Squire of Carlovain

SQUIRE OF CARLOVAIN, CHAPTER 16

"Evening of Joy, Evening of Terror"

By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM

Andrew and Renaud fenced in the early morning on the main deck of the "Lion's Teeth", Andrew now moving with ease and confidence over the softly wavering deck. Renaud had promised he would become used to the ship's movements, and it had indeed come to him with time, and now that he had been on this ship for five weeks' time, he no longer even felt the lazy movements of the large ship as it bobbed gently at anchor in the harbor of Gullsport.

Andrew had waited first with fear, then with puzzlement, and now finally with befuddlement, for the appearance of Lord Montaigne and his armies. He was to have arrived in three days' time, and that turned into three weeks. August was in its third quarter before his many wagons had pulled into Gullsport, sending the small town from crowded to impossibly packed, and even then he delayed, preoccupied with mustering his armies, deciding which forces would embark upon which boats, how many horses would be brought and how, and other such minutiae. In the meantime, the town boiled with soldiers, and the tents festooned the peninsula by day and their cook-fires lit the shores with a hundred winking yellow eyes at night.

It was now the first week of September, and while this had turned out to be a summer unseasonably warm throughout, the days had begun to lose the edge of their heat. The weather was still calm and placid, but a brief rain had fallen a few times. Andrew began to wonder if all his days of worry and fear had been for nothing, that Lord Montaigne had never intended to sail for Winseran Point.

Renaud, too, was in increasing despair. "Summer is waning fast, and with it, our chances for easy victory." he had said to Andrew and Marcel two weeks ago. "The plan is too generally known to be kept secret for long. What must our enemies have learned of it and what will they do now that they know?" They sat in the main cabin of the "Lion's Teeth", which had become Renaud's and Andrew's room alone, Marcel having taken one of the side cabins. He was visiting them for their nightly drink and talk before retiring.

"I would not speak ill of our patron, but I fear that Lord Montaigne lacks the heart for combat." Marcel had said, as unhappy as Renaud. "I think he delays in hopes that victory will come from some other quarter and he will not have to take the field. "

"Yet there is no victory by either side." Andrew put in gently. Alone with these two, at least, he was an equal.

"You speak truth." Marcel said. "That or that the Grand Duke will supply forces, and we know that none are coming despite the Lord Protector's protestations of loyalty and allegiance. As it is, we are stopped; the Neresterii have fought us to a standstill. We do not face the Tenemon Marshes, but there is Mount Livitan, wearing Castle Tiresval high on her head like a tiara, and all her large family about her, all as rugged and heartless as she. We can only scramble among the rocks incompetently while the Neresterii leap from crag to crag like so many blasted goats, biting at us from every corner until we are forced to withdraw and regroup, and so we are stopped as surely as any Caesar ever was."

So Andrew and his friends waited for Lord Montaigne to show some backbone, and kept in shape by daily fencing bouts. Renaud had proved to be a daunting adversary with the sword, and Andrew found himself usually on the defensive in their friendly bouts. Andrew won their bloodless battles only about once in five or six times, and he had been forced to mend his tunic more than once when Renaud's blade flashed too near, and bore a dozen nearly invisible scars from these past weeks all over his body. His arm bore still the scar of the footpad's knives, and would until his dying day, and his back bore, he was told, a circled tucker where the knife had drunk so deep and long. Well, a warrior must expect a few scars, and his at least could be covered by clothing.

Today's bout was no exception to the general rule. Renaud maneuvered him little by little toward the main mast, and there a coiled rope which Andrew had noted before but had half forgotten, tripped him. As he slipped upon the coil, Renaud's blade disarmed him and he ended up on one knee and Renaud's blade at his throat.

"Ah, ha!" Renaud crowed as the sailors applauded. "I win once more!"

Andrew smiled. Renaud did so love to win. He could have cut that one-in-six to one-in-four, or perhaps even one-in-three, had these been real bouts. But he remembered his place as Renaud's servant and held back many a telling blow, settling for the occasional win, mostly when Renaud was careless or diffident in his practice. But this time as usual, Renaud had won fairly without any such aid, and deserved the praise. Andrew said, "I am at your mercy, my lord, and must plead for my life once more."

