Squire of Carlovain

SQUIRE OF CARLOVAIN, CHAPTER 15

"Privateers"

By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM

Andrew had only thought he had seen the ocean. At Heslov, he had seen the massive blue water, but the horizon had been brought closer by Cape Nesmiree, so that he had actually seen an enclosed expanse, and not the unbounded infinity of water that was the ocean. Gullsport, however, was built on the tip of a small peninsula, so that water wrapped it on three sides, and on all three sides, there was only water for as far as he could see. The sheer size of this wide, flat expanse, the utter, massive, sickeningly-huge size of it, hit him like a brickbat in the face. He saw tiny dots and realized that they were ships, far out on the water, and even those tiny dots did not nearly reach that horribly far, far horizon.

The world was bigger than he had ever imagined, and the world was made of water.

Water and ships, huge ships, anchored in the harbor! Renaud pointed and named them off proudly, for they were his father's possessions and he had spent much time on them in his youth and so knew them as individuals, there eight broad, pot-bellied-looking caravels, each flying proudly the very sigil worn on Andrew's chest, the lion-and-rabbit of Count Ratisbon. Below this banner should have flown the King's own colors, the yellow-flowered-vine-climbing-a-spear-on-green of Carlovain. But this banner was, of course, missing.

"And that one on the far right of the three is the 'Lion's Paw.'" Renaud concluded. "It's the newest and largest of my father's ships, only built five years ago, and probably will be the one we'll be sailing in."

"Sailing?" Andrew asked stupidly. Not that he didn't know the French word Renaud had used--his father had insisted he learn French from his babyhood and he had grown up bilingual--but Renaud took it that way and supplied the Neresterii word.

"Nenresban. It has a main cabin aft that will probably go to Lord Montaigne, but there are two smaller cabins on either side and I intend for us to stay there on the ship and try to keep the quarters that way."

"I don't doubt that old Filibor will oust us without flinching." Marcel said, naming the traitorous Chancellor of Carlovain who had conspired in the plot against the King and thus still held the title under Lord Montaigne. "He'll covet that spot for himself."

"You mean he's coming?" Renaud said, considerably deflated. "I knew my uncle would take one of the cabins but thought we'd have a chance for the other. Even the small ones will hold two people, and I thought we three could share in what will be a crowded journey."

"Well, you'd best pick another ship." Marcel said. "Better to be master of a small ship than a flunky on a larger one. What about that long, sleek one over there?"

"I do not know that ship." Renaud peered. "It flies a Scottish merchant's flag. A private ship, probably."

"Oh. Well, which one, then?" Marcel asked. "Does your father only have eight ships here? I would have thought there would be more than eight."

"Smaller ships ride the waves less comfortably than larger ones." Renaud said. "We'll want a larger ship even if we end up on the old 'Lion's Mane.' Uh, the 'Lion's Teeth,' I suppose will do. It's nearly as large at the 'Paw' but nearly ten years older. Still, my father maintained the ships well, she won't ship much water on the journey."

"Paw, mane and teeth." Marcel mused. "Are they all named after lions?"

"Yes." Renaud said. "It amused my father and grandfather to give them names after our main family device."

"Or pieces thereof." Marcel joked.

These eight ships were not the only ships in the harbor, many other smaller ships were there, many fishing boats and larger ones able to travel to other countries by keeping near shore and even to England in the calmer months. It was one of these, Andrew knew, which would have ferried the incognito King and his parents to Kent in England.

Gullsport was a thriving community of some five thousand people, having been utilized heavily by Lord Montaigne for his own business interests, as the King owned the harbor at Heslov and charged a license or customs fee for every ship that entered or left it. Many ships had found Gullsport a useful port-of-call, for its portmaster never asked questions, and Andrew knew that many privateers (better known as pirates) had worked out of Gullsport recently, and that Lord Montaigne knew them better than a proper nobleman should, judging from the gossip.

The privateers gave Andrew pause. He fretted that the speed with which ships traveled would mean that the message he had given to Adomeh and Trevish would not make it in time. Lord Montaigne intended to arrive in three days' time, and the trip by sail would take only two more days. Even hard riding would not get a message cross-land to Winseran Point in only five days, for the land north of them grew increasingly rugged and forbidding.

But if he could persuade a privateer to carry the message directly to Winseran Point, then the loyalists would get the message that much sooner. He thought over what little he knew of privateers.

