The Noble Mercenary

by Patrick John Donahoe

  Jacques found a medium size treasure chest, with the hasp torn off, in the corner of the pirate captain’s cabin. Inside he discovered a small fortune in gold and jewels. The cargo hold was only partially full, so whatever the majority of the cargo the ship had been carrying, the pirates had either dumped overboard, or sold to some unscrupulous merchant. They were probably going to hold the prisoners for ransom and in the case of the girl, for abuse. The pirate captain had been hoarding the stolen gold and jewels.

  When the two ships arrived pier side in Marseille, the captured pirates were turned over to the local magistrate in irons and all the freed prisoners, except Father Ignacio and Elisa were let ashore to find their way back to their homes. Pierre and Ian doled out some of the treasure to each of them to help them on their way. The freed prisoners thanked all the crew of the Rose Blanche profusely for freeing them from fates of death, or worse, and bid them farewell.

  The next day, Serena and Desiree escorted Father Ignacio and Elisa to Saint Joseph’s Catholic Church. Serena wheeled Father Ignacio in a wheelbarrow, his right leg wrapped so his leg would heal properly, and so he could be moved without further injury. Ignacio reported to Monsignor Martini.

  Elisa asked the Monsignor if she could remain in the nunnery for an indefinite period of time to recover physically, mentally and spiritually from her ordeal. Monsignor Martini summoned Sister Mary Margaret to take care of Elisa.

  Desiree gave Elisa a pouch containing an additional small portion of the pirate’s treasure to sustain and help her on her way. Although it would take more time for Elisa’s bruised and battered body and spirit to heal, it was already obvious that she was a beautiful young woman.

  “We’ll check in with you before we leave Marseille to make sure you’re alright,” Serena told Elisa.

  “Thank you for all of your kindnesses.” Elisa smiled a sad little smile and gave Serena and Desiree each a hug before following Sister Mary Margaret to the nunnery.

  Pierre took Louis to the Mariner’s office and filed Louis’ Mariner’s registration and Captain’s papers with the Maritime board. They also filed papers claiming ownership of the pirate ship. Since the pirates had destroyed all of the ship’s documentation, Pierre claimed salvage rights. If the rightful owner came forward in the next year, and was French, not Greek, they would relinquish the ship to the rightful owner, but only after receiving a hefty salvage fee. Either way was a definite win-win. Pierre, registered the pirate ship as Rose Verde, and entered his own name as Captain until he and his partners could agree on, and appoint, a Captain.

  Desiree led Ian and Jacques through the marketplace and haggled with the merchant who had purchased all of the shipment they brought the last time they came to France. The merchant realized he was not going to cheat them a second time, not with Desiree negotiating.

  “I will offer 1000 Francs for the whole lot, spices and herbs. Not one Franc more!”

  Desiree hesitated, looked to Ian and Jacques for appearances, acted like she was considering the offer, and said, “1500 Francs, not one Franc less.”

  Louis walked up to the foursome, had apparently overheard the last of the conversation, and said, “Desiree, I found a buyer for our whole lot for 1600 Francs.”

  The merchant, realizing a good deal was about to slip through his fingers, said, “Now wait a minute, you said I could have the lot for 1500 Francs. I’ll take it.”

  Desiree looked at the merchant, at Louis, then Ian and Jacques, then back to the merchant. “I did, didn’t I? Well, we keep our word.” Desiree shook the merchant’s hand. “We will cart the goods to your warehouse, if you would like. Follow us to our ship.”

  Pierre arranged for five horses and a wagon at a nearby stable. Louis drove the wagon with all of their belongings, and the rest rode the horses to the estate. When they were within a mile of the estate, Pierre in his excitement to see Rosemarie, his intended bride, excused himself to ride on ahead. The others laughed and called after him, ‘Lover boy,’ ‘Apron strings,’ and several more colorful names, but he laughed and rode out of sight.

  With Pierre’s bursting onto the scene, the whole household knew of the group’s imminent arrival, and were all out on the portico when the wagon and riders arrived. After half an hour of joyful hugs, kisses and introductions, the visitors were hustled into the great room for drinks. Luc, Gabrielle and Rosemarie wanted to know all about their adventures, especially their encounter with the pirates.