"Granted, of course." Renaud sheathed his blade and offered his hand to Andrew. Andrew rose and Renaud embraced him and Andrew returned it easily. Their days of rampant lust in bed had ripened somewhat, they made love less frenetically and more expertly, knowing how to please each other. He now knew Renaud's every mood, the story of his life, his dreams, his hopes, even knew to the pence how much money Renaud had. He knew how to dissuade Renaud from over-drinking, which Renaud fell into too easily, not out of sottishness, but that he was too distracted by his company and so drank unawares. He had taken over the gentle duty of metering Renaud's drinking, and so Renaud had not been intoxicated for many weeks now. Renaud had in his turn taught him a good bit about the finer points of fencing from watching him in their daily practice bouts, and more, Renaud had shown him the life of a nobleman, teaching him the esoteric etiquette and practices until Andrew could now move in any company without bobble.

These days and weeks had been idyllic, and he had half-managed to forget that he had ever lived any other life, been with any other man, than he was now, here, with Renaud, his master and lover. A score of times his secret had been lying on his lips begging to drop off.

And each time, Renaud had said or done something to cause him to swallow it once again. There was this one, final bar to him giving himself to Renaud totally, and that was the fact that Renaud was totally loyal to Lord Montaigne and his cause, and Andrew was secretly committed to the King. Yet so long as things stayed as they were, he could postpone the separation he knew must come, and each day, that separation became more and more impossible to imagine. He belonged to Renaud, and Renaud belonged to him. How they would keep this up in days to come he did not know, but it was settled and so must be.

"Well, my master." he said as he released Renaud from his embrace and went to fetch the water and dipper for Renaud to quench his thirst. "What shall we do this day? Call upon one of the other ships, or go into the town?" He passed the dipper to Renaud and waited his own turn to drink after the exertion.

Renaud drank and passed the dipper back to him, waved off the offer of more. "Nay." Renaud said. "I will go and, with my uncle, speak with the Lord Protector. It is time and enough time, we go this day not to plead, but to insist. We have had word from my father, who is sore pressed with the Neresterii forces who approach his lands once more. If Lord Montaigne does not sail before the Sabbath, we are to take the ships back to Fediresta for winter harbor there."

"Your father would join the loyalists?" Andrew asked, hardly daring to hope, covered his face with the dipper as he drank.

"He threatens such, but it is only a threat. Still, the ships are a blade I am to wield to force our Lord Protector into action. If we do not gain landfall in the north soon, we shall not until spring, and famine and sickness shall decimate our armies in the field throughout the winter No, he must move now, and move without delay, for victory must come before snowfall."

"I see." Andrew was silent. He had decided upon his day of departure from Renaud, which would be just before they made landfall at Winseran Point. He had swum many times in the ocean waters, enough he felt sure to make shift to get to land of himself by diving overboard at the propitious moment, hopefully unobserved. Otherwise, he would have found himself in battle, and forced either to fight and kill loyalists, or to turn upon Renaud. By fleeing in this manner, he could be away from the fight entirely. He did not know how practical his plan would be in execution, but clung to it as a talisman.

"What happens on the shore?" Marcel said, peering out into the early dawn. "They are striking their tents."

Andrew rushed with Renaud to the railing and looked over. "I believe you are right." Renaud said with satisfaction. "Now we shall see action at last."

And so they were. Bells were summoning the many smaller boats in, and they were all coming back out loaded with soldiers. This was no quick embarkation, they spent the entire morning and part of the afternoon bringing out the soldiers and supplies, and stowing them aboard ship. Andrew found himself moving their belongings into a smaller cabin below-deck, to make room for the young nobles who were also coming aboard. Andrew performed his menial duties in despair. His long time of peace had come to an end.

He had talked to the ship's sailors. If they sailed this afternoon, they would be two nights at sea before reaching Winseran Point, the second within its sight. This would permit them to land a strike force in the early morning hours, and have an entire day if need be for the battle. When they sailed, Andrew was one of a crowd of young men at the stern of the ship, watching Gullsport shrink on the horizon, getting smaller and smaller but never entirely disappearing.

"We shall go along the coastline at first." Renaud said expertly. "Then we shall take the open sea in order to avoid being seen by watchers from the shore and approach Winseran Point in a more direct fashion. We aim not for the cape itself, but for the bay within it."

"The problem is what we will do in the meantime." Marcel said as the men began to turn away, bored with the insipid line of green along the horizon which was their home. There was nothing more to see. "We have this day and the following to sail, and there will be little to do."

"I am more concerned about the weather." Renaud said. "Unless those clouds to the north turn away from us, we shall be landing and fighting in rain."