A privateer was interested only in gold and he had none. They usually kept well away from political squabbles. They were hired by noblemen and kings to harass enemies when open conflict was not an option. The line between a privateer and a mercenary was very thin, downright invisible, save that they were paid in the booty they could take off the ships and ports they raided

But any privateer needed a port to take his booty, and such ports were usually far and few between. Lord Montaigne had been letting them operate out of Gullsport. Would he continue to do so now that he was playing his cards open?

Andrew didn't know. He would simply have to talk to them and try to find out. They rode into the town, Renaud speaking of a stable near the harbor where they could place their horses until they could be loaded aboard-ship for the trip to northern Carlovain.

Gullsport was a sufficiently large town to satisfy his cravings to see a town up close. The busy streets were both noisy and cluttered, the shops crammed with merchandise, the merchants hawking their wares, haggling with customers, or shouting at the ragged street urchins, it was even noisier than the village fetes he had seen, and a lot more disorganized. He watched people being shoved, pushed and buffeted, and he was heartily glad to be astride a horse even though his body still ached greatly from the trip.

The harbor was not quieter, it was just as noisy, with the prevalent smell of rotting fish to add the clamor of the nose to the ears and eyes. Soldiers were all over, many of Lord Montaigne's men were already here at Gullsport and more were arriving--he had seen a group of them on the trail behind him. Andrew was glad to lose them in the town's bustle, though he didn't see how any soldier surviving the battle at the inn would recognize him, dressed as he was now in the Count's livery and this ludicrous haircut.

But he was glad enough to stable the horse and follow Renaud to the harbor. There, Renaud bartered for a boat ride out to the "Lion's Teeth" with their possessions now in Andrew's charge.

Andrew had never been on the ocean before. He had swum plenty, but had never seen water so agitated and unhappy with their presence as this water was. It seemed determined to cast them bodiliy out of it. He grasped the gunwale as the boat lurched once again.

"Never been on a boat?" the oarsman chuckled.

"Not I." Andrew admitted. Marcel looked equally unhappy; Renaud was more like a child on a well-known-but-still-enjoyed adventure, sitting in the prow and easily handling the way the boat rose and fell like a living thing, water bucking up and spraying them with every rise and fall until Andrew felt quite as damp as a heavy fog could have made him. "Is the...the sea always this...rough?"

The rowing man laughed heartily. "You call this rough? I've never seen the Lady Dulicen so quiet."

"Dulicen?" Marcel asked.

"The goddess of the waters." the oarsman said.

"A Neresterii goddess." Renaud clarified.

"Aye, and a lady to be courted as carefully as those you see at court. When she loves you, it's clear skies and easy sailing. Anger her, and she'll lash you with her winds and tear you with her claws as you come into port."

Andrew understood some of this; "Dulicen's Claws" had been a part of Carlovain's legendary and historical protection. The Vikings had felt her clutches more times than one, for there was not a decent harbor in northern Carlovain that didn't contain submerged reefs or rocky barriers and breakwaters to be carefully navigated. Many of these were natural, the rest had been planted by the canny Neresterii to fend off the Viking invaders after the first few plunders, and the Vikings had learned to carry their travels further around the coast rather than risk life and limb for the quite-poor pickings of little Carlovain. Between the Tenemon Marshes and Dulicen's Claws, Carlovain was quite shielded from any attacks. This was why Lord Montaigne had aimed his army at far-off Winseran Point, a harbor which had been cleared out and dredged, made capable of handling the larger ships he needed to ferry his men ashore, and this was further why all but the ships of Count Ratisbon in the harbor were of much smaller draft.

Except for that medium-sized privateer.

They made it to the ship and Andrew had to climb a rope ladder for the first time in his life. He didn't like it at all, the way it bucked and thrashed under his tread, but he made it up without much loss of dignity, only to find that the ship itself tilted and rolled lazily beneath him. He was supposed to live here for the next few days?

Placing their things in the cabin Renaud had chosen, he went out to find Renaud standing on the aft deck, at the rail furthest from land and gazing happily out into the vast expanse beyond, Marcel standing rather unhappily next to him. "Andrew, come on over and smell this air! Clean out your lungs and clear away the cobwebs."

Andrew would rather leave any spiders he might have inside himself alone, but he screwed up his courage and kept his footing on the wet and slippery deck and ladder as he made it to Renaud, grasping the handrail desperately as the ship tried to toss him overboard when he arrived.

