The Sea Witch

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  Ambrosia caught sight of Silas Fenwick's face. He had the satisfied smile of the devil himself.

  Geoffrey Lambert and his party paused. "I am Captain Lambert," he said in a loud, clear voice.

  "Come forward and pay homage to your king."

  With halting steps the entire party moved toward the figure seated on the throne.

  The closer they got, the more regal he appeared. King Charles was younger than Ambrosia had anticipated. And far more dashing, with a handsome, poet's face, swarthy complexion and long dark hair curling over the crimson tunic and the lush crimson cloak he'd tossed rakishly over one shoulder.

  When they reached the steps to the dais, they paused. While Geoffrey and old Newton bowed, the women curtsied.

  "Arise, Captain Lambert." The king's voice was deep and commanding. "I would meet your family."

  "Aye, Majesty." Geoffrey stepped back, allowing his three granddaughters to stand alone. "These are my granddaughters. Ambrosia, Bethany and Darcy."

  As the three young women curtsied and blushed, the king studied them carefully, his gaze lingering a moment longer on the dark-haired beauty in the scarlet gown.

  "This is their nurse, Miss Winifred Mellon. And our housekeeper, Mistress Mary Coffey. And this is Newton Findlay, my first mate when I sailed the Atlantic."

  "So." The king stared around the room, seeing the way the crowd seemed to be holding its collective breath.

  He so loved the pomp and ceremony. The drama. Because it had been snatched from him at an early age, with the public execution of his father, and he'd been forced to spend half his life in exile, it seemed all the sweeter now. He savored the power. And so he drew out the

  moment, until he could almost feel the tension vibrating in the great hall.

  His voice rang out, reaching even the farthest corners of the room. "There was a certain cargo aboard the Dover, which was transferred to the Undaunted. A ship that belongs to your family, does it not, Captain Lambert?"

  "Aye, Majesty." Geoffrey felt Ambrosia's hand slip to his.

  "That cargo was later transferred to another of your ships, the Sea Challenge. Is that not so, Captain?"

  "Aye, Majesty." He looked down to see Ambrosia's fingers squeezing his so tightly he had to pry them loose to get the feeling back.

  "I am told the Sea Challenge was attacked by pirates, who captured all of this assembled family, and claimed that cargo for themselves."

  A murmur went up from the crowd, and many of the people strained to catch a better look at the people who had actually tasted the wrath of pirates.

  King Charles lifted his voice, causing the crowd to grow silent once more. "I am told further that, at great peril to your own lives, you not only escaped the pirates, but reclaimed as much of the cargo as you could carry, and escaped in the pirates' own ship."

  The murmur of voices grew louder. Many in the crowd got to their feet to stare at this remarkable family. Among them Edwina and her mother, and Silas, who watched and listened in brooding silence.

  "Captain Lambert." For the first time Charles smiled. "You will bring your family up here."

  "Up...?" The old man couldn't seem to find any words as several armed guards came forward to assist them up the steps of the dais. To the amazement of the entire crowd, the king touched each of them on the shoulder as they stepped toward him and kissed his hand. Then he turned to the assembled and said loudly, "A grateful king thanks these noble people for the sacrifices they made on behalf of their country."

  There was a moment's hesitation as the words sank in. Then the king's council began pounding their staffs on the wooden dais, and the people joined in with deafening applause.

  Ambrosia turned to her grandfather and saw the look of stunned disbelief on his face. Tears welled in her eyes as she thought of the price he had paid for his country. He'd been injured a score of times, until he'd been forced to give up his great love—sailing. And then he'd made the ultimate sacrifice. He'd given a son and a grandson. Had been robbed of all his hopes for the future. But for this one bright shining moment, he could bask in the glow of love and gratitude from king and countrymen.

  Ambrosia looked at the others and saw that they, too, were moved to tears. Bethany and Darcy were smiling and weeping. Mistress Coffey was biting hard on a trembling lower lip. Winnie was sobbing into her handkerchief. And even old Newt seemed to be struggling to hold back the flood of emotions.

