“Form up, gents, we're approaching the camp. Quick march.”
Inside the camp, things were just as chaotic as they’d appeared. Jacob's commanding officer had accepted the offer of the pirates, conditionally on their behavior, and signed documentation, which told Jacob just how desperate the situation really was. However, no sooner had they become settled than the British reinforcements arrived, carrying with them Lord Bamber himself, the Commodore Harold Harper. In addition, to Jacob's surprise, he had brought his young family along. His wife, the Lady Annabelle Bamber, and his young son, the heir to the title, James. It was not uncommon for the families of soldiers to march with them, but for a high ranking Lord to have his family along was just adding more complication to the situation.
“Kill me,” Jacob whispered to Enola as he passed her carrying a bundle of linen. She quirked an eyebrow, used to this comment.
“How would you like me to do that?”
“In my sleep,” he answered. “Providing I get that shortly. I have to go find the Major and the Commodore and tell them that we have accepted the help of pirates.”
Enola shrugged, seeing no difference between the Navy, Army and pirates. They were all British men, trying to fight in the same war and accomplish the same things.
If only she could get her people to see the same thing.
“Come with me?” he asked, and she sighed. Part of the reason she and Jacob had ended up in the same camp was because he was always dependent on her, since they were children.
“Yes,” she said. “I will be your representative of the Natives. Although, I am quite sure I do not represent any of them right now.”
“Put that down then,” he said and she rolled her eyes.
“You have no patience, Jacob,” she said, as she did. “Which makes me wonder exactly how you have waited for Mary for nine years.”
He chuckled at that as they walked. “You think that is my choice, do you?”
“No, I have seen the ways you try to woo her,” Enola answered, as they approached the two commanders, standing in the middle of the field. They were clearly such different people, it was staggering. Lord Bamber was well dressed, his uniform pristine and his head held high, a man no doubt born to leadership.
Major Holde, on the other hand, looked like a scruffy dog, with blonde red hair and stubble; his uniform showing the dust of the road. He was bulky, strong, but his eyes held a weariness that spoke of the weight of the world. He had his hand on his sword, as if he expected an attack at any time, and yet, he did not seem to mind if they took his life. There was something about him, rugged, strong, and yet knowing the world that was cruel at the same time; accepting that life and death were just a cycle he was riding. Enola felt oddly drawn to him, standing a step behind Jacob as her best friend cleared his throat.
“Major Holde, Lord Bamber,” Jacob said. “It is my honor and duty to welcome you to this camp, as the aide de campe, and I thank you both for joining us. Your forces are most welcome. This is the Princess Enola; she is our translator and our link to the Native forces.”
Enola made a small noise in her throat. She hated when Jacob used the word Princess, but she knew there was no better translation for what she was. The world he described, of British royalty and nobility, seemed like another planet. The colonies were different; the colonies were about survival, not which family you were born into.
“A pleasure,” Lord Bamber said as he dipped his head toward her.
Holde said nothing to her, his eyes flickering upward for only a moment. Enola felt oddly disarmed in the way he looked at her, as if he was afraid of her simply by standing there. She did not think it was about race, though, oddly. It was something deeper than that, something that he was keeping locked inside. “I look forward to our partnership. My men should be disembarked shortly and then we can get to the details of the impending attack.”
“If you require accommodation for your family, Enola would be more than happy to settle them,” Jacob said. “Major Holde, is there...any of yours that require family accommodation?”
“No,” Holde's voice was gruff, with a cockney British accent that surprised Enola. The officers always had a proper British accent, and yet his was rough and tumble. He did not offer anything more, and Jacob, to his credit, did not ask.
“Enola,” Jacob said, and she took that as her cue, glancing to make sure he was alright. Once she had headed toward the harbor, Jacob cleared his throat. “There is one other matter we must discuss,” he said. “My commander has accepted the help of...privateers.”