"This is the life for me!" Renaud proclaimed. "Look out there and imagine nothing else around for as far as the eye can see!"

Andrew looked again at that vast, malevolent expanse and gulped. "I'd rather not." he ventured.

"Are you all right, Andrew?" Renaud said. "The sea is calm and the weather is fair. We have a good breeze, but will need that if we are to travel to Winseran Point quickly. Being becalmed in the ocean is no joy, I can tell you that."

"Becalmed?" This was a French word Andrew didn't recognize.

"Out on the ocean with no wind moving you." Renaud said. "You have to drift and wait until the wind picks up again."

"Becalmed?" Andrew repeated, gulped. They could get out of sight of land and then be stuck there? And.... "How...how can we tell our way if we can't see land?" He looked out at that featureless blue expanse. It was almost like ocean blended into sky. And when the sun went down, would it all be black instead?

"By the stars." Renaud said enigmatically, as if it were obvious. How could stars tell you where you were? He'd watched the stars, and knew they moved about as surely as the moon and sun, and the seasons showed different stars in different places! "This is an adventure, Andrew. Relax and enjoy it."

"I'd rather enjoy the sights on land." Andrew said.

"Yes, we didn't give you your time in Heslov, did we?" Renaud suddenly realized. "Want to go back ashore?"

"Yes, please." Andrew said, looked at the expanse and gulped again. "I don't like the way this...ship moves about."

"Well, we'll only be on the ship for a couple of days." Renaud soothed him. "And we have three days to get you used to it. We'll head back into town. I could use with some drink myself."

That required signaling a boat from land via a flag hoisted and took considerable time. Andrew did get somewhat used to the movement of the boat; once you realized that the boat was going to move under you, you could find out how much it moved and then trust that movement and plan for it, though he didn't see how anyone would love to be moving about like this. And the sailors nearby spoke of a storm which lashed waves over the deck of the ship and swept one of their comrades into the ocean, never to be heard of again.

No, this was * not* the life for him!

But they were soon back in the crowded, noisy streets of Gullsport and Andrew found himself on foot and being jostled, pushed, shoved and nearly stepped on constantly. If this was city living, he'd return to his father's inn, thank you!

They found a tavern near the docks, and it was jammed with a boisterous crowd. Renaud surveyed it and said critically. "We'd better choose another one."

"Why?" Andrew asked. They seemed like good company.

"This is a privateers' hangout." Renaud said. "Ah, there's another one down the street, and it has soldiers in it. We'll go there."

Andrew looked back as they walked, so he'd know the place again. Now he just had to find a reason to get away.

Renaud was increasingly using Andrew as a servant, Andrew had to fetch the drinks at the bar himself, though he was permitted to sit with Renaud and Marcel at this table which would hold four. Then in came two other young nobles, and of course Andrew had to give up his seat. He begged a respite from Renaud to look about the town, and was granted that boon provided he returned to the tavern by sundown, and he was out in the street and headed for the privateers' tavern.

He walked in and found himself the immediate center of attention. He looked at the crowd, saw one table of men better dressed than the others, walked over to them and said, "I'm looking for the captain of that privateer ship."

Dead silence now reigned in the little tavern.

"And why would you want to know that?" one of the men said. His hair was a dark brown, his eyebrows were thick and scowling at Andrew. "Aren't you away from your friends? Lost yourself in the crowd, have you?"

"Mayhaps he needs a place to stay the night." another one said. His hair was also brown, but had an odd color to it, almost a red color. "Mayhaps he hopes to snuggle in with you?" That earned a round of laughter.

"Nay, sirs, I have a place and a duty. I just left my master back at the tavern...over there." Andrew pointed. "But I am here on my own business. I only have a few minutes. Could you tell me how to find the captain of the privateers? Or any officer of that ship?"

"You've found him." one of the men said, who had been silent until then. That red color was more pronounced in this man's hair, this was the red of a fire's flame, his beard was thick and rich and carefully shaped, not the thin dainty things of the Carlovain nobility, but a veritable bush growing profusely out of the man's cheeks to where it made a blunt point several inches below his chin, long enough that when he looked down, his beard rested upon his chest. "Speak your piece and be quick about it." the captain, grumped.

"Uh, I'd rather speak alone." Andrew said. "It's very important."

"Well, if it's privacy you need, buy us a room and we'll talk there." the captain said. As Andrew walked over to talk with the tapster, another round of laughter came from the table.