  The king allowed the outpouring of affection to continue for several thunderous minutes. Finally he held up his hands, signaling for silence.

  "These good people will remain at my side, so that all might look upon the faces of those who have a grateful king's favor."

  At once his councillors began making room for the Lambert family to be seated around him.

  Charles caught Ambrosia's hand and leaned close to whisper, "There is one who sends his regrets that he cannot be here to witness your proud moment."

  "Riordan." Her eyes widened. "Where is he, Majesty?"

  "That I cannot tell you. But this I can." He smiled. "I can see how such a rogue could lose his heart to you, my lady."

  "He ...told you that, Majesty?"

  His laughter was quick and deep. "He did not have to. I could see it in his eyes. Just as I see it in yours."

  She blushed and lowered her head. But then, just when her heart felt overflowing with happiness, he added, "I should warn you, Miss Lambert. Some rogues were never meant to put down roots. They thrive on danger. And would wither and die without it. I believe Riordan Spencer is such a man. Even now, without a word of protest, he has accepted a mission from his king that could cost him his life."

  Ambrosia sat through the rest of the afternoon in a state of shock. She neither saw nor heard the parade of petitioners who appeared before the king and his council. She was oblivious to the pomp and ceremony that surrounded the throne. She neither saw nor cared about the fact that Silas had left the hall in a rage, leaving Edwina and her mother alone.

  All she could think of was Riordan, putting himself once more in danger.

  He could be dead, and she would never have the opportunity to tell him all the things that were in her heart.

  Dead. She shook off the attack of nerves that shuddered through her. Nay. He wasn't dead. She would know it. Her heart would somehow sense it. It wouldn't be possible to calmly sit here, feeling nothing, if Riordan

  Spencer were dead. For surely her own heart would cease beating as well.

  Ambrosia glanced around in a daze and noted that everyone was on their feet, bowing, curtsying, as the king swept from the room.

  "Come, Ambrosia." Her grandfather offered his arm.

  "Where, Grandpapa?"

  He smiled. "Where have you been, lass? The king has invited us to join him in his private chambers. It is the highest of honors that he could have bestowed upon us. We are to sup with the king of England."

  She saw the way her sisters were giggling and the two old women were beaming.

  And then another thought struck. Perhaps Riordan would return to join them. And if not, perhaps the king could be persuaded to tell her where Riordan had gone.

  Aye. If she could find her voice when in the presence of the king, she would dare to ask. For the sake of her poor, aching heart.

  Ambrosia put on her brightest smile as a liveried gentleman said, "Would you follow me, please?"

  They were taken to a withdrawing room, where a fire burned on the hearth, and elegant chairs were drawn up in a circle around it.

  A servant entered, offering tea or ale and a tray of pastries and cheese.

  Eventually others began to enter. Elegant lords and their ladies. A Frenchman and a Spaniard, who seemed to switch from English to their native tongues without catching a breath. A cardinal and his assistant. Several of the king's council. And all came up to congratulate Geoffrey Lambert and his family on their extraordinary adventure.

  Each time the door opened, Ambrosia's head came up and she stared hun
grily until, catching sight of another stranger, disappointment would wash over her and she would return her attention to her tea.

  Seeing her distress, Newton leaned close. "Ye mustn't worry, lass. He'll be along."

  She tried to smile, but her lips trembled. "The king said he has sent Riordan on a dangerous mission."

  "It wouldn't be the first, I'd wager." He patted her hand. "Nor will it be the last."

  "But I can't bear worrying about him, Newt."

  "That's part of loving, lass. Worrying. Wondering."

  With sudden insight she gave him a long, speculative look. His words had been spoken with the intensity of one who knew of such things from personal experience. "Who was she, Newt?"

  After a moment's hesitation he said, "A Welsh lass. The prettiest thing I'd ever seen. Sweet, she was. And a maiden when I met her. Her family were fishermen."

  "Why didn't you marry?"

  "She wanted me to give up sailing the world. She couldn't take the worry of it. She begged me to join her family as a fisherman. But I couldn't take the sameness of it."

  "And just like that, you parted?"