  Nine

  The wedding rehearsal guests milled about the great room waiting for directions. They had already eaten supper, and were nursing after dinner drinks while they waited for Monsignor Barnard to direct them through their parts. It was getting late and they would all go home once the rehearsal was complete, and show up again the next day for the wedding.

  The Monsignor approached Ian, and asked, “Will you find Gabrielle, Luc and Rosemarie so we can get started?”

  “They know we’re ready to start, but I’ll go look for them.” Ian strode over to Jacques and said, “Jacques, please hold things together until I return.”

  “I will, my brother.”

  Ian left to look for the missing members of the wedding party.

  Jacques strolled over to Esmeralda and her husband, Peter Cuers. Esmeralda was holding her son Roland’s hand. Her newest child, a girl named Chloe, slept peacefully in a cloth lined picnic basket. Jacques shook hands with Peter, and gave Esmeralda an affectionate family friend hug.

  “It’s so good to see you, Jacques,” Esmeralda said as she held him at arm’s length and scanned him head to foot. “I swear desert life seems to agree with you.”

  “It does, and you look more beautiful than I remember.” Jacques kissed Esmeralda’s hand. “You are a very lucky man, Peter.”

  “I am well aware.”

  Serena walked up behind Jacques, and said, “You must introduce me to your friends, Jacques.”

  “This is my childhood friend, Esmeralda, her husband, Peter Cuers, their son Roland and baby daughter, Chloe.”

  Serena held out her hand and shook hands with first Esmeralda and then Peter. “Pleased to meet you, I am Serena. Jacques invited me to the wedding.”

  “From Jerusalem?” Esmeralda inquired.

  “Yes, where I worked as a swordsmith.”

  Esmeralda’s eyes widened, “A swordsmith?”

  “And she can wield a pretty fair sword when battling pirates,” Jacques said.

  “I’m fascinated,” Peter commented.

  “Don’t get too fascinated,” warned Esmeralda.

  Serena stared at Roland and discerned an obvious likeness to Jacques, but also a less obvious likeness to Peter. Perhaps she was the only one who noticed the subtle resemblances and differences, but she doubted it. Is Roland, Jacques’ child? she wondered.

  Rosemarie approached the group and tugged on Jacques’ arm. “Brother dear, we’re waiting to begin the wedding rehearsal. You can visit later. Pierre is so skittish he might run off if we delay any longer.”

  “If he leaves you at the altar, I’ll run him through,” said Jacques. “We’ll talk later,” he said to Esmeralda. “Come Serena, let’s go.”

  Ian found Gabrielle in the kitchen driving the kitchen staff to distraction. “Gabrielle, my dear, yours and Luc’s presence is required at the rehearsal. Please come with me.” He took her hand and gently tried to lead her out of the kitchen. “Do you know where Luc might be?”

  “Dear boy, I hardly know where I am, but if I were to guess he’s probably in the library. All the hub-bub has worn him down, I’m afraid. As it has me.”

  Ian walked her to the kitchen door. “Everything is going to be just fine,” he consoled her.

  She held Ian back just outside the kitchen and said, “I know, I know, but Rosemarie is my baby.”

  “Rosemarie is a grown woman and very capable. Look at the fine shipping line she is putting together with Pierre. Three profitable ships . . . and all due to her management skills. And now we have a four
th ship to add to her fleet.”

  Gabrielle nodded her head in agreement and took a ladylike sip of her wine.

  Ian continued, “. . . and Pierre, she has turned him. . . well, almost turned him into a gentleman. Of course, my brother and Louis will try to undo all Rosemarie’s progress.” Ian gulped down half of his small glass of wine.

  “I love Pierre as another son already. He and Rosemarie are a perfect match, sober, businesslike, and adventurous . . . and romantic.” She winked her impish wink. “They remind me so much of Luc and I when we were young. Pierre and Luc are both the handsome roguish types that women fall for, but should never marry.”

  “Pierre loves Rosemarie very much. He could hardly wait to return to France and see her again. He ran off from the rest of us on our way here from Marseille because he missed her so much.”

  “I know and it touches my heart to see their devotion to each other.”

  Ian urged her forward to the library where they found Luc fast asleep in his favorite chair.

