“Well, what do you remember?” Katherine hovered close.
“The woman gave me something to drink in a beat-up old goblet. She said it was a potion that would protect me. I was cautioned to drink it slowly. It had an odd taste, very sweet and bitter at the same time.”
“As soon as I touched the goblet, everything shifted, it all was so clear and transparent - no, that’s not it. It was as if I became transparent. Nothing came from me, it all came through me from somewhere else. I had no fear, no thoughts, and nothing to remember…”
“Everything was revealed to him - I spared him nothing. When I turned up the 'Tower' card, I saw it all - betrayal, torture, disgrace, and death by fire. To his credit, I saw him flinch only once.”
“The infidel would escape - but just barely… I told her where to hide something. If she did so, the old woman would win her freedom before she too died.”
“That’s the last thing I can remember before I woke up here.”
Dulcy’s voice trailed off. “I’ve tried over and over to recall what I said, but I just can’t. The memories keep going through my head like a song. I know the melody, but I can’t remember the lyrics.”
Katherine interrupted gently. "I was thinking about that gold...."
"Yeah, me too. I already know what you're going to say." Dulcinaya smiled sadly. "I know they meant well, but they might as well have filled my purse with rocks. We can't do anything with that gold - it’s worthless. You and I must keep it hidden and never tell a soul. If that wealth became known, every cutthroat in God’s creation would hunt us down."
"Besides, I’m a dirt-poor gypsy. Can you imagine me telling a judge that two strangers that nobody else saw drugged me and then stuffed my purse with ten gold florins?”
“It’s not hard to imagine at all. After he enjoyed a good laugh, the judge would hang the whole Kumpania as thieves." Katherine scowled, as if to recall an odd memory. “I didn’t think of it until now, but there’s one more thing. Elphin told me that when he pulled your face off the table, you opened your eyes for a moment and said one word before passing out again.”
“What did I say?”
“Rosslyn” Katherine eyed Dulcy quizzically. “Got any idea what it means?”
Dulcinaya pondered a moment and shrugged. “No - not a clue.”
© 2010 Baron Bardulf
Friday, June 18, 2010
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Clean, no holes or skid marks , size M 32-34
Okay, ya'll. Seriously, nobody is gonna claim these? Don't be shy about it, they are nice undies.
These were found in the upstairs of the garage, so it would stand to reason they got lost when we were all swimming and using the garage as a changing room.
However, it is possible that they went missing as long ago as maybe Twelfth Night, and migrated up to the garage loft with the new storm windows while the house renovations were going on. That's a possibility, too.
Nobody has claimed them, so now we are just being mean about it and posting somebody's underwear on the internet because we are a nasty lot. I reckon you all will damn straight keep track of your flimises after this, eh?
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Dukkering, Chapter Three: Soldier of Fortune by Baron Bardulf
After a candle had been placed in a window, the sound of a carriage could be heard outside. A man and a woman entered and surveyed what was before them. Although they were dressed like commoners, their disguises failed instantly.
He was old and bearded but presented himself with the calm, rock-solid demeanor of a seasoned warrior. He was a man born to command armies, yet there was a sense of earthy humility about him. He expected obedience and devotion, not out of pride, but simply because that was the natural order of things.
Although she too carried the weight of many years, the woman was unlike her companion. The dark skin and eyes bespoke a Turk, or perhaps a Moor. While it was clear that the other four men beheld her with respect and awe, fear was easily seen behind their regard. They took pains never to look her in the eyes.
“Are we alone?”
“Yes Sire - as you have ordered, there are none here but the gypsy woman.”
"Take your men outside. Stay in the shadows, remain unseen and allow no one to enter."
"Sir Tancred..." The ice in the woman's voice halted them. "...that doesn't mean you can kill some unlucky wretch."
When the door shut, the old man glared at the woman beside him.
"I'll thank you not to address my men in that way. Tancred's a fine knight..."
"- and a damned sorry excuse for a monk. Have you forgotten what he did to those poor bastards at Caesarea? They had laid down their weapons and yet he slaughtered them.”
The man shrugged off the reproach and turned his attention to Dulcinaya.
“So that’s her, eh? - that gypsy?”
“Don’t make light of the humble; she is a powerful seer.”
“How did you learn of that knave’s ‘talents’?”
“I have my own gifts.”
He gave the old woman a look of barely contained disgust. “I’ve had enough of your foul arts.”
“I didn’t choose to be what I am - and neither did she.”
The man strode across the room and stood before Dulcinaya’s table.
"Now then…” He placed his fists on the table-board and leaned closer. “…tell me my future with those cards and we'll be done."
"Cards?” Dulcy’s eyes opened wide with sudden panic. “Oh, you mean these? Fortune telling?? N-N-Never M'Lord!!! I'll not do such a loathsome thing! These cards are for clever tricks, idle amusements, games of chance, sleight of hand...."
“There! - you see? Here is your great oracle! This miserable creature has confessed herself to be a fraud. We’re done here! I’m through with this nonsense.”
"Stop it, Jacques. You’re scaring her. She thinks you're a witch-hunter."
"Me, a witch-hunter? Of that you must have no fear." He looked at the older woman with a wry smile. "I've already found all the witchcraft I can deal with."
“Pray, be seated.” The woman took her place at the end of the table while “Jacques” made a great show of sullen resignation and sat opposite Dulcinaya. “You must forgive the old dog.” Her voice hinted at affection. “He’s a soldier. Oft-times he forgets that not everyone must jump when he barks.”
The woman’s demeanor shifted. The dark eyes beheld the gypsy with a serious and uncompromising regard. “I now ask for your service…and above all…your trust.”
She reached beneath her cloak and unfastened a leather pouch that hung from a belt.
“NO!” He rose to his feet and bellowed. “I FORBID IT!!”
“You can’t stop me. Accept that…”
“You don’t dare…you wretch! Have you forgotten your oath?”
“Spare me the lecture - I’m not one of your acolytes."
“If you defy me….”
“Even in my defiance I will honor my oath. I pledged you my service - not my obedience! When you spared my life at Antioch, I gave my vow to you. In Jerusalem I accepted the burden that you placed upon me. I have served you like no other.”