The tapster walked down to one end to speak with him, this brought them a bit of privacy. The tapster leaned close and hissed, "Get out of here, lad, as quickly as you can."

"Why?" Andrew asked, bewildered.

The tapster turned his head and saw a man approaching. "The room is three copper pieces for an hour's time, a silver piece for the entire night." The tapster showed him a candle with broad bands marked on it in ink. "Here's the timer I use."

"One hour will do." Andrew said and fished out his money from his bag.

"A full purse?" the tapster said, scandalized. "Were you foolish enough to bring all your money with you?"

Now Andrew perceived his warning earlier. "It doesn't matter that I carry my money. While I have come here in peace, I do also carry my sword and know its use, should any try to part me from gold or life." he said as if conversationally, but loud enough to be heard.

The tapster shrugged. "It's your choice. I'm lighting the candle now. Last door on your right, since you want privacy. It's a bit apart from the others."

"Thank you." Andrew said.

He nodded affirmation to the captain and walked up the stairs. He didn't look back to see who was following him, beginning to feel some need for secrecy despite the unflagging attention he had drawn since he had walked in the door.

The room was squalid and filthy, and the mattress was long overdue for a washing, and it smelt of old vomit, the sweat of drunken men, and the pungently bitter aroma of long-dried jism that had been sprayed onto the mattress in long-forgotten lusts and never been washed away. Andrew flinched as he held his nose at this place, long enough to open the window which looked out into the back alley and could get some fresh air blowing through the place with the door open...

And the door slammed shut. He turned, nearly knocking over the long floor-standing torch-holder in one corner, caught it, and said, with relief. "My pardons, sir, you startled me." And then. "I thought the captain was coming up."

"He'll be along presently." the man said. It was the second man who had spoken to Andrew, who had made the crack about his needing a place to sleep. "If you're in need of our ship, though, you speak to me."

"Uh, I guess I do need your ship." Andrew said.

"When did you need to leave and more importantly, what can you pay us?"

"It's not that at all!" Andrew said in some exasperation. "I need a message delivered to Winseran Point, secretly and quickly."

"And you expect us to drop our plans and our rum-tankards and run the route, these lands being in the midst of civil war and all, for the sake of a slip of paper?"

"You value having this place as a port, do you not?" Andrew retorted. "Well, this message is important for the King."

"The King, is it?" the man was impressed. "And you wearing the colors of a rebel?"

"I'm...I'm in hiding here." Andrew said. "It's a long story and not important. What matters is that I have learned...." Andrew paused. He couldn't trust these men. They may well go and tell Lord Montaigne everything. "Well, what I have learned is what the message is. As for having Gullsport as a port, how would you like to have Heslov instead?"

"Heslov." the man was impressed. "And you have the authority to grant the King's permission to enter his port, and us with prices on our heads and the kings of England and France and the Grand Duke all screaming for our heads at once?"

"Can I trust you?" Andrew said. He could not tell the secret of the attack, but he could tell his own secret.

The man shrugged. "And now you ask a privateer to extend trust, when the blade is all we've ever known?"

"The only one at risk with this secret is myself."

"Tell then, and take your chances."

"When the King fled the palace at Heslov, he came directly to my father's inn..." Andrew told the entire story, holding nothing back, now that the King was safely away, it didn't matter. The man listened, interested despite himself.

"And so here I stand, the king's own squire, trying to aid him from my position as best I can." Andrew concluded. "At this time, helping him requires that a message be delivered to Winseran Point as quickly as possible."

"So what's to stop me from going to Lord Montaigne directly with the information you've just given me?" the man said. "It's obvious that you are privy to his plans and intend to deliver those plans to the King's forces."

"Very well, that is true." Andrew said. "Lord Montaigne plans to land his army in force at Winseran Point, using Count Ratisbon's ships. If he succeeds in doing that, he'll conquer all of Carlovain, and have no need to cater to smugglers and privateers such as yourself for his fortunes. But if the King is aided by you, he'll be inclined to look the other way when you pull into port, I am sure."

"You are surer than I am." the man said. "What do you expect the men at Winseran Point to do to stop the ships?"

"I don't know." Andrew admitted.

"More likely the loyalists will be the ones who lose despite your message." mused the man.

"In that case, they'll be the ones most likely to welcome privateers into their homes and taverns afterwards." Andrew pointed out. "And Lord Montaigne still would be likely to close his doors to you entirely."

