The Wilde Flower Saga: A Contrary Wind (Historical Adventure Series)

by Schulz, Marilyn M

  “I saw your boat a few miles out, lass. Some up the coast have been following you for days. Didn’t know you were a lass at the time, by the way. We get a few from the British navy now and then. The ships come here to get fresh water and the lads take the opportunity to have a float ashore. I don’t begrudge them the shelter when you know how they came to serve.”

  “Get any Americans?” she said.

  “Got you. But certain it is that we get all kinds that come through here, as you say.”

  “Seems I have little choice.”

  He said, “Necessity never made a good bargain.”

  Benjamin Franklin again, she wondered if what he said was true. Still, she didn’t have many options: Go along, or go back to the boat.

  She said, “I’ll just bring my things.”

  He tried to help out as she took up her pack, but Kate noticed that he did hold his nose as he got down wind. She hurried to the pool in the stream.

  She fought the urge to scream as she dove in the water, still wearing her under things. It was snowy cold, and after sitting in the hot sun for days on end, it was both a blessing and blasphemy. She managed to whisper both, and then plunged underwater again.

  Kate was squeezing the suds and water from her hair as the priest came back. He sat with his back turned. She dipped again, and when she got out, the breeze dried her as fast as the linen rags. She felt much better.

  “Thank you, Padre,” she said.

  “Now then, you look like one of the fold. If you tie up your hair, I will give you a hat and call you Jose, same as my mule.”

  He said it like it was a compliment, and she took it that way. Kate hadn’t noticed the beast before, but rubbed at her backside as she looked at him now. The mule let out a bellow, and Kate could have sworn it sounded like a laugh. It must be friends with the sea gulls around here, she thought.

  “Where are we headed,” she said, not really noticing as the mule plodded over to graze near her.

  “My village, San de Luz—pretty, little village down the way. Mostly fishing, a bit of farming, some orchards too. We are on the pilgrim trail to here and there, lesser saints and martyrs, but mostly slow living, and that’s fine by me.”

  The mule put his nose near and sniffed at her a bit, then started grazing again, mostly at the hem of her dress draping down from the dirty bundle in her arms.

  “I was looking for—“

  Best not to say anything more, she thought. But she had been looking for San de Luz as a starting point. Luck was with her after all. She looked out to sea; the ship was much closer. If they were coming for water, they would launch large rowboats with barrels very soon.

  He winked. “The Lord works in mysterious ways. Best be on our way. By the by, I took the liberty of looking through your things, lass. I have some business if you have the time.”

  At first she was peeved, but then understood that if he was going to trust her, he had to know who it was he was trusting. She scratched at the mule’s ears as it tugged and chewed at her dress hem. She figured it must be the salt from the seawater that was so appealing, so she didn’t brush him off.

  She said, “My supplies are low, but I will do what I can. You don’t have a problem with women’s healing ways? Some priests say we’re the devil’s own.”

  “No, the Inquisition is dead to me, and most around here as well. Bunions, boils, gout, and gangrene—you solve those problems, lass, and they will have you sitting up right next to the Virgin Mary herself.”

  “That’s blasphemy, Padre.”

  “And so it is. Best be taking confession, I should, hate to miss communion. Without a bit of wine first thing, it ruins my whole day.”

  He helped her up onto the mule who didn’t like the interruption to its grazing. It turned and snapped at her knee. Kate flipped its ear and said, “Mind your manners, you surly ass. I have been more than hospitable myself.”

  The mule shied and then shook its head. The priest laughed and grabbed the reins.

  “I think I might like to walk, Padre,” she said. “I’ve been sitting for a while now, and my backside is—“

  ”That would be all I need knowing. Very well, Jose, she shuns your kind heart. You will not begrudge me the ride then, lass?”

  “No, but if you could take my bundle?”

  “The clothes you must leave, they stink to high heaven. But the rest of your burden, fine with me. I’ll have someone come back and wash up the rest, you’ll get the clothes back later if you still have need of them. Otherwise, think of them as charity as well.”

  Still have need. Like if I’m still alive to wear them, she thought, but she said, “Fair enough.”

  Kate walked along behind the mule. It stopped now and then to grab at some grass or leaves or last season’s dried old berries. She almost ran into its rump more than once, which is why she figured the mule did it. Jose would turn and laugh at her then, and she would swat at his behind. The shared advantage of walking back there was that Jose’s tail also swatted away any flies. Even so, she found herself dodging the tail once in a while.

  The priest didn’t seem to notice all their commotion, he was constantly murmuring between some prayer and off-color limerick, and he hummed sometimes. It seemed like soon when they reached the village.

  It was small, quiet, and no one was about.

  “Siesta,” he said.

  She nodded, then yawned. It seemed like a good idea.

  “Take the mule to the barn over there and make yourself at home,” he said. “I’ll get you food for supper, but stay in there for now.”

  He was looking at her as if to ask if that would be a problem. But from boat to hay mound wasn’t a foreign idea, she had done this thing before. Kate didn’t argue, complain or question. She said, “Thank you.”

