Legends of the Vengeance : The First Adventure (9781310742866) (7 page)

“Well, if you didn’t try to kill us once or
twice a week, they might not have anything to complain about,”
Filipe shot back, winking at Sebastian.

“Someone has to keep ‘em on their toes. They
get lazy.”

Hector groaned again and Mac called back a
few of the stronger men. “Come get this whinin’ dog off my table.
I’ve got some meat to cook before you lot complain it’s gone
rancid.”

Sebastian watched as they wriggled out of
the galley and carried the wailing man to his bunk. “Sometimes I
think Papa is crazy for taking on these fools. He just makes more
work for the rest of us.”

“Don’t be criticizin’ yer papa. He’s a good
man, Captain Nicolo is. Takes care of people—helps them when no one
else cares. If it weren’t for yer papa, I’d be a dead man.”

“And if it weren’t for you, we’d never have
to worry about becoming one,” Filipe retorted. “Get the fire going.
These men want food. It’s been a hard morning with nothing to fill
their bellies.”

Mac grumbled good-naturedly about people and
their lack of appreciation as he added wood to the stove, poking it
with a small stick. The cook thought he tossed the stick inside,
but instead it fell on the floor. Quickly, Sebastian stomped on it
and then picked it up to see that it was not still burning. The
blackened end was hot but extinguished. He started to open the door
and toss it in when the artist’s words came back to him.
“…Burn
a stick and use the charred end to practice. Try large and
small.”

Quietly, he crept from the galley, the stick
hidden at his side. While men scurried to fix the sails or help the
carpenter, he crept to his quarters and hid his new acquisition.
He’d practice as soon as he found a rag to clean up any trace of
his attempts.
I will draw,
Sebastian promised himself.

The Legend: Part Two

Becalmed. Nicolo nearly went insane with
frustration. The men had rowed a little, but he didn’t want them
tired in case they needed to run. So, for the past day and a half,
they’d traveled less than a mile and were only half way to
Formentera. The men sang and danced, and Sebastian played his flute
during it all. However, eventually he begged off, saying he needed
to catch his breath.

Jaime’s stories had always been saved for
evening. A well-told tale by the light of a few lanterns in the
darkness and on the water captivated the men in a different way.
However, the entire ship had become so restless, so Nicolo asked
for more of the young man’s new tale.

“Have you more of your story? Has there been
time to concoct some wild scheme for our friend Joseph? Perhaps he
can be hit by splinters after cannon fire on those boats from
Dover,” he teased, grinning at Hector’s chagrin.

The Spaniard did not protest, but a flash of
anger filled his eyes before he shrugged. “It is possible. Joseph
was no more a seafaring man than I am. He likely wouldn’t know any
better than I did.”

Laughter erupted around them, but when Jaime
shifted, taking a long drink, everyone settled in for what they all
hoped would be a long installment of this new story.

“Where did I leave off? Oh, yes, he started
to make plans for Jacob’s leaving.”

Nearly a week passed before Joseph received
news from Charles. On a Wednesday, only a couple hours before dawn,
a servant woke him and said Charles waited in his counting rooms.
“He said it was urgent.”

Joseph didn’t hesitate. He pulled on
breeches and a coat and hurried downstairs in his slippers. Outside
his rooms, the other man waited, eager to share his news. It would
be good or Charles would not look so pleased.

“
Come in and tell me what you have
learned.”

Once Joseph had seated himself behind his
table, Charles pulled a velvet pouch from a pocket. From within, he
pulled a gold chain, and dangling from the end was a Star of David.
“What do you think?”

Joseph’s hand caught the star and took it
from his visitor. He turned it over and over in his hand, his
fingers tracing the Hebraic letters of the Shema etched into each
angle of the star. He smiled.

“
You have done well. How quickly can he
fill my order? What is his price?”

“
He can do it immediately. It won’t take
long, but the price is steep. It is a risk to him to make something
so overtly Jewish.”

“
What is the price?” Joseph
demanded.

