The Red King (48 page)

“You need to see this!” he said, handing the
spyglass to Rory. “You should be able to make it out from the
bow.”

“Do you know what it is?” Ortega asked,
crossly.

“Oh, aye, I do!” Yousef answered, laughing
harder at Ortega’s disgruntled face.

“Jakob! Come down!” Ortega shouted and jumped
the steps to the deck.

Rory followed, ran to the bow and leapt onto
the gunnel. Wrapping an arm around one of the sheets, he raised the
glass to his eye. He first noticed the oars stowed along the side.
Then, he noticed the blue flag bearing St George’s cross lowering.
He laughed, loud and joyful.

Rising in the ensign’s place was a black flag
with a crude rendering of a skull wearing a crooked red crown.

“Stand down, men! Stand down!” Ortega
ordered, collapsing his glass and handing it to his crewman. “Curse
you, Jakob! You’ve cost me my chair!”

“What have you done to my ship?”

The crew of the
Taibhse
laughed and
cheered their captain, who stood atop the railing and shouted down
the noise to berate them.

“And what are you doing here? Our rendezvous
was yet two days off!”

Joshua, left in command by vote, was opposite
of him, leaning out over the water with a grin. “Sir, to be honest,
the men were bored and restless. It was ‘twixt giving them
something to do or letting them go ashore to Calais, and I did not
think that decision wise.”

“To what purpose were you running here? And
with the ensign aloft?”

“We ran the sail plans, Captain!”

“All of them?” Rory asked. The plans in place
to change rigging and sails when in need were numerous and
difficult, only used in battle or dangerous weather.

“Aye!” Joshua called. “We kept the ensign
flying to be cautious, as per your instruction!”

“Put the ensign up once more! I have need of
that flag!” Rory shouted, too pleased to maintain his disgruntled
manner. “Permission to come aboard, Captain?”

“Aye! Granted!” This declaration received
another hearty cheer, deafening despite their small numbers.

The ships were met portside to portside with
sea anchors lowered to ease their drift. Still, the water and wind
conspired to separate them, even with sails pinched and lines tied
off over each gunnel. No plank could be lowered to cross upon,
making the quickest and easiest way to board the
Taibhse
also the most dangerous. They would have to swing from one deck to
the other.

Etienne was not pleased. “
Ruaidhri
,
really, what do you expect?” he asked, bearing up under Rory’s
scowl.

“I expect you to hold onto the bloody rope
and fly over to the
Taibhse
,” Rory answered.

Glaring at him, the man said, “And when I
drop into the sea to be crushed between your hull and this one, I
will expect you to come rescue me.”

“Not that this isn’t entertaining,” Malik
interrupted, “but I can take you across.”

“Thank you, Malik. That would be lovely,”
Etienne agreed, readily. He cast a dark glance in Rory’s direction.
“Would you be able to take Laurent, as well?”

Malik thought for a moment, his forehead
furrowing comically as he sized up first Etienne, then Laurent.
“Not at once, but I could make two trips.”

“Not sure your strength could carry us both?”
Etienne teased, smiling.

“I don’t know if the rope would hold us all,
Etienne. I amount to four of you, all on my own,” Malik said, his
good nature and humor ever present. “I will do what I must, for if
I left you two to argue we may never leave, and I do long for a bit
of home.

With a sigh of long-suffering, Rory said to
them all, “Ready yourselves, then, and quickly. Open water does us
no favors.”

Turning his back on their laughter, he made
his way to the Captain’s cabin once more. He knocked and entered
without waiting, expecting only to find Andrew asleep. Instead, he
saw Ortega standing with Andrew in the center of the room. The two
of them turned, expectantly.

“You’ve come to fetch him,” Ortega said, his
smile at once both indulgent and mocking.

“I’ve been forbidden to leave him without
permission. I’m only doing my duty,” Rory replied, with a bow.

Andrew watched Rory, eyes bright and brimming
with happy relief.

“I see,” Ortega said. He studied them in
turn. “Andrew tells me that you are to grow apples.”

“I will do whatever he wishes, so long as
he’s with me,” Rory swore, his gaze only on Andrew.

Ortega rubbed a hand over his face. “I
understand, now, what Malik meant.”

