know; reckless to a fault.” She smiled at the King, but it was a decidedly sad smile. “I can’t remember when I’ve enjoyed a few days away from my responsibilities so much. If there’s ever anything I can do for you, Summer, please come to me. Oh, I know you don’t need me when you have Helford. He’ll guard you with his life and you’ll never want for anything, of course. Still, life sometimes has unexpected twists. Some of the missions I send him on are fraught with danger….” The King’s voice trailed off as if he had said too much. She looked up at the swarthy face with its black eyes and narrow mustache. He had a glowing charm which warmed her heart. Was he just reminding her that dealing with smugglers was hazardous for a magistrate or had he been trying to warn her that Helford was involved in a more dangerous game, like spying perhaps? Where had he been last week? she wondered. Where would he go next week? Before the trouble between them, he had hinted he would have to spend a great deal of time away from her. He hadn’t confided in her, even when they had been so close and lovingly intimate. Why should she care? She had enough things to worry about, thanks to his high-and-mightiness. He could go to hell for all she cared!

  She saw that the grooms had finished feeding the horses and were taking them back up to Helford Hall, so she took Ebony from the groom leading him and once again tethered him in one of the isolated yew walks. Her conscience told her that she should not play the role of the Black Cat again tonight, but she told herself fiercely that Helford had made it her only way out. Not a copper penny of his money would she ever have again, he’d told her, and this afternoon he’d proven his words. God rot his eyes!

  The beach picnic was a huge success. They dined on lobster dipped in drawn butter, baked clams, and the salmon the men had caught yesterday, wrapped in herbs and leaves and baked on great stones in the bonfires. For those who did not care for fish, whole young boars were roasted in pits dug out of the sand.

  As darkness descended they gathered round the fires and sang sea chanties, bawdy drinking songs, and the latest songs from the London theaters.

  Only about half of the guests found a need for cards this evening. Gambling was a compulsion with them and of course the card tables were set up for their pleasure. But most of the company stayed late upon the beach, hating to leave the idyll and the informality of dining and singing out in the open.

  Summer was very restless. Now that she had decided to play highwayman again she wished they would all start to say their goodbyes. There were a couple of things she could do, however, to make use of her time. She bade a footman take a hogshead of ale to the waiting coachmen and she looked about her to decide who her victims would be.

  She decided she could stop only two coaches, more would be hazardous. Lauderdale and Buckingham were the King’s traveling companions and stopping His Majesty’s coach was naturally out of the question. She didn’t want to stop a coach that had too many passengers; she couldn’t watch them and control them a
ll at once. Jack and Bunny Grenvile and their wives were traveling together and the ladies had brought their maids, so their coach was eliminated. What she needed was a woman traveling alone and preferably not Barbara Castlemaine.

  She stepped into the salon to watch the gambling and her eyes immediately fell on the Duchess of Buckingham with her pudgy turned-up nose. What a damned hypocrite the woman is, thought Summer. She must have been brought up to be a pious Parliamentarian if her father was one of Cromwell’s generals, and yet there she sat, addicted to cards and married to one of the most profligate men at Court. Summer watched her rake in about five hundred crowns with her greedy hands and marked her down for a rendezvous with the Black Cat. Of course with Buckingham and Lauderdale escorting the King, the duchess and countess would again be sharing a carriage.

  “Sweetheart, come an’ bring me luck.” Harry Killigrew beckoned to Summer.

  She strolled over to the table of men and gave him one of her prettiest smiles. Gad, how could he win so consistently when he was rolling drunk? No wonder they called him Wild Harry! She picked up a decanter of port from the wine table and refilled his glass. Suddenly she felt a hand caress her bottom. For a moment she couldn’t credit it. While Harry was feeling her bottom with one hand, he was laying out a winning hand of cards with the other, and all the while so disguised, he sat at a forty-five-degree tilt.

