Authors: Jane Toombs
Blue scarf’s sword slipped under his opponent’s guard and sliced in the man’s arm. Red scarf’s sword dropped from his hand. He sank to his knees, grasping his nearly severed arm. Blood dripped into the dirt.
She heard Nicholas call for the next contender as two men stepped forward to help the injured Chinese from the arena.
The man with the blue scarf threw back his head, breathing deeply, and Romell stiffened in shock.
No, she thought, dazed, no, it can't be! I'm imagining Adrien's face. No, he can't be here.
A moment later, he'd turned toward his new opponent, and she could no longer see his features. Romell clenched her hands tightly together in her lap, fighting an almost uncontrollable urge to leap to her feet and scream Adrien's name. It was Adrien! She recognized his style of swordplay now, the familiar grace. How could she not have recognized him from the first?
But how could he be here?
I must do nothing to show I know him, she warned herself, giving a look from the corner of her eye at Poo Li, then the other way toward Cheng's wife and her servants.
When she glanced toward Nicholas, she saw him watching her. Romell swallowed. Is that what he had meant earlier today? That Adrien was here? Of course it was. She couldn't believe Adrien would be so rash as to mention her name, so Nicholas must only suspect that the two fan-qui, both English, knew one another.
Romell turned her attention back to the arena and fell into an agonized frenzy when she saw the huge Chinese who was Adrien's next challenger. She dared not let a sound pass her lips but her fingernails cut into her palms when the two men crossed swords close to the hilts and stood firm, glaring at one another.
Adrien broke free, uninjured, and resumed his turning, feinting attack. But the giant who opposed him waited him out, refusing to be drawn into a contest of futile lunges. Adrien slowed, seeming to move more and more awkwardly. He's tiring, Romell thought, her body tense with the effort to appear unaffected, for she was certain that Nicholas watched her every move.
"Drin!" a man's voice called out from the semicircle of spectators.
Adrien straightened. Then, as though he could no longer hold his sword in position, his right arm sagged, the sword drooping. Instantly, the Chinese plunged forward, attacking, and Romell couldn't stop the moan that slipped past her defenses. Cheng's wife cried out at the same time, a sound such as a wounded bird might make, but loud enough to mask Romell’s cry.
Adrien twisted and dodged, almost avoiding the man's strike entirely but the tip of the man's sword just touched Adrien's face and a line of blood appeared on his cheek. Adrien circled, circled again around the giant, who stayed in one spot, slowly swiveling to face Adrien.
Romell wanted to shout at Adrien that his tactics wouldn't work with this man, that he'd exhaust himself before the Chinese tired.
Again, Adrien seemed to lose heart and began backing away. After a moment the Chinese moved cautiously forward and began circling Adrien, who appeared barely able to turn to face him. The Chinese sprang in for the kill, slashing at Adrien, but the Englishman leaped nimbly away. In a flurry of thrusts, Adrien attacked from the side, jabbing the giant in the chest and dancing away.
The Chinese stood stock still, placing his hand over the blood that bubbled from his wound. Even from where she sat, Romell could see the shock on his face when his knees buckled and he went down.
Romell sprang to her feet, hardly aware of the tug at her sleeve. Adrien had won! At last she became aware that Poo Li was speaking to her.
"You tell me quick," she said. "Do fan-qui be as other men?"
Adrien gulped air, standing over the wounded Chinese. With luck, the man might live—he'd tried to miss the heart. Still an alarming amount of blood bubbled from the chest. Adrien felt the sting of his own minor wound and touched his cheek. His hand came away bloody. You're slowing down, Montgomery, he told himself. He turned his head toward Nicholas, waiting. How many more men would he have to fight?
To his surprise, Nicholas walked toward him, smiling. "Chi tells no lies," the pirate chief said. "You are a wily opponent. Drin, Chi calls you but I believe you should call yourself the fox, for that is how you fight. I look forward to Ying's return, to see you matched against him. If I call you a fox, he is a wolf. Yes, it will be worth waiting for."
Adrien smiled tightly but said nothing.
"Now, you must come with me," Nicholas said, "for I have your reward." He gestured toward the latticed porch and Adrien glanced up.