  She was the guest in this land and at his mercy. She yawned again as she took the saddle from the mule, then brushed him down just a bit. He seemed to sigh at the combing, and Kate thought to give him some grain.

  She whispered in his ear, and he nibbled on her shoulder. It seemed like a truce, and after that, she knew they’d be friends.

  “Siesta time, it is, Friendly Jose,” she said with another yawn.

  * * * * *

  After more than a week in the village, Kate knew it was time to get on with the business at hand.

  She spoke in Spanish for she needed the practice. “I can’t spend any more time here, Padre, I need to find the shrine of Germaine near Albe San Marie.”

  “Such an imposing name, are you sure you’re not Catholic?”

  He winked when he said it, but she knew he wasn’t trying to convert her by now. She liked the Padre very much and would have him as one of her crew anytime.

  She said, “You know of it?”

  “I have heard of it. Good luck in your endeavors.”

  “You will not tell me where it is?”

  “Some say it does not exist,” he said. “Some say it exists only to the holy. Others say it’s just a state of mind and heart. Which do you think, I wonder?”

  “I need to find the place, not the salvation.”

  He held out his hands as in offering. “Not a holy quest then?”

  “I promised a friend, a relation, it’s important.”

  “Is that a good enough reason, I wonder?”

  “People die for less,” she said.

  This did interest him. “Are you saying people’s lives are in jeopardy?”

  Kate contemplated her feet for a moment. Perhaps he knew her better than she thought. She wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. “Do you read Latin?”

  “Of course.” Then he leaned in closer. “It’s part of the job.”

  Kate thought to explain about Louis, but she didn’t feel comfortable telling him her secrets. It was too much like confession, and she didn’t want to get into that.

  She said as much to herself as to him, “No, I have to do this, that’s all. I promised, and it’s important.”

  “So
you keep saying, lass, but you best be more specific if you want help from me.”

  She considered. In a moment, she offered, “Perhaps it’s best if you don’t get more involved. May I use the mule for a few days, maybe more.”

  “Optimistic, or do you plan on wandering lost for that long before you give up?”

  Was that a clue? She wondered, but not for long. “I have no idea where I’m going if that is your point. Perhaps the good Lord will guide my journey.”

  “Oh touché, lass, good stroke. You wound me, you really do.”

  “Now you’re laughing at me. I admit, I have been lost before and found it a most unpleasant experience. But I must do this. I will not rest until I at least try to follow through. Have you never made a promise?”

  Then she flamed red and turned away. Of course he had, he was a priest. His life was a promise.

  He said, “Take the mule, and take your time. It’s beautiful countryside. Have a care for the bandits. Do you know how to use a pistol, I wonder?”

  “I do, but I’m better with a musket. And I can throw a knife—“

  “Saint’s preserve us. Do you at least have a good map?”

  She had Louis’s rendition, but Kate didn’t want to show him that. She had no idea how he would take her foolish promise, nor her part in Louis’s death. An Irishman was bound to be on the side of anyone who might be against the British, and while that included the Americans, it also included the French Republicans.

  “I’ll manage, I know the stars well enough.”

  “Navigating the seas is one thing, the mountains is yet another. Let me show you what I have. You can make a tracing, and then I’ll let you go with a wink and a prayer. That’s the best that I can do.”

  “That’s better than most. And Friendly Jose, you said I could use him, too.”

  He looked at her in question.

  “The mule,” she quickly amended.

  “Aye, you can use Jose. Such stubbornness, one deserves the other. But tell me, lass, how is it you handle him so well? I’d swear to the Lord above that he almost likes you, and I can’t even say that about myself.”

  “I told him that he was handsome and that I loved him best of all. After that, he was mine to command.”

  “So it was the typical wily woman’s ways toward any handsome beast. Thank God I’m out of the world.”

  She laughed, and he added, “You have my admiration, you surely do.”

  “I’d rather have some of your whiskey to take along. For medicinal purposes, of course.”

  “Always that, lass, always that.”

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER 18 - Man in the Barrel

  Sir Edward Lindsay and the Stalwart took a few merchant ships a prize along the way back to England. The Earl and his guests were not the least bit pleased at the recurring delay, but Sir Edward told them to take it up with Admiralty. He had his standing orders and his duty to the Crown to consider.

  Ships running blockade were by definition lending comfort and aid to the enemy, and so they would be taken.

  The Earl could not argue with that without sounding like a fool or worse, disloyal. To a man who felt that appearances were everything, neither would be prudent. The captain knew he would hear about the delay and the danger later, and not to his benefit either. But that would be for show, a balm to the sensibilities of the Earl’s friends at court. In reality, no one could expect him to walk away from a fight.

  After the first battles, anytime a ship came within view, the Earl and his friends made for their cabins and their liquor, which by now was running low. In truth, when it was first learned that the French chef had not made it aboard with them, his stores of gourmet food either, the Marquis got drunk for three days.

  Then he complained for another few. Sir Edward made himself scarce and had to credit Ambrose Standish with pulling the entire situation from the brine. He didn’t like owing the man, but he would not trade the task for a clean slate if he could.

  “Sail ho!”

