by Angela Hayes
Danton
Love had gone somewhere I couldn’t, deep into her mind where she kept her past. I watched her eyes go dreamy, saw her happiness as she looked at the portrait, and I found myself envious of Rodolfo for putting such joy there.
In her remembering I saw her pain. Like a phantom it had taken over her mind, controlling her in a way that made me feel helpless. There was no denying the over whelming grief in her eyes and speech that bordered on madness. In her story there was an authenticity I could no longer deny.
Losing a child, no matter how many times, had to take a toll on a person’s soul. I didn’t want to give Love my pity. It wouldn’t help her, but I couldn’t stop myself.
“I’m sorry Love.” I said tenderly, sadness filling my voice at the pain I saw reflected in the dual pools of her eyes. Closing them she fought to keep the forming tears at bay.
“It’s okay.”
With a negligent shrug to her shoulders I watched as she put on a brave face, pushing back the recollection of centuries past and the ache they caused, wrapping herself in triviality.
“He wasn’t the only child I buried too soon. Today’s medical advances were hardly a thought when I delivered three stillborn babies, buried two of them before the age of ten, and lost four to the ravages of war. They’ve long been in a better place and I’ve long since shed tears of grief for their passing.”
“It still hurts.” I observed. She wasn’t fooling me for a second. No one could turn emotions that intense on and off like a light switch. Not even an Oscar winning actress. There were some things that couldn’t be faked.
“Constantly. Life isn’t always happy Danton no matter how many times you get to live.”
“Yet you stand here trying to act as if it doesn’t affect you.”
“And that bothers you?” She questioned. “You perceive my lack of true emotion to be crass and heartless. I see it as a way to preserve my sanity. I remember every day of every life. Nothing is forgotten. I’ve given birth to forty children, all of whom I’ve loved with every fiber of my being, just as I did their fathers. All are dead, buried, and gone to ash, as are countless family and friends. No one remembers them like my sisters and I do.”
I let the statement hang between us, not unmoved. I realized that the grief Love felt was still strong, regardless of her attempts at bravado as she continued, the sheen of tears in her eyes threatening to fall at any second.
“No one knows the way they laughed, the way they cried, or the way they smelled. No one can recall the children’s first steps, their first words, the way they looked in the candle light as they slept, or the cold paleness of their skin when life had left their bodies. No one remembers but me. I remember it all!”
“I’m sorry.” I apologize helplessly. I never dreamed Love paid such a high price for her existence, couldn‘t fathom how she continued to live through it again, and again.
“I’m not. They knew I loved them. I find peace in that.”
I nodded my understanding as she continued, her voice once again strong, no longer morose.
“One high spot many years earlier was the marriage my sisters and I were able to arrange between Maria Analia of Saxony and Charles of Bourbon in seventeen- thirty eight. Charles would become Spain’s king twenty years later and I would go on to die July tenth at the age of seventy-nine from tuberculosis. Dreadful condition.”
Eyes on mine, Love’s penetrating gaze was questioning as if she was trying to determine whether or not I could take anymore. It didn’t matter to me if I could handle it or not. I needed to know more and this was only brushing the surface.
“What life was that?”
“The ninth,” Moving to the door she held it open, mischief back in her eyes “Come with me, I’ll give you another life you can add to your list of things to research.”
Chapter 45
Avast Ye Hardies!
Love
Danton followed me from my office to the historical art display. No longer spine stiff, his once blank face was now full of sympathy; dawning with what I hoped was acceptance. I appreciated his understanding of a mother’s loss, even if he couldn’t understand the mother.
“Raphael’s Three Graces.” I began, stopping in front of the framed and captioned imitation piece. “Painted in the year fifteen hundred by the master himself. Of course this is only a reproduction, the original hangs in Musee Conde in France.
“Is that? Are you telling me that’s you?” Danton asked in a surprised whisper, cautious of the people milling around us. His eyes went wide as he took in the painted bodies of the two nude and third semi-nude women.