“If it’s any comfort to you, you were my last choice.”
“I was your only choice. Only I could bear its touch without going mad. How many of your men paid dearly for that knowledge? I’ve often marveled at my fate. How can it be that only an infidel woman can hold and possess the object that all of Christendom desires?"
The dark eyes grew cold.
"Mark my words, you fool! You and your knights are too rich, too powerful, and too proud. The whirlwind is coming, Jacques. I can feel it, but I cannot see it! It will soon be upon us and it may already be too late. The gypsy is your only hope."
The old man looked at the woman. His eyes searched her as one who was grasping for a shred of trust.
"Please believe me." Her voice softened. "If there were any other way........"
Jacques slowly regained his seat. “May God forgive me for this.”
The woman opened the pouch and produced a well-worn goblet and cruet.
© 2010 Baron Bardulf
He was old and bearded but presented himself with the calm, rock-solid demeanor of a seasoned warrior. He was a man born to command armies, yet there was a sense of earthy humility about him. He expected obedience and devotion, not out of pride, but simply because that was the natural order of things.
Although she too carried the weight of many years, the woman was unlike her companion. The dark skin and eyes bespoke a Turk, or perhaps a Moor. While it was clear that the other four men beheld her with respect and awe, fear was easily seen behind their regard. They took pains never to look her in the eyes.
“Are we alone?”
“Yes Sire - as you have ordered, there are none here but the gypsy woman.”
"Take your men outside. Stay in the shadows, remain unseen and allow no one to enter."
"Sir Tancred..." The ice in the woman's voice halted them. "...that doesn't mean you can kill some unlucky wretch."
When the door shut, the old man glared at the woman beside him.
"I'll thank you not to address my men in that way. Tancred's a fine knight..."
"- and a damned sorry excuse for a monk. Have you forgotten what he did to those poor bastards at Caesarea? They had laid down their weapons and yet he slaughtered them.”
The man shrugged off the reproach and turned his attention to Dulcinaya.
“So that’s her, eh? - that gypsy?”
“Don’t make light of the humble; she is a powerful seer.”
“How did you learn of that knave’s ‘talents’?”
“I have my own gifts.”
He gave the old woman a look of barely contained disgust. “I’ve had enough of your foul arts.”
“I didn’t choose to be what I am - and neither did she.”
The man strode across the room and stood before Dulcinaya’s table.
"Now then…” He placed his fists on the table-board and leaned closer. “…tell me my future with those cards and we'll be done."
"Cards?” Dulcy’s eyes opened wide with sudden panic. “Oh, you mean these? Fortune telling?? N-N-Never M'Lord!!! I'll not do such a loathsome thing! These cards are for clever tricks, idle amusements, games of chance, sleight of hand...."
“There! - you see? Here is your great oracle! This miserable creature has confessed herself to be a fraud. We’re done here! I’m through with this nonsense.”
"Stop it, Jacques. You’re scaring her. She thinks you're a witch-hunter."
"Me, a witch-hunter? Of that you must have no fear." He looked at the older woman with a wry smile. "I've already found all the witchcraft I can deal with."
“Pray, be seated.” The woman took her place at the end of the table while “Jacques” made a great show of sullen resignation and sat opposite Dulcinaya. “You must forgive the old dog.” Her voice hinted at affection. “He’s a soldier. Oft-times he forgets that not everyone must jump when he barks.”
The woman’s demeanor shifted. The dark eyes beheld the gypsy with a serious and uncompromising regard. “I now ask for your service…and above all…your trust.”
She reached beneath her cloak and unfastened a leather pouch that hung from a belt.
“NO!” He rose to his feet and bellowed. “I FORBID IT!!”
“You can’t stop me. Accept that…”
“You don’t dare…you wretch! Have you forgotten your oath?”
“Spare me the lecture - I’m not one of your acolytes."
“If you defy me….”
“Even in my defiance I will honor my oath. I pledged you my service - not my obedience! When you spared my life at Antioch, I gave my vow to you. In Jerusalem I accepted the burden that you placed upon me. I have served you like no other.”
“If it’s any comfort to you, you were my last choice.”
“I was your only choice. Only I could bear its touch without going mad. How many of your men paid dearly for that knowledge? I’ve often marveled at my fate. How can it be that only an infidel woman can hold and possess the object that all of Christendom desires?"
The dark eyes grew cold.
"Mark my words, you fool! You and your knights are too rich, too powerful, and too proud. The whirlwind is coming, Jacques. I can feel it, but I cannot see it! It will soon be upon us and it may already be too late. The gypsy is your only hope."
The old man looked at the woman. His eyes searched her as one who was grasping for a shred of trust.
"Please believe me." Her voice softened. "If there were any other way........"
Jacques slowly regained his seat. “May God forgive me for this.”
The woman opened the pouch and produced a well-worn goblet and cruet.
© 2010 Baron Bardulf
Monday, May 24, 2010
Dukkering, Chapter Two: The Gypsy Trap by Baron Bardulf
Life would slow down after All Hallows Day. The harvest was done and the farmers had plenty of idle time and idle money. On a cold night, they would find their way into the tavern. The lure of a warm fire, the company of friends and perhaps some spiced wine would prove irresistible.
Dulcy usually set herself up in the fire-side corner of the public room. An azure tablecloth, two borrowed candles and some scattered herbs would set the stage. There she would hold court like a ragged gypsy mage-queen.
In that corner, magic reigned and a ha’penny or other petty coin would buy a peek at whatever the future held. While a palm reading was best for some queries, the cards were Dulcinaya’s favorite.
Theatrics were the enchantment of the game. Each card was revealed slowly and teasingly. The turn of a card brought forth a look of grave concern, feigned shock, or perhaps surprised delight. The secret to dukkering was to answer each question with yet another question. Thus a heart’s desires would be laid bare. When a few more cards were shown, there would be a raised eyebrow, a knowing glance, or perhaps a conspiratorial wink and a sly smile. Whispering a vague prophecy somehow made it all seem true.
However, this Sabbath’s Eve had been a wretchedly slow night, and there was naught but three pence in her purse to show for it.