  Ian gave Luc’s shoulder a slight shake, and he woke. “Luc, Monsignor Barnard is waiting to start the wedding rehearsal. We need to go.”

  “Alright, alright, I’m coming,” he mumbled.

  The wedding rehearsal went smoothly even though Gabrielle kept tearing up, and Rosemarie kept comforting her. Luc remained surprisingly stoic and patriarchal during the whole rehearsal. He whispered to Gabrielle, “We’re not losing a daughter, we’re gaining a son, another fine son, who loves Rosemarie.”

  “I know, and I’m just so happy for all of us,” Gabrielle replied.

  Ian reminisced about the year plus he spent with Jacques’ family when he was fifteen years old while he rode around the estate on the back of Orage Noir. Orage Noir had the same spirit of adventure as his sire, Tonnerre Noir, a gentle nudge in the ribs and he ran like the wind. The sky was clear and the air warm and fresh, a gorgeous July day, perfect for a wedding. Ian entered the foyer to find the mansion was crowded beyond uncomfortable with family, friends, neighbors, well-wishers, hangers on, and ne’er do wells. Ian felt uncomfortable being in the middle of the chaos that was Rosemarie’s wedding.

  The front lawn was covered in canopy tents with tables and chairs set up for the reception. Rosemarie would throw her bouquet, Pierre would remove her garter and throw it to the crowd, drink wine from her shoe, and they would cut the three tiered wedding cake together. Rosemarie and Gabrielle wanted a traditional wedding with all the trimmings.

  Ian took Orage Noir to the stables, removed his saddle and reins and gave him a good brushing and some hay, oats and water. He wished he could take Orage Noir with him back to Jerusalem. Even though Tonnerre Noir was still a strong magnificent animal, Orage Noir would make a magnificent war horse. When Tonnerre Noir was retired and put out to stud, Ian would approach Luc and make him a fair offer for Orage Noir.

  Ian found Serena in the garden helping to stuff roses in the bridal archway, and said, “Seems like a beautiful day for a wedding.”

  Serena held a fresh bouquet under Ian’s nose.

  “Wonderful, the aroma is almost intoxicating,” he said. “Do you know where my brother and the bridegroom are hiding?”

  “They seemed to be suffering from too much imbibing last night when I saw them at breakfast this morning. I heard Jacques challenge Pierre to a game of truth or lie. I think Jacques, Pierre and Louis retired to Louis’ cottage for another day of male boisterousness.”

  Ian had participated in their raucous game more than a few times, but today was not a good day to get and stay drunk. Each one in turn would tell a story, and the others would shout out truth, or lie. Those who guessed incorrectly had to quaff a glass of ale, but the storyteller had to quaff a glass of ale for every correct guess. It would only take a few rounds for all of them to be deep in their cups, again.

  Ian hoped they wouldn’t get so drunk that Jacques couldn’t give away the bride, or that Pierre would not be able to receive her. At least Ian knew where to find them in a couple of hours when the need came. Meanwhile, he would try to keep everyone else on track for the wedding at 3 o’clock.

  Luc was in the kitchen serving his vintage wine and swapping tall tales of daring do with the Mayor of Toulon. Gabrielle was cloistered with Rosemarie in the master bedroom adjusting the bride’s dress, hair and nervousness. Desiree, Serena and the bridesmaids were in Rosemarie’s bedroom primping and fussing with their makeup, hair and dresses.

  Ian found Monsignor Barnard chatting up the Widow Wicklow over goblets of Luc’s mediocre wine set out for the run of the mill guests. Ian strode directly up to them not wanting to appear to be eavesdropping. Rumor had it that the two were more than social friends. “Monsignor, is there anything I can do to help you prepare?”

  “No, my son, except to make sure I have a bride and groom at the designated hour. I have seen neither so far today.”

  “Excuse my rudeness, Widow Wicklow, it’s so nice you could make it.” Ian took her hand and kissed it.

  “I understand, dear boy. It is quite an event.” She gave Ian an enigmatic smile and withdrew her hand. “We’re all excited for your sister. Pierre is such a dashing figure of a man.”

  “If you will excuse me, I’ll check on them and get ready myself.”