"True." the man said. "Well, I came for the Captain and now I'll take him your words. You wait here and we'll see what he has to say."

Wait. Wait for what, Montaigne's men? Andrew thought quickly and said, "Very well, I will trust you. My life is in your hands, sir."

"It is indeed." the man left. Andrew looked at the sun, some hours from setting and lay down on the mattress despite the stench. If the innkeeper came up and knocked, he'd pay for another hour's time.

He fell asleep and awoke to hands on his body. A purse-snatcher! He sat up, reaching for his sword. But it was the sword the man had been after.

Andrew leapt to his feet and grabbed the torch-stand. Bulky and wide-footed and splay-topped, it was awkward, but better than nothing. "Who are you?" he demanded.

But the man was the captain. That red hair and beard were unmistakable. "Peace!" he called out. "I came to speak with you."

"And start by taking my sword?" Andrew demanded.

The man held his sword and buckler in his hands, he took the scabbard in one hand and tossed it to Andrew. "Take it, then."

But the man didn't draw his own sword, indeed, he had no sword. Andrew saw him dressed in finery as smooth as Lord Montaigne's, a sleeveless leather jerkin showing off broad arms and sculpted biceps, the jerkin was mostly unlaced down the breast, showing a fine misting of red hair. Was this man red-haired all over? His jerkin came to mid-thigh and under it were a pair of white tights, spotlessly clean and this white was matched by a string of small, fine pearls around the man's neck, upon which dangled a huge golden coin, four times the bulk of the small gold coins of Carlovain, it lay there like a chancellor's medallion.

"Why did you lay hands upon me?" Andrew asked, suspicious still. "To take my sword makes no sense."

"I wasn't taking your sword." the man said, surprisingly bashful. "I...I seem to have made a mistake in my presumptions."

"What do you mean?"

"This room. You. Carlovain...."

Andrew understood then. "You thought I meant for you and me...." Andrew had to laugh. "Nay, I merely wished to speak in private. Shall we speak?"

"You have spoken with my first mate, and said than you probably should have." the man said.

Andrew was abashed. "Yes, but I fear for Carlovain. Unless they receive the warning timely, it is useless entire. Even with a few days' warning, I don't see what they can do, but at least they'll have the chance."

"True, and Lord Montaigne must have realized that when he told you and the others of his plans. He should march quickly here and quickly to ship. Even if the word gets out, as he must know it will have, one way or another, it will do the defenders no good."

"I have thought that as well. Will you carry the message?"

"You have no power to treat on behalf of your sovereign."

"True." Andrew said. "But he owes me a favor or two."

"Will you set your hand to paper, a promise of safe haven here for me and my men, if we will stay here in Carlovain and never transgress its laws."

"I will." Andrew said. "And speak on your behalf as well, and persuade him to your cause."

"Then I will carry your message, and my men will fight by the side of your King." the man said and extended his hand. He and Andrew shook hands, hand-to-wrist each, a warrior's greeting.

"This has been a day well met." Andrew said as they completed this agreement.

"Yes." the captain said. "I shall send for paper and quill then."

Andrew placed a hand on his shoulder as he turned. "There is time enough for that in a moment." he said softly.

The captain turned back, smiling. "I thought I had lost my cause entire for the sake of a momentary pleasure."

"Let us call it instead a seal to our comradeship." Andrew said as he drew the captain nearer to him. The beard tickled as he kissed the man's lips and he regretted that gesture somewhat, the man wasn't particularly clean about his person and his breath reeked of old alcohol.

But the hands were hungrily insistent on his body and the sigh of satisfaction that escaped that lush beard was full and rich. Andrew let those lips and beard reach for his cheek and neck and chuckled as the beard tickled its way down his neck and into his tunic.

The captain was a strong man, and it showed in his movements, the way he jerked Andrew's tunic up over his head, the way the fingers dug deeply into his skin as he touched and stroked Andrew's body. That beard meshed with the hairs on Andrew's chest as the captain kissed Andrew's nipples and sucked, hard! Andrew grunted in pain and shifted his body so that the man was kissing between his breasts, and the man continued to work his way down as Andrew reached over his back and grabbed the jerkin, to skin it upwards, and the man grasped his necklace and tucked it beneath the jerkin so that it remained on his neck when the jerkin came up and stiffly off the man's broad shoulders and revealed the red hairs even growing in scattered diverse places upon his back. He was red all over! Would his cock hair be this same rich red color? He had never imagined pubic hair to be any color than the black he had seen on the King, on Renaud and even on Marcel it was a deep brown.