His heart lurched in his chest when he saw Romell's face between the squares of lattice work. For a timeless instant she met his gaze, then turned away.
"I give you my concubine," Nicholas said. "You have won her, and she is yours."
Adrien turned a wondering stare toward Nicholas. "Thank you, Your Excellency," he managed to say. "I didn't expect—"
"It is my custom," Nicholas said.
Adrien was escorted to his room by one of the blacks who politely, but firmly relieved him of his sword, telling him it would be cleaned and kept for him until the next fight. Adrien knew resistance was futile, but he wondered why he had been allowed to keep the sword in the first place.
In his room he bathed and lay on the bed, waiting. Despite his eager anticipation, the lack of sleep from the night before and the physical effort of the two swordfights made him drowsy. Romell, he thought drowsily. Romell. . . .
He didn't hear the door open, didn't rouse when the candles were extinguished one by one, but when the soft fingers touched him intimately he groaned and pulled the willing body to him.
Romell paced back and forth in the women's quarters. The black servants had come for Poo Li, and Romell was positive the concubine had been taken to Adrien.
She drifted into the dark courtyard to sit on the tiled rim of the pond. The overpowering sweetness of night-blooming jasmine clogged her nostrils as she tried to push the picture of Poo-Li woman in Adrien's arms out of her mind.
What was Nicholas up to? Would he send for her tonight, make love to her while she thought of Adrien? Or was he hatching some devious scheme to destroy Adrien?
A tiny scrape of metal against metal brought her head up. Romell stared across at the locked door, hidden by the darkness. She rose. Could it possibly be Adrien? She felt a surge of excitement that shifted into a pulse of apprehension. Is this what Nicholas intended? To see that Adrien was given the key so that he might be trapped inside the women's quarters? She'd heard of the unfortunate concubine and her lover who had lost their heads when Nicholas found them together. Is that what he planned for Adrien and her? She saw a wedge of light, quickly extinguished, and the outline of a dark figure. She took a step backward. That stocky figure was not Adrien, it could only be Cheng.
How foolish of Nicholas's son to risk them both by such a visit! She began to retreat. Surely he'd not dare to follow her into the lighted rooms. Her foot scuffed against a pebble which rattled against another pebble and she heard the pound of footsteps. An arm shot out and grasped her robe. She turned, reached out to feel Cheng's beardless face.
"Let me go!" she hissed, keeping her voice low.
"I came in secret," Cheng whispered. “Poo Li is with the fan-qui. We are safe. No one will discover us." He pulled her close, his hands fumbling at the belt of her robe.
Romell struggled against him, not daring to cry out lest the guards should hear and investigate. Nicholas would blame her, she was positive, if Cheng were found here.
He dragged her deeper into the shadows and succeeded in opening the front of her robe so that a breast was bared. Cheng grabbed it like a greedy child, squeezing.
"No," she whispered harshly. "Stop!"
He pushed her backward, trying to force her to the ground, and she beat at him with her fists.
"I will have you," he muttered. "Don't fight me."
He overpowered her and she fell. Instantly, he pinned her on her back, his weight holding her there. His hand reached between her thighs.
"I don't want you! No!" She tried to twist away from him.
Cheng's eyes glittered with lust. Romell bit back the cry that might have brought the guards, fearing that more than she feared Cheng.
Suddenly, she realized that she shouldn't have been able to see Cheng's face in the dark courtyard and she looked past him. The door was open; Nicholas stood over them.
"Shall good be returned for evil?" Nicholas said, in Dutch.
Romell felt Cheng freeze. A moment later, he was on his feet, facing his father. Romell drew her robe together and rose.
"That is a question once asked the Great Master, Confucius, Cheng Iquan. Do you not recognize it?" Nicholas continued to speak in Dutch, and Romell knew this was for her benefit.
Cheng did not reply.
"Well? Answer me!" Nicholas's voice was a knife thrust.
"I understand the words, honored father." Cheng's voice was scarcely audible.
"What answer did the Great Master make, thou attentive Confucian scholar?"
"Confucius replied, 'Then what will you return for good? No, return good for good and justice for evil.'' Cheng spoke quietly, but Romell heard the tremor in his voice.
