The Game (3 page)

It did not matter. What mattered was that she was finally going home, and in the past month, time had crept by at an infuriatingly slow pace. Katherine could not wait to set foot upon the fertile ground of southern Ireland. She could not wait to reach her home, Askeaton Castle, a stout stone fortress built in medieval times and set upon an island in the River Deel.

The convent was less than a half day’s carriage ride from Cherbourg, where the small ship they would cross the Channel in awaited them. The road to Cherbourg was not well used, and the hours again dragged by. But toward nooning the monotony of their short trip was broken. A group of traveling players passed them on the road. One of the men was darkly handsome, and quite bold and brazen. He only had eyes for Katherine. He wished to make her acquaintance, and did not seem willing to take “no” for an answer. Katherine tried to ignore him, but was flat
tered and bemused by his interest. Finally, professing undying grief, making his talent for theatrics quite clear, he had doffed his plumed hat and he and his troupe of players moved on.

The girls and their escorts arrived at the harbor and were quickly boarded onto the ship. The man in charge of their party, Sir William Redwood, advised them to remain within their cabin for the duration of the short Channel crossing. He informed them that they would set sail at first light the next morning and come abreast of Dover if the winds were favorable by the next night, or, at the outside, by dawn of the following day. Juliet thanked him prettily, and then the two girls were left alone in their cabin.

Katherine walked to a porthole and stared out at the dusky water of the bay. Twilight was creeping over the harbor. A star twinkled vaguely. She was trembling with elation. Home. Before it had been a dream. Soon it would be reality. She was on the precipice of a new beginning—and she could barely wait for the happy future that was surely hers.

Katherine had been sound asleep. Now she jerked up with a cry. She had been dreaming of the meadows in springtime in Munster. In her dreams, Hugh had been alive and she had been a young bride. She shook her head, to free herself of the foolish dream, noticing the bright sunlight streaming through the cabin’s single porthole. It was well past dawn from the look of it. They had set sail some time ago, but neither she nor Juliet had been awake or aware of it. Katherine was perplexed and faintly uneasy. What had caused her to awaken so abruptly? And what were the strange scratching noises above her head?

And then she heard a sound she had never heard before. A deafening boom. No one had to inform her as to what it was. She knew, instantly. It was a cannon.

Katherine’s heart seemed to stop. She prayed to Jesus, God, and Sweet Mary that she was still asleep, still dreaming. And then another boom sounded, even closer and more loudly than the one before, and she knew, dear Lord,
that it was no dream.
Oh, God—they were under attack
. “Juliet!”

She raced to the porthole as Juliet shot upright, but could see nothing but an incredibly bright winter sun hanging over the endless, amazingly calm gray seas. If ever there had been an illusion of a perfect day, this was it.

Another boom sounded, and this time Katherine heard the sound of wood splintering before she clapped her hands to her ears. It had sounded as if an entire mast had been shorn right off the deck.

“We are under attack,” Katherine cried, turning to face Juliet, who was sitting motionless, as white as death, upon her bunk.

“Who?” Juliet croaked. “Who would attack this ship?”

Katherine’s dazed mind began to function. Juliet was a rich heiress, and she herself was the earl of Desmond’s daughter. Oh, God. Pirates infested the waters of the Channel, as well as those off of France, Spain, and both England and Ireland. Preying upon any cargo of value, even if it be human. “Oh, God, have mercy,” Katherine whispered.

Juliet slid to her feet and ran to the porthole. “Katherine?”

Katherine could not speak. And then from the deck above she could hear men shouting in panic, and the word they shouted was “Pirates!”

“There is nothing to see!” Juliet cried, peering over Katherine’s shoulder.

Then another explosion made the girls cling to one another as the ship bucked like a wild horse. They tumbled to the floor together, rolling across it. Men were shrieking, and something huge and hard crashed against the deck just above them. The ship groaned as if alive and in great pain. Muskets were firing now, and Katherine could smell the acrid powder. She prayed it was the crew firing, defending the ship from the marauders. Then she realized that a man was shouting, “Fire aft! Fire aft!” and soon the cry was taken up by some dozen others.