With any group of boisterous men, there was plenty enough to do, though not for Andrew except vicariously. As with any gathering, he immediately turned into servant, and so he was left to fetch and pour for Renaud and his friends. He sighed and accommodated his lover-cum-master. To add to his discomfort, he found the ship, now at full sail, to be again moving in unsettling motions.

But this time, Renaud spotted his attempt to cut down on his alcohol. "Here now, fill my cup." he protested.

"My master, pray, you have drunk merrily this evening." Andrew said, though in fact the sun was only just setting. "For you to continue your jollity, you should reduce your drinking for a space."

"He's not only your servant, he's your nanny." one of the nobles jibed at him heartily. The others laughed.

It got Renaud angry. "I said to fill my cup!" he said harshly to Andrew.

"Yes, Master." Andrew sighed and poured the goblet to the brim. As Renaud turned with it, he lurched and his goblet splashed a young noble squatting near him.

"S'blood, I think your servant is right." the youth protested. "You are unsteady on your feet."

"Hah, I can drink as I will and still out-fence the lot of you!" Renaud boasted.

"I may like to see that." the young man responded immediately.

"Well, I'll down this drink and another like it, while you choose your champion." Renaud said and gulped at his wine. It was not a watered-down brew, but a strong home-made wine bought from one of the nearby farmers, which was one reason Andrew had been caught trying to cut down his drink, he had had to do so sooner than usual.

Renaud choked a time or two as he downed the strong drink, and held out the goblet. "Fill it again!"

"Master, pray, I think only of your health." Andrew protested. "Do not do this thing."

"Are you saying you could outdo me as well?" Renaud declared with the contorted logic of the intoxicated. "Would you be the one to cross blades with me, you who I have had at my sword's tip this very morning?"

"Yes, yes!" another noble cried. He had been one of those who had seen Andre's swordfight back at Ratisbon's house. "He is our man!"

"You have declared him a swordsman without peer!" another said.

Renaud looked about, and a poorly disguised crafty look crossed his face. "Very well, we shall cross blades in honor!"

"But what are the stakes?" another noble asked. "We can bet amongst ourselves, but you can hardly make a decent wager with your own servant. We won't ask him to risk his life or, more likely, risk hurting you, for mere copper pieces."

"I would not hurt my master." Andrew protested. "I beg you to choose another from your lot for this."

"Nay, it is worth it to me that I show you the folly of your mothering attitude." Renaud said, and nearly stumbled. "Cross blades with me, and if I win, you will never again argue as you fill my cup."

"Agreed." Andrew said. "And if I win, you will let me water your wine as I will."

"Done." Renaud said.

"That is a poor wager for us." said another noble. "We can hardly enjoy the victory of your resolving this domestic squabble of yours thus."

Andrew looked around, despairing. "And what would you have me do to my own Master?" he demanded. "I shall not harm him, for that would be cutting myself in two."

"We don't ask you to slit his throat." the first noble said soothingly. "You know well how to duel to first-blood, which is all we call for this night. But we ask the stakes be something which will entertain us. If there is no gold between you, then there should be a task. Let the master be the servant for the rest of the trip, perhaps."

"You can hardly tell master from servant as it is." another protested this. "They are too closely comrades for that to be entertaining to us. Yet there is that which they would do that we may enjoy."

"What is that?" Andrew asked suspiciously. Young nobles in their double-giddiness of alcohol and gambling, were likely to ask anything.

"I have heard you share a single bed."

"And whose business is that?" Andrew said dangerously.

"Nay, I do not criticize, but we search for a wager that will entertain us as well as chastise the loser here. Have we not all lived our lives in Carlovain, and have more than one of us their blood in our own veins? I know Renaud is half-Neresterii, and I see the combination in you as well."

"And what of it?" Andrew pressed.

"Only that we are aware that Renaud treats you...in the way of Carlovain."

"He is a kindly and gentle man." Andrew said. "I cannot be taunted or shamed by your calling this to mind, for it holds naught but happy thoughts for me."

"We do not doubt it." the nobleman said. "Any who see how your eyes pass over each other can tell this."

"So how does this turn into an entertainment for you?"

"Only that we would watch the victor claim his prize." the noble said cunningly.

Andrew understood then, and sighed. "I am not a harlot on the streets to spread my legs in the market square."

"Yet you spread them at the second masque that night." Another said. "I was nearby, and I saw it well, how that young man brought your manhood to life, and a prodigious rod of masculinity it is, and it has haunted my dreams more than one in a most disturbing manner." He let the others laugh. "I say only that the victor should take the loser, while we observe. Surely this will not be anything you have not done already, save that you do it before us."