"Confucius also tells us that fathers and sons must understand their obligations to each other," Nicholas went on. "Do you believe this to be true?"
"Yes, honored father." Cheng said.
"This being so, I shall attempt to dispense justice while being reminded of my duty to my son."
With one quick stride, Nicholas reached Romell and yanked her roughly toward the door leading from the courtyard.
"Come," he ordered Cheng. "I shall demonstrate in the comfort of my quarters how a man approaches a woman in order to win her caresses. Then you shall practice, under my regard, until you have mastered this art." His fingers dug into Romell’s arm.
She tried not to show her pain as she hurried along beside Nicholas, stumbling as he strode rapidly down the white marble corridor, his cruel grasp forcing her to keep up with him. Her mind whirled with the import of his words. He meant to make love to her in front of his son? Then watch while Cheng . . . ? The father teaching the son the art of seduction--with her as the object?
Romell shuddered, unable to think past such humiliation.
Chapter 29
As Adrien came fully awake, he realized the naked woman underneath him was not Romell. Before he could react, she twisted her hips against him, trapping him deep within her as she clutched at him passionately Overwhelmed by his lust, he thrust rhythmically until he climaxed.
A moment later he was on his feet, fumbling for his clothes in the dark and cursing himself for his stupidity. What had gone wrong? Nicholas had clearly indicated that he meant to send Romell—or so Adrien had thought. He should have known better than to trust the wily pirate chieftain. Who was this woman he'd coupled with?--
As Adrien located his garments, a candle flamed and he looked up. A Chinese woman stood naked beside his bed.
"Who are you?" he asked, in Portuguese. She shrugged, not answering, and he decided she must speak only her native tongue. His Chinese was extremely limited.
"Romell?" he said to her.
She frowned.
Adrien slid into his sailor's pants, thinking that he shouldn't have mentioned Romell's name. Foolish to trust anyone here. He approached the woman. A red and gold robe lay beside the bed and he picked it up to offer to her. When she made no response, he dressed her in the robe and, taking her arm, led her to the door.
She came with him, but her gait was peculiar and he looked down at her feet, grimacing when he saw the poor, twisted things. The woman caught his look and covered her face with her free hand.
Adrien bent and kissed her gently on the forehead. Picking up her sandals from beside the door, he gave them to her. As she put them on, he retrieved the kris from its hiding place behind the jade god and buckled it next to his skin, then pulled on his shirt. He opened the door and led the woman into the marble corridor.
Now what? If he followed her back to the women's quarters would Romell be there? Guards would, that was certain. Besides, he had a hunch Romell was with Nicholas.
The Chinese woman stared beseechingly up at him, and he tried to smile. The poor girl looked frightened to death. Was it because he'd turned her out? He couldn't help her, whatever the problem.
"Nicholas?" he said carefully, pointing down the corridor. Would she understand he wanted to know how to find the man? He repeated the name and the gesture.
She raised her hand and pointed in the opposite direction.
He nodded to her and turned away, padding silently along the hall until he came to an open wall leading into a large courtyard. He slipped outside, touching the sheathed kris tentatively. He felt naked without his sword and wanted to take the dagger into his hand, but if a guard saw he was armed he might be killed with no questions asked.
White flowers, pale in the darkness, scented the night air. Adrien glanced skyward, noting that the stars were hidden by clouds. Was he mad to be abroad in the night? Perhaps, but some hidden sense warned him not to delay, that Romell must be found quickly, that to wait until morning would be fatal.
Nicholas was a devious man, but would even he expect a night attack by a lone and, as far as he could tell, unarmed
fan-qui
? The Chinese woman might well give the alarm, although her terror had not seemed to be of Adrien so much but, rather, the fact that he had put her out when he quit the room. He should have left her in his bed, but he'd been too befuddled by sleep and by the circumstances to think clearly.
Was he thinking clearly now? Adrien shook his head, unsure. He'd have to trust this feeling that urged him on toward Nicholas, have to believe that Romell was with the pirate chieftain.