Holde plucked up on that right away, jerking out of the daze he seemed to be in. “Privateers?” he asked. “Pirates?”
Lord Bamber seemed to have a different idea, though. His eyes lit up, just for a moment. “That was the Countess, in the harbor, then?”
“Ah---” Jacob paused. “That is the name of the ship, yes.”
“And the Captain?” Lord Bamber asked. “He is here?”
“Yes,” Jacob was confused. “Do you know the crew?”
“I may have made their acquaintance,” Lord Bamber replied.
“The first mate will be joining us,” Jacob said. “At the strategy meeting.”
Lord Bamber reacted to that, shaking his head. “Please, point me in the direction of their Captain.”
“He is...indisposed,” Jacob said. “But I can seek permission for you to meet with him, if he is well.”
“Tell him Lord Bamber seeks an audience,” the Commodore said. “He will grant it.”
“Of course.” Jacob was utterly confused as to what was going on, but he chose not to question it. It was better this way.
“You are working with the Natives?” Holde spoke up then, having followed Enola with his eyes.
“Some,” Jacob answered. “Enola and I are childhood friends, so we tend to...follow each other. She is the daughter of a chief, and has sway within her community.” That was partly a lie, although Jacob hoped that one day, she would again. “Many Native tribes have offered to assist us against the American and French forces. Enola speaks many languages and has been influential in translation and negotiation with the various cultures.”
“Ah,” Holde said. “I knew a woman like that once.”
He did not offer any more information, and Jacob let the conversation die, glancing over to where the pirates were set up. “If you follow me, Commodore...”
“Yes, of course,” Lord Bamber said, turning to Major Holde. “Will you join us?”
“I'll catch up with you gents in the strategy meeting,” Holde said, and Harold nodded, following Jacob to the other side of the camp.
The faces were immediately familiar as they sent up the tents. A bit more weathered, a bit rougher around the edges, and in no sort of uniform, but still the same. These were the men he had grown up with, saluted, and played cards with aboard the HMS Stallion. There was Doren, giving orders, Matheson kicking Corrigan in the shin as he put a peg in wrong. Matheson turned around at the right moment, and his eyes lit up with a grin. He straightened up, looking like he wanted to hug Harold. Matheson had been a father figure for so long; serving since Harold was a powder monkey onboard his first ship. How different things were.
“SIR!” Matheson said, his joy outpouring as he went to salute.
Corrigan turned around in shock, and then grinned. “Well, well, well.”
“Matheson, Corrigan,” Harold said. “Fancy meeting you here across the ocean.”
“We thought we'd have a new adventure, sir,” Matheson answered. “The other side of the ocean was getting boring.”
“That certainly sounds like your Captain,” Harold answered. “Which way?”
“That way, sir,” Matheson pointed to a larger tent at the end of the row.
“You do know them,” Jacob said and Harold sighed.
“It’s a long story,” he admitted. “Although I do not condone their choices or way of life...it was ...necessary.”
Jacob's brow furrowed
. “That is what the Captain said.”
“He would,” Harold answered as they approached the tent. The door flap opened, and a tall, imposing figure exited, standing in front of them.
Harold almost did not recognize Wesley standing in front of him. He had put on muscle, and he had a scar across his neck that looked half fresh. All in black, Wesley looked nothing like the timid Earl Rippon that had started on the ship; a boy who was rising to the top fast with his unrivaled mind. He looked, Harold thought, like a pirate who had no mercy. His eyes were harder, his grip on his sword stronger, his head titled with strength. What had Aaron's pirate life done to him?
“Wesley,” Harold said, remembering the first time they had brought him to Bamber Manor. He had been a wide-eyed boy who fell in love with the young actress out of a fairy tale. However, from Lola's tales back home, he knew they were going through a rough patch. They were so different; so strong in their opinions; Harold was surprised it worked at all. “It’s nice to see you.”
To his surprise, Wesley did not show an ounce of kindness or familiarity.
