Leader of Titans_Pirates of Britannia

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Shaw understood a great deal in that halting explanation. “The man is a slave tae a beautiful face,” he muttered. “My guess is that he has been blinded by her.”

  “That is Lucifer’s guess, also.”

  “And Con has shown no suspicion at all?”

  D’Vant shook his head. “I do not know, my lord,” he said. “All I know is that Lucifer has asked for your help. It is possible that Constantine is heading to his doom, lured by a beautiful woman and, if that is the case, then your assistance would be appreciated.”

  Shaw shook his head in a gesture of disappointment; not that he wouldn’t have done the same thing should a beautiful woman have come to him for help. But he was surprised that Constantine hadn’t been more careful of the situation. The Constantine le Brecque he’d known for years was shrewd and cunning. Moreover, he’d had trouble with women lying to him before… had he forgotten?

  “The man knows better,” Shaw said after a moment. “He knows dangers abound for him as well as for me. We must be very careful who we trust. Has he not learned that yet?”

  D’Vant didn’t have an answer. “I am honored to serve Constantine le Brecque,” he said resolutely. “In battle, there is none finer.”

  Shaw held up a hand to ease the man’s offense at his comment. “It is true,” he said. “In battle, there is none finer than Constantine. I would trust the man with my life a thousand times over. But he has a weakness for beautiful women and everyone knows it, including his enemies. Where is Three Crosses Abbey?”

  “Off Eynon Bay,” d’Vant said. “Do you know where that is?”

  Shaw nodded. “I do,” he replied. Then, he sighed faintly. “If Lucifer has sent ye, then it means he must truly be worried. The man doesna panic without reason.”

  D’Vant nodded, his expression filled with hope. “Then you will come?”

  Shaw nodded faintly. “I will,” he said. “But this isna some dastardly scheme tae get my crab, is it?”

  D’Vant cocked his head, puzzled. “My lord?”

  Shaw eyed him. “Ye knew where tae find me, did ye not? This is my hunting grounds this time of year.”

  D’Vant was still puzzled. “Lucifer knew, my lord.”

  “And he did not tell ye tae steal my crab?”

  “Steal… crab?”

  Shaw knew the young man wouldn’t understand the inference. Fighting off a grin, he waved him off. “Never ye mind,” he said. “The crabs stay with me, no matter what Lucifer told ye tae do. Go back tae yer ship, d’Vant. We’ll weigh anchor at dawn.”

  D’Vant emitted a sigh of relief. “Thank you, my lord,” he said. “We will be ready to sail with you.”

  With that, he turned and headed for his vessel, making haste down the rope ladder. Shaw watched the man go, pondering all he’d been told. It was possible that Constantine wasn’t in any trouble at all, but Shaw wasn’t willing to take the chance. If Constantine needed help, then Shaw wanted to be on hand to give it, especially against those bastard French. As he stood there, lost in thought, Thor entered the cabin. Looking at Shaw, his expression was full of curiosity.

  “Well?” he asked. “What has happened?”

  Shaw shook his head in a weary gesture. “Ye wouldna believe it,” he said as he headed back over to the table. “It seems that Con may be in a bit of trouble. Lucifer has asked for our help.”

  Thor’s appeared concerned. “Lucifer asked? Why not Con?”

  “Because Con has apparently been seduced by a woman and canna see the danger of it.”

  Thor considered that possibility. “Is it serious, then?”

  Shaw shrugged as he took his seat, resuming where he’d left off with the crab. “It could be,” he said. “Ye know that Con has named all of his ships after the sirens of myth? It seems that one of those sirens in the flesh is trying tae lure the man tae his doom.”

  Thor lifted his blond eyebrows at the possibility. “Then we will help him?”

  Shaw pointed to the seat that Thor had occupied earlier. “We will, indeed,” he said. “Sit and I will tell ye what Con’s man just told me.”

  Lured by a beautiful woman. When Shaw was finished explaining, Thor had to say that he wasn’t surprised. But, then again, history was full of men who had been lured to their deaths by a beautiful face. Only this time, the Devils of the Deep had an opportunity to prevent it from happening to one of their own.

