by Vivienne Cox
Only then did he run back down the stairs, stopping briefly to pick up a pair of breeches – and to set light to all the other rags that lay scattered along the way. For good measure he torched the hall curtains – the sound like distant thunder as the swathes of fabric caught.
Face sweating and gritty with smoke, hands raw from the flames, he stepped back into the shadows by a grandfather clock and shouted out, loud as he could: “Fire!”
And again – “FIRE!”
The door opened and Pasty stood there, his mouth wide open until he started coughing. Alexander grinned, and pulled his wet bandanna up over his mouth and nose. He kept still, hiding as the air around him thickened with smoke. A moment later, the pirates were piling out of the room.
“The plunder!” O’Connell finally realised that the fire was on the next floor as well. “Get the gold! The jewels!”
Alexander watched coldly as they ran haphazardly up the stairs, their boots stomping out the small fires, O’Connell following in their wake, urging them on with his drawn sword and his vicious imprecations. To a man they had at some time undoubtedly boasted that they would die for gold. Well, perhaps tonight they would have their chance. Alexander watched, and then dismissed them. Tossing the guttering torch away, he darted out of his hidey-hole and slipped through the open door, closing it fast behind him.
Smoke clouded the room like mist. In five paces he was at Thomas’s side. “James…”
At his voice the still, bloodied figure slowly lifted its head. Alive. Alexander touched his hand to the bruised face, saw recognition hit the dulled eyes.
“Alexander…”
“Aye, hold tight, this’ll hurt.” He folded one careful arm around the stretched torso, taking some of its weight, grip slipping on damp skin, before reaching up, his knife slicing through the knotted rope. As his arms lowered, Thomas stumbled forward, but Alexander held him, feeling the chill of his sweating skin.
“James, darlin’, we have to run.” There was no cry of alarm, but they couldn’t have long.
The sound Thomas made could have been a laugh or a groan, but he straightened and, after a moment to gather himself, stood with his weight more or less supported on his own two feet. He held out his wrists. Alexander cut the last of the rope, peeling it away with his fingers, wincing in sympathy as it clung persistently to raw skin.
Tugging the breeches off his shoulder, Alexander shook them out. “Here, put these on.”
“Clever…”
“Bloody genius. Now lean on me…” He knelt quickly, easing the garment onto Thomas’s legs, pulling them up, fastening them. They were loose but serviceable enough. The last button fastened, he stood and kissed Thomas gently on the cheek. “Ready?”
“As I will ever be, pirate.” But Thomas was somehow smiling, and Alexander’s heart jumped in his chest.
“Come on then, Admiral.” Pausing only to pluck up his hat and set it firmly on his head, he hoisted one obviously numb arm over his own shoulders and headed for the door.
The clean air cleared his head. A winding path led to the drive. Hopeful, he headed that way, taking as much of Thomas’s weight as he could, too fearful to go slowly. In gathering dusk he paused at the edge of the garden, half-hidden in the foliage, wary, his heart thudding. The drive itself appeared free of any guards and he moved them a cautious step forward – and looked up suddenly as a cascade of gold was tossed out of a window, and crashed onto the drive. Smoke billowed out from every casement. In some places there were flames as well, licking at the brickwork and scouring the eye. Alexander blinked, and looked down to the treasure scattered upon the ground, and his gaze lingering hungrily. But then movement brought his eyes up.
Treasure forgotten, Alexander almost crowed in triumph. For in the shadows that gathered in the lee of the house stood the carriage, complete with horses still in their traces. He gave up a quick word of thanks to Fate, her sister Luck and any other deity who might be smiling on him, and half carried a staggering Thomas across the drive. With a sharp twist of the handle Alexander pulled open the carriage door, and heaved his companion inside.
“All right?” Wiping the sweat from his eyes, Alexander leant in the doorway, panting for breath.