“You want to see him?”
“I do,” Harold said, finding it so odd that he would have to seek permission to speak to his lifelong best friend.
Wesley looked between him and Jacob, and then spoke again. “Alone,” Wesley said. “The Captain does not need any more excitement today, given our night.”
“Is that alright?” Jacob asked and Harold nodded.
“Of course,” he said as Wesley stepped aside. Harold ducked into the tent, and lay eyes, for the first time in years, on the rightful heir to the Bamber title; his brother-in-law, his best friend; his savior.
CHAPTER THREE
WHICH LORD?
WHICH LORD?
The Lord Bamber!” Jacob managed to announce as Harold swept in.
Aaron was fine; he could see it right away. Perhaps a little pale under the tan, a little shaky, but whatever had happened, he was clearly on the mend. Reading a book on the cot, he looked up and burst into a grin. Given how many times in the past Harold had walked in to find his best friend in worse states, this was a miracle.
Harold tried not to think about those times; when Aaron had dropped to the floor; lost his life for a moment, and then another one. He also tried not to think about the fact that Aaron had given up everything so Harold could be standing here in uniform.
Aaron seemed overjoyed to see him, which made the guilt in Harold's chest feel worse.
“Harold,” he said, and got up to embrace his brother in law fiercely.
“Oh God, Aaron,” Harold said, unsure of which emotion to feel first. “Hello.”
“Hello,” Aaron grinned. “I swear I did not know you were coming. But somehow, the fates have brought us together.”
“Except this should not be the way,” Harold said. “You are Lord Bamber and I should be swinging from the noose for pushing our Captain.”
“Everything that was done needed to be done,” Aaron said without an ounce of regret. He was always happy, always smiling, even though his sacrifice had changed his whole life. “Look at you, the title is treating you well. I knew you'd take to it.”
“It is not...” Harold searched for the right word. “A bad life. Your sister has been extremely helpful.”
“How is Annabelle?” he asked. “I have not heard from her in a while.”
“My new child has kept her busy,” Harold said and Aaron grinned.
“What I would give to see them.”
“You can, I brought them,” Harold answered and Aaron choked.
“You did?” he said, joy overtaking him. “I have to see her.”
“Your twin sister can wait a moment,” Harold answered, urging Aaron not to go rushing out of the tent. “We should present a united story to tell. I do not want your cover blown.”
“Annabelle and I have been mischievous our whole life,” Aaron said. “I am sure we can manage now. Tell me, how are the others? You did not, perhaps, bring Shauna with you?”
“No,” Harold answered. “Although I see your wife and daughter often. They've taken up in the country home, and they are happy. I heard you were there.”
“About eight months ago,” Aaron admitted. “I wish I could have seen you then. But we barricaded ourselves in; I had not seen them in over a year.”
“I understand,” Harold said. “And did Shauna tell you...”
“Tell me what?” Aaron said, confused.
“About...my son.” Harold chose his words carefully. When Aaron was last in England, he and Annabelle had only had a daughter, a beautiful daughter. However, he was not sure whether the news of their son had reached him. It was more than just the news of providing him with a nephew. It meant that now, without a doubt, Aaron's illegitimate child with Shauna before they were married was in no position to inherit. A daughter was one thing, but a son was different. “His name is James.”
Aaron paled, but only for a second. “Congratulations,” he said, trying to cover it with a smile. Harold met his eyes, and silence passed between them.
“I promise you, Kirsten and Shauna will always be taken care of. I promise that...”
“Of course,” Aaron answered. “As soon as you and Annabelle were married, we knew a male heir was probable. I just...hearing it is different. It makes no difference, Harold.”
“It does,” Harold said. “But it will only be for good. Kirsten will never suffer for it. She will always be a Lady of this household, treated with the utmost respect.”
“I know,” Aaron said. “I trust you with that. You are my best friend, Harold, my brother, and I trust you with everything.”