  Summer spoke to a friend of his, Henry Jermyn, who was a particular friend of the royal family and was rumored to have been on the point of marrying the King’s sister Mary. “Will he be all right?” she murmured.

  “Perfectly, Lady Helford. His back teeth are awash every night of his life. His man is used to pouring him into bed. Can’t play cards worth a damn unless he’s three sheets to the wind.”

  “His man?” echoed Summer.

  “Little chap, valet, driver … mothers him completely.”

  “He needs smothering not mothering.” Summer laughed. She could afford to laugh; she’d just found her other mark!

  Suddenly an authoritative voice behind her said, “I think you are flown with wine, madame. Perhaps you should seek your room, Lady Helford.” She turned, a sharp rejoinder on her lips, as she saw Charles and Ruark had come in together. She realized what she must look like standing laughing with the men, a wine decanter in her hand and Wild Harry’s hand hovering about her bottom. Being sent to her room suited her plan so well that instead of indignation, she put her hand to her head and said, “I am only a little dizzy.” She bowed with exaggerated dignity to the King and said owlishly, “With your permission, Sire.”

  He smiled down at her, thanked her for her wondrous hospitality, and bade her goodbye.

  She carefully locked her chamber door, stripped off her female garments, and replaced them with her male attire. She made sure her pistol was charged and that she had extra balls and powder, then she glanced in the mirror. Good heavens, she’d forgotten to take off her makeup! She carefully washed her face, affixed the black mustache, then took her saddlebags out on the balcony and dropped them into the garden below. She went back into the room, pulled on her gloves and wide-brimmed hat, blew out all the candles, and prepared to follow her saddlebags.

  Halfway down the ivy, she froze against the wall as she heard laughter and male voices. She was weak with relief when she realized some of the men had come into the garden to relieve themselves. Coarseness comes naturally to men, she told herself, they’ll piss anywhere!

  Deep in the secluded yew walk, she untethered Ebony and spoke to him softly as she strapped the bags on either side of her saddle. Each step was familiar tonight and she found that she was not trembling, nor were the palms of her hands wet. Her heartbeat was slightly accelerated, however, and she could hear it drumming in her ears. She decided to ride down the road toward Falmouth a couple of miles. If she stayed on Helford property, the carriages might come too close together for comfort.

  She went slowly, quietly, and all the while her eyes were adjusting to the light. In the yew walks it had seemed pitch black, but now that she was becoming accustomed, she was amazed at how well she could see everything. She heard a coach approaching and walked Ebony into a stand of trees until she identified it. As she had assumed, the first coach held the King and his escorts. Four servants rode outside the coach with the driver and by their loud gibes at each other she could tell they were well oiled. She should not have too long to wait for the Duchess of Buckingham and the Countess of Lauderdale. In about ten minutes she saw a black coach approaching at a fast clip.

  Summer rode out from the trees onto the road and then she realized with horror it was Castlemaine’s carriage. Swiftly she galloped back into the trees, but not without startling the coachman so much he swerved the coach and pulled back on the reins. An angry tirade came from inside the carriage. “You stupid pricklouse, you almost tipped us over! What the hell is the matter with you, man?”

  “Forgive me, my lady, I swear the horses were spooked by what looked like a headless horseman. I swear it must have been a ghost rider, my lady.”

  “What piss and piffle!” shouted Barbara. “If you can’t stay sober when you drive me, I’ll replace you. Do you have your pistol ready in case your ghost turns out to be a highway robber?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said the driver, cocking his pistol.

  “Then proceed and don’t spare the horses! I knew I should have ridden with the King.”

  Ebony stood motionless in the shadows as Summer stroked his neck and whispered so that his ears pricked at the familiar voice. It would have been such a tactical mistake to hold up Barbara, for like Summer she had a reckless nature and might on the spur of the moment challenge a highwayman. Either that or proposition him, chuckled Summer, then where would she be? Also Barbara was so shrewd, Summer didn’t feel confident enough to play the man in front of her. She was vastly relieved to see the back of Barbara Castlemaine this night.

