Revenge of the Corsairs

by Elizabeth Ellen Carter

  She grabbed the first thing that came to hand, a cushion, and thrust it forward as Rabia swiped again. Feathers filled the air. Laura staggered back another few steps.

  “Where is he?” Rabia shrieked. “I want the boy! Where is he?”

  Her words sank in. He’s not here! Benjamin’s not here!

  Laura felt the words with each hammering heartbeat. Elation was a cloudburst inside her.

  Rabia noticed her expression change.

  “You know where he is, don’t you!” she screamed and charged at Laura. Rage bordering on insanity seemed to give the woman super human strength. She drove Laura to the floor, crashing her onto her back. Her knife flew away, skittering across the carpet, and her head banged so hard backwards she saw stars.

  A split second later, Laura saw the dagger plunge toward her. She clutched Rabia’s wrist with both hands.

  Her arms trembled with the force of the woman’s weight pressing down, her face now right above her own, florid with rage. Laura stared into the hypnotic brown eyes. She could not hold on –

  Rabia stiffened abruptly and let out an ear-splitting scream. Something appeared to be embedded in the shoulder of the arm in which she held the knife. She released her grip on the blade, her arm starting to shudder wildly.

  Laura saw with horror that a scimitar had been hacked downward into Rabia’s shoulder right next to her neck. Blood spurted on either side of the embedded blade as Rabia twisted round and looked up at the woman who stood behind her, holding on to the weapon’s grip with both hands.

  An olive-skinned little woman was dressed in a mud-colored robe.

  “Brown Mouse!” gasped Rabia. “Why did you do this?”

  “My name is Mara,” the woman replied. Then she pulled out the scimitar with a tug and swung the blade horizontally this time.

  Rabia’s body pitched forward onto Laura. She pushed it away with revulsion and rose to unsteady feet. Mara dropped the scimitar.

  “Laura!”

  Both women turned at the man’s voice. Standing in the doorway was Elias.

  He stared at her as if at a dreadful apparition for a moment before she realized she was drenched in Rabia’s blood. Then the man she loved rushed to her, and brought his shackled wrists over her head to embrace her nonetheless.

  Down in the courtyard, people milled about. Two of the guards, disarmed and suffering minor wounds, sat despondently on the ground. The bodies of three of their compatriots lay around about. The crew of the Calliope checked some of the outlying buildings for any holdouts. The fight had been over quickly.

  Laura thought the look on Kit’s face when she and Elias emerged from the doorway mirrored Elias’ own expression when she had turned to him just a few minutes ago upstairs. What a sight they made – she covered in blood, he shackled and limping. Then Kit broke out in a broad grin.

  “Make way! Make way!” he called out, shoving people aside. “Mr. Grace, bandages and turpentine, now!”

  Elias’ legs failed him as Kit arrived. Jonathan caught him and lowered the first officer, his face creased in pain, to the ground. Laura fell to her knees beside him and Kit, kneeling awkwardly on his bad leg, joined her. “Thank God you’re both alive,” said Kit before turning to bark a command. “Head count, Gus! And someone gets these shackles off him!”

  “All present and accounted for, Captain,” Gus called back as two other men arrived with a hammer and pliers to work at the irons on Elias’ wrists. He was soon freed and groaned as he lay back on the ground.

  His white linen trousers were stained with blood, his bare chest covered in nicks and scratches, and a thin line of blood dripped down his left bicep.

  “Careful, there’s glass there,” said Gus. “We’ll need to clean carefully.”

  Mara, who had followed them downstairs, stepped forward and poured water from a canteen into a bowl. She began gently bathing his wounds.

  Laura remained immobile, shocked at seeing his deep agony. One arm was over his face, a testament to his pain. The other lay beside him, so she held it, squeezing it to let him know she was there.

  Elias shifted his raised arm to look at her.

  “Don’t move, my love. You’re hurt,” she said.

  “Seeing your face again makes it bearable.”

  Kit loomed over them. “Don’t coddle him. He’s had worse.”