Harold took a deep shuddering breath. “I wish that you did not have to. I wish you were at my side through this. It is you who should be announced as you come to me.”
“No sense dwelling on the past,” Aaron tried to reassure him. “We should meet our colleagues. We're going to plan the most epic battle, I think. It is going to be such great fun.”
Harold shook his head. “Only you, Aaron, could say that. Some things never change.”
“Some things do,” Aaron said, unable to resist. Harold met his eyes, and he knew in an instant that as much as they pretended to be alright, they weren't. It was so complicated, so intricate, their situation. Best friends since boyhood, Aaron had given up everything so that Harold could live, and while he might do it again, it would be hard to come to terms with it.
“Wesley seems...different,” Harold said, at last. Aaron snorted.
“Yes. He has fully embraced pirate life, it seems. Some days, I do not recognize him, which is frightening. Who would have thought the timid midshipmen would turn out to be bloodthirsty. And I hear Lola is not too happy about it.”
“She is not,” Harold answered. “The story she tells is that they are separated.”
“He told me. Is she acting like they are separated?”
“If by that you mean slamming the doors of my house and talking to my wife at all hours of the night, then yes. If you mean seeing other people, as far as I know, the answer is no. It...” he paused. “It reminds me what a jewel Annabelle is. When a marriage breaks down, it makes you remember what you do have.”
“Yes,” Aaron replied. “It does. Poor Lola though. Poor Wesley.”
“I am sorry..." Harold said, because he felt there was nothing else he could say. Aaron waved his hand, but heaviness hung in the air. “Let me talk to your sister, what story would you like to use?”
They had to fake every aspect of their relationship now, especially in a camp where security was of the essence.
“I'll just meet her as your wife, and we can duck into a tent to talk,” Aaron replied. “It does not have to be complicated. And the other commanding officer?”
“Holde,” Harold said. “He seems....” He searched for the right words to describe him. “Rough. Risen from the ranks, I think.”
“Ah, that type,” Aaron managed a smile at last. “Should be fun. I shou
ld meet him too.”
“Are you...able?” Harold asked, and Aaron shrugged.
“Should be. It was not bad. Besides, I want to talk to Jacob and Enola again. They seem like they have a whole strategy planned outside of our realm of knowledge. It is amazing.”
Harold smiled at Aaron's point of view. No matter what the situation, Aaron usually found an optimistic way to look at it. In addition, of course he was already on a first name basis with everyone here. Aaron had a way of meeting people and setting them at ease, even as a pirate lord. When they sailed together on the Stallion, there was barely a man on the ship who didn't consider Aaron his close friend.
“Come on then,” Harold said, not moving in case Aaron needed him for balance. However, the pirate lord managed to move forward on his own, and they exited the tent without much issue.
The camp was busy, with probably twice the amount of men that it was meant to hold, never mind the civilians and camp followers that should not really be there.
Aaron's pirates snapped to attention at once and stopped moving, not quite bowing, but not disrespecting his presence. They were quite a sight in a camp full of men who were off duty.
“How...?” Harold asked, baffled, as they passed them. Aaron shrugged.
“They started doing that about three years ago. I certainty did not tell them to.”
“To think that pirates are better behaved then...” Harold let the thought drift, but Aaron raised an eyebrow.
“Just because we choose a different lifestyle does not mean we lose our civility.” He didn't mean to be harsh, but he had heard so much judgment over the past few years; gotten so many nasty looks and comments. It was true, pirates usually had a reputation. Nevertheless, Aaron resented the fact that everyone saw their profession and not who they were as people, who they used to be. He had come to expect it from the general public, but not from his best friend.
“Of course,” Harold regretted his tongue, but the tension was thick in the air as they approached the tent.
Approaching from the other side of the camp, Enola had offered to point Major Holde in the right direction. The man did not seem to know his right from left, and she eventually gave in, walking with him.
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