Andrew would have protested further but Renaud, who had spent this exchange downing the avowed second cup of wine, finished it and cast it aside, the cup rolling down the planks like a giant, skittering cockroach and said, "Fine, then, that shall be the wager. I'll give you a cut to remain on you this time, and then they will see you thrash in my arms as I pleasure you. He does grunt and moan most enchantingly as I plow his nether regions, rather like a female cat in heat."

Andrew felt the heat in his cheeks. "Your words declare your ineptitude in your cups, from which I have sought to spare you as should a dutiful servant who has only his master's health and well-being in mind. Yet if this is the only way I can convince you, so let it be. And when I trounce your wine-besotted hide, I'll give you a ride that will cause you to forget that I have ever given myself to you in all honor and pride, as a gift that can never be taken but must be presented freely. And I say for certain that when it is done, it shall be some time before you find me relishing your embrace again."

Renaud sobered at this. "Andre, I meant no harm in my words of jest. My humblest pardon."

Andrew dropped his rage and smiled. "I know it well, my Master. Yet your words prove earnest my desire to keep the wine from you, save in the holidays when a man may drink heartily and without fear."

"And I say still you step beyond the bounds of a servant in this." Renaud said. "That is all."

"Were I only your servant, I would agree." Andrew said. "But you know me for more than that, my kaserin. So I say if you would still deny me this privilege, then you must prove your worth when deep in your cups, and with your sword as you have claimed. I accede that you can best me handily when you are sober. But you are not sober now, and I say, let us cross blades and let me prove to you the danger once and for all."

"Come on, yes!" the group shouted, and others gathered, curious at this noisy group. "We shall see this!" "Come on, Renaud, teach your servant his manners!" "Me, I want to see that tool in action! My money's on Andre!" "Three gold pieces on Andre!" "Four on Renaud!"

Andrew let the noise fall from him as a cloak as they moved to the mid-deck and the men formed a fencing circle with their bodies. Renaud may be well-besotted, yet still his form and posture were perfect as always, and there was not an ounce of wrong angle or tilt for Andrew to have an opening.

For this reason, he waited for Renaud to make the first strike, and Renaud did, and he was able to catch it. Renaud always started with this one strike, a high overhand motion, but from there, he was unpredictable. Renaud immediately brought his sword back and around and under Andrew's guard, and Andrew had to give ground to avoid the blow, and he parried as he gave way, and Renaud...Renaud stumbled!

Hah! He knew it! He pressed the attack, for his object lesson to work, Renaud needed to lose quickly and handily to the very man he defeated so often in practice. Andrew pressed his blade hard against Renaud, who staggered slightly.

Then Renaud's blade cut under his own and Andrew was barely able to avoid the bout-ending cut. He jumped back and Renaud came forward and as Andrew looked into those eyes, he wondered if Renaud remembered still it was a friendly match, for gone entire were the twinkles of happiness he always saw in their practices.

Andrew decided to treat this as a true danger, he kept his guard close in and careful, and let many a dubious opportunity go by. Renaud was now almost hacking at him, and while Andrew had to keep backing up, circling to avoid running into the men surrounding him, he saw Renaud becoming exhausted and weary. The sword is such a heavy item, even Andrew found a few minutes' work with it to be wearisome, and Renaud was less muscular than him and his brain was befuddled with alcohol. Andrew now ceased to retreat, treating Renaud to a series of rapid-fire blows designed not to penetrate his defenses but to weary him further, and Andrew saw the sword waver as he broke the attack briefly, and an upper-hand jab to be warded off, a swing around to the underside, and a nick on Renaud's shins and the bout was over. Renaud flinched visibly at the cut, which was not deep but on a tender part of the skin, and Andrew moved to neutral posture while retreating a few steps, just in case Renaud forgot this was only a first-blood duel.

"Hah! The victory goes to Andre!" the nobles cheered and clapped Andrew's shoulders heartily.

But Andrew only had eyes for Renaud, who was a cheerful and generous winner, but a rather sulky loser. Renaud looked offended, visibly fought it off, sheathed his sword after returning the neutral salute, and managed a smile. Good enough, Andrew broke into a wide smile and moved to embrace him. Those arms felt so good around him once again, he feared for a time that night that he had lost them entire!

"Here, a drink for you, the winner!" a goblet of the heady wine was thrust between them and into Andrew's hands. "And for the conquered, as agreed, a dipper of water."