Thomas nodded breathlessly, and wedged himself into a corner. Alexander nodded back and slammed the door shut. It had been a lifetime since he had driven any sort of vehicle, but surely it was something you never forgot; like diving into shallow water, or dancing the tarantella. Climbing up into the box, he picked up the reins and wound them around his fingers. With a click of his tongue and swift swish of leather they were off.
Except they weren’t. Consternation furrowing his brow, Cruise tried again. The horses moved but the carriage…did not. Again. All that happened was that the horses became more unsettled, moving restlessly in their traces. Again. Nothing. O’Connell would be after them soon. He would kill them; probably sodomise them too, just for good measure, possible both before and after slitting their throats. It was all his own fault. Why couldn’t driving a carriage be easy to remember? What else could there be – slap the reins and yell. He tried again. The whole carriage jolted as the horses tried to obey, but nothing else happened. Blind now with something akin to panic, he sat with his hands clenched into helpless fists.
“There’s a brake!”
Thomas’s voice. Cruise looked down, back to the carriage window. Thomas was peering up at him, his hands clutched hard to the sill, his face a gaunt mask in the hellish light.
“What?”
“At your side, there’s a lever, let it free.”
Of course! There. He tugged it, and immediately the carriage started forward. Alexander grinned, and then he heard the cry of a chase. O’Connell had spotted them.
“Hold on, James, it might be a wild ride!” A pistol ball whined over his head, and he ducked low, whacking the reins down hard on the horses’ rumps. Suddenly they were away, clattering out of the drive, heading down the long winding path into town as the sky caught fire behind them.
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Chapter 11
And a wild ride it was. The horses simply took off. Spooked by the constant goading they took the narrow path at breakneck speed, leaving Alexander to hold on and hope for the best. With the rising smoke and flames setting the evening horizon on fire behind them, they careered onward, miraculously avoiding killing anyone in their way, though incurring the wrathful curses of more than one street vendor. Alexander was just beginning to enjoy himself when the ground levelled out and the horses began to slow. Straightening his hat, he took control of the reins, and managed to look almost collected as they clattered through the main square.
He didn’t stop, just kept on, guiding the horses through the darkening streets, until they were away from the houses, the path turning from stone to earth, and the road once again beginning to lead uphill. It grew darker as they travelled, the sun setting with tropical abruptness, and Alexander had to peer to see where they were. Finally, he found what he was searching for, and slowed the horses to a stand outside what looked like an abandoned boathouse.
He jumped down, somewhat amazed to find his knees unsteady. But he opened the door, and grinned cockily into the shadows at Thomas. “Bet you never had a ride like that in London.”
The Admiral had clearly been holding on for his life. As Alexander hoisted himself into the carriage, Thomas slowly sat forward, his hand unlocking one finger at a time from the hanging strap.
He nodded weakly. “You would win your wager.”
Alexander laid a hand on his back. “I didn’t kill you?”
“No.” He turned slowly, his bare skin unnaturally pale in the darkness. “Nor did you kill yourself.”
“No. So I didn’t!” With a quick, surprised grin, he shifted, and backed out of the carriage. “Come on.”
Thomas moved slowly, painfully, until he sat close to the door. He looked down to where Alexander stood on the ground, and his tight-drawn features softened. “I’m glad. That you live.”
Staring up, Alexander nodded. “A good outcome, in the end. Come, let’s get you out of there. I want to unhitch the poor beasts before they die in their harness.”
Peering out into the night, Thomas asked, “Where are we?”
“We’re almost at the next bay along the coast. AnaMaria will send Stubbs with a boat. We’ll be off on the morning tide.”
“God willing?”
“Fate willing, James. Fate and Luck and Fortune – the tricky jades who seem to like me. Well, they seem to like us both, actually.” He grinned.
“Really?” Thomas sounded doubtful. Gingerly easing himself out of the carriage, he let Alexander take most of his weight. As the cool air hit him, he shivered once, the breeze that lifted off the sea stirring the short locks of his hair. Held upright in Alexander’s arms he scented the air and shivered again. “I thought I’d never be free again.”
“Nothing like hanging in ropes to take away a man’s hope.”