He stopped, trying to form a picture in his mind of the layout of the palace. Adrien had tried to make a mental map when he was led by the guard to his room and later to and from the arena. Chi had once told him that Nicholas's living quarters were behind the throne room. Nicholas would undoubtedly be well guarded. Adrien drew in a deep breath and entered another corridor, heading, he was almost sure, for the throne room.
He heard a man speak, then the soft slither of a sheathed sword against clothed flesh, both sounds coming from his left. He ducked inside a doorway to his right and found himself in a well-lit empty room with a green-gold dragon painted across two walls. The beast's fiery eyes glared at him as he positioned himself behind the half-open door. Through the crack, he saw two of the giant Negroes pass by in the corridor, their swords sheathed. He slowly let out his breath. Evidently no one had yet raised an alarm.
As he was about to step from the room, he caught a flicker of motion and ducked back. A woman servant, carrying a covered tray, glided by in the opposite direction from the guards. He waited until he was certain she was out of sight, only to hear voices again.
Two more gaudily dressed blacks, both armed, came along the corridor and, while Adrien fumed helplessly, paused outside his door to lounge against the wall and talk.
Adrien glanced about the room but saw no other exit. For the moment at least, he was trapped. The damned corridor was as busy as a London street!
Where was he? If his calculations were correct, he must be very near Nicholas's quarters, which probably accounted for all the activity. The throne room should be at the end of the corridor--he was almost certain he recalled being taken this way by the guard earlier in the day.
One of the blacks outside the door laughed and clapped the other on the shoulder. Since they spoke Portuguese, Adrien understood what was said. Apparently, they were trying to wager on the next sword fight, but neither expected the fan-qui to best Ying.
* * *
God knew he had no interest in finding out who Ying was, much less fighting the man. Even given the good fortune to outclass this Ying everyone thought so much of, he hated senseless killing. Adrien was suddenly aware of the kris resting against his heart. As though the weapon had spoken, he reached under his shirt and unsheathed the dagger. He saw and heard nothing except the desultory conversation of the lounging guards, yet the hair on the nape of his neck rose as he sensed danger approaching. He grasped the pusaka kris firmly in his right hand, waiting.
Romell felt Nicholas's grip on her arm ease slightly as he switched into Chinese to continue talking to his son. Cheng walked on the other side of his father, head bowed submissively.
It isn't just Cheng, Romell said to herself. Nicholas will do this to me because of Adrien, because Adrien came for me, because Adrien won tonight. Nicholas must have hoped I would see Adrien die in the arena.
I am to be humiliated, punished, and then what will happen?
They turned a corner and there, coming toward them unescorted, was Poo Li. Nicholas halted, speaking harshly in Chinese to the concubine.
"Fan-qui," Poo Li answered haltingly. "He seeks you." Her eyes slid to Romell. "He seeks her."
Adrien was looking for Nicholas, for her, Romell thought, fear rising. Nicholas will kill Adrien. He'll make me watch him kill Adrien. It mustn't happen. I can't let it happen.
Poo Li went on talking. As Nicholas listened, his grip relaxed. Romell jerked her arm away and ran down the corridor of white marble, conscious only of the desperate need to find Adrien before Nicholas did. She darted into a room with an open wall and into a courtyard, hearing behind her Nicholas's voice raised in command.
Romell raced through the courtyard, entered another room, then another corridor, still yet another. She hoped she was heading toward Adrien, and was determined to fight if anyone tried to stop her.
With part of her mind she knew her flight was futile, but fear drove her on. Rounding a corner, she saw two black guards lounging against the wall. It was too late to retreat so she ran toward them, shrieking at the top of her voice.
"Get out of my way!" she screamed in English. "Don't touch me!"
The startled guards gaped at her in astonishment, but one recovered himself enough to step forward and reach for Romell. A mighty shove from behind made him stumble and fall to his knees. The other guard, blinking in surprise, stared at Adrien. He reached for his sword, but the Englishman's kris slashed his upper arm. The guard howled with pain, his hand dropping away from the hilt of his sword.
Adrien raced after Romell and caught her at the end of the corridor where, not looking to see who it was, she flung off his arm, yanked open the door and fled inside.
“Romell!" he called, following. "Romell, wait!"
She paused, half turned to stare as he reached her side.
