Edward and John passed through the short hallway, passing by several wooden doors and up the winding staircase. Edward held the knife in one hand, and the pistol from a dead guard in the other.
When Edward and John neared the top of the staircase they could see two guards at the top standing at the entrance. Sam was one of them. The way the staircase winded Edward was able to stay well out of view from the other guard.
Edward knelt down and tapped the knife against the stone. Sam turned his head to the noise and saw Edward.
"Did you hear something?" another voice said.
"Nah, wus jus' me boot." Sam tapped his foot.
Sam motioned for Edward to back up. Edward and John headed back down the stairs and waited. Sweat beaded on Edward's forehead as the silence and tension turned oppressive.
After a moment Edward could hear Sam say, "Did you hear that?"
"Hear whut?" the other guard said.
Sam didn't reply, and started walking down the stairs.
The sound of footsteps neared Edward and John. Edward backed down the steps slowly. Whatever you're planning on doing, Sam, do it now please.
As if hearing Edward's thoughts, a loud cracking noise preceded the footsteps stopping. They started again a moment later. Edward lifted his pistol in the air. Sam turned around the corner.
"Blimey, watch where you point that thing."
"I wasn't going to shoot you, trust me." Sam cocked his brow. "Alright, I almost shot you. I'm sorry, it's been a rough week."
"Well, best stay on yer toes, this is where things git dicey. We have to cross the great hall, up the stairs to one of the corner towers. I snuck some rope up there earlier so as we can climb down." Sam motioned his thumb in the direction of the tower.
"Why not head out the front?"
Sam raised his brow. "The front's too heavily guarded, mate. We'd not make it past one man. Our best chance is ta climb down silent and then make a run through the forest. I 'eard from some boys there be a town not ten miles south of 'ere."
"Lead the way," Edward said.
Sam moved swiftly and silently up the stone stairs, his feet lightly touching each step before moving to the next. The musty air of the castle was oppressive as they walked up, coupled with the smell of blood, sweat, and charred wood from torches on the walls.
When Sam reached the top, he stopped Edward and John, then casually walked through the opening, examining the room before him. After a moment he motioned for Edward and John to join him.
The great hall was an expansive rectangular room with a high ceiling and balcony walkways on the left and right sides. At three points in the middle of the hall were large stone fire pits, permeating the room with heat and an orange-yellow glow. Along the side walls were tapestries depicting battles Edward didn't recognise, and one depicting the crucifixion. All were weathered and worn and contributed to the room's musty smell.
Sam guided John and Edward to the tapestries and pushed them behind the dusty fabrics. As Sam sauntered along in plain sight, John and Edward followed slowly whilst trying not to expose their movement. When John and Edward reached the edge of the first tapestry Edward peeked out from behind and when Sam gave the signal they moved to the next covering.
The castle was quiet. Too quiet. The only noise beyond the crackling of the fire and the billowing and snap of the swaying tapestries was Sam's footsteps. Edward and John did their best to minimise the sound of their feet against the cold floor and muffle their deep breaths.
Where is Kenneth's crew? Or Kenneth, for that matter? Sweat dripped from Edward's brow despite the cold.
Sam whispered, "Stop," and Edward froze with John behind him. The two pressed up against the wall, motionless.
One of Kenneth's crew descended the stairs, an effeminate man with a feathered cap, the same man who had captured Edward and John in Portugal, Philip Culverson.
"James, yes?" Philip asked, brow raised in question.
"You should know, pretty boy, you brought me 'ere," Sam replied, trying to maintain his smooth, cocky, composure.
"Yes, I suppose I did. I haven't had much chance to talk with you since then." Philip leaned against the wall of the castle, in the middle of the tapestry between Edward and John. Philip was centimetres from touching Edward's shoulder with his own. "Tell me: what do you think?" Philip asked, gesturing about.
Sam glanced at where Philip was leaning, then back to Philip's eyes. "This castle be nice an' all, but we be pirates, eh? When do we be pirates? I don' understand why we're torturin' those blokes in the basement if we ain't getting' us no gold."