It was near closing time. A few farmers argued drunkenly as to what next year’s market would bring. Off in the other corner there were four strangers who drank and kept mostly to themselves. One could overhear the usual debate concerning the vagaries of gambling, the fickleness of women, or the merits of one horse over another. By the look of them, they were likely nothing more than sell-swords.
“Tis Sabbath Eve, gentlemen, and midnight is upon us - we must bid all a good night.” The serving wench made her usual announcement to no one in particular. The farmers downed the last of their grog and ale while gathering their cloaks. The four in the corner didn’t so much as lift their cups. The wench went over to their table. “There’s an inn less than a league north of here. I’m sure you gentlemen will find a night’s rest there.” They kept their seats and said nothing as the last of the farmers left the tavern. “Surely you'll not break the Sabbath? There’ll be hell to pay if the Vicar finds out that you were sitting here with an ale in your hand past midnight.”
“What about the gypsy?” One of the men queried.
“I let her stay because she helps me clean up. Now out with all of you! None of you look like the sort who will sweep floors.”
“Sit down and be silent, woman.”
“I’ve no patience for your nonsense. I’ve got work to do. Now get out!”
The man stood up and towered over the wench. “That wasn’t a suggestion.”
He turned to the other three and gave orders…"You guard the door - and keep the gypsy in her seat. Search the larder and kitchen - make sure no one else is here.”
The brute held the trembling woman's face before his.
"Leave this place, tell no one what you have seen, and do not return until sunrise. If you disobey, the gypsy..." He glanced in Dulcinaya's direction. "...will be found feeding the crows in a field somewhere. Do you understand?"
The wench gave a terrified nod and fled the tavern.
"Give the signal that it's safe to enter."
© 2010 Baron Bardulf
Dulcy usually set herself up in the fire-side corner of the public room. An azure tablecloth, two borrowed candles and some scattered herbs would set the stage. There she would hold court like a ragged gypsy mage-queen.
In that corner, magic reigned and a ha’penny or other petty coin would buy a peek at whatever the future held. While a palm reading was best for some queries, the cards were Dulcinaya’s favorite.
Theatrics were the enchantment of the game. Each card was revealed slowly and teasingly. The turn of a card brought forth a look of grave concern, feigned shock, or perhaps surprised delight. The secret to dukkering was to answer each question with yet another question. Thus a heart’s desires would be laid bare. When a few more cards were shown, there would be a raised eyebrow, a knowing glance, or perhaps a conspiratorial wink and a sly smile. Whispering a vague prophecy somehow made it all seem true.
However, this Sabbath’s Eve had been a wretchedly slow night, and there was naught but three pence in her purse to show for it.
It was near closing time. A few farmers argued drunkenly as to what next year’s market would bring. Off in the other corner there were four strangers who drank and kept mostly to themselves. One could overhear the usual debate concerning the vagaries of gambling, the fickleness of women, or the merits of one horse over another. By the look of them, they were likely nothing more than sell-swords.
“Tis Sabbath Eve, gentlemen, and midnight is upon us - we must bid all a good night.” The serving wench made her usual announcement to no one in particular. The farmers downed the last of their grog and ale while gathering their cloaks. The four in the corner didn’t so much as lift their cups. The wench went over to their table. “There’s an inn less than a league north of here. I’m sure you gentlemen will find a night’s rest there.” They kept their seats and said nothing as the last of the farmers left the tavern. “Surely you'll not break the Sabbath? There’ll be hell to pay if the Vicar finds out that you were sitting here with an ale in your hand past midnight.”
“What about the gypsy?” One of the men queried.
“I let her stay because she helps me clean up. Now out with all of you! None of you look like the sort who will sweep floors.”
“Sit down and be silent, woman.”
“I’ve no patience for your nonsense. I’ve got work to do. Now get out!”
The man stood up and towered over the wench. “That wasn’t a suggestion.”
He turned to the other three and gave orders…"You guard the door - and keep the gypsy in her seat. Search the larder and kitchen - make sure no one else is here.”
The brute held the trembling woman's face before his.
"Leave this place, tell no one what you have seen, and do not return until sunrise. If you disobey, the gypsy..." He glanced in Dulcinaya's direction. "...will be found feeding the crows in a field somewhere. Do you understand?"
The wench gave a terrified nod and fled the tavern.
"Give the signal that it's safe to enter."
© 2010 Baron Bardulf
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Dukkering, Chapter One: Consciousness by Baron Bardulf
Consciousness, when it arrived, simply hurt.
Maybe the damned priest was right.....I am bound for Hell...
That the rhythm of pain kept pace with a heartbeat and thus gave evidence of life blessed her with an odd sort of comfort.
The gray peace of oblivion enfolded once again......
"HOW'S THE DRUNK?"
A blast of cold air invaded the lungs and dragged her once more amongst the living. Dulcinaya rose upon one elbow and faced the open door. Squinting through a single blood-shot eye, she discerned Elphin's silhouette.
She gave him a terse description of how his ancestor's unfortunate mating choices had cursed this land with his existence. He smirked, shook his head and slammed the door with malicious effort.
"God-damned gadjos - why do I keep taking in every stray dog?"
"Go easy on him. When you didn't come home on Sunday morn, Elphin went to fetch you. The rest of us thought nothing of it - after all, it wouldn't be the first time you and the serving wench got snockered after hours." Katherine spoke gently. "Elphin carried you all the way from the tavern by himself. He swears he didn't drop you on your head more than twice."
"Where am I?"
"You're in your own bed. You're safe - now shut up and lie down."
Katherine pressed a cold rag against Dulcy's forehead.
"By the way, Morwenna says you're not drunk and you don't have a hangover - you've been drugged."
"Mow....who?"
"Mor-Wen-Nah... remember her? She's another stray-dog gadjo you took in recently. That 'dog' has been with you ever since Elphin brought you in - she left only after I threatened to throw her out."
Dulcinaya took a deep breath and held her eyes shut.
"Whenever I can eat again, I'd like a large plate of crow."
"Save the humility. We all know you're not well."
"How did Morwenna know that I was drugged?"
Katherine remained silent and only raised an eyebrow - a prudent woman never revealed where such knowledge came from.