  Before dawn the next morning, a fierce squall rolled up from the west and the ships anchored at Bardsey Island found themselves struggling against the elements. With time of the essence, Shaw wasn’t happy that the storm would delay their arrival.

  He hoped the sirens would not win, after all.

  Chapter Eight

  He’d been avoiding her for an entire day.

  Literally, half of the day before and most of this day as well. For a man who had wanted to greedily soak up every possibly moment with Gregoria, he wasn’t acting like it now.

  He was confused.

  But that wasn’t like Constantine at all. The man was always supremely confident, always knowing the right thing to say or do and then completely comfortable with those decisions. He’d gone through life knowing he could handle any situation, and that included anything that happened with women. He controlled his destiny, and everything else around him, so when something occurred that he wasn’t entirely in control of, Constantine found himself confused more than anything.

  Bedding the woman hadn’t been merely bedding her; perhaps that was the most confusing thing to him. Something about the act had gone beyond the mere physicality of it. Now, he was feeling something, although he wasn’t sure what it was. All he knew was that Gregoria lingered in his mind, her soft body and sweet voice, and he couldn’t seem to shake her.

  Gregoria…

  Gregg.

  He hadn’t slept at all the night before. He’d stayed up all night, on watch, up on the poop deck as the Gaia glided effortlessly over the sea. They were heading north, nearly parallel with the Devon coast. He knew that simply by the position of the stars, which had been bright against the nearly moonless night.

  Off to the right, buried in a forest that lined the edge of the coast, was Baiadepaura Castle, a massive and dark structure that had been built upon the ruins of an old Roman fort. Legend said that a ghostly Roman legion haunted the place. Further up the coast and off to the left would see Lundy Island and, beyond that, the Bristol Channel. Eynon Bay would be on the other side of the channel and then, finally, Three Crosses Abbey. In about two days, his time with her would be at an end. As much as he wanted to keep his distance from her, there was a large part of him that wanted to resume where he’d left off with her.

  If Lucifer and Remy had noticed Constantine behaving oddly, they didn’t say anything. In fact, everything had been normal when he emerged onto the deck after his romp with Gregoria up until this very moment. Lucifer had even remained on watch with him last night and they spoke of the stars, of the French, and of the coming winter. Many subjects bounced around but not one of them had been about the lady in Constantine’s cabin.

  It was a good thing, too – Constantine didn’t want to discuss it, not even with himself.

  “Ship off the port bow!”

  The cry came from the crow’s nest and Constantine moved to the port railing, straining to see what the lookout saw. The wind was picking up, blowing east, and they were moving against that wind. They were having to use a maneuver called tacking, which meant they were zig-zagging over the waves in order to make headway against the wind. Even so, the captives rowing below were still having to strain against the current and it had been slow going the past several hours because of it. But the ship that finally came into view was heading in their direction, quite swiftly, and Lucifer came up behind Constantine, handing him his spyglass. Constantine peered through it.

  “A merchant vessel,” he finally muttered. “They must be coming from either Wexford or Dungarvan. The sails are white with blue… a blue outline of s
omething. Wait… I see it now. A horse.”

  He handed the spyglass over to Lucifer, who took a good look at the incoming ship. “That is Efford out of Plymouth,” he said. “That fat idiot who has the fleet of those new ships from Copenhagen. Remember? We met up with him last year when he presented a Letter of Marque from Henry, giving him permission to destroy pirates like us.”

  Constantine nodded and took back the spyglass, taking another look. “I remember,” he said. “He thought he was clever, calling himself a privateer, when he was simply a merchant whose pride exceeded his common sense. As I recall, we sank one ship out from underneath him when he tried and damaged two others.”

  Lucifer cast him a long look, an amused twinkle in his eye. “Then he is a fool to travel these waters, alone.”

  Constantine had to agree. “As I said, his pride exceeds his common sense,” he said. “But he is also richer than Midas himself. If he is coming from Ireland, then he must have a heavily-laden vessel, rich for the taking.”