Philip gazed into one of the fire pits. "In truth I do not know much either. Kenneth refuses to tell me any details on why he has a problem with the Blackbeard pirates. All I was able to squeeze out of him is that it relates to his hand. Anything involving his hand is a sore subject with my dear captain." Philip lifted himself from his leaning position and started walking away from Sam.
Sam, Edward and John all let out silent sighs at their narrowly avoiding catastrophe. Sam turned around. "So why do you follow him so blindly?"
Philip turned around, walking backwards as he talked. "Despite his eccentricities, he always brings the gold eventually. And, I owe him a life debt."
Sam nodded, and Philip turned back around, heading to the front door of the castle. Sam turned and began walking slowly toward the stairs, listening for the door to open.
"James?" Philip yelled suddenly, making Sam jump.
Sam peered over his shoulder. Philip was standing in front of the spiral stairs leading to the cellar. "Yea?"
"Why is no one guarding the stairs?" Philip asked, pointing to the empty opening.
"Oh, that'd be me, boss. Jus' takin' a walk round the hall ta stretch me legs," Sam replied coolly.
Philip eyed Sam curiously. "Yes… well don't go too far."
After Philip started walking again, Sam did as well. Sam made his way to the foot of the stairs as he watched Philip exit the castle.
"C'mon boys! Let's move," Sam whispered.
Edward and John peered out from behind the tapestry, then ran to Sam. He gestured for them to move up the stairs and to the left side of the second floor. Slow and steady wasn't cutting it, and the three knew that. They bounded up the stairs, Sam trailing behind to not make noise with his heavy boots.
"Head for the stairs at the end of the hall," Sam commanded, pointing to the other end of the balcony walkway.
Halfway past the hallway, the doors of the castle opened and three of Kenneth's crew entered. Sam, Edward, and John all jumped behind one of the tapestries covering the walkway.
"So then the bloke said, 'Oi, she didn't say mittens!'" The three laughed at the punchline Edward, John, and Sam would never know the setup for.
One man stopped and pointed to the cellar stairs. "Ain't people suppose'ta be blockin' the cellar?"
"Yea, two blokes: The greenhorn and Gregory."
"Somethin' don' feel right," the first man surmised, and all three pulled out weapons and descended the stairs.
"Go, go!" Sam whispered urgently.
The three ran up the stairs as fast as they could. Noise was not an issue now, speed was the only advantage that remained. The sound of Sam's boots reverberated off the stone walls loudly as he rushed to the top of the tower.
When the three reached the top, the wooden door to the tower was being opened by one of Kenneth's crew. Edward pulled out the bloody knife. The fat man had a split second to realise his doom. Edward jumped and thrust the knife deep into the man's eye and they both fell to the floor.
John leapt over Edward and cocked his fist, blitzing towards a sitting man on the left side of the circular tower room. The man got to his feet. John delivered an intense blow between the man's eyes. The man fell, unconscious. John knelt down and snapped the man's neck, killing him.
To the right, a third man stood and pulled out a pistol. John flashed demonic eyes at him and the man flinched. Sam kicked the pistol out of his
hands, and then delivered another blow to his unguarded centre. The man fell backwards and out the window of the tower. He plummeted to his death in front of more of Kenneth's crew.
Edward ran to the window, and saw the reaction of the crewmen at the bottom of the tower. They saw Edward and ran to the front of the castle.
"We need to get out of here, quickly," Edward said.
"Jus' need ta find the rope I left 'ere," Sam replied, frantically combing the room. He overturned boxes and barrels and other odds and ends, but couldn't find what he was searching for. "Where is that blasted rope?"
Edward and John both were scouring the room, but their lifeline was nowhere to be found. "It's not here," Edward said, nailing the coffin shut. He could see no alternate escape route, save jumping out the window to their deaths. The three could hear the voices of shouting people from below. "I won't have all of us dying here. There's only one thing we can do." Edward tossed the knife to John. "John, you know what to do." Edward closed his eyes and spread his arms.
John adjusted his glasses, flashed forward, and sliced Edward's chest. With John's precision, the wound was superficial at best, but it looked bad to the naked eye. Edward let out a groan.
"What in blazes are ye doin'?" Sam yelled.
