The Southern Trail (Book 4) (11 page)

BOOK: The Southern Trail (Book 4)
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“Stay here and rest, and remember what I said,” Rhen looked at Marco and told him, just before her head disappeared from view.

Marco did as she told him.  He laid back and rested, closing his eyes, and thinking about the revelations from the duchess.  She wanted him to do something for the princess.  He didn’t plan to murder Count Argen, which seemed to be what Rhen had implied would be best, and he didn’t plan to woo Ellersbine.  He stuck his finger in his mouth and thoughtfully sucked the water from the healing spring, then applied some to the wounds on his leg and his shoulder.

His eyes flew open and he sat up abruptly, as something clicked in his mind.  He didn’t have to look at the names on the back of his torq to know that Ellersbine was one of them, was the mysterious third name that was supposed to be his fated third lover!

The revelation was shocking.   Yet as he considered his circumstances, he felt an eerie certainty that the truth was revealed.  Had he not awoken from Iasco’s treatment, had he not regained his memories, he wondered whether he would have felt the same sympathy he now felt for the princess, and whether he would have felt it prepare to blossom into a deeper affection, a mutual love.  And he was left wondering how to proceed, how to take the right steps to mimic the steps that he would have taken if he had been in the state of amnesia Iasco had intended.

Why would he have fallen in love with Ellersbine, he wondered.  She was a princess.  That was all he knew for sure.  Perhaps she was nice; Rhen seemed to think so.  She was engaged to Argen, and Marco felt sorry for her for that; perhaps sympathy would have driven him to step in to help her.  She was pleasant looking, he thought, but she paled compared to Mirra’s extraordinary beauty.  Every woman paled when compared to Mirra though, he told himself as he tried to be objective. 

He opened his eyes and stood up, then looked down at the deck.  Ellersbine was there, sitting with Rhen and Fyld, and she was looking up as he looked down, while the captain and the duchess spoke to one another, oblivious to the actions of the princess.  She raised a hand and held it close to her shoulder as she looked at him, then she gave a tentative wave, and Marco, caught in his study of her, waved back.

He was not going to sleep in the crow’s nest, he knew.  He slipped a leg over the top of the railing, and started to climb down.  There were no masses of sailors rushing to assist him, he noted wryly, as he remembered all the helpers eager to guide Duchess Rhen safely to the deck.   When he reached the deck he saw that Fyld and Rhen and Ellersbine had moved to a different location, out of sight.

“Thank you for what you did,” a voice spoke from behind him, and Marco turned to see Sergeant Hearst stepping away from a work crew to talk to him.  The man held out his hand to shake with Marco, and as they gripped one another’s hands, the sergeant asked, “What’s that spot on your hand?”

Marco looked down, and involuntarily tightened his grip on the handshake momentarily, before he released the hold and raised his right hand to examine it more closely.  A scratch near his thumb showed not red blood but golden flesh.  His mind whirled through a dozen questions and recollections, but he realized that the sergeant was standing across from him, waiting for a comment.

“It’s hard to say,” Marco said at least, trying to pass it off.

“Are you feeling okay?  You look pale,” Hearst told him.  “Here, have a seat,” the man grasped his arm firmly and guided him to a wooden crate, where Marco sat down.  “You still need to catch your breath after the battle.  Take it easy right here.  I just wanted you to know that we,” he motioned around to the soldiers who were working to restore the ship to order, “know that you saved all our lives.  We’ll be your men when you need us, if you understand me,” he said in a meaningful voice, then turned back to his labors.

Marco was stunned.  He knew, or thought he knew, what was implied.  The men would follow Marco if there was a mutiny against Argen and Varsen, if Marco led the soldiers in the mutiny.

“Sergeant,” Marco called, and Hearst turned back to look at him.  “I hope we don’t go there, but thank you,” Marco said.

“We’re on your side, sir,” Hearst affirmed, and then he walked off, giving directions to men who were lifting a heavy hatch into place over an opening in the deck.

Marco remained in place, resting, and shook his head.  He hoped that Argen and Varsen would catch the subtle hints, or that at least the prince would, and would consequently command the two arrogant souls to moderate their behavior.  And the time span for them to be on better behavior might last a considerable length of time; Marco had no idea.