Renaud hesitated, and then took it in good humor. "Well, if water is all I get for the rest of the night, then I shall drink water!"

That earned him a cheer.

"That's not all you'll drink this night!" a young man jibed him.

"Yes, yes, the bet, the bet!" came the general roar.

"Come, Andre, drink your victory and then take your prize." the noble who had set up the wager urged him. "Tonight's entertainment is only half-done, remember!"

"Give me a pace to catch my breath." Andrew put him off.

"Drink, drink!" the nobleman said. "A hearty draught will aid you in your bashfulness, for we want to see a most prodigious porking of your master this night."

Andrew gulped and drank. The wine was strong, and he was unused to drinking much even in these days when wine was always at his elbow.

"Drink, and we'll prepare him for you!" Arms seized Renaud and good-naturedly began to pull at his clothing. Renaud fought them off, but soon enough his tights were down and fingers were being moistened in mouths and then jabbed in behind him. Andrew felt other hands at his own crotch, and wondered, the fumes of the wine seeping into his nose from the goblet, if they would also "prepare" him as well.

He chose not to fight them off, this was a boisterous crowd and all were Renaud's friends; he had watched that day how Renaud had selected from each ship who would disembark onto this ship and who would be sent on to other ships. If this was a rather rough joke, well, it was also a wager Renaud had willingly taken and had lost, and an object lesson to him as well. Better to go along with it, so long as it didn't get too much out of hand.

So he did not protest even when his own tights were unfastened and pulled down, as noble lips found and suckled at his prod. He even found the many hands groping and stroking his body all over to be exciting. It was as if they were engaged in a primitive rite here, where civilization was left behind and the ancient and amoral rut of the Neresterii rose once again. As the noble had said, many of these nobles had at least some Neresterii blood in them after four to six generations, and in every eye he saw that night, the Frenchman had submerged and the Neresterii reigned supreme, even here.

The very rocking of the boat as it dove through increasingly rough waters from the encroaching storm still well off to the north, this very movement beneath them made Andrew feel as if he were astride some enormous beast, the winds and waves were mutters of primal voices, and the breeze on his face and the hands on his body merged until he could not tell one from the other, could not distinguish animate from inanimate. He felt one with this crowd, a part of its purpose, as if one body were here, and he was its surging penis, poised to take and mate on behalf of the body politic, sharing his lust with all of them equally in one being, one essence, one soul!

In this state, Renaud had been hoisted up onto a barrel and was being held in position by his comrades, Renaud now sharing this bestial gathering, and was not resisting, indeed, he seemed to also relish his role in this.

Andrew semi-walked, was semi-carried over to this prostrate form and he felt his cock, now well moistened, guided by other hands into his lover's anus and felt the hot, dark warmth envelope him entire.

Hands supported him, hands guided him, hands stroked his and Renaud's body, and Andrew, lost in this morass and hardly knowing which parts were his own body and which were Renaud's or someone else's, began to move back and forth in this warm chamber which clutched and suckled at him with many small motions.

"Ahh!" Renaud sighed. "Ah, my beloved, my love and my life, I greet you once again."

Andrew leaned over and Renaud's arms clutched to him, and Andrew said, "And I give thanks to you for this gift, and take it gladly."

"Ah, my love, my beast, my dearest friend, my stallion stud, fill me with your desire, fill me!"

As always, these tender words they shared so often in private gave Andrew back his soul, he touched Renaud now not as bestial ravisher, but as his comrade and the tenor of his very thrusts into Renaud's bowels took on a different nature. It was as if the group around them realized this, for the hands, the many hands on them still, dropped away and left them one by one.

Andrew hardly noticed. Not for days had he felt such a surge of passion for Renaud, oh, love aplenty still, but this night, this circumstance, worked an additional spur to his pleasure, and his body swelled with his need. Renaud gasped as Andrew moved in him with a power he had not exerted for some days, and Renaud's legs wrapped him tight and Renaud moved under him.

"Ah, ah, agh!" Renaud wrapped his arms as well and Andrew felt Renaud clinging to him, pulling his weight up by his arms and legs, while he fucked him, until Renaud was now wholly touching him, and only Andrew's arms on the edges of the barrel permitted him to continue these movements.