"Leave those things to the healers."
Dulcy rolled upright, sat on the edge of the bed and buried her face in her hands.
"Morwenna said to give this to you when you were strong enough. She said it would help clear your head."
Dulcy gave the potion a sniff and recoiled. That was followed by a tentative sip.
"Augggh! This stuff is awful!
"Drink it, it's good for you."
"Drink it? - I'd sooner kiss a pig's........."
"Aysha's sow just had a litter. I'll fetch one for you - got any preferences?"
When presented in that manner, the correct choice was obvious. Dulcinaya took a few deep breaths, steeled herself and downed the entire dose in a single gulp. Her eyes bulged as the cup shattered on the floor.
"Oh - My - Gawd." The words were forced out between croaking gasps.
"You were supposed to sip it, dammit."
"Yeah, thanks for telling me. I hope that was fun to watch."
Katherine placed a finger to her lips to compel silence and gave a quick glance about to make sure there were no others present.
"After Morwenna told me you had been drugged, I was pretty sure that you had been robbed." Katherine leaned close and spoke in a low voice. "As soon as she left, I looked to see if there was anything in your purse."
" - Bet it was kind of empty, eh? - At least I know the bastards didn't get much..."
"- Shut up and let me finish. When I emptied your purse onto the table there were three coppers.."
"- So what? That's just about all I ever have....."
"... and ten gold florins..."
Katherine waited until the shock began to fade from Dulcinaya's face.
"Close your mouth, you look like a fish."
"Y'know, sometimes your sense of humor really gets on my nerves....."
"I wasn't joking and you have some explaining to do. What happened at the tavern?"
"I'm having trouble remembering anything from last night. Hell, when I woke up, I didn't recognize my own vardo."
"It didn't happen last night. Today is Monday - you've been unconscious for a whole day."
Dulcinaya collapsed back onto the bed and wrapped the pillow around her head.
"Gimme some time, this may take a while to piece together."
Maybe the damned priest was right.....I am bound for Hell...
That the rhythm of pain kept pace with a heartbeat and thus gave evidence of life blessed her with an odd sort of comfort.
The gray peace of oblivion enfolded once again......
"HOW'S THE DRUNK?"
A blast of cold air invaded the lungs and dragged her once more amongst the living. Dulcinaya rose upon one elbow and faced the open door. Squinting through a single blood-shot eye, she discerned Elphin's silhouette.
She gave him a terse description of how his ancestor's unfortunate mating choices had cursed this land with his existence. He smirked, shook his head and slammed the door with malicious effort.
"God-damned gadjos - why do I keep taking in every stray dog?"
"Go easy on him. When you didn't come home on Sunday morn, Elphin went to fetch you. The rest of us thought nothing of it - after all, it wouldn't be the first time you and the serving wench got snockered after hours." Katherine spoke gently. "Elphin carried you all the way from the tavern by himself. He swears he didn't drop you on your head more than twice."
"Where am I?"
"You're in your own bed. You're safe - now shut up and lie down."
Katherine pressed a cold rag against Dulcy's forehead.
"By the way, Morwenna says you're not drunk and you don't have a hangover - you've been drugged."
"Mow....who?"
"Mor-Wen-Nah... remember her? She's another stray-dog gadjo you took in recently. That 'dog' has been with you ever since Elphin brought you in - she left only after I threatened to throw her out."
Dulcinaya took a deep breath and held her eyes shut.
"Whenever I can eat again, I'd like a large plate of crow."
"Save the humility. We all know you're not well."
"How did Morwenna know that I was drugged?"
Katherine remained silent and only raised an eyebrow - a prudent woman never revealed where such knowledge came from.
"Leave those things to the healers."
Dulcy rolled upright, sat on the edge of the bed and buried her face in her hands.
"Morwenna said to give this to you when you were strong enough. She said it would help clear your head."
Dulcy gave the potion a sniff and recoiled. That was followed by a tentative sip.
"Augggh! This stuff is awful!
"Drink it, it's good for you."
"Drink it? - I'd sooner kiss a pig's........."
"Aysha's sow just had a litter. I'll fetch one for you - got any preferences?"
When presented in that manner, the correct choice was obvious. Dulcinaya took a few deep breaths, steeled herself and downed the entire dose in a single gulp. Her eyes bulged as the cup shattered on the floor.
"Oh - My - Gawd." The words were forced out between croaking gasps.
"You were supposed to sip it, dammit."
"Yeah, thanks for telling me. I hope that was fun to watch."
Katherine placed a finger to her lips to compel silence and gave a quick glance about to make sure there were no others present.
"After Morwenna told me you had been drugged, I was pretty sure that you had been robbed." Katherine leaned close and spoke in a low voice. "As soon as she left, I looked to see if there was anything in your purse."
" - Bet it was kind of empty, eh? - At least I know the bastards didn't get much..."
"- Shut up and let me finish. When I emptied your purse onto the table there were three coppers.."
"- So what? That's just about all I ever have....."
"... and ten gold florins..."
Katherine waited until the shock began to fade from Dulcinaya's face.
"Close your mouth, you look like a fish."
"Y'know, sometimes your sense of humor really gets on my nerves....."
"I wasn't joking and you have some explaining to do. What happened at the tavern?"
"I'm having trouble remembering anything from last night. Hell, when I woke up, I didn't recognize my own vardo."
"It didn't happen last night. Today is Monday - you've been unconscious for a whole day."
Dulcinaya collapsed back onto the bed and wrapped the pillow around her head.
"Gimme some time, this may take a while to piece together."
© 2010 Baron Bardulf
Sunday, April 4, 2010
The Raptor's Tale, Part Three: by Cap'n Jack Black of Flint
After BlackJack’s meeting with Madame Sylvie, he walked through the compound to the stables. Once there, he prepared his horse for the long ride back to Calais. It didn’t take long for him to finish saddling the horse, and he was off. As he approached the gate, Madame Sylvie was there waiting for him. Standing on a small carriage boarding platform, she watched him approach. Watching her watch him, he realized that while somewhat diminutive, she was probably the single most powerful woman in France. She stood there, regally, in her long flowing gown, red shot through with gold, in the current fashion in the courts of England and France. The hat that protected her from the sun was tilted low over her brow, with the gold feathers sweeping back over the deep blood red wrappings around her hair. He pulled up his horse at the platform.
