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The Noble Mercenary

Page 14

by Patrick John Donahoe


  Ian’s blood instantly began to boil. He restrained himself from saying anything. He wondered if Luc, or Gabrielle, had heard the obnoxious old woman’s comments. Luc looked across Gabrielle at Ian. Ian could tell by the angry hurt expression on Luc’s face that he had indeed heard. Ian raised his finger to his lips and made a slight shushing noise. Now was not the time, or place, for Luc to tell the old hag off.

  The small chapel was nearly full on the LeFriant side, so the incoming guests began filling up the groom’s side from the row behind Desiree and Serena to the back of the chapel.

  Luc whispered something to Gabrielle, and left to take his place in the foyer with Rosemarie.

  Ian decided it was time to check on Jacques, Pierre and Louis again. He found Pierre dressed, nearly sober, primping his hair and mustache in the foyer of the chapel. The hateful Widow Wicklow was right about one thing, even in formal Parisian style clothing, Pierre still had a pirate-like appearance. “Let’s go, the chapel is full. Pierre do you have the ring?”

  Pierre fumbled in his pockets for a few minutes and pulled the ring out of his waistcoat pocket.

  “Give it to me,” Ian ordered. “I’ll return it when you’re in place.”

  The three of them, Ian, Jacques and Louis escorted Pierre to his place at the front of the chapel. Ian handed the ring back to Pierre and retook his seat next to Gabrielle on the first row. He noticed Esmeralda, her husband and her two children had sat on the front row on Pierre’s side next to Desiree and Serena. The gesture of friendship touched Ian. He looked to Jacques who was also touched by Esmeralda’s kindness. Serena and Desiree had not mentioned the aloofness they had felt from many of the Franks, but Ian knew their receptions ranged from the kind loving warmth of Luc and Gabrielle and Rosemarie, to the disdainful and rude of those like Widow Wicklow.

  The flautist and harpist began playing the prelude music for the bride’s entrance. Ian looked to the entry way of the chapel and saw Luc and Rosemarie paused, waiting to come forward.

  Luc squeezed Rosemarie’s hand in his own and whispered something into her ear.

  She laughed, a clear happy young woman’s laugh and they were off, a leisurely stroll down the aisle so every guest could ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ as Rosemarie, a vision of beauty, passed by. Her hair, tamed by two hundred strokes, shone with a lustrous glow. The minimum of makeup had been applied to her natural beauty, and her dress with its snug bodice, natural lines and floor length train created the perfect bride. Ian wondered how his life might have differed if he and Jacques would have remained in France and never left on the Crusade. He could have been Toulon’s apothecary and physician and enjoyed a fine life with Rosemarie.

  Gabrielle broke out into an open sob as she watched Rosemarie and Luc approach the Monsignor. Ian wrapped his arm around her shoulder and gave her a comforting squeeze. Gabrielle leaned into Ian, and whispered, “I love you all so much.”

  “I know,” Ian replied, “and I love you, too.”

  “Who gives this woman’s hand in marriage?” Monsignor Barnard asked.

  “Her father, Luc LeFriant,” Luc answered.

  “Very well.”

  Luc nodded to the Monsignor, kissed Rosemarie’s hand and took his place on the other side of Gabrielle. Luc kissed Gabrielle lightly on the lips and took both of her hands in his own. He leaned forward and smiled at Ian with a tear forming in the corner of his right eye.

  Monsignor Barnard recited the wedding vows with the appropriate emotion as one who had officiated in the holy marriage sacrament many times before, even though he had never taken the vows himself, and never would. Even though Ian had made Pierre find the ring earlier, Pierre still fumbled for it when it came time to exchange rings.

  Pierre stood ramrod straight, and seemed in danger of taking flight at any moment like a bird about to being pounced on by a cat. Ian noted a small rivulet of perspiration trickling down the side of Pierre’s face. Pierre, the roguish looking sea captain, who had no fear of tempestuous seas or sword brandishing pirates, was terrified of tying the knot.

  When the Monsignor said, ‘the groom may kiss the bride,’ Rosemarie pulled Pierre close, then she and Pierre kissed as only true lovers kiss.