  "Aye. My ship was ready to sail. I wasn't about to be left behind."

  "Did you ever see her again?"

  "Once." He looked away. "After that same voyage, when I tangled with a shark and returned without my leg. I came to tell her I was ready to be a fisherman. But it was too late."

  Ambrosia's voice lowered to a whisper. "You mean she wouldn't marry you because you'd lost a leg?"

  "Nay, lass." He turned to her, and she saw the bleakness in his eyes. "If that had been the case, I could have accepted it. But it was worse. She admitted she still loved me. But she'd wed another". And was carrying his child."

  "Oh, Newt." Ambrosia touched a hand to his arm.

  "Remember this, lass." His voice was a fierce whisper. "Such love comes along but once. And if we waste the moment worrying about what the future might hold, we could have a lifetime to regret it." The old sailor lifted his ale and drained it, then went off to fetch another.

  It was the first time he'd ever spoken aloud of his pain to anyone. And it still had the power to crush him. But if it helped the lass through this time, he figured it was worth it.

  Rows of long wooden tables ran the length of the great serving hall. Long lines of people filed in and were led to their places at table according to their rank and importance. There were members of the royal family. Titled noblemen and their ladies. Foreign ambassadors, hoping to curry favor with the king. Men of the church. There was color and pageantry and spectacle. All the things Charles enjoyed.

  Whenever the king was in residence, dinner at HamptonCourtPalace was a splendid affair. What made it even more memorable for the Lambert party was the fact that the king insisted that they sit at his table, which was a level above all the others, so that everyone in the great hall could see and be seen by their monarch. That meant, of course, that they could also see every honored guest invited to sit with him.

  "You'll sit on one side of me, Captain Lambert." The king turned to Ambrosia. "And you'll sit on the other, Miss Lambert."

  "Aye, Majesty." Astonished to be singled out, she settled herself beside the king. Because she was feeling slightly overwhelmed, she kept her eyes downcast and spoke only when he spoke to her.

  Keeping his voice low, Charles said, "I should not have been surprised to hear of your family's heroism, my lady. For your father was one of my most loyal subjects.

  What did surprise me was the missive signed by you and your sisters, offering to continue the work of your father."

  "You received our missive, Majesty?"

  "Aye. And I was moved by it. I have never known a female privateer, let alone three. And each of you as lovely as the next. I was considering rejecting your kind offer, until I heard of your brave actions. Someone who ...knows your family well assures me that you are all capable of serving your king. I feel I have no choice but to accept your kind offer."

  "Majesty." Ambrosia's eyes lit with pleasure. "You make us proud that we can serve you as our father before us."

  "Nay, my lady." He lifted her hand to his lips. "It is I who am proud yet humbled by your love and devotion."

  "Majesty." At the familiar voice Ambrosia looked up to see Silas Fenwick bowing before the king.

  "Aye, Lord Fenwick." Charles looked annoyed. "What is it?"

  Silas gave his best smile. "Since my betrothed and her mother are also from Cornwall, and are, in fact, dear friends of the Lambert family, I thought we might be invited to join them at your table."

  Charles, always one to admire a pretty face, looked at the young woman clinging to Fenwick's arm. "Aye, Lord Fenwick. Please join us."

  Edwina and her mother dropped a curtsy before being seated across from Ambrosia and the king, with Silas between them.

  "So. You know each other?" Charles smiled at Edwina.

  "Oh, since we were children." Edwina's nerves had her voice even higher than usual, making it sound like the bleating of a lamb. She blushed and giggled, and curled her fingers around Silas Fenwick's arm with a death grip that had him wincing.

  The king turned to Ambrosia. "And you are best friends?"

  Ambrosia glanced at Winifred Mellon and, seeing her warning look, gritted her teeth and tried an evasive tactic. "We all live in Land's End. Do you know it, Majesty?"

  "Aye. I am most fond of Cornwall, even though its citizens often consider themselves other than English."

  "We are fiercely English, Majesty." Ambrosia couldn't curb her tongue, even though she knew it was considered very improper to correct the king. "And fiercely loyal to Your Majesty. You will find no more loving subjects in all of England."

