The Red King (3 page)

There was a moment’s silence, only ended when
Andrew raised his eyes. The captain was staring at him with a dark,
menacing look. “Do you know anything?”

Andrew was taken aback. “I know…” he began,
but his throat closed. Swallowing, he fisted his hands in the
blanket over his legs and said, “I
know
they were put on
another ship and that everyone else was…murdered. Is that not
enough?”

“No, for they will go to their deaths if you
do not remember.”

“Oh...oh, God in heaven,” Andrew choked. He
squeezed his eyes shut, thinking, trying to pry the memories open
like a tightly nailed crate. “Harrier, a harrier was taking me
north. And a man named Acklie took the others.”

The man grunted. “I know Acklie. Where was he
going?”

“South was all that was said,” Andrew
answered. He waited a beat, and then asked, softly, “Where were
they taking me?”

The captain studied him, so long and
knowingly that Andrew lowered his eyes to his hands once more.
“Esbjerg. You were going to be presented to a man named Maarten
Jans de Worrt. He calls himself a count, uses his vast wealth and
intelligence to influence the Danish king. He’s permitted to
plunder for the flag of the Danes and take the choicest of
treasures for himself. He contracted those men, gained them
permission to raid the Spanish coast. I’ll wager when they saw you,
the brigands thought you would offer him…,” he paused, reaching out
to lift Andrew’s face to his, “great pleasure.”

Andrew shuddered.

“You could have found yourself in Algiers to
be made a eunuch for the Sultan’s harem, or worse, added to the
harem itself. You could have been sent to finish your life in piss
and shit, chained to the oars. You could have been used by the men
until they tired of you and they threw you over the side. You were
put in that room for your own protection, so you would
remain…priestly, until Maarten could have you. You, boy, were
lucky.”

“Lucky?” Andrew snapped. His eyes opened and
he stared at the man in disbelief.

“Aye, lucky to be alive.”

Andrew’s tears fell freely now. “They killed
my mentor! My family! They killed all of them…there were none
left!” He clutched at his hair, shuddering, unable to catch his
breath. “I only wanted to serve as Christ commanded! To be…God’s
Own…”

“Then it is good we found you, for God does
not want us.”

This sentiment echoed what was in Andrew’s
heart. The simplicity of it broke him.

“Do you still thank us for your rescue?”

In his distress, his uncontrolled sobbing,
Andrew did not notice the man leave.

Later, exhausted and empty, Andrew lay
unmoving when he heard the captain return. The man did not sit but
bent over the bed, one hand supporting his weight as he brought his
face low, so close Andrew could feel his breath. “I can help
you.”

Andrew stared at him, watery-eyed and
wretched. “How?” he whispered.

“Face your pain, Andrew, and it will give you
strength. Help me destroy this man, the one who set these events in
motion, and you will be set free.”

“Free from you?”

“Free from the hell you carry in your
heart.”

Andrew was empty. He was lost. His life was
over and he had nothing. “I’m no warrior.”

The captain drew his eyes away from Andrew’s
lips. “I detect a keen mind behind your winsome face. You’ll have
time to learn what you need to know.”

“I am not winsome,” Andrew replied,
frowning.

The captain tilted his head, lifted his other
hand to run fingers lightly down Andrew’s cheek. He smiled when
Andrew shivered. “Your innocence is appalling. I find it
almost…painful.”

“Then you should leave me alone,” Andrew
said. He licked his lips with a dry tongue.

“You’re in my bed.”

“You put me in it.”

The man’s smile returned. “Are you sharing it
with me?”

Andrew saw himself lying beside this man,
their bodies pressed close within the bed’s narrow confines. For a
moment, he couldn’t breathe.

“Please, leave me alone.”

“You forget you travel in the care of a
pirate. Arrangements for your safe passage will need to be made. We
must agree to a price.”

“A price?” Andrew asked, weakly.

“How much do you think you’re worth, hmm?”
The man’s thumb traced his bottom lip.

Andrew opened his mouth but no sound
came.

“Think on it, Andrew.”

And then he left.

Andrew lay awake in the darkness for a long
time after, thinking of his value, and his painful, appalling
innocence.