  Rosemarie looked so beautiful in the reception line, Ian almost regretted running off to be a knight in the Crusades, but stood in the line and afterwards wished the happy couple a wonderful life, and kept his regrets to himself.

  The food was delicious and plentiful. The guests were congratulatory and the wedding gifts filled a whole canopy tent. Ian, Jacques and Louis all toasted the happy couple with ‘long happy lives together’ and ‘may all your troubles be little ones.’ Even Jacques resisted the impulse to say something smart aleck and inappropriate, for which Ian was thankful.

  Luc stood to pronounce his blessing on the couple, “I am proud to accept Pierre as a new son-in-law, a new member of my family, and bless the two of them with love, happiness and many children. Gabrielle and I are still waiting for our first grandchild.” Many of the guests laughed and cheered, but then Luc became more serious. “The LeFriant family is inclusive, not exclusive. I am very proud of my adopted sons, Louis and Ian, and have grown to love Jacques’ and Ian’s friends, Serena and Desiree, like daughters these last few days. I am proud to include them as part of our extended family and hope all of you will get to know them and care for them as much as I do.” Luc held up his glass higher and added, “the festivities are far from over; the music is about to begin. I raise my glass and drink a toast to the happy couple, and to you -- our honored guests. To all of you! Tchin. Tchin!”

  Ian looked at Desiree and Serena and saw them smile at Luc’s comments. He was glad Luc had made them feel a part of the family. He looked over at the Widow Wicklow and noted an embarrassed expression. Perhaps she would mind her tongue in the future. Luc had grown two feet in stature in Ian’s opinion, a true patriarch.

  The guests ate and danced the night away. Luc took the first dance with Rosemarie and then turned her over to Pierre. Ian, Jacques, and Louis all took turns dancing with Serena and Desiree.

  While Pierre and Rosemarie were dancing, Desiree sat down next to Gabrielle and put her arm around her shoulder. “This is a grand day for you, congratulations.”

  “Thank you my dear. I can see why Ian and Jacques are so taken with you and Serena. Is there anything I should know about the four of you? You seem more than friends, but I can’t discern the how, what, and why of it all.”

  Desiree lowered her gaze and answered, “We all love each other and enjoy being together.”

  “Good marriages are built on the foundation of strong friendships and mutual trust, my dear.” She took another sip of her wine and studied Desiree’s face for some glimmer of response.

  Desiree smiled enigmatically and offered no comment.

  Luc and Ian approached. Ian offered Desiree a cup of fruit punch and Luc offered Gabrielle a goblet of wine. Luc sat next to Gabrielle and Ian sat next to Desiree.

  Luc sat up straight, looked across the two women at Ian, and said, “Ian, I followed through on my offer to back your venture as the apothecary for Toulon. François Benet would like to sell his shop and practice for a reasonable price, I may add, and we could set you up right away.”

  “I’m sorry Father. I had hoped Jacques would have told you first, but we are planning to return to Jerusalem right after the wedding.”

  “Plans can be changed.”

  “Could I take over the apothecary shop?” Desiree asked. “After all, I served as a nurse in the H’ospital of Saint John in Jerusalem for the past four years, and have translated all of Ian’s Book of Healing from French to Arabic. I probably know more about medicine than many of your doctors.”

  Ian’s jaw dropped and they all stared at Desiree.

  Luc considered her question for a moment and replied, “Why of course you could, my dear.”

  “Thank you, sir. I would like that very much.”

  “Perhaps Ian could remain here a l
ittle while longer and assist you with setting up shop,” Luc added and looked across the women to Ian for a response.

  At a loss for words Ian stammered, “Sh . . . Sure I could.”

  “Well then, that’s settled. We’ll meet with François Benet next week when all the hub bub has died down.”

  Ian had assumed the four would return to Jerusalem and continue on with their lives as before. Deciding that any further comment on his part might not go well, he said, “Excuse me I need to find Serena.”

  “You’re excused,” said Luc. “You, your enchanting friend, and I need to discuss our apothecary venture further . . . later.”