“My lady Sylvie,” he nodded. “I am honored that ye’ve chosen to see me off, but tis not necessary. I do know my way out.” He laughed, and turned back over his shoulder as he heard hooves clattering behind him. Two proud percheron stallions were pulling a carriage forward towards the platform. Sylvie turned and smiled sweetly, as he moved his horse to one side, so that the carriage could be pulled to the platform.
“Do not over flatter yourself, my dear Captain. I happen to have business in Calais myself, so shall accompany you on the afternoon’s journey to the city. After all, I have a ship load of cargo to get to my factors to be sold and profited from.” She smiled again. “You DO want a share of the profit, don’t you? If I can get the items sold before you put to sea, you may be able to use the funds on your current mission.” I also wish to acquire some sort of messaging system, possibly some pigeons, for you to keep me informed of your progress.”
“Unfortunately, Sylvie, pigeons are of no value once we cross the ocean, exceptin as food.” He chuckled as she made a face. “Ye’ve no issue with eatin birds here in yer home, but do with us doin the same at sea? I thought ye were better than that, lass. Ye’d be a bit surprised at what we usually eat whilst at sea.”
Sylvie boarded the carriage, and it rolled towards the gate before she spoke again. As BlackJack pulled his horse alongside her window so that they could speak as they traveled, she began again. “You know better than most the struggle to survive I have had, Jack. I shall speak frankly, and remind you that while I have worked my way to learning the ways of a Courtesan, and now run the largest and most popular house in France, I have lived in the streets.” She plucked at the white lace around her neck. “You know that when I was born, my fate was to be much worse than this. The fact that I have turned my adversity into a successful life, much as you have done yourself, shows the type of people we are. I know the nuns at your orphanage in London would never recognize you, just as any family of mine that may still be alive would not recognize me. Many things change every day, people live and die, and only those who are in control of their lives can be happy. It’s my personal belief that many of my ladies who serve in the Noble houses here in Calais, and even in Paris and Marseilles, are among the most intelligent, most skilled, and quickest thinking of many of the men who are in charge of those same houses. You know that is why my ladies go through all the training they do. They know how to read and write multiple civilized languages, they can cook, sew, know mathematics, and more. And that is not even counting the more “gentle” skills that each learn to keep their men happy. Do not even BEGIN to lecture me on what your life is like, because you will find no sympathy from me, Captain.” With that, she closed the blinds on her window, and did not speak again. BlackJack shrugged and rode ahead.
Four hours later, a tired and sore BlackJack finally saw the city walls of Calais in the distance. Turning around, he rode back the short distance to the carriage following him. Pulling along the carriage, he spoke as formally as he could. “Madame Sylvie, we are approaching Calais. If you have no further need of me, I shall be on my way to check on my ship. Most likely we shall sail on the morning tide. I shall send word as often as is possible as to our status.”
The curtain slid aside, and Sylvie peered out. “Very well, I shall endeavor to get whatever I can to you by the time you put to sea. I wish you luck in dealing with Sir Francis Drake, and hope that you are able to escape Queen Elizabeth’s noose.” As he turned his horse to depart, she called again. “BlackJack! I apologize for speaking in anger as I did earlier. These are dangerous times, and I would be unhappy if the last we spoke to each other in this world were words of anger. I bear you no ill will, and sincerely hope that we shall continue to be friends for many years to come.”
A grin split BlackJack’s beard as he replied, “No worries lass, I understand. You’re a woman, yer very nature is to be contrary as hells. Seriously, though, I accept your apology, and offer me own as well. As usual, my words came out afore me brain could think about what I was sayin. Nothin new there, I’m sure you know. This Drake thing has me a bit on edge, and am wantin to be to sea as quick as I can.” He then nodded to her, and spurred his horse to a gallop towards the city wall.
Shortly thereafter, he stopped at the inn where he first met Magnus the evening before. Handing the horse over to a stable boy along with a gold coin, he walked inside. He walked straight to the Innkeeper, and put two gold pieces on the bar. “I’m in need of a couple of things, lad. Gimme what I need, and these be yours. First, I need to know if any have been around askin questions about me.” When the innkeeper shook his head, still watching the coins, BlackJack shoved one towards him. Keeping his hand on the other, she spoke again. “Question number two. Have ye ever seen me, or know which way The Raptor be headin?” The man, numbly reaching for the coin, shook his head again as he spoke.
“I ain’t never heard of BlackJack Flint, or The Raptor, so can’t tell anyone who ye are or where ye went.” BlackJack laughed, handed over the coin, and walked out.
Shortly thereafter, he was climbing the gangplank to his ship, and started shouting as he came aboard. “Mr. Thomas! I need a report, now! All officers, in my cabin, immediately! Bosun, make preparations to set sail with the mornin tide! All hands, hop to, and MOVE!” Men immediately began scrambling about as he went below to his cabin, to begin to prepare his next move, and discuss the situation with his officers.
Once the officers were gathered, he poured himself a drink, and looked about the room. “Well lads, we’ve done it again. That ship we took on the way to Lisbon has turned out to cause us an issue. Well, it turns out that the fop that died when we took her was some relation to Elizabeth. Now word has reached me that Drake is hunting us, with orders to bring me to Elizabeth. Magnus wasn’t sure as of last night if that’s a dead or alive thing, or what. We’ll be settin sail in the mornin, and headed south. Me intent is to get around Good Hope as quick as we can, and lie low near Singapore for a bit. Maybe we can avoid him, or if we’re REALLY lucky, the sea will sink him at the Cape, and not us. Now, here’s where we see what’s what. Mr. Thomas, I need to know how our provisions are for the journey. I also need to know the condition of the ship, were ye able ta get divers over this mornin ta inspect? And finally, how many of the crew made it back to the ship this mornin?”