The captain let Andrew be the next day,
allowing him rest and more healing. It was Malik that brought him
more water, broth, and on the third day, a set of clothes. The
borrowed shirt and trousers were too large, but they were clean,
soft and well worn. There were no shoes to fit him, but the deck
was warm and well maintained, smooth under his bare feet.

Malik had fetched him for breakfast, drawing
him out with the promise of heartier fare. Andrew found the cooked
oats and nuts, garnished with dried gooseberries, extremely
satisfying. He was ignored by most of the other men in the galley,
a handful just off the watch. Only one or two even looked in his
direction and they were disinterestedly courteous. They were all
surprisingly clean, shaven and groomed. He asked Malik how this was
so.

“We’re supposed to be filthy animals because
we’re pirates, that so?”

Andrew sputtered. “I meant no offense…”

Malik and the other men laughed. “We took
none,
abban
! The captain likes a clean ship, and that
includes us all. Our ship is smaller, faster, true, but we don’t
have the deep hold for long distance storage. We keep to the
coasts, close enough to furlough when needed. Most of us prefer it
so. Some have families to visit.”

Andrew was amazed. “You’re able to come and
go at your will?”

“The only bounty on this ship is the one from
the Dane. To the people on this coast, we’re protectors,” another
man, Bill, interjected. “We protect from the ones who take
slaves.”

“Like those we pulled you from,” Malik
added.

“How did you come to be on that ship, Malik?”
Andrew asked, a question that had been foremost in his mind since
he’d woke.

Smiling, the large man said, “The captain and
his man, Fleming, they had me sign up. I’ve done it before and each
time they have freed the ones in chains. I used a piece of polished
tin to signal them. It was that light that brought them to us, to
save you. He once had me send messages, using birds! Can you
imagine?” Malik laughed, heartily, clapping Andrew on the
shoulder.

“I know of such things,” Andrew said softly.
“The aviary at Danoon had been used for such communication. Brother
Jean had been especially fond of the birds.”

Malik heard the sadness in his voice. “I’m
sorry,
abban
, for your loss.”

“Please, don’t call me that,” Andrew asked in
a whisper. “I’m not a priest.”

“I am sorry,” Malik said again.

Andrew drew himself up and met the man’s
concerned gaze. “I know, and I thank you for it.” He looked around
him and asked, “What can I do in all of this? I know nothing of
ships or sailing but I’m no stranger to hard work.”

“There’s work aplenty. We’ll find you
something,” Malik told him, clapping him on the shoulder and
knocking him off of the bench.

Once out on the deck, Andrew stared open
mouthed up at the sails. They were triangular, slanted towards the
aft and slung low over the bow. The deck was narrow and clear, no
rise at the fore but the mizzen rose to allow for cabin and hold.
Men held lines for all three sails, using the wind to its fullest
advantage for there was no wheel to steer by. At the stern, atop
the low quarterdeck, was a rudder the size of an oak tree. He found
the ship beautiful to look at, more at ease with the movements of
the wind and tide than the larger, square-rigged vessels he’d seen.
“What manner of ship is this?” he asked.

“She’s a xebec.” The answer came from behind
him. As he turned, a figure dropped down in front of him. The
captain, his lion’s mane tamed and tied at the nape, was a hand’s
breadth from him. Andrew took a startled step in retreat and bumped
into Malik, who steadied him.

“Thank you,” he murmured to the big man, but
his attention was on the captain. “Say it again, please.”

“Xebec,” the captain repeated, and Andrew
watched his mouth. The word flowed from his lips, graceful and
exotic.

“Zeb-ek,” Andrew attempted. “It has a strange
feel, but it rolls on the tongue.”

The captain nodded with his eyes on Andrew’s
mouth in return. “It does, at that. What else is your tongue
feeling?”

Andrew’s jaw dropped and his cheeks
warmed.

“He says he’s ready to work, captain,” Malik
offered after the silence stretched past his comfort.

Andrew swallowed, licked his dry lips, and
offered, “I’m small, but not weak. I’m no soft-handed aristocrat.
How can I be of service?”