“Or being hanged.” Thomas closed his eyes, leaning forward weakly. “Why don’t you hate me?”
“I lived – ‘tis all that matters.” And it was. Each day was an adventure, each one all the sweeter for knowing how close he had come to death. How many lives? By his own count he had five left. “There’s no need to dwell on something done and gone.”
Thomas slowly lifted his head, and opened his eyes. He looked worn and battered, his eyes painfully confused. “How can you forgive me?”
“I just do.” To prove it he pressed a light kiss by Thomas’s torn mouth, and then smiled gently. “Now, I need to see to the horses and then get both of us down to the beach, so…”
“You need to let me go?”
“Exactly. Come on, there’s a nice bench over here, well ‘tis more a plank o’ wood on a couple of struts and it probably stinks of fish or worse, but it’ll do fine.” As he talked they were walking slowly, and when they reached the bench he lowered Thomas down.
“Thank you.” Thomas sat very still, though he was breathing hard, his skin wet with sweat.
“Here, or you’ll catch your death.” Slipping out of his sword belt, Alexander stripped off his smoke-stained frock coat. It was heavy, the hem weighted with the jewels that would have ransomed a Admiral. He draped it around the same Admiral’s shoulders, considering that he had never looked less like a Naval officer. As the coat went around him, Thomas glanced up in surprise.
“There, that’ll help. Try not to do anything too exerting now.”
“I promise. And thank you.” With a tightening of his face, Thomas leant back, arms holding tight to the fabric as if to leech warmth or comfort from the fibres themselves.
Alexander looked at him, hesitated, then moved away and started stripping the horses of their harness, freeing them from their traces. He smoothed his hand down one animal’s sweating head, scratching at the white blaze that ended at her soft nose. She nuzzled him happily, and he whispered his thanks, for without them the escape would have been, at the very least, more difficult. If even possible at all. Whispering sweet nothings into her ear, he took her head-collar and her companion’s and led both animals towards the foothills. There, one at a time, he stripped the last of the harness away. When, so used to obedience and the proximity of man, they dumbly stood their ground, he waved his hands and shouted at them until finally they danced on their hooves and, with a toss of their manes, cantered up into the dark hillside.
Waiting until the horses were nothing but shadows, he turned and walked back to his Admiral. His boots were soft on the stony path, but Thomas still opened his eyes as Alexander approached. “Done?”
“Aye, they’ll be fine.” Crouching on the ground by his feet, one hand going to rest lightly on James’ knee, he looked up intently. The moon was playing in the narrow clouds, and there was light enough to see the exhaustion on the pale, bruised face. “What about you?”
“Fine enough, thank you.”
“D’ye think King George knows about this tendency you have towards untruths?”
Almost laughing, the sound soft and painful, Thomas shook his head. “I’m alive, Alexander. That’s fine enough.”
“Will you make it to the Siren ?”
Thomas hesitated. “Would you leave me if I couldn’t?”
“No! Foolish Admiral, I’d pick you up and carry you.”
“Ah.”
“So, can you walk?”
“To get away from this pestilential island? Yes, Alexander, I can walk.” Slowly Thomas leant forward. Suddenly frowning he reached out and touched his fingers to one of Alexander’s braids, then across to his cheek, the touch hardly more than a whisper of skin on skin, then once more back to the mass of hair and braids, locks and beads. “Your hair… I think you lost a few of these in the fire.”
“No matter.”
“Matter enough.” He tugged one lock and it broke off in his hand. “See?” Holding the singed hair in his palm, he closed his hand about it. “Thank you. For everything. That you got us out of there at all…” He shivered.
The moonlight suddenly spilled more brightly from the sky, and Alexander met the pain-narrowed eyes. “James, I wasn’t leaving you.” It was a fact, simply stated, but the emotions it raised, the possibilities his failure might have allowed? It was beyond all measure distressing. Briskly rising to his feet, he stared out to sea. “And I’m not leaving you here either, so come along James, we’ve a nice moonlit walk to make.”