“And my sisters.” I answered, tongue in cheek as I looked fondly on myself. “That’s me on the right. You’ll have to wonder which ones are Faith and Hope, I’m not telling.”
“Exhibitionist!” He laughed, relaxing for the first time. It was a sound that warmed my heart.
“Just a little,” I blushed.
Turning we walked around to the historical maritime display. “Times were tough. We were sixteen when we posed for Raphael. Though our time together was short I admired his talent greatly.”
“You didn’t marry him did you?”
“No,” I laughed. “Raphael was only a dear friend who helped us during a time of great need. The Italian Wars had been ravaging Italy for six years by this point. There was no love to be brought together for a long time. Our mother died giving birth to us and our father who raised us was killed in the line of duty a few weeks before the painting was created. With no end to the fighting in sight we left home.
“It was as we were traveling south that we came across Raphael. The small payment for services rendered coupled with the severance bestowed on us following our father’s death allowed us to buy passage aboard a ship that was traveling to Sicily. We were in search of a new beginning. One without the threat of bloodshed or war.”
I stopped in front of the display that proudly offered an array of miniature replicas of nautical vessels. Paintings featuring larger ships, as well as various mannequins exhibiting pirate dress dating back from the twenty-first century to the time of the Vikings.
“Our captain was in a hurry to unload his cargo and instead of hugging the coast and keeping close to the safety the inland waters provided, he decided to brave the open waters in favor of a shorter route. Side note, Sicily is less than a hundred miles from Tunisia’s farthest tip.”
“Not a great decision on our captains part.”
“It certainly wasn’t and thanks to his lack of patience our ship was attacked by privateers intent on looting and enslaving their new captives.”
I smiled as Danton’s jaw dropped in shock. Clearly this was a story he wasn’t expecting.
“Luck was in our favor as Faith’s, or Euphrosyne as she was known then, future husband, was the one who kidnapped us. His name was Kalei Ruzgar. Hope, Veda, married Kalei’s brother. I, Cerys, married his uncle, Aslan Niamon.
“Aslan’s first wife had died several years earlier leaving him the full responsibility of raising their two children Jessenia and Jabari on his own. At nine and five, after having accompanied Aslan in his privateering for those several years, the children were in possession of deplorable manners and a mighty wicked sense of humor.
“They took great delight in torturing me. Until I’d finally had enough, I was continuously assailed by the disgusting odor of decomposing fish wafting up from the depths of my closet where they lay buried among my under things and hidden in the toes of my slippers.” I could practically smell the stench of rotting fish my memory was so vivid. Once again I was taken back in time to a ships cramped hold.
“That day I followed the tell-tale sounds of hushed giggling that filtered through the walls from neighboring cabin. The surprise on their small faces when I found them in their hiding spot was priceless.
“From the moment I laid eyes on Aslan’s children with their pitch black hair and large doe eyes they’d yet to grow into, they were mine. I loved them wit
h all my heart. Jessenia taught me how to fight with a sword so I could defend myself since we all lived the privateer life until I became pregnant. The daggers in my living room were a present from Aslan when I gifted him with our first son, Danil.”
“What was written on them?”
I was surprised Danton had taken a close enough look to see the Arabic scroll carved along the undulating blade. He’d gotten a better look at them than I realized.
“An inside joke, the front translates to, ‘Siren of the Sea’. The back to, ‘My heart sings for you’.” Showing off a little I repeated the loving endearments in Arabic.
“The first time I laid eyes on Aslan, he was fishing me from the ocean. I had lost my footing on the pier and couldn’t swim.”
From our post on the main deck we watched our new home come into view.
The energy level on board was high, the deck hands eager to be home and begin lining their pockets with gold from their share of the latest gathering.