  In a very short time, perhaps only five minutes, another coach came ambling along. She knew it was the right coach this time, as she remembered the yellow carriage lamps. Boldly, without hesitation, she rode into the middle of the road, leveled her pistol, and commanded, “Stand and deliver!”

  The reins fell from the nerveless fingers of the driver and the coach horses stopped of their own volition.

  “Facedown on the ground!” she ordered the hapless man, and without a murmur of protest he obeyed the menacing black figure.

  Bess Maitland stuck her head out of the window and shouted, “What are ye aboot, mon?” Then she saw the highwayman and quickly withdrew her bright red head inside the carriage.

  “Outside!” ordered Summer. “Your maid too!” she called, beginning to enjoy herself.

  “Maid?” screeched the duchess, climbing out after Bess Maitland. “Sir, I am the Duchess of Buckingham. I demand that you let us go unharmed. I’ll have your head for this, sirrah!”

  “Do you seriously think I’d believe the handsome duke would marry the pig-faced lady?” asked Summer in a deep voice. “You there!” She indicated Bess Maitland. “Is that pig-faced woman really the Duchess of Buckingham?”

  “Aye, she is.” Bess nodded, making the duchess purple with fury.

  “Well, madame, I’m the Black Cat and I’m noted for my reputation with the ladies, but in your case I beg to be excused.” Summer gave an elaborate bow and Bess Maitland burst out laughing.

  “Ladies, you are free to go on your way when I have your gold.”

  Bess Maitland wasted no time turning over her money, but when she tried to separate Lady Buckingham from her heavy purse, she cried, “I’ll see you hanged first!”

  Summer aimed the pistol at her head. “Madame, deliver or die!”

  Lady Buckingham swooned. Bess Maitland took her heavy purse, threw it into the road, then ignominiously stuffed the duchess into the carriage like she was a sack of potatoes. “Christ, how much do you weigh?” Bess puffed as she climbed in after her hapless companion.

  The moths flitted abo
ut the yellow carriage lamps as Summer urged the prone coachman to arise and depart, then she jumped down to retrieve the heavy purses from the roadway and deposit them in her saddlebags.

  Summer decided to cut back through the fields. In case the women decided to report the highwayman in Falmouth and set that damned swine Sergeant Oswald on her trail, she rode closer to Roseland and Helford Hall. She kept her eyes open for Harry Killigrew’s little valet-coachman, but though two hours had elapsed and every guest who’d visited had departed in their carriages, still there was no sign of Wild Harry. She wavered between sticking it out and giving it up. She wasn’t really tired; the exhilaration of her daring escapade made her blood surge in her veins and, too, she was highly elated with the success of her attempts at being a hostess. She knew she’d done a superb job and that she would be talked of in London for weeks to come.

  The King himself was smitten enough that if she was so inclined, she knew she could become his mistress. All in all it had been the most disastrous and the most successful few days of her life. She sighed deeply and was about to turn in the gates of Helford Hall when she heard the approaching carriage.

  She turned Ebony about, galloped a couple of hundred yards off, and turned to face the coach. “Stand and deliver!” she barked.

  The carriage came to a hurtling stop and Lord Killigrew, who had been in a drunken doze, yanked open the carriage door and promptly fell through it onto the road. His little coach driver had his pistol out, aimed at Summer’s head, and discharged it without hesitation. Fortunately for her, Harry had lunged at his valet, shouting, “’Sdeath, man, don’t shoot! Can’t ye shee it’s my frien’ Berkeley?”

  “Berkeley’s got sandy hair, sir. This is a holdup!” cried his driver.

  “No, no, itsh a joke, Sam—just a sham. Can’t ye shee he’s wearing a periwig!” Killigrew waved at Summer. “Games up, Charlie, I’d know ye anywhere.”