Legends of the Vengeance : The First Adventure (9781310742866) (5 page)

Over two hundred years—almost three hundred
years ago— in England—London—a family lived and grew wealthy. They
were moneylenders—Jews. Joseph ben Saolomon sat in his rooms some
time just after midnight when he heard a soft rap.

“
Come in,”

A short, weasel-like man scurried into the
room, closing the door softly behind him. “I have news.”

“
I should hope so. Why else would you
knock on my door at this hour?”

“
I was listening to my father talk with
some of the other lords. The king is talking about a Statute of
Jewry.”

“
What is this statute? What will it
mean?”

“
The king is appalled at how many of his
subjects have lost their lands to the Jews.”

“
Then,” Joseph spat, “his people should
learn to live within their means and not borrow. I should not be
condemned for the poor financial choices of fools.”

“
The king doesn’t agree. The statute will
outlaw all usury. He’ll take your lands.”

“
What else?”

The man shook his head. “They didn’t say
anything else, but I think you have a little time. He’s only been
home for a few weeks. I would get your money out of the country as
soon as possible.”

“
You’ve done well for yourself.” Joseph
stood and unlocked a heavy metal box. He pulled a ledger from it
and thumbed through a few pages until he found the one he sought.
“Here you are. I will remove ten pounds from your debt. If this
Statute is enacted, I will remove fifty more.”

The protest that had formed on the man’s
lips dissolved just as quickly. “Thank you, Joseph. I will go—”

“
I have another job for you.”

“
Another?”

“
I want to commission gold pieces. Do you
know a goldsmith we can trust with my business?”

“
I—yes. I do. I know of a good one who
cares only for profit.”

Joseph nodded. He understood what his
informant would not say. There was a jeweler who would do business
with a Jew for the right price. He opened a drawer, pulled out a
small packet and slid it across the desk.

“
Take this to your jeweler. My
instructions are enclosed along with a deposit. Come to me in three
days and tell me his price.”

“
And my account?”

Joseph waved his hand, dismissing the man.
“I will reduce your account when you bring me the finished
pieces.”

He waited until his informant had closed
the door and then rose to stand
at the window. Charles de
Gyll was so deep in his debt that the man had no hope of recovery
and both of them knew it. It had been a long-term investment on
Joseph’s part. After all, unless his father met an untimely end,
one that the moneylender would not be surprised to hear of, the
young man would be in debt for a very long time. The interest rate
was staggering—foolish really. They would lose much of their lands
if the man lived another twenty years. Then again, if this statute
did go into effect…

His fingers played with the silken tassels
on the cord that tied back the drapes as he pondered his choices.
Joseph knew the resentment for the Jews. A few, such as he, had
become quite wealthy over the years. He’d taken his father’s simple
business of loaning small amounts of well-secured property for
short loans and made a name for himself and the entire family. His
sons and his son’s sons would be able to live off the interest of
their fortune if he could manage to protect it from the King.

He would send Jacob and his family to France
immediately. They would smuggle out gold and then Abram would
follow in a month’s time—maybe two. The ideas formed quickly as he
returned to his table, opening the ledger once more.

Ingelby… he would be a good choice. His
father owned boats at Dover. The debt wasn’t high, but a promise of
ten percent erased for each trip might be worth it. He’d eventually
work off the entire debt and Joseph’s family would be free.

A new thought occurred to him—one that could
speed up the process. Joseph pulled out two small sheets of paper
and began writing notes. He first scrawled a summons to Ingelby but
did not hint at the reason. It would not hurt to make the man
squirm a bit. He then wrote new instructions for the jeweler and
for Charles de Gyll.

The servant, Ruben crept into the room at
Joseph’s summons. “Take these quickly. Deliver them before dawn but
do not be seen.”

“
Yes, Joseph. Anything else?”

“
Follow Charles tomorrow. I want to know
where he goes and who he speaks to.”