To his surprise, the captain smiled. He was
exceedingly handsome when he smiled. “Let me know how your tongue
feels.”

Malik fairly rolled his eyes. “I’ll be in the
hold,” he said before he walked away.

Andrew did not, could not, speak again. Then
the captain outright laughed. “How are you with high places?”

The question surprised Andrew, who turned his
head and had to clear his throat before he could answer. “I’ve
never had trouble with them before.”

He was tied off, set into a sort of swing and
hoisted to the top-most rigging. The wind blew more fiercely here,
the sway of the mast more keenly felt. Andrew loved it, felt as if
he were a kestrel riding on the air. He was amazed at how far he
could see, how much water there was, how much sky. It was massive,
so much more than he ever imagined in his small stone room.

He followed the instruction given him,
scanning the horizon in all directions. Distant shimmers would mean
another ship and shadows meant land was approachable. A pale speck
far off past the bow caught his eye, and he tugged on the line to
be brought down. His smile was wide and happy as he was lowered,
more than he thought proper under the circumstance. Still, it could
not be helped. “I see a distant sail, southwest,” he said as he was
untied and released from the swing, “but no more, just sea and sky.
Were you expecting something else?”

Fleming, the man looked upon as
second-in-command and who had been with the captain when Andrew had
woken, answered. “We don’t expect, but we prepare.” He was looking
at his captain. “We cannot let the coast stay unguarded,
Ruaidhri
. What are you about?”

It was the foreign word that captured
Andrew’s attention. “Roo-au-ree,” he watched the captain, repeating
the word. “Is that your name?”

He was ignored, but it did not trouble him
when the captain answered. “That is Acklie’s ship, Fleming.”

“You think to take them, too? Don’t we have
enough to draw Maarten here?”

“This isn’t for Maarten. This is for
Andrew.”

The sound of his name surprised him, as did
the shock of pleasure he felt when the captain’s eyes fell on him.
“What do you mean?”

“You want to save them?”

“Of course!”

“Then you will,” the man said, moving closer
to him. “It will help.”

“I don’t…I am not…what do you mean?” Andrew
stammered, meeting the man’s gaze.

Fleming spoke. “I think he means to take the
ship and to use the exercise as training for you. I take it that
you agreed to our plan.”

Andrew liked Fleming, his eyes were sharp
with intelligence and shrewd thought, but his face held laughter in
the lines around his mouth. Glancing towards the captain, Andrew
said, “I haven’t agreed to anything. I know nothing of any
plan.”

“Damn it, Fleming,” the captain snarled. “You
speak too soon.”’

“What plan? What do you want from me?”

“
Ruaidhri
, you play this one too close
to your chest. He needs to know what you want him to do.”

“What?”

“I will deal with the boy as I see fit.”

“Not if you want him to help us.”

“If you would tell me…”

“Tell me again, who is the captain?”

“I will tell you who the braying ass is.”

Andrew was tired of being ignored and his
frustration edged on anger. His voice was louder than he intended,
but it had the desired effect. “I will not agree to anything until
I am familiar with the situation!”

Fleming and the captain looked at one
another.

“Just tell me!”

The captain frowned. Fleming looked
concerned, but told him, “We need you to submit to capture by
Maarten’s men.”

“
What?
”

“It will be the fastest, easiest way to get
you to Maarten.”

Andrew stared at Fleming as if he’d said the
sky was green.

The captain came to Andrew and took his arm
in a firm hold. “My quarters, now,” he ordered, casting a furious
eye upon Fleming. “Your mouth will be the death of you.”

Andrew was propelled forwards, into the much
darker cabin. The sudden change in light blinded him for an instant
and he stumbled, but he was still held by one strong hand. He could
not help but shout. “You want me to willingly surrender to those
men? Those who wanted to trade me as a prize?”

“If you face your pain, your fear of these
men, you will see that they are
only men
. It will give you
strength for the rest of what I need from you,” the captain said,
pulling him close.

Andrew tried to dislodge himself from that
grip, to break its hold. “And what is that? What do you need?”

“I need you to kill one.”

Andrew stared at him in horror. “I cannot
kill…”