  Laura glared up at him, but Elias laughed heartily. He squeezed her hand.

  “The locket. The painting. Didn’t you get them?”

  Laura nodded, her throat tight with tears.

  “Yes. We went to Monreal, but Benjamin wasn’t there. We feared he was here with you.”

  Elias tried to sit up, shock written across his face. Gus forced him back down. “Don’t, Mr. Nash,” he grumbled, “let me work.”

  He acquiesced and looked up at Laura with pain-filled eyes. “But I left him at Monreal, I left him in the cathedral. I couldn’t risk keeping him with me.”

  “We know, Preacher,” said Kit. “We’ll work it out, just rest easy for now.”

  Then Gus pulled a chunk of glass out of Elias’ calf, and the pain had become too much. Elias passed out with a groan.

  Smoke still rose from the ruins of Ahmed Sharrouf’s villa as the Calliope sailed past the headland at Pantelleria. Kit had insisted on a hasty examination of Sharrouf’s records for any useful intelligence and came away with several journals and assorted sheaves of paper. Their last act on leaving had been to set fire to what remained in the library. The flames quickly spread to the rest of the building.

  Laura nursed a feverish Elias as he lapsed in and out of consciousness on the voyage back to Palermo. She fretted not only for him, also but for Benjamin.

  If Elias died, then the chances of successfully finding her son would die with him. The loss of both would be more than she could bear.

  Over the next few days, Elias recovered in a spare bedroom over Morwena’s shop.

  It was on the third day, as Laura sat beside his bed, an unexpected visitor entered the room. Matteo had traveled down from Villagrazia. He held an envelope in his hand.

  “Miss Laura,” the youth said, “I am so glad to see you again. I hope you and Mr. Elias will be glad also to see this.” He held out the envelope. “Father Giacomo tells me it’s good news.”

  Elias straightened up and reached for the letter and read it out loud for Laura’s benefit.

  Greetings Father Giacomo

  A group of people recently visited Monreal to claim a boy child who was abandoned in the cathedral. They offered an extract from the Villagrazia register of births as proof of the child’s identity. The first name on the extract matched the name on a note pinned to the child’s clothing. They also had part of a broken locket. It appeared to match a locket that accompanied the note and the woman certainly did resemble the portrait of the woman in it.

  Deacon Luciano heard their plea but decided to err on the side of caution and sent the party away until he could confirm their story.

  If you are able, please tell the woman, Senora Laura Nash to present herself again at the cathedral.

  Regards,

  Father Fidele

  Laura let out a cry and fell sobbing into Elias’ arms, much to the alarm of Matteo.

  “I thought that was good news,” he said.

  “Believe me, Matteo, it is,” Elias replied.

  The young man looked uncertain. “Shall I tell the others?”

  Elias nodded his agreement. “Tell them to give us a couple of minutes, will you?”

  Matteo hesitated a moment, then left.

  Laura took a moment to dry her tears.

  “I love you, Elias,” she said.

  “I know you do,” he said, looking away, “but for how long this time?” She hated the resignation in his voice; this acknowledgment of damaged and bruised feelings.

  “Forever. I’m home, Elias. I’m home for good. Please don’t tell me you hate me.”

  Laura squeezed his hand until he looked at her
once more.

  “For better or worse, until death do us part… Elias Winston Nash, will you marry me?”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Elias had never heard of a “Monreal marriage” until Morwena mentioned it.

  “Weddings in Sicily are a big family affair and sometimes there are many feuds or the daughter is not permitted to marry by her parents. Perhaps she is young, perhaps her papa does not approve. So sometimes our lovers run away to the country where the priests are not so particular about the rules. We call that a Monreal marriage,” she said.

  Laura laughed, clearly delighted. “It sounds like running away to Gretna Green.”

  “It would certainly help secure the return of Benjamin if you went together as husband and wife,” Sophia remarked.

  “And I have a priest who is ready to marry you this afternoon,” added Morwena. “Jonathan and I, Kit and Sophia will be your witnesses.”