In preparation for docking, Euphrosyne, Veda, and I had been brought up from below deck and tied to the front mast. Kalei Ruzgar, Cinaed’s newest body was still not convinced of who we said he was. That was okay, it had been less than a weeks time and Euphrosyne would eventually bring him around. In the meantime Veda and I worried what our future held.
As the ship docked, the plank was let down and people began to rush here and there unloading cargo.
“Good day, Kalei.” A large man greeted. Shaking the pirates hand he looked at us with unabashed interest. “I see your trip was profitable.”
“That it was.” Kalei laughed.
“A shame I didn’t go with you!”
“Fear not brother, I brought you a gift.”
Leaning past Euphrosyne to cut our ties, she whispered a single word in his ear.
“You are still unmarried Malik, are you not?”
“You were gone two months Kalei, not two years. Our mother’s cooking still fills my belly.”
“Perfect.” Grabbing Veda’s ties, he held them out to his brother. “Enjoy.”
Malik raised a brow, Veda‘s protests dying her throat as he reached with one hand to twirl a piece of flame colored hair around his finger. With the other he reached out to take her ties.
Nodding Malik picked Veda up in his arms, carrying her home. Over his shoulder Veda sent me a saucy wink and I knew that for now there would be no objection on her part. Before my eyes a blue aura began to appear, growing brighter with every second that past. It was the same blue Malik carried.
“What about me?” I asked.
“I have someone in mind.” Kalei announced, handing my ties off to a younger deckhand. “Take her to Aslan.”
“Aslan. Who’s Aslan?” I demanded, not out of fear, but curiosity.
“My uncle.”
Following the deck hand I tried to navigate the thin piece of wood, but my current caretaker was in a hurry.
“Slow down.” I protested, first in Italian and then in French.
“Keep up woman.” He barked.
I didn’t care for his tone and probably should have thought twice about my next course of action. “I said, slow down.” I repeated, trying to stand my ground and make him stop.
In response the deckhand yanked my bonds hard enough to send me into a stumble that nearly caused me to lose my balance.
“Woman.” The hand cursed, tired of dealing with me. In an attempt to hurry along his captain’s bidding he attempted to pick me up and toss me over his shoulder.
Problem was, I didn’t want to be picked up and his stench was ripe enough to have my stomach heaving. “Stop,” I yelled, swatting at his back. “Put me down.”
I struggled so much that once the hand got me onto his shoulders, I didn’t stay there for long. “Release me.” I demanded for the last time as we toppled off the plank into the water below as I‘d hoped. Landing with a splash I came up spitting and sputtering, my feet tangling in my skirts as I began to tread water.
“Idiot.” I yelled in mock fury. “Foolish boy.”
Laughter boomed around us as the deckhand, unrestricted by skirts or bonds swam to the pier, hauled himself out of the water, and with a smart grin started back up the plank. At least he smelled better.
“Why you good for nothing…” I began to curse, only to have my words cut short as I was hauled out of the water by my scruff.
“Aye fellas. Looks like I’ve caught a mermaid.” Aslan boasted as he cut my ropes.
“More like a cursed siren with that unnatural hair. Throw her back.” Came the consensus.
Standing there like a drowned rat I should have been humiliated beyond belief as the men laughed at me. Pushing my heavy hair from my eyes I got an up close view of the dark bearded man. His chest was barrel round, thick with muscle, his dark eyes filled with lust as he held me, sopping wet in his arms.
My gown hung unseemly to my curves, but I didn’t care, not with the way Aslan was looking at me. I knew he could feel what we were and could be to each other.
Tremors of desire coursed through my body when he pulled me close to his chest, his warmth quieting the shivers that racked my body. Quietly he whispered in my ear, “Siren of the sea, my heart sings for you.”
Our love was instantaneous, a carbon copy of what we felt for each other. With Aslan I was more than willing to be love’s captive. Now I can’t help but think, once again, that this blooming love between Danton and myself was more like a battle. But it was a battle I was determined to win.
Danton nodded, “And the replica ship was his?”