And Renaud in his turn took on a more vigorous role, he swayed in his hold upon Andrew, bringing his body back and forth to impale itself upon Andrew's prick and then to pull off again, swinging like the leaves on a tree, back and forth yet never losing their purchase even in the highest wind, thus it was with Renaud, no matter how he moved, Andrew's pud never left his moist, clutching interior, but was stroked and fondled with pulsating, undulating pressure.

Andrew groaned and rose up completely, his hands went from the barrel to Renaud's buttocks, and under to his thighs until he had a firm grip and was holding them both upright, Renaud in mid-air as Andrew fucked at him, Andrew stepping around to adjust Renaud on his body until they were a perfectly-balanced unity.

Renaud was transported as his weight sent Andrew's cock into him to the very base, and he rose up and sat back down again with many rapid, lithe motions and Andrew helped him to ride his prong, bouncing his French lover up and down while his cock sent many ecstatic messages of happiness by a rapid succession of its electric riders along the highway of his spine.

"Ah, ah, hah, hah, hah!" Renaud crowed in brief bursts of joy as Andrew felt his world blurring and his body changing, not in shape, but in emphasis, his major input was now not his eyes, which had dimmed and distorted, but now his cock, which was now a single pole of pleasure, a surge of joy pouring out of it and over his body, Andrew bowed his legs and fucked Renaud even harder and Renaud gasped, groaned, and splattered Andrew's chest as he exploded over Andrew, losing his grips of his legs and was not flailing them wildly about.

Andrew felt the hot splashes upon his stomach and chest and his face flushed, his cock was constricted by Renaud's orgasming, spasming anus, and he gave lose a loud, hale roar of lust and pumped his spears of jism high up and into Renaud's warm bowels, Andrew bouncing Renaud on his body like a toy, and Renaud, his face bright red and his body and arms covered in sweat, drooped down to cling tightly to Andrew once more, and Andrew gasped, his body becoming weak with his exertions of desire, and he staggered back to sit on the barrel which was now behind him and there he gasped for air and forced his eyes back into focus.

It took some time for Andrew to see and hear once again, and only now did he remember the many watchers they had during their lovemaking. He felt somewhat abashed and yet proud at the same time, for this had been a wonderfully exciting, climactic, ecstatic event.

The nobles were not just cheering him, many of them had overcome their shyness as well, and were fondling each other, or the sailors and guards who had also wandered into their group. Some were taking their partners on the very decks, while many others sought out private places as they could, or at least the comfort of the hammocks wherein they slept.

"Well." Renaud said to him. "You have won your bet, my kaserin. From now on, I shall not dispute you when you tell me I have drunk enough."

"And seeing how well you fought even with that much alcohol, I shall be more lenient in my behavior as a mother-hen." Andrew said.

"I don't believe our comrades are interested in our conversation any longer." Renaud said. "Shall we go to our quarters?"

"I agree." Andrew said. They had moved to a cabin that was very small, but its advantage was that it was crowded with just the two of them, no third person could be fitted in with them. The cabin they had lived in for so many weeks now housed some twelve nobles. So Andrew did not begrudge the move, and after all, it was only for two nights.

He saw fires on the shore as they sailed. He noticed with wonder that they were alight on the very top of the hill. No warrior would build a fire there, it must be a signal. As he expected, another light of a fire began to kindle further north. A message-fire, then, of some sort.

If it was Lord Montaigne's, it only told of their northern journey. If it were Neresterii, it only told the same. Either way, he saw no benefit in mentioning it to anyone. He went to the large hammock he shared with Renaud and which now no longer even encumbered his slumber, he was so used to it.

The storm arrived the next day in the early morning. It lashed them throughout the morning and afternoon, and Andrew felt quite ill at how the ship tossed and moved under them. It seemed at times that the entire ship would roll completely over, and yet it always came to right again. For himself, he felt nauseous at the movement, and stayed in his hammock. For the most part, Renaud did the same, admitting that a storm was enough to bring sea-sickness to even the most experienced sailor. The ships were steered to be near land, and anchors were dropped and sails furled, and thus they waited out the storm.

The storm lasted until nearly dusk, and the darkness of the storm lightened somewhat to give way to the diminishing dusk. Andrew and Renaud crept out, their stomachs still churning, but the ocean becoming much calmer, risking the last bit of rain that may still come for a breath of fresh air and the chance to breathe.

Andrew looked at the ocean, but mist, though not heavy, was enough to keep him from seeing very far. Then he looked at the land nearby. It was rocky, stolid, forbidding. He could not see a single house or ship around them. They were alone. "Where are the other ships?" He asked Renaud.