  Ian tapped Serena’s dance partner on the shoulder and indicated his interest in taking his place. The man bowed and stepped away. Ian pulled her aside and asked, “Did Desiree mention her interest in taking over the Toulon apothecary to you?”

  Serena looked into Ian’s eyes and replied, “No, but time in France would be good for her.”

  “I thought we would all return to Jerusalem . . . together.”

  “We will always be together.”

  “That makes no sense. What do you mean?”

  “I talked to Pierre about serving as Captain on our fourth ship, the Rose Gris. He said he would file the Maritime papers for me in Marseille.”

  Ian’s shock at this new revelation was written all over his face. He was not adept at hiding his feelings. “Does Jacques, or Desiree, know of your intentions?”

  “Only you . . . and Pierre.” Serena wore her matter-of-fact face.

  “Are we breaking up our foursome?”

  “Of course not, but sometimes we may have to be apart. These things are only temporary experiences for us. Perhaps there are duties we must perform on our own as well as together over the course of our servitude. I don’t know. I only feel this is the near term path for me. Besides my arms will someday be bigger than yours if I keep working as a swordsmith for my father.”

  “I would love your arms no matter the size.”

  Serena looked into Ian’s eyes and wished the four’s affections for each other could somehow work for all four of them rather than none of them, but she knew she couldn’t dwell on their predicament. The dance ended. “I need to take a break. I’ve had way too much wine for one evening.” Ian released Serena and she left the dance floor without further explanation.

  Ian felt more alone than he had felt since leaving Ireland seven years earlier. His world was changing and he didn’t know what he should do. There would always be conflict in Outremer. What was his responsibility in keeping Palestine under benevolent Christian control? Why couldn’t the Christians, Jews and Muslims live in peace?

  He knew there were many Christians, Jews and Muslims who felt the same as he did, but there were many more who wanted sole rule of the Holy Land and would kill for it. These were those who were his enemy. There were those who claimed he had gone native with his mastery of Hebrew and Arabic, his scimitar and local ways, and if he had, so be it, he loved the land, the heritage, the culture and the peoples. He felt he was in the Master’s service. He would sacrifice his life to make the Holy Land a place where the three faiths could enjoy the intertwined legacy they all shared.

  Ten

  The next day in the early afternoon, Rosemarie and Pierre left for their brief honeymoon in Marseille before returning to their shipping business. They had purchased a building close enough to the docks to accommodate an office downstairs, and a respectable apartment upstairs. Pierre had considerable paperwork to submit to the Maritime Office in Marseille. Every day the four ships were not at sea cost money for crew and pier support. Pierre would Captain the Rose Blanche, Pierre’s long time First mate, Jeremy would Captain the Rose Rouge, Louis, the Rose Verde, and Serena the Rose Gris. Pierre assigned his original navigator, Jonathan, to serve as Serena’s First Mate. Cargo and passengers were lining up on the dock to book passage on the ships due to positive word of mouth.

  Jacques had arranged for a brief rendezvous with Esmeralda the morning after the wedding. He spotted her waiting for him in the old grove where he and she, and Ian and Rosemarie, used to picnic years, which now seemed like centuries, ago. Seeing she was alone, he snuck up on her from behind and placed his hands over her eyes. “Three guesses,” he said in the spirit of play.

  “Knight errant?”

  “Yes.”

  “Reddish hair,” Esmeralda could play also.

  “No.”

  “Pot belly?”

  “No!” He released her. “You know who I am!”

  She turned to face him. “Of course I do. You’re the foolish knight who lost the most beautiful girl in the south of France.”

  Jacques stared into her eyes, the large beautiful brown eyes, the deep pools of promise he had plumbed the depths of so many times. The bright early morning sun highlighted her long curling tresses. Jacques resisted falling in love with her all over again. “I am foolish, I admit. If I could turn back the hands of time I would, but time, the cruel master, marches on without pause.”

  “You don’t fool me for a second, Jacques LeFriant. I’ve seen the look in your eyes when you’re around the Muslim girl.” Esmeralda studied Jacques’ face for a clue to what he was thinking.

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Tell me.”