The sun rose, but no one in London could
feel its warmth or see its rays behind the thick fog that shrouded
the city. When Jacob ben Joseph stepped into his father’s study, he
found the man still sitting in the previous day’s clothing, hands
folded on his chest. Waiting.

“
Jacob, we must make
plans—today.”

Battle

The sea—deceptively calm. With his telescope
trained on the horizon, he waited for any sign of their pursuer,
and as he waited, he thought—so many decisions to make. The early
hours before the crew began their work were the best.

They had to sink the other ship. If it were
El Cazador,
they would need every advantage. The last time
they’d encountered their hunter, he’d almost gotten to
Sebastian—again. Memories of the toddler’s disappearance in those
first inexperienced months on the sea churned the bile in his
stomach. That must never happen again.
Never.

He’d resisted the tug toward the Americas,
but
El Cazador
thought he would stay close to Europe. If he
could get away without notice…

Nicolo’s eyes closed at the thought of what
it would mean. They couldn’t head into such unfamiliar waters, so
far away, without proper provisions. What if no good ships came
along? To risk the lives of his crew on such a gamble was
irresponsible at best—criminal, really.

His lips twisted as he considered the irony
in a pirate being concerned about criminal actions. He’d come so
far—learned so much. Could he start over again in a new place? The
name Nicolo Soranzo had become legendary in the Mediterranean
during the past ten years. Even the Ottoman corsairs along the
Barbary Coast feared him. Would anyone in the Caribbean know of him
or care?

El Cazador
would not expect such a
move. Their ship wasn’t ideal for crossing the Atlantic. Agitated
at the thought, Nicolo shook his head. It would be madness to
consider it. Then again, with the oarsmen, it would get them
through the doldrums near the tropics as they neared the equator.
Perhaps…

Eduardo found him staring off into the
horizon. “Do you see the ship?”

“Not yet. It is still too dark.”

“What will we do?”

Nicolo passed the telescope to his
quartermaster and gestured for Eduardo to look as well. “I am
considering a radical move.”

“You think we should run?”

“After we disable the ship, yes. I am hoping
that they will see us ready to fire and run themselves. That might
mean it isn’t our adversary, but it isn’t likely.”

“Disable or sink?”

The man’s face hardened. “We sink her. She
won’t chase us again and hopefully
El Cazador
will
drown.”

“Where will we go?”

“The Caribbean. The hunter will expect us to
stay close enough to hear news quickly.”

“Can we sail
The Vengeance
that far?
Where will we put in for supplies?”

Nicolo did not answer. He stood, his hands
gripping the railing, staring out to a sea he knew and loved. “We
can’t. We must disable the ship and go.”

“We’ll never make it, Nicolo. You cannot
expect the men to—”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” The pirate
stormed. “Do you think I haven’t tried to find some other way? What
can I do?”

Seconds passed before Eduardo released a
ragged sigh. “Nothing. You must. I see it now. If you stop for
supplies, it gives them time to repair or take another ship. It
tells them we might be leaving these waters. We go to sea and wait
for ships from Spain or Portugal, raid, and send them back
limping.”

“Yes.”

Again, silence hung between them until
Eduardo said, “We will not survive if we do not capture a ship. You
know this.” He passed the telescope back to his captain with a
shake of his head. “Nothing that I can see.”

“I know. We must also leave the papers and
some of the treasure I have behind. We cannot risk it ending up at
the bottom of the Atlantic. If Sebastian were to survive a capture
or worse...”

“Where?”

Barely able to control the tremor in his
hands, Nicolo pulled a map from his coat pocket. He unrolled it,
spreading it across the railing and pointed to a small group of
islands off the coast of Spain. “That islet near Formentera.”

“Are you insane? You are asking for
capture!”

“They would not look there. They will not
expect it. We must try. You will leave me and maybe Jaime in a
rowboat near the islet while you and the others raid one area of
the main island. They would never imagine that two of us buried
something while you raided, and they won’t expect us to sail
through the strait.”

“I don’t know, Nicolo. This is very risky.
We will likely lose men when they hear of it.”