Ignoring him, Rory asked, “Are you
ready?”

Andrew nodded, reaching for the doublet
settled on the edge of the bed.

“Wait,” Ortega said. He moved around his
table and pulled out a drawer. Lifting a sheathed dagger from
inside, he tossed it almost carelessly to Andrew. “That is yours,
left carelessly behind. Mind you don’t leave it again.”

Andrew pulled the weapon clear and looked at
it. It was the dagger Rory had given him. He turned to Rory with a
smile, then sheathed it again and stuck it into his belt. When he
faced Ortega he wore no expression, but held out his hand. Ortega
took it and began to execute a formal shake, but Andrew stepped up
close to him. He buried his face in Ortega’s hair and slipped an
arm around the man’s shoulders to keep him close.

They were still for a long moment. Andrew was
insistent, Ortega unresisting. They separated in silence and Ortega
looked at Andrew with surprise. Andrew exaggerated a frown,
shrugged, and grinned.

“That is,” Ortega said, still holding
Andrew’s hand, “an interesting idea. I will consider it.”

Nodding, Andrew released him and went to
Rory.

“I’ll have the chair brought up now,” Ortega
told them before they could leave.

Rory waved a hand. “Oh, never mind the chair.
I’ll find another.”

“Nonsense! You won the wager, it’s yours,”
Ortega said. He stepped around them and opened the door. “I can
find another just as easily. I stole this one, anyway. It was meant
for Maarten, too.”

Andrew mouthed
Pirate
at him.

“I prefer the term privateer,” Ortega
corrected, to which Rory gave an appalled snort. Ortega laughed and
walked out.

Rory paused, one hand on Andrew’s shoulder.
“What did you tell him?”

Andrew peered up at him, wondering.

“I’m only curious.”

A shy smile curving his lips, Andrew wrapped
his arms around Rory’s neck. “First, I quoted Plato,” he whispered
into Rory’s ear. “The price of apathy is to be ruled by evil men.
Then I suggested he find it in his heart to care, else he will
always be ruled by evil men.”

Rory pulled back to glare at him. “You
misquoted Plato.”

Andrew shrugged. “I may have taken a small
liberty.”

They kissed through their laughter until
Andrew drew away to breathe into Rory’s mouth, “Take me home,
Ruaidhri
.”

The deck was loud. Men clamored at the rail
of each ship, tossing items across as trades, shouting insults and
dares and laughing. The mood was jovial and rowdy, and no amount of
calling would calm it. Ortega pulled out a gold whistle, on a chain
around his neck, and blew into it. The high-pitched wail had an
immediate reaction; all of Ortega’s men froze in place for an
instant, and then moved with alarming, impressive speed to line up
in perfect formation. They stood in a straight line, shoulder to
shoulder from bow to stern, facing midship only breaking line to
file up onto the quarterdeck. Ortega tucked the whistle back into
his clothing and watched them with a satisfied smirk.

“You two,” Ortega pointed at the two men
closest to his cabin. “Go fetch my chair.”

He looked to Rory, who met his gaze
impassively and asked, “Only two? Are you hoping they will drop it
on the way?”

Ortega just laughed and stepped closer to
take his hand. “Be sure it is not dropped while on your felucca. It
would fall all the way through and drag you to the depths.”

“It’s a xebec, and I’ll thank you to stop
insulting my ship,” Rory said, his grin toothy and his grip on
Ortega enough to make the man wince even as he chuckled.

The chair was hoisted aloft with block and
line. With a shove, it flew across the water and over the deck of
the
Taibhse
. Malik caught one of its legs and shouted for it
to be let down.

“That’s it, then. All that remains to go
across is you,” Ortega said to Rory.

“We will take our leave then, Captain. My
thanks to you, again, for your assistance.”

With a satisfied smirk, Ortega told him, “And
to you, for your adequate compensation.” He turned to Andrew, hand
extended. “To the spirit of the Scotsman. You do your countrymen
proud.”

Taking it in both of his, Andrew stared hard
into his eyes. Ortega paid close attention to his lips when they
moved.
Take care. Choose wisely
.

“You gave me Plato; in return, I give you
Socrates. The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing.”

Andrew looked at him, askance.