  “God speed, my son.” Monsignor Barnard dismissed Ian as if dismissing a servant, with an air of condescension.

  Ian bathed in a tub of hot water, and put on his dress clothes in Jacques’ old bedroom. He brushed his hair and checked to make sure he was presentable enough for Rosemarie’s special day. He left the mansion and headed for Louis’ cottage in a fast walk. He hoped he would not arrive too late to sober up his friend and brother for the big event. As he approached the front door, he heard loud laughter from inside the cottage. Ian strode through the front door and realized his work was cut out for him. “Fun’s over, let’s start getting ready for the wedding my fine feathered friends.” He stood in front of Pierre with fists on hips.

  Pierre offered a nearly empty glass of wine to Ian who took the glass and set it on the end table.

  Ian gave Pierre a steady eye contact stare while maintaining an authoritative stance.

  With a slur in his voice and a wicked grin on his face, Pierre asked, “Are you goin’ to hack me to peeshes with your shimitar?”

  “If you don’t start getting ready right now.” Ian turned his wrath on Jacques and Louis. “How could you indulge Pierre like this?”

  Jacques, embarrassed by the chastisement, defended himself with a slur in his voice, “We were jush gettin’ ready. . . to get ready . . . As shoon as Pierre finished his drink.”

  Louis, Jacques and Ian helped the bridegroom stand up.

  “I’ll manage,” Pierre said, and then stumbled over his own feet.

  “You two buffoons are responsible for this.” Ian pointed first at Louis and then at Jacques. “Clean him up and get him to the mansion on time, or there will be hell to pay.” Ian turned to leave, hesitated, and then returned to take hold of Pierre’s arm and lead him out of the cottage. “I’m going to sober him up and then he’s your responsibility.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.” Jacques managed an insincere salute as Ian left the cottage.

  “You ushed to be more fun,” Pierre said to Ian.

  Ian guided Pierre to the horse trough at the back of the cottage. Fortunately, Pierre was still dressed in his daily clothes. Ian pushed him unceremoniously into the horse trough and then held him under.

  Pierre splashed and fought Ian’s iron grip to no avail. He tried to swear underwater, but Ian held him firm for at least ten seconds.

  Satisfied Pierre was now coherent enough to be angry, he let him up long enough to catch his breath. A drowned bridegroom would spoil the wedding. “Are you ready to dress for your wedding?”

  Pierre took a deep breath and yelled, “I’m going to feed you to the sharks!”

  Ian noted Jacques peeking around the corner, and shot him a glare. Jacques backed away. Ian shoved P
ierre under the water again for another few seconds. He pulled Pierre back up out of the water sputtering and choking, and asked, “Are you ready to get ready now?”

  “Yes, yes, no more! I yield, Sir Knight.”

  Ian helped Pierre out of the trough and assisted a more cooperative and sober bridegroom back into the cottage where Louis had laid out Pierre’s wedding clothes and was preparing a hot bath.

  “Nothing personal, Pierre. I love you like a brother already, but I can’t allow you to spoil Rosemarie’s big day.” He shot another dark glance at Jacques and Louis who remained quiet.

  “No offense taken my brother. Let’s get on with it,” Pierre replied as he proceeded to remove his wet clothes.

  Ian took his seat beside Gabrielle on the front row of Rosemarie’s side of the aisle, where Gabrielle was already tearing up, and Luc was doing his best to console her. Ian took Gabrielle’s hand in his own and reassured her, “This is the happiest day of Rosemarie’s life.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, “Pierre is a good man. He worships Rosemarie and will be a good husband.”

  Gabrielle looked into Ian’s eyes, kissed him on the cheek, and said, “I know, I’m just a silly old woman. Thank you for your kindness.”

  Desiree and Serena took seats on the front pew on Pierre’s side of the aisle. With the exception of Jeremy, Pierre’s First Mate on the Rose Blanche, they were the only guests on Pierre’s side of the aisle.

  The Widow Wicklow and a woman Ian didn’t recognize sat behind Ian. The Widow Wicklow whispered to her companion, “See Marjorie, what I told you, the LeFriant family is going to the dogs, first it’s the Greek handyman, and then they adopt an Irish farm boy, now their only daughter marries some kind of a pirate who consorts with Jews and Arabs.”