“Sir?” Marco heard a voice call as he walked along.  “Sir?” the voice repeated, and Marco realized that he was being addressed.

He turned and saw a young midshipman striding to reach him.

“Did you mean me?” Marco asked.

“Yes sir,” the voice was high and unchanged as yet, though the boy had just been through a terrible battle experience that had undoubtedly wrung a great deal of youthfulness out of the boy’s soul.  And truth be considered, Marco realized with a shock, the midshipman was really only a just a few years younger than Marco was.

“The captain, that is the acting captain, he said that since we’ve lost officers we’ll have an extra cabin space, and he thought that you deserved to have a cabin for the rest of the journey,” the midshipman delivered his message.  “You can have the foremost cabin; it’s been emptied out for you sir,” the boy finished his delivery, looking at Marco with shining eyes.  “Good day sir,” he added by way of excusing himself, and he was off to his next duty.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 12

 

Marco stood for a second and contemplated the notion that he had inherited a cabin, then smiled, and decided to go visit his new home.  The sun was past the zenith, and starting to descend in the afternoon sky, leaving plenty of light for the time being for Marco to see clearly below deck.  And perhaps get that nap that he once again felt the need for.

He followed the directions and went down the stairs one deck, then turned away from the side of the ship where the nobility resided in their cabins, and walked along the narrow route that passed by the doors for the cabins of the ship’s officers.  The passageway followed the lines of the ship as it curved inward while approaching the bow in the front, and Marco walked until he reached the last door, before the passage came to an end as it joined the portside passage.

He gave a cursory knock, then opened the door and entered without waiting for any answer, since he knew that no response should have come from the cabin that he expected to be empty and waiting for him.  He looked forward to lying down on his new bunk, closing his eyes, and resting easily while his mind sorted through the troubling circumstances he faced.

He unbuckled his belt as he strode across the narrow room, then sat on his bunk to pull off his boots, and gave a gasp.

“My lady!” he spoke in surprise, as he stood up, then grabbed his pants to hold them up.  The princess was standing in the corner of his cabin, hidden behind the door when he had entered, and now stood facing him, pale-faced, just the two of them alone in the confined setting.

“I didn’t expect anyone to be in here,” Marco apologized.  He spoke slowly as he focused his attention on trying to slip his feet back into his boots.  “My apologies for intruding upon you.”

“It’s quite alright Marco.  You didn’t do anything wrong, young hero,” she told him.  “I’m sure you didn’t expect to find me here; I slipped in because I thought the room would be empty and give me a place to be alone at peace for a little while.”

Marco finished shoving his toes back into his boots, and he started towards the door.  “I’ll leave you in peace, my lady,” he said as he reached the door and placed his hand on the latch.

“Why did you come in here?” the princess asked.

“I misunderstood; I thought the midshipman told me this was to be my cabin,” Marco told her.  “I was just coming in to take a nap.”

“It undoubtedly is your cabin, and in that case, I should be the one to leave,” Ellersbine stepped towards him and the door.

“No, oh no,” Marco protested.  “You’re a princess.   You’re entitled to be here.  If you want a private place, you shall have it.”

She rested her hand upon his that was still holding the door latch.  “If anyone’s entitled, you’re the one who earned the right.  I’m just a princess by birth, but you fought your way to being a hero.  You were truly magnificent today; without your efforts I wouldn’t be a princess right now – I’d be dead or I’d be a captive.

“You go lie down and rest.  I’ll go back to my cabin,” she told him in a firmer voice.

“Why aren’t you in your cabin now?” Marco asked, surprised at his own boldness in questioning the princess, while standing with trembling awareness of the feel of her hand touching his.

If I stay there, I’ll have to listen to Argen go on and on and on.  He’ll bluster about how great he is, how lucky I am, what a failure father has been, what a wretched upstart you are,” she stopped, realizing that she had revealed more than she intended.

“I apologize for complaining.  And I don’t believe any of what he says.  I’ve even disagreed with him, about father.  And you,” she said.  He felt her hand squeeze his.

Marco looked down at her, and smiled to try to comfort her.  He hesitated to say anything, acutely aware that the name of this woman was etched on the back of the torq around his neck.  He was aware that Iasco intended for him to travel all the way to Foulata, possibly in the company of the same woman.  He was aware that Ellersbine was vulnerable, and needed protection; most importantly, he was aware she needed a friend.