Renaud shrugged. "They will have found their own berths. One cannot see very well in this mist, we'll have to wait and regroup. I am told we'll regroup at the very tip of Winseran Point tomorrow, and then sail into the harbor. It'll mean an afternoon arrival instead of morning, but we aren't expecting much resistance. We ought to gain a beachhead and landfall by tomorrow night."

"Makes sense." Andrew said. "Ho, there are some small boats out there."

"Fishing vessels, perhaps." Renaud said. "Though why so many?"

There were some unidentifiable thunks from below the decks. Then shouting, and cursing.

"What is it?" Renaud called out, and was ignored.

It took some time, but Andrew came to understand that the ship had inexplicably suddenly sprung several large leaks. "It's like the cursed timbers are jumping away from the hull!" one sailor complained. "They open faster than we can plug them!"

It didn't take long, and soon, the "Lion's Teeth" was sinking rapidly. This is not the sudden emergency you may think, it takes time for a wooden ship to sink. There was time enough to gather everyone together, and plan for how to evacuate the ship. Time enough even to send up distress flags in hopes the fishing vessels would come alongside, as in fact they did, beginning to steer towards them.

But the ship would not wait quite that long, for the smaller ships were some distance away and would be nearly a half-hour in making it to them.

Renaud looked at Andrew and Marcel. "We must take to the water and wait there for rescue." he said. "The boats must be saved for those who cannot swim. I can swim, as can Andrew. Can you swim, Marcel?"

Marcel shrugged, trying to be brave, though he was white-faced. "I have swum in the river, of course, but this is different."

"Yes, well, the water is rougher than I'd like. Don't fight the water, let it hold you up. You'll float higher in salt water than you do in fresh, but the waves will douse you time and again. Watch and try to ride them out."

Andrew was glad, at least, that save for changes of clothing, he wore already all that he had, money bag and sword. He would sacrifice all but that. If encumbered, he would sacrifice his money bag. If more must be dropped, he'd shed his clothing and scabbard, and swim with his sword in his teeth, naked!

He waited until the small boats were away and then at Renaud's behest, he screwed up his courage and dove for the water, now only some three feet below the railing. Then he tread water, to wait for Marcel and Renaud and.... His foot was grabbed and he was tugged under!

He was glad now for the many hours he had spent learning to swim in the ocean. The water, salty and viciously churning, was not quite the enemy it had been some weeks before. He was able to see that it was two human beings who had dragged him under, and these men had no trouble staying under the water, for each bore with him a large bag somewhat weighted with stones around its outside, and with a spout which one uncapped, releasing bubbles, and offered it to Andrew!

Andrew took the spout, and in surged air for his lungs. Understanding, he took a deep breath this way, and then the man with him did the same, and they then grasped him each by an arm and pulled him along.

Andrew did not fight. These men obviously intended him no harm, and he saw many more of them under the water, for they had been the ones who had torn the "Lion's Teeth" apart from under the water. They offered Andrew more sips from their air-bags, and with this help, he was able to stay under the water with them for some five minutes' time as they swam, pulling him along.

They surfaced quite some distance from the ship, and Andrew was left behind by them, treading water and not seeing Renaud.

The smaller ships were now by the foundering vessel. "Name yourself!" came a call Andrew could just hear. "Who are you and what is your lineage, nobleman?"

Andrew saw the bobbing head in the water, heard Marcel's response. "Pray, sirs, I am Marcel, the son of the Marquis of Lesleran. Aid me and my father will reward you."

"Lesleran? Hah! That man has more children than he does land. There won't be a ransom to you worth having in these times."

And Andrew stared in shock as the man in the ship callously pulled out a sword and hacked at the bobbing head. Marcel cried out in pain, and the man flailed at him again, and there was silence.

"Now, you, who are you?" he called to another hapless refugee.

"Andrew!" came a shout, and Andrew turned, seeing a ship beside him. And aboard it, among others, were...Adomeh and Trevish!

"What? How?" he asked. Was this some mad, evil dream?

"Did you think the Neresterii would be helpless?" Trevish said. "We have been watching for your ships for weeks now. Come on, out of the water with you."

Andrew took the hands and so made it to safety while he stared at the scene. "What are they doing? They killed a helpless man!" he said in horror.

Adomeh clapped a hand on his shoulder. "The Neresterii are poor and their lands have been sorely ravaged by the French lords. They cannot support prisoners. If a man cannot be ransomed, he can only be killed."