"You're the only one who can make it out of this alive, Sam. Punch John to make it more believable."
Sam paused, the pain over what was to come evident on his face. "I can't."
"You must, son," John said, unwavering.
"This is my last command as your captain, Sam. I command you to live." Edward's eyes bored into Sam.
Sam took one last glance from John to Edward, then he reared back and punched John hard in the jaw. Philip and a dozen crewmen burst through the open tower door. John fell backwards, his head hitting the stone wall.
"What happened here?" Philip shouted.
Sam took in a heavy breath and smirked. "Jus' after ye left these jokers busted out and ran fer the tower. I chased 'em and took 'em out."
Philip beheld the scene. Edward lay on the floor, still clutching his stomach and breathing heavily. John spat blood and struggled to rise to his feet, making a show of it.
"Good work, James. I knew you were a good choice for this crew. Shame we lost so many in the process." Philip planted his boot on Edward's stomach, beside the wound. "I guess the Devil lives up to his reputation. You're quite the troublemaker, Blackbeard." Philip pulled the blade out of Edward's stomach. "Take them back to the cellar. I will talk with Kenneth." Philip shoved the bloody knife into Sam's hands, then pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the blood off his palm. "This ends now."
Sam joined Kenneth's crew and took Edward and John back to the cellar. Edward's and John's hands were bound in front of them and they were forced to kneel on the wet stone. Two people stood behind Edward and John with pistols aimed at their heads. Two more aimed muskets from the front, and several more sat in the room, watching them like hawks.
Dad damn these bloody bastards! There be no way out of this now. I'm sorry, Captain. Sam's apology was written in his eyes as he stared at Edward, hoping his words would reach.
After a few moments, Kenneth and Philip entered the cellar together. Kenneth was furious, but no moreso than he had previously been around Edward. His left arm balled into a fist, and no doubt his right hand, inside the chest, was clenched as well.
"Oh, so glad you could join us, Chest-Hand. Thanks for gracing us with your presence. Wait, was it Chest-Hand? No, no, Fortune-Fingers? Money-Mitten? Oh! I remember: Prize-Paw!" Edward jested.
Kenneth shook with rage. He pulled back his right arm and slammed Edward's face with a blow so hard it broke his nose and sent him to the stone.
"Six men! Six men of mine you killed!" Kenneth yelled as he kicked Edward in the ribs. Kenneth kept kicking and kicking until Edward's rib broke with a loud snap, then he stopped to catch his breath. "I demand compensation, and I will collect," Kenneth seethed.
One of Kenneth's men pulled John to one end of the room, and another propped Edward up to watch. Kenneth pulled out a knife and stepped behind John. He set the blade underneath John's neck.
No! Not John! "Kenneth, stop!"
"Oh? What will you do if I don't? Hmm?" Kenneth asked, not removing the blade.
Edward looked daggers at Kenneth. "I will kill you."
Kenneth was not fazed. "You can't kill me when you're dead."
John raised his bound hands. "It's alright Edward, I'm ready to die. The only regret I have is I couldn't keep the promise I made your father. Tell him I'm sorry, will you?" John said, stoic and unflappable even with the blade against his neck. Despite John's strength, he was so old, so tired. Edward had never seen John this way before, and only now realised how much he'd pushed John over these years.
"How can I?" Edward asked, tears streaming into his black beard.
John smirked even in the face of death. "Your father is in the Caribbean, Edward."
Kenneth's blade sliced through flesh, leaving a red streak across John's neck. Blood fell like tiny drops of red rain, joining its clear brethren on the damp stone. John followed the blood, his eyes slowly losing their lustre, and fell to the floor with a thud.
Edward reached out to John, his mouth agape. His mind splintered like shattered glass. He could neither feel, nor speak. As Edward's mind recovered, the shards played the scene of John's death again and again in his mind, coupled with Henry falling to the ground, a bullet in his back. Edward was responsible for both. Edward's heart filled with anger. Anger at himself for Henry, for allowing this to happen to John, and letting his crew down.
Edward peered up at the face of Kenneth Locke. The smug grin on his repulsive face was salt on the wounds.