  Lucifer could smell a battle in the air. “That is true, but he is usually armed,” he said. “Do we take the chance of an engagement with a lady on board?”

  Constantine looked at him as if the man had lost his mind. “Why would we not?” he asked harshly. He thought perhaps that Lucifer had been reading his tumultuous thoughts and he didn’t want the man knowing how confused he was over the lady. But when he saw Lucifer’s startled expression as he snapped, he forced a mischievous grin, trying not to look like a fool. “What I mean to say is that we cannot pass up such an opportunity. If Efford is armed, then all the better. We will take his goods and his ship if he angers me enough. Relay the orders to the men and raise the red banners.”

  Lucifer was on the move, bellowing orders as the men beat to quarters. They weren’t a big crew, but they were very efficient, each man worth his weight in a fight. Constantine didn’t tolerate lazy or fearful men, so every man on the ship was running for his weapon and his position. Overhead, the red le Brecque standards were raised on the yardarm of the mainmast.

  The red standards had a purpose; they were cut to look like dragon’s wings to match the flag that few on the top of mainmast, so in the wind, the banners snapped and writhed like massive wings. Since the figurehead on the Gaia was the head of a dragon, the winged banners gave it the illusion of a serpent flying over the water. Every sailing man from the Mediterranean to the North Sea knew the sight of Constantine le Brecque’s red-wing banners and his dragon ship.

  Beside the Gaia, the Persephone also raised wing-like banners, snapping briskly in the wind, and followed the Gaia on a parallel course towards the very large merchant ship, which had clearly sighted them. They began to turn due south, showing the Gaia and the Persephone its broadside, and Constantine’s ships adjusted course accordingly. It wasn’t long before the four-pounder cannonballs began to fly.

  Cannon fire could be heard, echoing across the water, but they were warning shots. Constantine’s ships weren’t close enough to hit, so it was a waste of ammunition on the part of the merchant ship but it was meant to send a message. Of course, Constantine ignored the warning shots. With his men positioned at the bow of each of his ships with two four-pounder cannons, he was about to send a message of his own.

  But he was smarter than the captain of the merchant vessel. He waited until they were in range and took aim at the mainmast, lobbing off two shots in short time. The first one barely missed the mainmast but the second one plowed into it, causing the thing to list dangerously. Over on the Persephone, Augustin and Kerk came around the rear of the merchant vessel and with seven cannon bursts, shot out the rudder.

  Very quickly, the large merchant vessel was dead in the water.

  Dead, but not out. They managed to load their portside cannons and blast out at the Gaia, hitting her twice on the gun deck while the other five skipped over the main deck or simply brushed past and out to sea.

  At that point, however, the Gaia was in too close for them to accurately reload without damaging their vessel further, and Constantine had his men throw out grappling hooks, pulling the vessels closer so they could board the floundering merchant ship. The Persephone closed in on the ship’s starboard side, effectively boxing the vessel in.

  After that, it was pandemonium.

  In Constantine’s cabin, Gregoria was well-aware that something terrible and frightening was going on.

  And it had all happened rather quickly. Ever since setting sail yesterday morning, the seas had been calm and the trip had been smooth as far as trips went. But, much like Constantine, she was still grappling with what had happened between them the day before. Every time she thought of it, she had to fan herself, swept away by the memories of heat and lust as Constantine had backed her into a corner and had his way with her.

  She couldn’t decide if she was more embarrassed at her lack of resistance or more angry that Constantine had pushed himself on her. Truthfully, he didn’t exactly push himself on her. Gregoria was convinced that she could have repelled him had she truly taken a stand, but she hadn’t. She’d melted like butter at his touch, becoming boneless and spineless and foolish. Her maidenhood, which she had maintained these twenty-two years, had been lost all in a swift, passionate moment. For dignity’s sake, she knew she had to show Constantine that she was outraged by his conduct and that she would never again tolerate him taking advantage of her but, secretly, she was hoping he would come back to his cabin and kiss her again.

  He had such wonderful kisses.