“I think that we could perhaps both stay here, until you feel ready to leave,” Marco told her after a long silence.  “I will go lie down, and if you wish to sit on the chair,” he moved his hand from under hers to point at the lonely piece of furniture, “you should certainly know that you’re welcome to stay here safely for as long as you wish,” he told her.

“That would be improper, for the two of us to be together without a chaperone,” the princess answered.  “You go lie down and rest,” she said as she pulled the door latch open to leave.

“I’ll find Rhen and be back soon,” she surprised Marco by saying as she started to slip out of the door and pulled it closed behind herself.

Marco sat alone, and stared at the door in surprise.  He hadn’t anticipated the princess’s departing remarks, and he didn’t know what to think.  He did know, he reflected, that if Duchess Rhen came into the room, he would get no rest.  She would not be a silent, passive visitor to the room, he was sure, though the prospect was not upsetting.

Marco placed his knapsack on the floor, along with his sword, then pulled his boots free again, and lay down on the thin mattress pad atop the wooden bunk, and closed his eyes.  He immediately felt stupefied, as his mind and body embraced the opportunity to rest.  He imagined numerous scenes from the day’s long ordeal, the work at the oars, the battles, the encounter with the dolphin, and then the ripping away of the false façade, the personality that had hidden the person underneath.

Which made him think of Mitment, the girl who was hidden from everyone, every living person, except him.  For no new reason he felt a kinship with the girl, the spirit that guarded the Lady Iasco.  He would find a way, somehow, to restore her to her body, he vowed in the silence of his soul.  It was his responsibility, since he had killed her in the first place, and then brought her back to the world of the living.

“Are you awake?” he faintly heard Duchess Rhen’s voice speak in a stage whisper, just as he heard the wooden door rasp against its frame as it was pushed open.

“He’s awake,” Rhen said confidently, and Marco heard footsteps in his room.  He opened his eyes, sat up, and saw Rhen and Ellersbine and the silent maid Gielle enter the room.

“Did you imagine there’d be such a surfeit of beauty entering your room?” Rhen asked.

“There isn’t room for all of us in here.  I told you, Rhen!” Ellersbine protested.

“Oh, absolutely,” Rhen dismissed the comment.  “Princess, you sit there,” she pointed to the chair as Marco watched.  “I’ll sit here,” she planted herself upon the mattress, near his feet, “and Gielle can sit here, right beside me,” she patted the empty spot between her own spot and the end of the bunk.

“There, everyone has a place and there’s a place for everyone,” she declared brightly.  “Now you just pretend we’re not here and go to sleep,” she spoke to Marco, then gave a wink and a laugh.

Marco lay back down on the mattress, his hands crossed behind his head.

“We need to leave,” Ellersbine said, standing immediately.  “He wants to rest.”

“No, no, you don’t have to go,” Marco said.  “It’s nice to have friends visit,” he told them, as he looked at Ellersbine.

“Friends?  You called us friends?” Rhen snapped back.  “This is a royal princess you’re talking about,” she said sternly.  “Just because we’re in your room, on your bed, hardly makes us friends.

“But if you’d like to play a game or two, then we can be friends,” she stopped her straight-faced pretense and smiled at him.  “I’m bored Marco; can’t we play a game?” she suddenly wheedled as if she were a young girl.

Marco looked at her, first startled, then amused.  “Life is never dull when you’re around, is it?” he asked, sitting up again.

“I will modestly admit that I do have a certain charm,” Rhen answered.

“It’s so dark in here,” Gielle spoke for the first time.  Her voice was high and soft, like that of a girl much younger than she evidentially was.  She stood and walked over to the port, and raised it, letting a flood of light enter the room.

Marco had his back to the outer wall as he faced towards the doorway, and so he only saw the amount of the light in the room increase for five seconds, before there was a tremendous crashing and splintering noise.  The whole cabin shook, and the women screamed, while the cabin was overwhelmed with light, then shadow.  Marco took only a split second to swivel his head, and as he did, he saw that the wall of the cabin had been splintered inward, causing fragments of wood from the massively thick hull to fly into the cabin and prick the occupants.

BOOK: The Southern Trail (Book 4)
12.96Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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