Mr. Thomas stood and began his report. “We’ve got enough provisions on board to last us about 3 weeks currently. With what we can get on board tonight, we should be able to extend that to a month. We have enough powder and shot for the cannons and small arms for several battles, if need be. Divers are over the side now, and should have a report on the hull shortly. As soon as I get it, I will let you know. Inspections on board are revealing no major leaks, the few small ones have been or are in the process of being repaired now. We have reports of two crewmen having gotten themselves arrested last night, and one was found floating in the harbor shortly afore you arrived. I think that about covers everything as you requested at this time.”
“Very good, Mr. Thomas,” BlackJack replied. Turning to the rest of the officers, he asked, “Do any of ye have anything further to add?” Looking around the room to negative responses, he turned back to Mr. Thomas. “Then ye have yer orders, lads, let’s get ready to heave to. Mr. Thomas, keep an eye out, Madame Sylvie said she’s goin ta attempt to get us our cut of the Pride’s cargo profits afore we leave in the mornin. She knows our first stop is going to be Lisbon, and Magnus will have information for us there, or one of his operatives will be there. Dismissed, gentlemen.” The men all got up and left BlackJack to his thoughts, as he sipped his whiskey and stared out the windows of his cabin.
© 2010 Jack Black of Flint
“My lady Sylvie,” he nodded. “I am honored that ye’ve chosen to see me off, but tis not necessary. I do know my way out.” He laughed, and turned back over his shoulder as he heard hooves clattering behind him. Two proud percheron stallions were pulling a carriage forward towards the platform. Sylvie turned and smiled sweetly, as he moved his horse to one side, so that the carriage could be pulled to the platform.
“Do not over flatter yourself, my dear Captain. I happen to have business in Calais myself, so shall accompany you on the afternoon’s journey to the city. After all, I have a ship load of cargo to get to my factors to be sold and profited from.” She smiled again. “You DO want a share of the profit, don’t you? If I can get the items sold before you put to sea, you may be able to use the funds on your current mission.” I also wish to acquire some sort of messaging system, possibly some pigeons, for you to keep me informed of your progress.”
“Unfortunately, Sylvie, pigeons are of no value once we cross the ocean, exceptin as food.” He chuckled as she made a face. “Ye’ve no issue with eatin birds here in yer home, but do with us doin the same at sea? I thought ye were better than that, lass. Ye’d be a bit surprised at what we usually eat whilst at sea.”
Sylvie boarded the carriage, and it rolled towards the gate before she spoke again. As BlackJack pulled his horse alongside her window so that they could speak as they traveled, she began again. “You know better than most the struggle to survive I have had, Jack. I shall speak frankly, and remind you that while I have worked my way to learning the ways of a Courtesan, and now run the largest and most popular house in France, I have lived in the streets.” She plucked at the white lace around her neck. “You know that when I was born, my fate was to be much worse than this. The fact that I have turned my adversity into a successful life, much as you have done yourself, shows the type of people we are. I know the nuns at your orphanage in London would never recognize you, just as any family of mine that may still be alive would not recognize me. Many things change every day, people live and die, and only those who are in control of their lives can be happy. It’s my personal belief that many of my ladies who serve in the Noble houses here in Calais, and even in Paris and Marseilles, are among the most intelligent, most skilled, and quickest thinking of many of the men who are in charge of those same houses. You know that is why my ladies go through all the training they do. They know how to read and write multiple civilized languages, they can cook, sew, know mathematics, and more. And that is not even counting the more “gentle” skills that each learn to keep their men happy. Do not even BEGIN to lecture me on what your life is like, because you will find no sympathy from me, Captain.” With that, she closed the blinds on her window, and did not speak again. BlackJack shrugged and rode ahead.
Four hours later, a tired and sore BlackJack finally saw the city walls of Calais in the distance. Turning around, he rode back the short distance to the carriage following him. Pulling along the carriage, he spoke as formally as he could. “Madame Sylvie, we are approaching Calais. If you have no further need of me, I shall be on my way to check on my ship. Most likely we shall sail on the morning tide. I shall send word as often as is possible as to our status.”
The curtain slid aside, and Sylvie peered out. “Very well, I shall endeavor to get whatever I can to you by the time you put to sea. I wish you luck in dealing with Sir Francis Drake, and hope that you are able to escape Queen Elizabeth’s noose.” As he turned his horse to depart, she called again. “BlackJack! I apologize for speaking in anger as I did earlier. These are dangerous times, and I would be unhappy if the last we spoke to each other in this world were words of anger. I bear you no ill will, and sincerely hope that we shall continue to be friends for many years to come.”
A grin split BlackJack’s beard as he replied, “No worries lass, I understand. You’re a woman, yer very nature is to be contrary as hells. Seriously, though, I accept your apology, and offer me own as well. As usual, my words came out afore me brain could think about what I was sayin. Nothin new there, I’m sure you know. This Drake thing has me a bit on edge, and am wantin to be to sea as quick as I can.” He then nodded to her, and spurred his horse to a gallop towards the city wall.
Shortly thereafter, he stopped at the inn where he first met Magnus the evening before. Handing the horse over to a stable boy along with a gold coin, he walked inside. He walked straight to the Innkeeper, and put two gold pieces on the bar. “I’m in need of a couple of things, lad. Gimme what I need, and these be yours. First, I need to know if any have been around askin questions about me.” When the innkeeper shook his head, still watching the coins, BlackJack shoved one towards him. Keeping his hand on the other, she spoke again. “Question number two. Have ye ever seen me, or know which way The Raptor be headin?” The man, numbly reaching for the coin, shook his head again as he spoke.
“I ain’t never heard of BlackJack Flint, or The Raptor, so can’t tell anyone who ye are or where ye went.” BlackJack laughed, handed over the coin, and walked out.
Shortly thereafter, he was climbing the gangplank to his ship, and started shouting as he came aboard. “Mr. Thomas! I need a report, now! All officers, in my cabin, immediately! Bosun, make preparations to set sail with the mornin tide! All hands, hop to, and MOVE!” Men immediately began scrambling about as he went below to his cabin, to begin to prepare his next move, and discuss the situation with his officers.