“We cannot tell them.”

“What?”

“We cannot give them the option of leaving.
No one must know that we left the Mediterranean.”

“Nicolo! That is little better than press
ganging!”

“I trust you, Eduardo. I trust almost no
one, but I trust you. If you cannot come then you are free to go; I
know you would never tell, but the others must not know. I will
give them my share of the next ship we take. I
will
make it
up to them.”

The two men stood at the Captain’s deck,
staring out into the inky blackness, waiting for that faint hint of
light that signaled the coming of dawn. Neither spoke. Nicolo
waited, his entire body shaking with repressed rage at the dangers
they were put upon by
El Cazador.
Beside him, Eduardo
counted the cost to the men if he kept silent.

At last, the quartermaster spoke. “I could
not leave you and the boy. You know this. I would die for you.”
Clapping his hand on Nicolo’s shoulder, he laughed weakly, “I
will
probably die for you.”

“Dying for the object of one’s loyalty,
although indubitably heroic, is not as useful as living to fight
for it,” Nicolo rejoined. “Better that you should first kill the
man who tries to kill us.”

Eduardo’s shoulders slumped as he leaned
against the rail again, his hands clasped together in a visible
attempt at self-control. “Your thirst for vengeance cannot be
quenched my friend. Someday it will consume you.”

“And then will I die satisfied at last.”

A sharp retort rose on the quartermaster’s
lips, but something in the distance caught his attention. He took
the telescope from Nicolo and raised it to his eye. At that moment,
the faintest hint of the coming dawn rose in the horizon, giving a
murky but definite outline of a ship. “Look.”

Nicolo gave it only a brief glance before he
turned. I’ll rouse Jaime.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The sudden weight of heavy fabric rudely
awakened Sebastian just before sunrise. He shoved the ornately
embroidered sleeve off his face and glowered at Jaime in the dim
light. “You don’t have to rub it in,” he mumbled as he crawled from
the covers.

“Just get it on. It’s almost light and
Eduardo spied the ship five minutes ago.”

The young men struggled to get Sebastian
into the dress and piled his hair on his head, holding it in place
with the combs. Jaime’s appraising look nearly drove Sebastian
wild, but his comments exasperated him further. “I really do think
you need that necklace—maybe earrings too.”

Sebastian lunged but missed as Jaime jumped
out of the way and slipped through the door, locking it behind him.
Once again, the wait began. He found an orange and some bread on
his bed. Jaime must have brought it when he came to begin the day’s
torture. “How thoughtful,” he muttered.

As he peeled the fruit, Sebastian smiled. At
least they’d managed to get fruit and meat. It helped. No one knew
why, but it helped. They tried to ration it, but without frequent
stops or raids on ships just heading out to sea, the men ran out of
fresh food. Eduardo insisted that fresh meat was what helped most.
Jaime and his father believed it was the fruits and vegetables.
Sebastian thought the salt air of the sea caused the scurvy they
all feared. They never got sick on land—another reason to stop
piracy and take up real professions.

They could move to Italy, France, Spain. His
father could become a legitimate merchant. For all he knew, there
was enough money that his father would never have to work!

Though he often complained about their life,
Sebastian never admitted why. It wasn’t the dress or even that they
lived on a ship. Those were annoyances. No, times like that morning
were what he hated most. The tension, the waiting, then the cannon
fire and when boarding a ship, the fighting, blood, the cries of
wounded or dying men. He hated it—hated it all.

His father admired bravery, but Sebastian
admired constancy. Nicolo was ruthless toward those he considered
deserving of his wrath. Sebastian despised all kinds of violence
and anger. The brutality cut at him, but he hid it inside where his
father could not see it. His father must never know what a weak
person his son really was.

Sebastian stared down at the skirts. They
mocked him. Perhaps it was God’s way of punishing him for his
weakness. A silent testimony to his true nature. He was a coward.
He knew it, and yet, Sebastian could not help but be disgusted by
the violence and disregard for law and traditional honor.