  Elias looked at her and then to Jonathan who smothered a laugh. Kit showed no such restraint. He burst out in gales of laughter.

  “You’ve already made arrangements?” Elias asked.

  “Of course!” said Morwena. “The priest at Villagrazia likes you. He wants you to rebuild your villa and invite him to dinner to continue your theological discussions.”

  “Morwena, my love,” Jonathan said, twining her arm though his. “You’re supposed to ask before arranging other people’s lives.”

  The dark-haired woman looked up at her husband adoringly before fixing her attention back onto Elias. “And what would be the fun in that? Besides, I didn’t see the point of waiting once I learned Laura had asked you to marry her. After all, you did say yes, did you not?”

  Elias offered an exaggerated sigh. “Jonathan, how do you stand your life being so well organized?”

  “I’m used to it now,” he grinned. “And trust me, it’s better to go along.”

  Elias straightened in his chair and pressed his feet to the floor. The skin on the soles of his feet had knitted together well. In another week, he would remove the last of the bandages. He turned to Laura who sat beside him and picked up her hand.

  “Is this what you want? We could have a lavish wedding, a feast to go on for days if you wish. We could even return to England and be married in an Anglican church if that’s what you want.”

  Laura squeezed his hand. Those blue eyes which had captivated him from their first meeting held him in thrall still. A beautiful face, which had seen so much fear and suffering over the past few years, showed no signs of it now. She was a woman who found the inner courage to slay the demons that tormented her soul. Elias didn’t know it was possible to love her even more, but he did.

  “I just want you,” she said. “I want our family. Let’s get married today. We’ll celebrate tomorrow when we have our son.”

  Our son.

  The words spread warmth through his chest.

  “Then let’s get married today.”

  *

  Elias kissed their joined hands.

  “I’ve dreamed of this day for the longest time.”

  “Our wedding day?”

  “The day I make love for the first time to the only woman I’ve ever wanted to make love to.”

  Laura blushed.

  Matteo and his father had been kind enough to give up their own home for a few days to give them some privacy.

  Laura turned down the linen sheets made soft over time. She was nervous but she was not afraid. This was Elias, a man she had come to love. Not a silly, childish infatuation or a desire borne of lust, but a deep and abiding passion.

  Still waters run deep.

  There was so much to admire in Elias – his thoughtfulness, his bravery, his integrity. For the longest time, she thought that was the limit of her regard. But now, as he stripped off his clothes, baring himself as he had bared his soul, Laura felt her body respond.

  His was a body honed by hard work on land and at sea and when he put his arms around her, she felt safe and protected. The urgent press of his hardness against her belly did not reduce her to quivering panic. It was evidence of his love for her, not simply desire.

  Their first kiss was sweet, a tender exploration of mouth and lips. Laura broke the kiss and removed her simple nightgown. She stood before him naked. The longing in his eyes as he lingered over every part of her, made her heart beat faster.

  She had learned her lesson about giving and taking that night all those months ago. She had used him as she herself had been used. Now she waited.

  “You look nervous,” she said.

  Elias smiled slowly. Anticipation thrummed between her legs. Her nipples puckered and she was tempted to stroke herself to bring relief.

  “I’m not at all nervous,” he said. “I intend to take my time. A very long time.”

  He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her hand in a courtly gesture that made her fall in love with him once more, then escorted her to the bed and lay on his side toward her.

  “I’m going to learn every inch of you,” he whispered, his fingers skimming over her shoulders, down her arms, across her breasts. “I’ll know you so well, my darling. Every hitch of your breath, every sigh that tells me that I bring you pleasure. I’ll need no other experience than the one we share together.”

  *

  Elias had fought battles – against the weather at sea and the Barbary Coast pirates. He had been armed with knives, pistols and cutlasses. Never before had he been armed with two simple pieces of paper.

  One proclaimed he and Laura were man and wife and, just as importantly, the recognized parents of Benjamin Edward Nash.

  The other was a letter from the Florio family, asking the church to overlook the unusual circumstances of the child’s abandonment, and endorsing Senor and Senora Nash as valued members of the Palermo community.