"But...but Marcel!" Andrew said. "He was my friend. And Renaud...Renaud, my master!" Another dying scream cut through the air, but Andrew did not see who it was, and dared not search the waters to find out.

"Who?" Trevish said. "Andrew, you are no longer with them. Turn your back and forget them. Had they made it to land, they would have killed without pity, old men, women and children, that is the usual way of it. Or did they plan to surrender to us instead?" He cocked an eyebrow at Andrew, insisting on an answer.

"Nay." Andrew said slowly. "But...I have lived among them. I know them."

"We shall not ask you to fight these men." Adomeh said kindly. "But there is fighting aplenty ashore for you, and an enemy you do not know so well."

Trevish put in. "You are lucky that Adomeh and I were here and could tell the men who you were, or you would have met your own death this day as an enemy of the crown." Trevish tapped Andrew's soaked tunic. "We warned them that a young man with a yellow and black lion on his chest was actually our loyal friend, and that if they harmed you, we would take it as a matter for personal revenge. So instead of stabbing you, they brought you to us."

"I...Pray, let me think a while." Andrew said. "I have lived among them so long, I must remember who I am."

Well, who was he?

"I...I am the King's squire, and a loyal member of the court of Carlovain." he said slowly, to himself as much as to the others. "I have been living in hiding and pretense among the nobles around the Lord Protector, to gather information for them."

"And the information you gained was well worth it." Trevish agreed. "Were it not for your word, spread by us and by the privateer ship you sent northwards, we would not have had ample time to form a defense. You, with your information, gained us enough time to plan all of this."

"But...but Lord Montaigne delayed." Andrew protested. "Did no other word of his plans get out?"

"None at all." Adomeh assured him. "Were it not for you, they would have sprung upon northern Carlovain unawares, and we would have been hard-put to fight them off, and then to survive the winter after their raids upon our storehouses. We should have lost, just as Lord Montaigne planned. As for the deaths of your friends, do not take blame upon yourself for this night's work, for it was a Neresterii lord's son who predicted that with the storm, you would have to put in to port here on this side of Winseran Point and guided our forces across the point last night. With your help, we may yet win to an honorable victory." His friends understood the tearing of his heart, were helping him as much as words could help.

Even so, he could not even get this comfort for his soul. By his words, this attack had been launched, and so these men's deaths were laid at his door as surely as if he cut down the helpless men in the water himself. Were it a proper battle, he could have held his head up with some pride and dignity, but like this...! Andrew looked out as yet another young noble was found lacking, and killed, this time already aboard a ship and his body cast into the ocean. Night was falling yet again. He did not know where Renaud was. It could even have been Renaud's body he saw cast into the waters, the darkening skies diminished all details. All the young nobles, younger sons out to seek their fortunes, how many of them would survive this cruel valuation on their lives?

"This is a victory, I suppose, and I can grant that a quick death by sword is better than a slow death by starvation or sickness." Andrew said. "I can also grant that a prisoner is a burden we can ill afford in these days. But forgive me if I avert my eyes from it, for I have lived and laughed and drunk with these men, and I am sickened by the sight." A small voice reminded him of the treatment Lord Montaigne had given his own prisoners. Had he spared any of the hundreds he had captured the day of the masque? Or any but the one he had spared at Andrew's behest, less his thumbs? And at how many other battles had such callous deaths occurred?

Andrew dropped to sit upon the low railing of the ship and clutched his stomach, closed his eyes and moaned. Such terror! Why had he ever wished to be anything more than a stable-hand and an innkeeper's son? Why, when his father had told his tales, had he said nothing of all this to him?

"Go into the cabin there." Adomeh kindly indicated the small square hut attached to the center of the ship. "There is a bunk for you to lie upon. Rest, for you have done all we can ask of you. Once we have finished here, we will return to shore, and you can travel to meet up with those who are waiting for you at the harbor of Winseran Point."

"Who?" Andrew asked.

"The King, for one. And your father and mother." Adomeh said. "We have yet another surprise for Lord Montaigne waiting there. One which, with luck, will end this rebellion once and for all, and restore the King to the throne of Carlovain. But first, we must capture Lord Montaigne. Too bad he wasn't aboard this ship. I hope the others have better luck."

The King? Good. Andrew would be able to go there, and after greeting him as a loyal subject should, he fully intended to plead on his knees for Renaud's life.

END OF CHAPTER 16

THIS SERIES WILL CONCLUDE WITH CHAPTER 18