Katherine and Juliet gripped each other, both pale with fright. “What are we going to do?” Juliet whispered.

Katherine tried to think through her thick, cloying fear. “We must stay below. With the door barred.” Images of the dirty, savage pirates descending in a vicious horde upon them assailed her. She felt faint.

“But—what if the ship goes down? We will drown! What if it is sinking even now!”

Katherine realized then that, no matter what happened, they were in the gravest jeopardy. If the ship sank, and they remained below, they would die. If they went above, looking for Sir William and the others, they might very well die as men were undoubtedly dying even now. And if the ship were captured…Katherine did not want to think about it. She must not think about it, or she would lose her very fragile control, and give in to mindless terror. She must be calm.

“We are not sinking,” Katherine said as normally as possible. “If we were, we would hear the men screaming in terror.”

“Yes, you are right,” Juliet said. Her fingernails were digging into Katherine’s wrist even through the sleeve of her nightclothes. “And the ship has righted itself.”

Katherine climbed to her feet, legs apart, and braced for any sudden lurching. “We will stay below here,” Katherine decided as Juliet also rose. “Until something happens to make us think the ship is sinking. Then we will go up. Together. Not before.”

Juliet nodded, speechless, gripping Katherine’s hand.

Katherine inhaled, forcing herself to appear calm. Then she turned to the porthole and froze. A ship had appeared in her line of vision, a big black galleon, its huge white sails billowing, black guns and cannon glistening in the sunlight. It was racing toward them. Nothing she had ever seen had appeared more threatening, more lethal. Even as Katherine watched, it came closer and closer still.

Juliet saw the pirate ship, too, and she whimpered.

The two girls stood at the porthole, unable to move, stiff with terror, vainly trying to fight panic, listening to the explosions tearing apart their ship, explosions which were coming with increasing frequency. The vessel had begun to list again badly to starboard. Chaos seemed to
reign on the deck above. The battle seemed to go on forever. Time stood still.

And then, abruptly, the cannons stopped.

Katherine and Juliet were gripping one another’s hands so tightly that they were locked together. The two girls’ eyes met. Suddenly they disengaged their numb fingers. “Is it over?” Juliet whispered.

Katherine did not know—but then the sound of musket fire began in frenzied earnest. And shouts, raised and triumphant. And their ship lurched hard, as if pushed. And suddenly swords clanged, again and again, viciously.

“They have boarded,” Katherine cried, now mindless with fear. “They have boarded us!”

Juliet sobbed once, her hand against her mouth.

Katherine swallowed hard. “Juliet—you know what will happen to us.”

Tears filled Juliet’s eyes. “But afterward…we will be ransomed.”

“Will you want to live without your virtue?”

Juliet inhaled. “I don’t know. Katherine, I am only fifteen. I do know that I don’t want to die.”

Katherine knew she did not want to die either, but she had heard stories, and she imagined that, a few hours from now, both she and Juliet would wish themselves dead. “We have no weapons,” she said with surprising calm, closing her eyes briefly.

“We cannot fight pirates,” Juliet responded.

“Not to fight them,” Katherine said, regarding her friend. “But to end our own lives.”

Their gazes held. They did not speak again. There was nothing to say. Even if they could find the courage to kill themselves before the pirates plundered the ship and captured them, they had no weapons with which to do so. There was nothing for them to do, then, but be brave and await their fate.

An hour later it began. Someone tried to open the door to their cabin. When he failed, he called out in a foreign tongue. Katherine and Juliet did not speak, did not move,
did not even breathe for fear of being detected. The intruder stomped away.

Both girls were now dressed, having realized that they had no wish to be captured in their nightclothes. Juliet turned to Katherine. “He was speaking Gaelic. Could he be Irish? Or was he a Scot?”

“I am not sure,” Katherine said unsteadily. Suddenly tears formed in her eyes. “If you think the fact that I am Irish will spare us if they are Irish, you are wrong. Pirates are not loyal to anyone, Juliet, except themselves, surely you know that.”

“Sssh!! He is coming back!”