  Laura stared at the gold band on her finger and the larger one on the finger of her husband before their fingers entwined to hold each other’s hand tight.

  They waited in one of the vestibules for nearly an hour for the deacon to return with the family who had taken in their son.

  “Elias, do you think Benjamin will remember I left him?” Laura whispered. “Will he hate me for it?”

  He put his arm around his wife. “He’s too young to remember. He will see your face and will love you as he has always done.”

  “Do you hate me for abandoning our son?”

  “I’ve never hated you, and when I read the diary you left for Benjamin, I understood.”

  “I’m sorry it got destroyed in the fire.”

  “You’re back and that’s the only thing that matters. You can tell Benjamin this story yourself one day.”

  They both fell silent at the sound of footsteps echoing down the hall.

  Elias rose to his feet. Laura did so as well. He found himself holding his breath as an elderly couple entered. The woman, short and stocky, with a simple scarf covering her hair, carried Benjamin who slept soundly in her arms.

  The man, who would have been tall in his youth, was now stooped by his advancing years.

  The official who accompanied them spoke. “We’re here today to establish if this foundling is the child abandoned by these two people and, if so, whether they are fit parents to take back the child.”

  Elias pulled out Laura’s broken locket on its chain. “Nearly two months ago, I brought my child here for sanctuary. Attempts had been made on his life and mine. It was always my intent, God willing, to return or, in my absence, for my wife to claim our son.”

  He saw the deacon’s eyes fall to Laura and Elias continued.

  “To prove Benjamin’s identity and ours, I broke this locket and pinned the back of it, with a portrait in miniature of my wife’s mother to Benjamin’s clothes. As you see, her daughter shares her coloring, down to their blue eyes. And here is the front of that locket to compare.”

  The hunched man produced the back portion. He fitted the two pieces together, perfectly mated sav
e for where the hinge was twisted and broken. He showed it to his wife. The old woman burst into tears.

  “You will have to forgive my wife,” said the old man. “We were never blessed with our own children and it has left a large emptiness in our hearts, so when she found the child here in the church, we thought it was a sign from God.”

  The woman’s sobbing woke Benjamin, he yawned but kept his head on the woman’s shoulder. Then his eyes seemed to focus properly. He raised his head, saw Elias, and shoved out his arms.

  “Pa-pa-pa! Papa! Papa!”

  Elias reached out for the child who immediately latched on to his shirt.

  Tears streamed down Laura’s face as she placed a hand on Benjamin’s back. Nearly ten months old, how he had grown!

  She clutched the hand of the tearful woman. “Thank you, thank you so much for taking care of my son.”

  The older woman was inconsolable at the moment, however, and she turned to her husband for comfort.

  Laura wiped her own eyes with a kerchief and, for the first time, Benjamin looked at her with the blue eyes they shared.

  “Ma-ma!”

  “That’s right,” Elias said softly. “It’s your mama, and it’s time we all went home together.”

  Epilogue

  July 1818

  Laura put down her paint brush and laughed as Benjamin, naked as a jay bird and chased by Mara, ran giggling across the lawn.

  The dark events of their first meeting were behind them. The young woman had blossomed in the time that had passed. As she grew in confidence, so did Matteo’s interest in her.

  Arcadia was rebuilt and the newly-whitewashed walls shone in the summer sunshine.

  It was too lovely to stay indoors, so they picnicked in the shade of a tree. Morwena was now heavy with child, but was still no less stubborn about doing things for herself. After all, she wanted to be there to see the arrival of her latest investment – the cannery equipment, expected to arrive about the same time as her child. Jonathan had persuaded Morwena to rest with her feet up and, on this day at least, she did as she was told.

  Sophia found interest in a copy of their uncle’s new work on archaeology – Professor Jonas Fenton’s On Exploring the Southern Mediterranean For Islands Once Settled By The Ancients. Inside was filled with wonderful engravings based on Sophia’s own sketches of the ruins of Catallus, proudly credited to S Green, research assistant.