The price was indeed high. Joseph wondered
if the price quoted was inflated by his courier or if the jeweler
was truly so expensive. “I will not pay that. I will pay
seventy-five percent of the asking price or take my business
elsewhere—even then that seems extreme.”

Charles grew visibly uncomfortable. Small
beads of perspiration dotted the man’s forehead as he nodded. “I
will see what I can do. He owes my family a favor. We got him a
good commission not long ago. I think he will come down.”

So it was true. Charles had inflated the
price. Joseph smiled again, but this one was not one his informant
would enjoy. He pulled a pouch from a drawer behind him and slowly
counted out enough gold to pay for the many chains and pendants he
had ordered. Passing a handkerchief across the table, he said, “You
seem to be overly warm, my friend. Oh, and be sure to bring me a
signed receipt. I must keep my books in perfect order.”

The other man blanched. He knew he’d been
caught, but admitting it would be disastrous. Joseph waited to see
what he would do. As Charles pocketed the money, Joseph leaned back
in the chair.

“
I want six as soon as you can get them
to me. It is very important. Now, get out of here before you are
seen.” Joseph stood and waved the man to the door. “It would not be
seemly for a fine gentleman such as yourself to be seen in such a
dubious establishment at this hour. Someone might think you were in
debt!”

Two days later, Ingelby arrived not long
before midnight in answer to Joseph’s summons. “I don’t know what
I’ve done, Joseph. I have made my payments on time, have I
not?”

“
Yes, you are a conscientious debtor. I
will say that for you.”

“
Then why am I here, and at this
hour?”

“
I thought,” Joseph began, “you might be
interested in a way to reduce your debt with me—something that
should cost you nothing but mild inconvenience.”

“
What is it?”

“
Before I tell you, you must assure me of
your absolute silence. If you betray my confidence, I will ruin
you, and you know I can.”

“
Don’t I ever? You can rest well at night
knowing that you have cured one man of living beyond his
means.”

Laughter filled the counting room. “Ah, but
that is not good news for my business is it?”

“
If only the other poor fools swindled by
you were able to see the risk they do to their family name and to
their descendants, you would be
out
of
business.”

Joseph’s eyes narrowed and he leaned
forward, rubbing his hands together thoughtfully. “I am no
swindler. I enter legal and binding contracts with men who have
need of my services.”

“
And lose their land and reputation in
the process.”

“
So I am to blame for their extravagance?
My terms are clear, I keep my word, and my rates of interest are
much better than most.”

“
You became rich off the misfortunes of
noble men,” Ingelby protested.

“
Noble by birth, perhaps. In heart and in
character—not at all. Nearly every one of my debtors ruined himself
with bad decisions and flagrant extravagance. I do not enter
contracts with men who are unable to pay. It is good
business—business that fills the coffers of the crown, I might
add.”

Robert Ingelby shook his head impatiently.
“What do you want from me and what will it remove from my
debt?”

“
Your father has a shipping operation at
Dover, does he not?”

“
He does.”

“
I want you to take my son Jacob and his
family across to France. At night with no one to see—keeping your
men silent.”

The man’s forehead furrowed. “Why the
secrecy?”

“
Will you do it?”

“
It would be hard to ensure that no one
mentions ferrying a family of Jews to France.”

Joseph thought for a moment and then nodded.
“All right, they will dress like nobles—French nobles. You will
tell your men that they are.”

“
The beard—”

“
We will shave!” Joseph thundered,
slamming his fist on the table. “This must be done in secret. If we
cannot leave secretly, as ourselves, we will leave as someone
else.”

“
And the reduction to my debt?”

“
Ten percent. If it goes well, I will
have more crossings for you. Within a few years, you should be free
of all debt without the necessity of giving me another
coin.”

Ingelby stood unspeaking for some time
before he nodded. “I will do it. When do they leave? I will need to
go home to make arrangements.”

“
They cannot leave before a week—maybe
two.”

“
And am I to assume that you are removing
your family from England?”