“My learning has been stripped away,” Ortega
explained. “I begin anew, Andrew, with an open, unfettered
mind.”

This made Andrew smile and hold his hand more
tightly.

“Harken to me now, Andrew.” Ortega placed his
other hand over Andrew’s, and leaned closer. His face was somber,
his voice surprisingly gentle. “Whatever you did, whatever sin you
think so dire that you need erase your joy; you must release
it.”

Drawing back with a surprised gasp, Andrew
cast his eyes towards Rory.

“I know what that means for you Godly types;
ever the faithful sheep and pious fools. You believe in forgiveness
for mere mortals like myself or the Red King, but not for your own
rarefied souls,” Ortega insisted, tugging their joined hands until
he had Andrew’s attention once more. “You are only a man. Allow
yourself this fundamental kindness.”

Andrew frowned, staring down at their clasped
hands.

Ortega continued, “It will take time, of
course, but do not forget.”

“He will have time, as much as he needs,”
Rory said. “And I will be there to remind him.”

Nodding, Ortega released Andrew’s hands and
straightened.

Rory moved to the rail. His waiting crew sent
a line to him and he grasped it, using it to steady himself as he
climbed atop the gunnel. “Ready?” he asked, reaching out to
Andrew.

When Andrew was beside him, arms wrapped
securely around his neck and shoulders, Rory whispered “Hold fast”
into his ear and pushed out over the water. Between one breath and
the next, they were caught by a dozen hands and set on their feet
upon the deck of
Taibhse
. They were embraced, heartily and
repeatedly, until every man had welcomed them back. Rory held
Andrew close to keep the insistent press at a mild distance. Though
greatly improved, Andrew was still weak, and the joyous welcome
could only buoy him for so long. By the time Rory had guided them
towards Etienne, Andrew was pale and sweaty and listing a bit
leeward when he was released with a kiss.

Rory sought Joshua, found him waiting at the
edge of the gathering with the Red King’s flag in hand. “You’ll be
giving up our standard?” the man asked, appalled.

“For a ready and worthy cause, never fear,”
Rory answered. The flag was rolled and only needed binding, so he
cut one of the lines holding the ships close and tied it to the
flag. Testing its tension, he returned his attention to the
Rovfugl
and saw her captain at the rail. “Ahoy,
privateer!”

Ortega grinned and pulled the line, dragging
the flag to him. “Many thanks, able seaman! This will fetch a royal
prize!”

“And assure those who care that the Red King
is dead?”

“Aye, sent to the deep and feeding the fish!”
Ortega jumped atop the rail, holding the shroud with one hand and
the flag in the other. He roared at his crew. “Cut and run, boys!
Time to collect on good King Frederick’s bounty!”

The lines were struck, the anchors raised and
stowed. As the galleon began to move southerly, angling away to
make the turn back north, Ortega called one last thing across the
water. “When next we meet, I fully expect you to try to kill
me!”

“With pleasure!” Rory returned with a
wave.

There was a cough next to him. “What’s the
word, Captain?”

Turning, he found Joshua. Behind him, spread
about the deck, was the crew. All eyes were on Rory. “Men, I am no
longer your captain.”

Laughter met his words. “You jest!”

“I have relinquished the ship to my second in
command. Malik is your captain now.”

Now all were silent.

Rory met each man’s gaze as they grew quiet.
“The
Taibhse
has sailed her final voyage, for word will soon
spread that she has been destroyed and her crew with her. Ortega
goes to Denmark to relay the end of the Red King.”

“Captain!” His men stared at him,
disbelieving and distraught.

“Your loyalty and courage have kept me alive
and aloft for far too long.” Rory paused, struggling to find the
proper words. “I have asked much from you and you have freely
given, but my wish now is for you all to find your own way,
together or to the man. We have been granted new life, my friends.
With our holdings in Algiers and Tunis there is enough for each of
you to go where you wish, find home and hearth, if desired. Finish
your days with the happiness you deserve,” he finished, his voice
thick with emotion.

“And if we have no wish for home and hearth,
what then?” Joshua asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ve
made my place here, my family surrounds me now. I have no wish to
leave it.”

Others were nodding, affirming the
declaration with emphatic ‘Ayes’.