"Adrien!" she cried. "Oh, Adrien!"
Glancing quickly about, he saw that they were in the throne room. Now he was positive that he could find his way out of the palace—if he could escape the fury of the guards, for he'd drawn first blood. A big if.
Romell pulled him toward another exit, but although it led to where he wanted to go, he shook his head.
"No. We'll never get through the gate with men in pursuit."
Pushing Romell behind him, he turned to face the two blacks as they burst into the throne room, swords drawn. He heard Romell gasp.
Both the guards rushed at Adrien. He whirled, picked up a lacquered table and flung it at the first man. Romell wasn't in sight, and he hoped she had the sense to escape while she could.
The table shattered as the black smashed it aside with his sword, but he'd been slowed. The second man lunged forward. Adrien danced sideways, circling, keeping out of reach of the guard's sword.
Romell climbed onto the throne and reached for the jeweled scabbard hung on the wall behind. Barely able to touch it, she had to clamber onto the slippery arm of the gold throne before she was able to grasp the hilt of the great sword and ease it from the sheath. She climbed down from the throne and stepped off the dais, sword in hand.
She strained to lift the heavy weapon, finally raising it to waist level, and stalked the second guard, who was circling behind Adrien as the first held Adrien's attention.
Gritting her teeth, Romell plunged the sword into the man's back, feeling, first, the keen blade slice through flesh and then the horrid shock when the blade hit bone. The guard grunted and sprawled forward, the sword protruding from his back.
Grimly, Romell placed her foot on the man's back and yanked the blade free. Blood spurted from the wound.
"Here," she said, coming up behind Adrien. "Take this sword." She handed him the bloody weapon. Adrien feinted with it, then slashed at the remaining guard, the blade slicing into the side of the black's neck. The man fell, his neck half-severed. Adrien glanced quickly at Romell. "We'll try our luck at getting through the gate," he said. Hastily wiping the sword blade on the crimson silk of the dead guard's clothing, he handed the sword to Romell. "Hide this under your robe," he ordered. "The gate guard may recognize Nicholas's sword and stop us."
They hurried from the throne room, making their way to the front entrance of the palace and down the steps. As they started along the pathway to the gates, Adrien said, "We must walk, not run. Hold my arm and gaze up at me adoringly."
Romell blinked at him, but she did as he ordered, hoping her odd gait—stiff and artificial because of the sword belted against her skin—wouldn't be noticed. It seemed to take hours to walk from the palace to the gates. Each moment she expected to hear an outcry from behind them.
Adrien spoke arrogantly to the guard in what Romell recognized as Portuguese.
The guard questioned him and Adrien smiled cockily, flipping a hand toward Romell as he replied. She continued to gaze up at Adrien with what she hoped was a simpering look.
The guard laughed and clapped Adrien on the back. She glanced at the man and saw him leer at her. Casually the giant black sauntered to the gates and unlocked them. As he drew them open, Romell thought she heard a shout from the palace. She tensed, but Adrien drew her through the opening, said something to the outside guard that made him laugh, then strolled on into the road, Romell still clinging to his arm.
As soon as they were out of the light cast by the torches on the palace walls, Adrien quickened his pace. The half-moon slipped out from behind a cloud.
"Wait," Romell begged. As quickly as she could, she removed the sword, handing it to him. Then, catching up her long robe, she ran along beside him.
The clop of hooves heading toward the palace made them halt. Adrien took her arm and started for the bushes alongside the road.
Romell pulled back. "No," she said. "You hide and let it seem that I'm alone." She shoved him toward the edge of the road. As he disappeared into the darkness, Romell unbelted her robe, shrugging an arm free, and ran into the middle of the road, screaming.
A moment later, the figure of a man on horseback showed in the thin moonlight. He reined in the horse and stared down at the sobbing Romell, who came up and clutched at his foot on the side away from the lurking Adrien.
"Oh," she cried. "Oh, oh." She allowed the robe to slide lower, revealing her bare breast.
The man, who was dressed in a manner that bespoke wealth, dismounted and spoke to her. She understood not a whit of the Chinese he uttered, but she flung her arms around him, pressing against him, having learned that all men understood that message.