Joseph folded his hands and smiled. “Do not
grieve us too much.”

The door closed behind Ingelby but not
before Joseph overheard him mutter, “Good riddance.”

A low chuckle grew into full laughter,
mocking the young man all the way to the street.

Secrets

The calm drove Sebastian crazy. He wanted to
go hide in the corner of the ship beneath his father’s cabin and
practice drawing in privacy. No one could come upon him without his
knowledge there. However, with the crew bored and anxious, he knew
someone would follow him if he tried it now.

He’d already found himself a lantern, but
getting it lit might be difficult. Just as he rolled into his bunk
at bedtime on the third night of the calm, clouds rolled over the
moon and a wind rose. If the clouds moved—Sebastian smiled. There
it was again. They could see. They could—there went the sails.
Calls to deck rang out in the night air, and he pulled his blanket
over his shoulder. Yes, indeed. They would be sailing free in the
morning and possibly even immediately.

Sleep eluded him for most of the night.
Excitement filled him until he’d built up grandiose ideas of what
it would be to be an artist. He would be great—magnificent. He
would go below deck and draw a masterpiece so marvelous that his
father would have the ship torn apart in order to preserve it for
all time. And at that idea, the ship lurched, waking him from his
first real slumber since he’d rolled into bed the previous
night.

“That isn’t likely,” he muttered,
remembering the feeling of excitement he’d experienced at the
realization of his supposed true talent. Sebastian had no reason to
suppose he could draw a rock, much less a tree, boat, or a person.
He envied those who were wealthy enough to own portraits of loved
ones. If he only had one of his mother. Yes, his father often
remarked how like her he was, but it wasn’t the same as seeing the
face for himself.

Could he ever learn to draw and paint well
enough to create such a credible likeness from his own reflection
and imagination that his father would pronounce it true and
accurate? The idea nearly drove him wild with eagerness. It would
be such an accomplishment, but he couldn’t hope to do so well for a
long time. Why, Angelo must be even older than his father! It would
take years…

He shook himself and jumped from his bunk.
Why waste time with daydreams when he could practice? As he hurried
to claim his gruel from the galley, Sebastian tried to remember the
words of the artist regarding light and darkness and how they
created shadows and highlights.
These give your work
depth—richness—life.

Never had he bolted his food so quickly. He
guzzled his watered-down wine and scurried out of sight and down to
where he hoped to begin his training. The area was too dark. Even
with the light that crept in through the cannon deck holes, there
wasn’t enough to see if he connected two lines of a circle. He
needed the lantern.

Whirling to find it and find a way to bring
it below again, he ran into Jaime. “What are you doing,
Sebastian?”

“Um…”

“You know you can’t keep a secret from me,
so just tell me.”

His friend spoke truth. Somehow, everything
he ever thought or did, Jaime found out inevitably. “I want to
draw, but it’s too dark down here.”

“So draw on deck.”

“I don’t want anyone—”

“So, draw in your cabin.”

“I…”

Jaime led him up to his room and shut the
door. “Your father will kill me for showing you this, but…” He
reached for a stick beneath the bunk. “See those pegs?” Sebastian
didn’t. Exasperated, Jaime jerked clothes from them. “Those.”

“Yes.”

In one smooth movement, he dropped the stick
between the pegs. “Locked. All the privacy you want.”

“Really? How did I never know that?”

“Because your father didn’t want you to
know.” Jaime lifted the stick and handed it to him. “Enjoy. I want
to see what you draw before you wash it away.”

Alone in his room, he scrubbed an area of
the floor and stared at it. What to draw? He had no idea. His mind
was as blank as the space on his floor.

He considered the ship’s wheel and thought
it seemed simple. Starting with something easy made sense, didn’t
it? The circle didn’t work. Over and over he scrubbed and drew
until he wanted to throw the stick out the window and quit. A quiet
knock sent his head whipping to the door.

“Jaime?”

“Yes. Let me in.”

Sebastian scrambled to his feet and lifted
the stick. “What?”