“The Xebec,” I laughed. “Yes. Once I harnessed control on my sea legs I took to life of a privateer extremely well. I was given charge over any female prisoners we came across and in return for a handsome fee; I sold them to their husbands.”
Danton looked aghast. “You did what?”
“Don’t worry.” I soothed. “They were true matches, everyone. They were all quite happy with the end result. There was so much love to be found in our new home. With my proceeds and Kalei’s help I bought the Siren for Aslan as a gift for our fifth wedding anniversary.” Walking back to my office, I finished my tale.
“To my immense disappointment Jessenia never really took to wearing dresses after so many years in breeches. Despite her lack of feminine ways I am proud to say that she did go on to marry one of Barbarossa’s sons.
“Jabari of course became a seaman, as did our first born Danil and our second son Stesha. Our third and forth sons, Ilori and Oringo preferred their land legs and become well respected businessmen as tavern owners. The rowdy bunch.
“I lived to the age of seventy-seven along with my sisters, for we were never far apart. We became revered among the community for our matchmaking skills. You see Danton, the sea in her own right is very much a woman, a temptress, who seduces men from their beds.
The women they left behind needed the comfort of knowing that the men who left them loved them as much as they did the sea.”
“You’ve lead interesting lives.” Danton observed as we stopped at my desk.
“That one was particularly fun,” I agreed. “Arabella and Cerys are special. It was between them that we lived in Ipswich.
In the silence I could see Danton’s mind working to remember my earlier declarations of the goings on in Ipswich.
“Would you like a list of reputable researchers to contact and help you?”
“I think I can handle it.”
I pointed to his list. “Be sure to add Darla Prokop and Minna Turpin.”
“Thanks. Ah, I’ll try not to keep you waiting too long for an answer.”
“Take all the time you need Danton. Research can be time consuming. I’ll be here.”
****
When Danton left I tried to go back to work but the task of organizing the new displays no longer held my interest. Closing the folder I set it aside to read later tonight when I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep. It was an activity I hadn’t been doing much of sin
ce the night of the ill-fated ballgame.
Turning to my computer I connected to the internet. Relying on instinct I typed in two words. It might be wishful thinking, but a girl needed to be prepared for anything. Sitting back I read over the unlimited resources at my fingertips; browsing a few dozen sites before I hit pay dirt. Then there it was. Twenty minutes after Danton left and a thousand photos later I found what I was looking for… my wedding dress!
Picking up the phone I dialed Faith’s number.
“Hello.”
“Hey it’s me. When can I get my necklace?”
“Two weeks. You sound happy, did Danton come by?”
“Yep.”
“And?”
“Progress is being made.”
“Have you found your dress yet?” My sister asked, knowing me so well.
“Just did.”
“Did you find mine? It’s my turn to be the maid of honor.” Faith reminded me.
She and Hope alternated that particular duty every other life.
“I’m looking now.”
“What date did you have in mind?”
I flipped through my desk top day planner. I hadn’t really decided on a day yet. “Do you think the middle October would be rushing it?”
“Nope.”
“Third Saturday in October if he comes around by then, the nineteenth.” I confirmed.
“And if he doesn’t?”
“If he doesn’t. I’ll have a nice new party gown. I‘ll dye it pink and wear it to the Cherry Festival ball.”
“I hear ya. Don’t forget to tell Hope.”
“She’s my next call. I was thinking she might like to play wedding planner. It could add a new leg to her business. Matchmaker slash combination wedding planner. One stop shopping. She could do package deals or something.”
“Don’t be disappointed if she turns you down.” Faith warned. “I think she’s still sore from that indoor rock climbing you made her do and. That or she thinks your threats weren‘t really threats.”
I laughed. “What a sissy! Serves her right. You know I just said that to get her moving, don‘t you?”
“I wasn’t so sure, but my relief is immense. Want to do it again?” Faith asked, her lack of sanity evident in the question.