But the captain was tugging at Andrew's tights and when his cock sprang out, the captain wolfed it down immediately. Andrew gasped, threw his head back, closed his eyes and groaned. He had been given to believe that men of other countries despised this about the Neresterii, and had expected in their lovemaking to have to play a passive, servicing part. He was willing enough to do this to help seal the bargain and get the King's message delivered; that and the chance to hold this big man in his arms, he confessed to himself. It is a happy thing when duty and pleasure can be done with the same hand, as the old saying went. So Andrew had been prepared to try to enjoy a rough handling at this red-haired man's hands.

But instead his cock was seized in the broad, rich lips hidden in that beard which tickled his balls unmercifully as the man bobbed back and forth, and Andrew groaned anew as his cock sang joy with every motion, the bubbling cauldron that was pleasure stirring to life once again in his groin.

"Ah, sir, sir, the mattress." Andrew panted after a time, when he felt his knees grow weak and his body surging with desire, threatening to reach that peak too, too soon. "Please, let me give you pleasure as you are giving me!"

The captain released him and Andrew quickly shucked the rest of the tights off and lay down on the mattress. The captain did the same and Andrew was glad to see the man lay in the opposite direction, and he was now able to see that the man's pubic hair was, indeed, the same flame red! The cock was redolent with old sweat and moisture, but it wasn't horribly dirty, beyond needing some soap and attention, it almost dripped with the odor that emanated from it, but it was all male musk that assailed Andrew's nostrils as he took the massive, uncut organ into his mouth

A bitter taste of smegma hit him as he pried the foreskin loose from its long captivity of the glans, he noiselessly released the captain's cock long enough to discretely spit it away and then returned and moistened the thick, bulbously round glans that was an angry purplish color, which purple turned to white as Andrew applied pressure with his lips and rose away from time to time to observe his progress.

Those fat lips of the captain were again working their wonder, and Andrew was a-seethe with the burbling motions of his balls as they readied for their assault on the captain's tonsils, prepared to storm the dark cavern and reach its depths undiminished in strength or fury. He felt so alive in this man's arms, at this man's sexual mercy, for this was a man who lived his life moment-to-moment, giving himself totally to each experience, and now this captain was engaged in sucking Andrew's cock and it mattered not that he must soon get up and attend to his ship and crew, for now, the moment called for lovemaking and that was getting all his attention.

Andrew groaned, for his orgasm was impossible to restrain, even though this lover was far from reaching the same peak, he warned of that with his groans, and only succeeded in having the man speed up on milking his prod, he groaned, spasmed, clenched the man's hips tightly and hunched with his buttocks to force his cock in deeper, deeper, lost in his passion, slave to his desire, he pumped his wads into the captain's grasping, draining, clutching maw and felt his world whirling with total abandon about him, the two of them on this mattress which was a life-raft afloat on that damnable ocean and the only security to be had.

Andrew gasped for breath as quickly as he could, fondling the captain's prick to keep it erect and attentive while he gulped air, and then he returned to his ministrations, and now the captain lay there and let him suckle freely.

Andrew rolled them over so that the captain was on his back, and then, continuing to suck as he moved, he turned about slowly, his knees sticking at times to the filthy floor, and finally he was completely around and between the captain's legs and he hunched upwards until his back was a high-rising hump in his middle.

He drooled the last of his saliva over the plump prong and then before the captain could protest at his stopping, he was up and astraddle the captain's waist, looking down at the wondering face and squatting over the captain's middle, he found the sturdy prod with one hand and guided it into his nether regions and lowered himself carefully, inserting the fat pud into his body and feeling with satisfaction how it filled him completely and fully and richly, like it belonged there!

"Ah, lad!" the captain groaned. "Come with me and my mates and we'll sail to Winseran Point together."

Andrew didn't answer, he concentrated on bouncing up and down, wringing cries of joy from the captain's lips as he rode the cock with all the skill of his horseback riding and with a great deal less discomfort and pain!

The captain rose partially from the bed, his eyes wide and somewhat crossed with his passion, and Andrew gently pushed him back again and he fell and groaned, hunched upwards into Andrew, and Andrew managed to find and match the rhythm and they speeded up this symphony of movement.