Once the officers were gathered, he poured himself a drink, and looked about the room. “Well lads, we’ve done it again. That ship we took on the way to Lisbon has turned out to cause us an issue. Well, it turns out that the fop that died when we took her was some relation to Elizabeth. Now word has reached me that Drake is hunting us, with orders to bring me to Elizabeth. Magnus wasn’t sure as of last night if that’s a dead or alive thing, or what. We’ll be settin sail in the mornin, and headed south. Me intent is to get around Good Hope as quick as we can, and lie low near Singapore for a bit. Maybe we can avoid him, or if we’re REALLY lucky, the sea will sink him at the Cape, and not us. Now, here’s where we see what’s what. Mr. Thomas, I need to know how our provisions are for the journey. I also need to know the condition of the ship, were ye able ta get divers over this mornin ta inspect? And finally, how many of the crew made it back to the ship this mornin?”
Mr. Thomas stood and began his report. “We’ve got enough provisions on board to last us about 3 weeks currently. With what we can get on board tonight, we should be able to extend that to a month. We have enough powder and shot for the cannons and small arms for several battles, if need be. Divers are over the side now, and should have a report on the hull shortly. As soon as I get it, I will let you know. Inspections on board are revealing no major leaks, the few small ones have been or are in the process of being repaired now. We have reports of two crewmen having gotten themselves arrested last night, and one was found floating in the harbor shortly afore you arrived. I think that about covers everything as you requested at this time.”
“Very good, Mr. Thomas,” BlackJack replied. Turning to the rest of the officers, he asked, “Do any of ye have anything further to add?” Looking around the room to negative responses, he turned back to Mr. Thomas. “Then ye have yer orders, lads, let’s get ready to heave to. Mr. Thomas, keep an eye out, Madame Sylvie said she’s goin ta attempt to get us our cut of the Pride’s cargo profits afore we leave in the mornin. She knows our first stop is going to be Lisbon, and Magnus will have information for us there, or one of his operatives will be there. Dismissed, gentlemen.” The men all got up and left BlackJack to his thoughts, as he sipped his whiskey and stared out the windows of his cabin.
© 2010 Jack Black of Flint
The Raptor's Tale, Part Two: by Cap'n Jack Black of Flint
The sun was just beginning to set as The Raptor’s crew secured the harbor pilot’s skiff to the side. Cap’n “Black” Jack Flint, Lord and Master of the ship, extended a hand to the short, heavy set man climbing the ladder up to the deck.
“Here ye be, lad, lemme give ye a hand,” Flint spoke quietly as he pulled the man on deck. “Welcome aboard me ship, lad, now, tell me who ye are?”
In a snooty tone, the man looked at Flint and spoke. “I am Sebastien Philippe de La Havre, Harbor Master for His Royal Majesty, King Henry IV, and I demand to know who YOU are, coming into my harbor on the evening tide. Protocol dictates that you shall wait the night outside the port, and have your ship brought in on the morning tide.”
Flint grinned and replied, “Ye obviously were’na listenin, lad, since I told ye who I was. But since ye seem ta be a bit thick headed, I’ll say it again. I be Captain BlackJack Flint, this is me ship. I’m in Calais on business, and I’ll be thankin ye ta get me ship ta the docks, so that I can get ABOUT me business. The ladies waitin fer me don’ like ta be kept waitin.”
De La Havre looked at Flint and asked, “Just who would you have business with at this hour of the night? There are NO good businesses open after sundown, so you MUST be up to trouble!”
“If’n ye REALLY wanna know, me business be with the Maison de la Rouge. I’m fairly certain ye’ve heard of them, and I KNOW King Henry has. So, if’n ye please, get yer pudgy arse up to the wheel, and tell me helmsman where I can put me damned ship, afore I get angry, cut yer damned throat, and toss ye overboard now!”, Flint growled in a low, menacing tone. The man yelped, and ran to the wheel, to aid Mr. Bradley in docking the ship. Flint chuckled softly and winked at his first mate, Mr. Thomas, over the harbor master’s head. “Amazin just what kind of power Madame Sylvie’s name has, isn’t it, lads?”
Two hours later, with the ship safely secured to the pier, Flint was giving orders to Mr. Thomas. “All right lad, I’m taking a small chest with a sampling of the jewels and cloth to Madame Sylvie. Keep the rest secure and dry, and I am willin ta bet that she’ll have a cart here tomorrow sometime to get the rest. Keep the mid and day watches aboard, liberty for the rest. Standard port rules apply, no booze or women aboard, and start checkin fer damage to both the ship and provisions in the morn.” Thomas saluted, and Flint walked down the gangplank, chest under his left arm.
Walking down the pier, Flint noticed a shadow in a doorway. He casually dropped a throwing blade from a hidden sheath into his palm. As he got within range to throw, the shadow spoke. “Stay yer blade, brother. It’s me, Magnus.” The shadow stepped forward, and it was as if the shadows themselves took form.
Magnus Pale, as he was known, was a wiry man, known for his expertise at gathering information, as well as more “artistic” talents. “Madame Sylvie sent me to watch fer ya. There’s strange things afoot, brother, I suggest we away quickly. I’ve already sent a coded message to yer Mr. Thomas advising him to prepare to put to sea as quickly as possible. I’ve horses this way.” Pale moved quickly towards a small alcove between two buildings, leading out two saddled horses. Flint began to secure the chest behind his saddle as he spoke.
“A’right Magnus, what the bloody hell is goin on? I’ve not even been in port two hours, and a’ready I’m in trouble? Even I am not THAT good.” And then a thought struck him. “The Elizabeth’s Pride. Bloody hell, that damned clumsy captain was related to someone important, wasn’t she????” The two men began to ride towards the south gate before Magnus spoke again.
“Ye know, BlackJack, all the years I’ve known ye, I’ve never known ye to make a move that stupid. Ye took out a ship belonging to the Queen of England, and killed one of her royal cousins.” Magnus raised a hand to cut off complaint, and continued. “That man was apparently one of Elizabeth’s favorite cousins, whom she thought highly of. Now the word is that her pet Privateer, Sir Francis Drake is after ye. I’ve orders ta get ye to the Maison de la Rouge, and let ye discuss things with Sylvie. Now let’s get out of here, while the gold I paid the guards at the gate to let us by is still worth somethin!”