The girls froze, arm in arm, as two men spoke to each other outside their door. And then an object was banged upon the door and wood splintered. The blade of an ax appeared through the shredded wood.

Katherine pulled Juliet closer. She was older than her friend and somehow she felt responsible for her. She would protect Juliet if she could. But her knees were still horribly weak, and her legs were shaking.

A hand darted through the wood and the bolt was shoved aside. The door burst open. Two seamen in black breeches and plain tunics burst into the room. They were huge men, carrying swords and wearing daggers, their weapons and clothing splotched with blood. The pirates froze, surprised to see the girls.

Then they exchanged glances. One of them was huge and baldheaded, and he stepped forward, his gaze going from Katherine to Juliet and then back to Katherine again. Katherine stepped in front of Juliet. She and the bald pirate stared at one another. Katherine was tensed, awaiting his lecherous assault. But it never came.

He only spoke to the other pirate, and when he did, he spoke in Gaelic, which Juliet could not understand but Katherine could. He said, “We’ll bring them above to the captain. He’ll be pleased with this.”

Katherine’s heart was in her mouth, beating a mile a minute. “Who is your captain?” she asked with false bravado. “I demand to see him immediately!”

If the seaman was surprised that she had understood
him and spoke Gaelic herself, he did not show it. “Don’t fret, lass. The captain is waiting to meet you.”

Katherine took Juliet’s hand, hoping to give her courage to face their impending ordeal, but then the pirates separated them, each man grabbing one of the girls. Katherine cried out, attempting to jerk free of her captor, but he took her elbow firmly in his hand. And he pulled her forward and into the narrow hall and up the stairs, Juliet following with the other man.

Katherine gasped when they stepped out upon the deck. It was unnaturally still. But the pirates were everywhere, clad in their short breeches, wielding their long swords. She saw that the French crew were all in irons, and that several of the men had been wounded, perhaps seriously. Sir William Redwood and his men were also bound in manacles and under guard. Sir William appeared unhurt and furious. But relief filled his eyes when he saw that the girls were still unharmed.

Katherine’s gaze swept the deck. Part of the stern had suffered from the fire, the wooden deck charred and blackened, smoke still hanging in the air. Sections of the ship’s railing had been destroyed as well. One of the largest masts had been shorn in two, and lay like a huge broken tree across half of the middle decks, the great canvas sail forming puffy piles around it. And then when she gazed at the topmost deck, she saw him.

Without being told, she knew that he was the master of these pirates.

Katherine stared, her heart beating madly. He stood on the forecastle in pale hose and thigh-high black boots, a loose white linen shirt, its laces open, fluttering about him. He was a huge man, far taller than Katherine, broad of shoulder, narrow of hip, long and powerful of leg. His hair was gold, cropped short, and it was brighter than the sun. He had one hand on his sheathed sword and he stood easily, riding the ship the way the ship rode the swells of the sea. He surveyed the deck below him as if he surveyed his kingdom.

Katherine felt his power and saw his arrogance and she
hated him for all he had done and for all he was about to do.

And then she realized that he surveyed her as well.

Across the charred deck, his cool questing eyes held hers. Katherine froze. Never in her life had she been more vulnerable. He stared, and between them she felt an invisible tightening, as if a powerful cable was being winched tight and tighter still. Katherine could not breathe.

Slowly, he smiled. And she felt as if she were some pitiful earthbound hare and he the great gyrfalcon, slowly circling above her, preparing himself for the kill.

Katherine dug in her heels as the sailor abruptly propelled her forward, toward him, and marched her across the decks. “No,” she said, raw panic chasing away any show of courage which she might make. Raw panic, and raw fear.

The golden pirate watched her, no longer smiling.

“No,” Katherine cried again, balking like a mule.

With the slightest inclination of his golden head, he signaled his sailor and the man jerked her forward and hauled her up the set of steps to the deck where he stood. The boat was rocking and Katherine was weak, not just with terror, but from the terrible ordeal of withstanding the long battle, and when the sailor released her, her knees finally gave way and she sank down onto the deck at the pirate’s feet.

Katherine gripped the wooden floorboards, willing herself to rise, but her body would not obey and she could do no more than look up.