  It was, therefore, a strange game she played for the rest of the day and into the night, torn between embarrassment, anger, and hope. She’d vowed not to let herself become interested in or otherwise attached to Constantine, but given what had happened between them, that was now impossible. She already felt a great deal of interest in him, like it or not, and when Constantine didn’t join her for the evening meal, she had been vastly disappointed. One of his men, the one named Remy, had brought her supper, carried upon silver trays by two fairly well-dressed seamen. Gregoria noticed that all of Constantine’s men were well-fed and well-dressed, the evidence of a prosperous pirate.

  In fact, the serving utensils and plate that she was served with were fine and expensive. The plate was pewter, inlaid with semi-precious stones, and the knife and spoon were solid silver and heavy. The food was some kind of fresh fish, cooked over a flame, with a sauce of mushrooms. It had been delicious, accompanied by a fine wine, and Gregoria ate until she could eat no more. Upon a silver plate that one of the seamen had left on the table were battered apple slices, fried, and then coated with honey. Full as she was, Gregoria still managed to stuff apples into her mouth.

  After a meal like that, with sweets and wine, sleep came easily. She collapsed on the fine bed, swathed in silks, and the dogs slept next to her all night long. She only awoke because someone brought a meal to break her fast, and she rose sleepily to devour a steamed dish comprised of bread, eggs, apples, currants, and nuts. It was the second fine meal she’d had shipboard, which led her to believe that Constantine and his men ate very well when they were at sea. She had hardly eaten so well when she was on land.

  The dogs slipped out when the seamen came to take her trays away and Gregoria was left alone in the cabin as the sun rose. She was coming to feel more foolish now as a new day dawned, foolish at her behavior the previous day and embarrassed because Constantine evidently had no plans to return to her. Perhaps he’d gotten what he’d wanted and there was no more reason to visit her. Disappointment turned into sorrow. Gregoria was coming to think it was justified punishment for the way she’d allowed the man to have his way with her.

  She was getting no better than she deserved.

  Therefore, she planted herself at the windows that overlooked the rudder and watched the sea pass by. It was a fine morning but as the day passed, it began to get windy. The sea became rough and, for the first time, she began to feel queasy. She was better when she remained by the windows with the breeze
whipping in her face, so she planted herself there and didn’t move. As the day progressed, she’d given up hoping that Constantine might return, so now all she could do was wait until they reached Wales. Given the way her stomach was feeling, and the sad confusion in her heart, she was hoping Wales would make an appearance sooner rather than later.

  It was time for her to get back to that house and garden near the sea and forget all about Constantine le Brecque.

  But then, the explosions started to come. At first, they were distant, but Gregoria could tell that the ship had taken a turn; the land that had been on the horizon all morning was now at a different angle. She could hear the faint shouts of men and, somewhere, someone was beating on a drum, a cadence she hadn’t heard before. She came away from the windows and wandered the cabin in tense silence, trying to hear what was going on, when the entire ship abruptly shuddered as the cannons were fired.

  With a yelp, Gregoria grabbed hold of the nearest wall, bracing herself against the concussion of the cannons. The ship was rocking from the blasts and she struggled to keep her footing as she stumbled back over to the windows to see if she could spy what was going on outside.

  Smoke from the cannon fire blew back into the cabin and she coughed, waving her hands to scatter it so that she could breathe. Sticking her head out the window, she could see the bow of another ship alongside. But that was about all she could see because of the smoke; still, the ships were very close together and she could again hear the faint shouts of men. Suddenly, it occurred to her what was happening.

  “We’re being boarded!” she gasped.

  Terrified she was about to become a spoil of war, Gregoria raced about the room, looking for something to defend herself with. There were two closets in the room and she yanked the first one open, only finding things like silver cups and other treasures, which weren’t of any interest to her unless she planned to beat somebody over the head with a fine cup. But the second closet contained two swords, shoved into the back, and she grabbed one of them, nearly tripping over it when she realized how heavy it was. It was long, too, but she didn’t care. It would be better to protect herself with a long, sharp sword than a short dagger. Someone could get too close to her if she only had a little blade for protection. But with this sword, she could hold off a man at a good distance.