  At her vehemence he smiled and placed a hand over hers, surprising the others around them. "It does your king's heart good to hear of such love and devotion, my dear. For so many years I was denied the love of my people after the ... untimely death of my father."

  "My sisters and I grieve your loss, Majesty. For we lost our father on his last voyage. As well as our beloved brother."

  "I am aware of your loss, my dear." He looked into her eyes and felt a jolt. Unlike so many who mouthed the words, this young woman's pain, as well as her sympathy, were genuine, and deeply felt. He was more moved than he cared to admit.

  "We are loyal to you, as well, Majesty." Edwina's high-pitched voice broke through his thoughts.

  "I thank you, madam." He turned to study the young woman beside Silas. She seemed not at all his type. But perhaps Silas was growing weary of his wenching, and had decided to choose a woman more for her ability to give him offspring than for her ability to please him. Still, the thought of more than one with a voice like hers had him shuddering. Silas could find himself with a house full of shrill-voiced harpies.

  Charles turned back to the woman beside him. Now this was a woman who would turn a man's head. His friend, Riordan Spencer, had chosen well. And, if he was correct, had fallen hard.

  "Majesty." Silas leaned forward, hoping to hold the king's attention. "If I could speak of a matter that seems on everyone's mind these days."

  "Aye. Speak, Lord Fenwick."

  "It would seem that the pirates operating in England's waters are growing bolder. Attacking even those ships under Your Majesty's protection. Perhaps it is time to consider appointing a lord admiral, who would determine what ships would be permitted to carry cargo deemed necessary for the Crown."

  "A lord admiral?" The king studied him. "And you think you should be lord admiral?"

  "I have knowledge of shipping and cargo, Majesty."

  "Ah yes. You inherited your grandfather's import company, I believe, Lord Fenwick."

  "Aye, Majesty. And I can state with pride that the ships under my command have never lost a cargo to pirates." His tone deepened. "The same cannot be said by those privateers who claim to be Your Majesty's loyal friends."

  Geoffrey Lambert's eyes flashed. "My son and grandson gave up their lives
in service to their king. Do you demean the sacrifice they made, Lord Fenwick?"

  "Nay." Though his lips curved in a smile, it didn't reach his eyes. "I am simply saying that England can no longer afford to lose precious cargo, especially when it is bound for the king's own purse. As lord admiral, I would take it upon myself to see that England's waters are purged of pirates. We would no longer have need of privateers who, though they see to the safety of England's seas, selfishly keep their bounty for themselves."

  The king appeared interested. "I will consider what you have said. Then I shall arrange a meeting between you and my council, so that we may discuss this further, Lord Fenwick." He smiled. "Or should I say, Lord Admiral?"

  "I am most humbly grateful, Majesty." Silas looked smugly around the table. The deed was as good as done. And once he was put in charge, change would come swiftly. And the rest of his plan would fall into place.

  His smile froze when he caught sight of the tall figure striding across the room.

  "Riordan." Ambrosia's face was alight with excitement.

  He looked so dashing. So handsome, he nearly took her breath away. For the space of a moment their gazes met and held.

  Then he tore his gaze from Ambrosia and bowed deeply before the king. "Forgive my tardiness, Majesty."

  "Not at all, my friend. I'm certain it couldn't be helped." Charles glanced around the table. "Do you know everyone here?"

  "Aye." Riordan's smile dissolved when he saw Silas seated across from the king. "Forgive me, Majesty. But I have urgent news that must be shared with you immediately. In the privacy of your chambers."

  Charles gave a sigh and turned to Ambrosia. "As you can see, a monarch's work is never done." He lifted her hand to his lips, then smiled at the others before pushing away from the table.

  At once there was a great commotion as the crowd shoved back their chairs and got to their feet, bowing and curtsying as the king strode from the room, followed by a thoughtful, distracted Riordan Spencer.

  As soon as they left the hall, the crowd grew more relaxed and more raucous. Except for Silas Fenwick, who suddenly slumped in his seat and wore a worried frown.