"Ah, ah, ah, ah-hah-ah-ah!" the captain groaned out. "Uh, uh, huh-unkh!" and Andrew felt the man thrashing beneath him and the come jetting into him with a force and fury he had never felt before, it was like arrows winging into his body, ripping and slicing at his innards with stinging blows, nay, it was like he was being whipped and the captain's cock was the handle of the whip which he was wielding so well.

But it was soon over and the captain lay still, exhausted and gasping, sweaty and compliant beneath Andrew, and Andrew grinned down into the drained face and said, "And now we have written our bond, your quill upon my parchment."

The captain laughed at Andrew's conceit. "I doubt any will care to read it there, so if I can trouble you to put it on more convenient stationery, so I can show it to others as need be, I would appreciate it."

"Yes, we had best take care of this." Andrew said. He looked out at the sun. "Has an hour passed yet? I fell asleep and was waiting for the knock."

"Yes." the captain said. "The innkeeper should have knocked for us already, for I have given him no coins."

"Let us dress and send for paper." Andrew said.

The innkeeper provided another hour's time and the paper and quill-and-ink was fetched by his son from a nearby shop for a small price, and Andrew wrote out as well as he could his letter of introduction. He finished and showed it to the man. "Read this over and see if this will do for you."

"Nay, I'll trust a man who rides my tool as you have done." the captain took the paper and rolled it up.

Andrew realized belatedly that the man probably could not read. "I have not pretended anything, but merely identified who I was and begged the King or his ministers to grant this favor in our hour of need." he said, almost reciting what he had written verbatim.

"It will do, I am sure." the man said. "Now I must away, for I have not told you all I knew, not before I got this paper. Word had gone out to round up all the privateers. They intended to impound my vessel and use it for their battle, so I had best be moving before they come round this way. We would have had to sail for Scotland, which had also denounced our actions, and were without a port. Now, at least, we have a port."

Andrew realized ruefully that he had been in a better bargaining position than he had thought. "I hope it buys you safe harbor." he said.

There came a noise downstairs. Andrew recognized the noises as did the captain, and Andrew spoke the useless words. "Soldiers."

"They have come for me, but will not welcome you." the captain said. "Shall we take our own leave?" he indicated the window.

"I should be getting better at this." Andrew said as he went to the window.

"Ah, this will be easy enough. See that awning across the way? We'll jump for it and it will break our fall."

"That's a sizeable jump." Andrew said.

"Well, it won't hold even one of us, so we'll have to jump at once." the captain pointed out. He was already crawling out and Andrew wondered as there came the stomps of feet on the stairs. Andrew looked out and saw that the captain was on a beam that was partially imbedded in the walls of the house, holding onto one of the two shutters. He gingerly stepped out and did the same.

"On the word 'three,' lad." The captain said. "When we get down, the harbor is in that direction." he pointed. "But we run into that other cross-alley that way, for they'll have blocked this alley."

"I understand." Andrew said.

"One, two, three!"

And they jumped. The awning did not break its supports under their weight as Andrew had expected, it tore down the middle and they fell through and onto a landing below it. But that fall helped in its way, for they ended up on their feet and hands, and it was a simple matter for Andrew to rise up again and run. Turning the corner, he saw the guards advancing on them and only hoped they would not have time to recognize the emblem on his clothing.

He ran and found the alley led to a busy street. He turned to go toward the harbor, but found himself instead on the very street where he had walked with Renaud. And that door there must be the tavern where Renaud waited.

Andrew entered it quickly, but inside, tried to act casually. Adjusting his clothing, he arrived back at the table where Renaud still waited with Marcel and his friends and they were deep in their cups.

"Ah, Andrew, you're back." Renaud said, waving his cup feebly. "Bring me another round."

"Yes, master." Andrew said and took the cup. As he ferried the filled cup to the table, he didn't look at the soldier's feet running by and ignored the calls. None of the soldiers thought to look for him inside here.

When they left the tavern a half hour later, Andrew looked and saw that the sleek schooner of the privateer had left its anchorage. He wondered which of the dots on the huge water it was.

Now the warning he had was going to the loyalists by two roads, overland with Adomeh and Trevish to the loyalist forces inland, and by sea to Winseran Point.

He had done all he could. Now it lay in the hands of the Neresterii of Winseran Point to figure out a foil to Lord Montaigne's planned invasion.