Edward lunged at Kenneth, jumping over John's body and gripping the man's throat with his bound hands. Edward pressed hard on Kenneth's Adam's apple, choking the life out of him.
"I'll kill you, you fucking bastard!" Edward yelled as he slammed Kenneth's head against the stone. Kenneth's men tried to pull Edward off their captain, but he was too powerful. "Is this what you wanted, huh? You wanted to die? Let me fulfil your wish!" Edward continued slamming Kenneth's head into the stone, blood seeping into the crevices.
Kenneth's men punched and kicked Edward relentlessly. Edward's strength faded from him with each blow and his grip eventually loosened. Kenneth`s crew pulled Edward to the other side of the room and kept beating him until they were satisfied. When they were finished, Edward was numb from the pain. Kenneth recovered and dispensed a few swift kicks as well.
"That all ya got?" Edward sputtered.
"Save your strength, you'll need it to beg for your life," Kenneth said.
Edward used his remaining strength to pull himself up to his feet. He stood tall, towering above everyone else in the room. "I will never beg you for my life, nor will I beg to die. I will live, and I will make sure the last thing you see is my hands around your neck as I choke the life out of you."
Kenneth stepped on John's lifeless body, staring up into Edward's eyes. "Let's see how long your declaration lasts."
31. Escape from Lisbon Bay
"Where is Edward? He should have returned by now," Anne said to no one in particular. She stood in the stern cabin of the Fortune, gazing out a large window to the port of Lisbon, watching the boats and ships and people passing by as night fell.
"Shall I find him for you, your—?" William asked, nearly slipping out what Anne thought was a "your majesty," in front of everyone.
Anne contemplated her answer for a moment. "No, not yet. It's better to stay in one group. If something happens and we must find you too it will waste time."
William nodded in assent. Roberts bellowed a laugh. "He is probably boozing and brawling at this hour."
Anne stared blankly at Roberts as he continued laughing, then turned back to the window. "That's not something Edward would do. He's not a heavy drinker of wine, nor a gluttonous eater, and he is slow to wrath for silly reasons." Her arms
were folded, trying to hold in the worry in her heart. Something is wrong.
Roberts laid his hand on Anne's shoulder, turning her away from the window. "Edward will be alright. Do not worry, child. As you say he is no fool. He would not run headlong into danger."
Anne turned away from Roberts. "Danger has an uncanny way of finding us, and that is what I am afraid of."
Alexandre and Victor were sitting at the table in the cabin examining the petal they found and talking in hushed tones.
"Are you discussing anything we should be privy to, chirurgien?" Anne asked.
Alexandre gazed lazily at Anne with his dark eyes. "Victor and I were merely débattre over whether this flower is from Northern or Southern Ireland." Alexandre was content to continue his argument, but Anne pressed for more.
"And what are your assessments?"
"I, correctly, say the flower is from Southern Ireland, as I visited there not a few years prior to moving to Port Royal. Victor has not been there in some time through his own admission, and things have… évolué since then."
Anne eyed Victor for an objection so a decision could be made. Victor simply sat staring daggers at Alexandre and then Anne.
Anne took it as Alexandre being correct. "Now we know the flower is from Southern Ireland. That could mean the Hounds' base is there, or it could mean nothing. Until we hear from Edward and John, or Sam, the only fact is the Hounds may have been to Ireland and one of their crewmates fancies flowers, yes?" Anne stared a cold, Queen's stare at Alexandre.
"Oui." Alexandre lost his smug smile and turned away from Anne's glare of disappointment.
"Useless," Anne said with frustration, turning back to the cabin window.
The room was thick with tension. William approached Anne and whispered in her ear. "Perhaps you should sleep, my lady. Waiting is of no use. I will search for him, so you may rest easy."
Anne turned around and patted her hand on William's chest. "Perhaps you are right. Thank you, William."
William bowed slightly, then led Anne to the cabin exit, but halfway there someone knocked on the door. William and Anne both glanced at Bartholomew, as they were guests of his ship and cabin.
Blackbeard's Revenge (Voyages Of Queen Anne's Revenge Book 2) Page 33