All business, he slid one arm around Thomas’s back and eased him upright. The Admiral’s breath caught sharply as he stood.
“You’ve stiffened up?”
“Yes…”
“We’ll go slow.” Alexander picked up his sword, neatly wrapped in its belt, and held it in his hand as they walked.
The ground became sandier as they made their way down the half-formed path to the beach. The sea grass and the weeds that grew in salt-bitter air were all close to the ground. They walked around them, Alexander careful of Thomas’s bare feet as some of the plants had spines that could stab you well as any knife. Thomas seemingly coped well enough, though gradually he allowed more of his weight to rest on Alexander’s shoulders, and Alexander took it willingly. Despite being the taller, the other man was half starved.
At the edge of the dunes they paused, and Alexander turned to his companion. “D’ye want to rest here?”
A shake of Thomas’s head said no, and so they walked on, the sand heavy under their feet. By the time they reached the water’s edge, the moon was once again passing through deep cloud, and in the strange, luminescent darkness, surrounded by the soft swirl of the waves, Alexander lowered them both onto the sand, carefully tugging his coat more securely around the bare shoulders. He was quite breathless himself. Thomas was almost spent, his eyes closing as Alexander drew him close, letting him rest in the curve of his arm.
The Siren was out there. He could scent her, feel her in the way the sea spoke to him. For a long time he sat, quite content to listen and watch, to feel the night and the tides that ran as slaves to the moon. When it was close to dawn, he found a song slipping through his thoughts and he hummed it softly, the tune dug from deep in his memory, the words long gone. It was a lovely, melancholy air, but full of hope for all the sadness. Watching the horizon he sang alone, though maybe the mermaids heard him, for the salt spume danced nearer, and the night seemed to still to listen.
When soft, murmured words drifted up to him, at first he wasn’t sure from whence they came:
“There is a ship, that sails the sea, that’s loaded deep, as deep can be…”
But then he recognised the slightly slurred voice that spoke so quietly, and he smiled, rubbing his chin over his Admiral’s short hair, holding him closer as the sea played at their feet. “How does it go on?”
He felt Thomas gasp brokenly against his shoulder, then the voice continued, so hushed that the world seemed to pause: ” But not as deep, as the love I am in, I care not if I sink or swim…”
“
James. Oh, Jamie…”
“The words…” As if only half awake Thomas stopped there, and his shoulders shifted in a slight gesture of helplessness. “I don’t know.”
“I do. The words are like jewels, or treasure.” Better than gold. Truly. Alexander lifted his head to the morning and scented the Siren close by. Soon they’d be away, and all the future was there for their taking. And that was more treasure.
“You seem so mad sometimes, but you’re not really, are you?”
“Me?” Startled, Alexander answered with what he thought Thomas wanted to hear. “Of course not.”
“Knew it…”
As Thomas slipped back into a half-sleep, Alexander stared blindly out into the distance. He could hear the mermaids laughing, their tail fins teasing the waves into bright points of white spray as they dipped, diving back to the depths where there were no men. And no men’s lies to shame them.
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Chapter 13
Distantly he could hear voices arguing.
“Bad luck…”
“Get him off the boat. They’ll do more than hang us if ‘e dies here.”
“No.”
“He is dyin’ – face it!”
“No!”
“You’ll not save ‘im. Slip ‘im over the side and no one will know the better, Cap’n.”
“No, I tell ye!”
A pause.
“James, Jamie, can you hear me?”
He could, but somehow he had no voice. The wish was there, to reply, to reassure, but it was as if he was wrapped in wool, muffled and still.
“Come along, darlin’, just a sip.”
Something cold. He gasped and the cold thing trickled into his throat.
“Yes! Good, now a little more.”
It slid down, the cold a line that traced from his mouth to his belly, burning as it ran.
“There.”
Something – a hand? – stroked his face, sweetly comforting. Through the morass of his thoughts came an image. A man, dressed in tattered velvet and stained linen, coins woven in his hair and a mad glint in his beautiful eyes.