  “The four of us are closely knit.”

  “Now you really have to explain.”

  “I asked her to marry me, but she cares for Ian. . . but Ian cares for Serena.”

  “The Jewish girl?”

  “Yes, but I think she cares for me.”

  “Twisted.”

  “In a word, yes. I asked you to meet me here today to talk about Roland, and not about my sorry love life.”

  “I told you before. Roland is your son.”

  “I don’t know what I should do.”

  “I ask you to do nothing. His father loves him and will raise him to become a fine man. You must not interfere with the natural course of things. I’m not a foolish young girl any longer.”

  “How can I play a part in Roland’s life?”

  “Whenever you visit from your beloved desert you can attend our family functions and play the part of a fun loving, world traveling uncle.”

  “I see.”

  “Can you do that, for Roland’s sake and mine?”

  Jacques moved toward Esmeralda and started to reach out for her, “Of course.”

  Esmeralda backed away, “I must go. I’ve been absent too long already. Remain here long enough for me to return to the house. . . After all, I have my ladylike image to maintain.” She punched Jacques on the arm, hard, in play, as she had done many times when they were teenagers.

  He winced as though she had caused great pain, and she returned a sly victory grin.

  Jacques watched her walk, hips swaying, toward the house. He felt a nostalgic twinge of regret for trading Esmeralda for a knight’s life. It was probably for the best. She was trying to be a good wife and mother, and he probably would have made a poor husband and father.

  Serena packed her belongings and thanked Luc and Gabrielle for their hospitality. She waited impatiently for Jacques to return from his morning walk. They packed their belongings on a wagon and headed to Marseille.

  Jacques assisted Serena with repairs and improvements on the captured pirate ship, Rose Gris, while he waited for Ian to arrive from Toulon. He and Serena scrubbed every square inch of the Captain’s cabin interior. Jacques outfitted the Captain’s cabin to be more female friendly with an in-cabin toilet and a built-in shower arrangement. He added a fresh water tank to the main deck for her shower and toilet, and for the crew to have plenty of drinking water. He installed a drainage pipe to discharge the used shower and toilet water into the sea. He also reinforced the broken down cabin door and installed a hasp and a cross bar lock.

  Pierre, Serena and Jacques handpicked Serena’s crew. The crew members did not know what to make of Jacques’ ship improvements and how to deal with a f
emale captain, so Pierre and Jacques took each crew member aside and explained to them, in no uncertain terms, that if anything untoward happened to Serena, their regrets would completely fill a Book of Woe.

  Meanwhile, Ian and Desiree inventoried and examined all the herbs and potions in the apothecary shop. They threw away about a third of all the old inventory due to loss of potency, mold, rot, or dangerous side effects. They organized the list of regular customers and their usual purchases, and composed a list of all the materials Desiree needed to operate an excellent shop.

  “I wish we had kept more of our herbs and medicines when we arrived in Marseille,” said Ian.

  “We didn’t know we were going into the apothecary business,” Desiree replied.

  “I’ve talked to Jacques and he agreed we will use all of the money we made from our herbs and medicinal sales to stock your shop.”

  “Correction, the shop belongs to all of us,” retorted Desiree.

  “Mostly to Luc,” Ian countered.

  “Yes, but you know what I mean.”

  “I do.”

  “Luc meant this shop for you . . . and Rosemarie originally.”

  “Who told you?”

  “Luc. He loves you, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “. . . and if you remained in France and ran this shop with me serving as the country doctor, it would please him very much.” Desiree had to say it all at once or she would not have been able to get it all out.

  Ian stared into her eyes and regretted not being able to concede to Desiree’s wishes. “I know that too, and it would be a wonderful life, but we each, and collectively, are on paths that are unclear at the moment.”

  “I know.” Desiree fell into Ian’s arms and he held her close for a long time.

  Jeremy left Luc’s estate right after the wedding and prepared Rose Verde to sail, loading cargo and lining up passengers. He was prepared to sail when Ian arrived from Toulon where he helped Desiree set up the apothecary, and Jacques had finished helping Serena upgrade her cabin on the Rose Gris.

 

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