  Sir Edward studied the ship in his glass. It was a British dispatch vessel. Probably heading for Gibraltar, he decided. We should be heading there too, not ferrying fops around the Atlantic.

  “Such a sour expression, Captain Lindsay. Is your dinner not sitting so well? Do you find yourself missing the French chef too?” Standish said.

  “Ale, beef, and biscuits will do me most days, sir.”

  “Not so our French allies,” Standish said. “I fear they may be in mourning for the rest of the voyage.”

  “As long as they do their mourning in silence.”

  “Ah, right, you have a point, but what are the odds in that?”

  Sir Edward thought of everything from charm to chains to stop the complaints, but he usually talked himself out of any action at all, for he didn’t wish to make matters worse. Dr. Llewellyn, he knew, had done his best with false ministrations to keep them occupied. But short of bleeding them to death or dosing them to dizziness again, there was little else the surgeon could do.

  When not complaining, the three guests now stayed in their cabins, mostly playing cards, gossiping about affairs they were missing in their current misadventure, and making up tales they would tell when they did get back to society. It seems that Kate Senlis held center stage in many of their tales.

  “I am surprised you pried yourself away from their company,” Sir Edward said to Standish.

  “You should know by now that I have a weak stomach.”

  Standish then snickered, but what he said was true in more than one sense. Only a slight breeze from the bilge sent the man vomiting over the rail. The crew had a few uncomplimentary names for him now. The great white whale was not the worst, and they had a standing wager as to how long it would take him to blow.

  “Yet you managed to make it across the Atlantic,” Sir Edward said, “and here you are as well. You seem to be holding up under the strain.”

  “I believe I have blocked out that first experience as one of the worst times of my life. That is why I plan on making my career here in Europe a success. I am devoted to my new country—don’t get me wrong. But if going back home means crossing the ocean, I can well wait a while to return.”

  “I take it then that you have not done much traveling. I wonder how it is that you know so much of politics and foreign situations.”

  Ambrose Standish looked like he was choosing his words very carefully. “Well-traveled is not the same as well-versed. It’s my duty to know, just as it’s your duty to take a hostile ship, even at the cost of the safety of your passengers.”

  “They are safe enough.”

  “And even so, their loss would not be a great one?”

  Sir Edward bowed slightly. “I bid you good day, sir. I have my ship and crew to attend.”

  Ambrose called after, “Captain, when will we reach port, do you suppose?”

  “Without foul wind and further attack, two, maybe three days until we see the Channel.”

  “That soon?”

  “Seems too long to me,” Sir Edward said under his breath.

  In his cabin, he looked around at the clutter. His servant used to clean up, but that only made things worse, because then he couldn’t find anything. He was usually in the middle of two or three books, becoming too impatient at the progress in one, but unwilling to skip to the end like some. Some books he had been reading for years, because he had to go back to remember where he was in the story.

  He enjoyed reading stories instead of novels. Those didn’t take so much commitment—but not stories about the Navy or pirates or life at sea. Most were inaccurate, which he found annoying. Most made it sound romantic and daring too, a life that should be desired by every man. Daring, it could be. Desired, true enough, he could think of no other life. But was it romantic? Never that.

  Lonely was more to the point. More so since his father had died. He wrote to him still in the guise of a journal. But he missed the talks with the man when he got back to land. Maybe Sir Hugh m
ade up for it just a bit, and some of his father’s other friends. But Sir Edward had to admit that going home was not the same. In fact, he had no home anymore; he only had his ship.

  * * * * *

  Days later, they arrived in Plymouth harbor. There was a carriage from Vice-Admiral Tobin waiting on the quay. Sir Edward made no delay in leaving for the meeting. When he glanced back, Ambrose Standish and the Frenchmen stood together on deck, watching him go.

  Vice-Admiral Tobin was waiting in his den. He said immediately, “Bad news, boy, this is bad news. Have a seat, you look dead on your feet.”

  Sir Edward took the offered glass of sherry.

  The Vice-Admiral took a drink as well, then continued. “You made quite a voyage of it, you’re becoming quite a success. No wonder you have no trouble keeping a crew, you make them all rich men too. The way my dear wife is spending, I might make a trip or two with you myself. She has a notion to redecorate the place.”

  Sir Edward wasn’t surprised that the Vice-Admiral already knew about the ships they had taken along the way. And it was common knowledge that a successful captain, one who captured many ships and lost few lives in the process, had no trouble finding good men to complement his ship and share in the spoils.

  “You did not rush me up here to tell me about parlor silks and floral rugs. Something has happened.”

  Sir Hugh turned from the window, but his look was still in the distance. “Our most trusted contact in France was found dead—long dead, it seems. Someone has been feeding us information these last months.”

  “Which means the information you normally got from him could be suspect.”

  “All information is suspect, his or any other. But if they knew about him, they might have found out about others. He was a master spy, the spider in our network over there. We don’t know how long they had him before he died. Signs are that he was tortured. We have no way of knowing just how much as been compromised.”

  He turned to stare out the window again. They sat in silence for quite some time.

  Sir Edward finally said, “There is no way to find out how long they had him? How much he might have revealed?”