With that, both men put their heels to horse, and galloped through the dark streets of Calais, into the night.
After about two hours of hard riding to the south and east, the men slowed the horses to a walk. Flint thought a few moments, then addressed Magnus again. “Tell me, brother, what news of the House? Business is well, I hope? I’m not goin ta get attacked by Sylvie’s brutes when I walk in there, am I?”
Magnus laughed heartily. “And what if they do, my brother? You know as well as I do that every single one of them was trained by the two of us sittin here, and I know full well ye didna show them ALL yer tricks, just as I held back as well. We’ve been livin this life far too long to expect anyone to not try to stab us in the back. And now, I’ve other duties, ye know the way from here, I wager?”
“Aye, lad. Straight on til mornin. Even I can’t get lost here… I’ve made this journey too many times. I’ll see ye after?”
“Aye, BlackJack. After. No worries about the cart, the arrangements have been made, the rest of the goods for the house should be offloaded and on their way by dawn. Tell Sylvie that she should expect the rest of the goods in two days. Try to stay outta trouble, a’right?” Magnus turned his horse, waved, and rode off into the darkness. Flint continued on his way to his final stop for the evening.
The sunrise found a tired dirty man approaching a large mansion, set in the middle of nowhere, on a lane lined with shade trees. As he saw the mansion grow in his vision, he pulled himself up straighter in the saddle, attempting to look more awake than he felt.. As he got within range, Flint could make out the bowmen on the roof, as well as the slack way that the men at the gate were only half watching him. Chuckling softly, Flint dropped his throwing knife from it’s hidden sheath yet again, knowing he was going to get to use it this time.
As he got into throwing range, one guard finally took notice of him, too late. The guard never even saw Flint move, and found his right shoulder pinned to the wooden door he was leaning against. The second guard quickly found himself in a similar predicament, as he was also pinned. Flint then quickly jumped from the saddle, drawing a pistol in his left hand, and cutlass in his right.
“Now, lads, I know ye were taught better than that. Why in the hells are ye sittin here letting yerself be taken so easily? This isn’t what Madame Sylvie pays ye for, is it? Or are ye getting lazy with the knowledge that yer Mistress be getting so powerful that most think it folly ta attack her?” Both men looked at each other, and didn’t answer. Flint laughed, and continued. “Do ye not even recognize the man who trained ye both? I realize it’s been nigh on a year since I’ve been gone, but do ye both have rocks in yer skulls?”
At the last statement, the doors began to open, dragging the stuck guards with it. Flint laughed at the two tripping over their feet as they were dragged into the grounds. As the doors came fully open, Flint found himself face to face with Madame Sylvie’s Housecarl.
“Captain, I see you have made it here safely, including your usual theatrics. Madame Sylvie is waiting for you in the main lounge. Breakfast will be there shortly as well. However, looking at and smelling you, I think a bath and clean clothes would be in order first. I shall tell Madame Sylvie that you are delayed.” The Housecarl clapped his hands, and servants came forward. Two stable boys quickly took the horse towards the stables, while a third handed the chest from behind the saddle to Flint. “I shall take that to Madame Sylvie, so that she may inspect the contents whilst you are in your bath, Captain.” Flint, knowing he would not win this battle, chose silence, handing over the chest, and allowing two more servants to lead him to the bathing area.
Two hours later, Flint found himself freshly scrubbed, shaved, and in clean clothes. He walked into Madame Sylvie’s main lounge, feeling quite relaxed. As he approached, he saw Sylvie sitting at the large round table, the chest he carried in front of her.
“Madame Sylvie,” Flint spoke, as he knelt, kissing her hand. “It does my heart good to see you well. I trust ye’ve had few problems in my absence? Magnus was as norm, maddeningly short on details.” He then took a seat next to her, which seemed to be the cue for servants to bring out platters of steaming eggs, sausage, croissants, and tea. Flint fell to with a will, piling food on the plate in front of him, while he waited for Sylvie to speak.
“It has been some time since you last graced our halls, Captain, and it is quite apparent that your manners have not improved with time. I know when last you were with us, we had finally gotten you to start using utensils properly. It would appear that your time at sea with your men has caused a reversion of your old habits. However, if the rest of your cargo meets the quality of the sample you have brought with you, we shall once again, be able to do business. Magnus gave me assurances that the rest of the delivery should be here by tomorrow latest, having arranged for the porters to remove it from your ship and onto the wagons during the night. Now, when you are done eating, we can discuss the more important issues that face you now. Of that business, one would have to consider Sir Francis Drake to be of your highest priority. Unfortunately, due to your current situation, you will be unable to see the others, as you will be leaving as soon as we are concluded here. I have already arranged with my merchants at the pier to give Mr. Thomas whatever he needs to get your ship ready for a month at sea, and for the bill to come to me. With the materials coming, it will be some time before I will be able to pay you your share, so I shall take payment for the stores out of that money. I hope you understand and can agree with this arrangement?”
Pouring them both a cup of tea, Flint leaned back in his chair. “Well, Madame, it would appear that ye’ve the advantage in our dealings this day. Whilst I agree with ye, that I must need put to sea quickly, I will trust that our previous business arrangements will set the tone of our futures, and that you will deal fairly. We’ve known each other too long, since before you started this household, and know too much about each other to hurt each other. Even Magnus doesn’t know the full extent of what we have done for each other in the past. Some secrets of yours I will take to the grave, as I gave my oath. That said, you are right, I must put out to sea quickly, but I need information first. I’m told that the “Elizabeth’s Pride” captain was a favored cousin of Queen Elizabeth herself, and that she has sent her fop after me.” Sylvie nodded, and he continued. “What I need now, is to know his last known position, and any and all information concerning how he is currently traveling. Single ship, fleet, how many guns and crew he has. I need to determine what is going to be better, to attempt to hide, or take the battle to him.”
Sylvie took her cup of tea, and nodded. “I will attempt to get the information you need. You are right, Drake is a fop, but he is one of the most dangerous fops on the seas, from all accounts. His victories seven years ago against the Spanish will live forever.”
Flint thought for a few moments, and made his decision. “Okay, if you can get the information about Drakes fleet, I would appreciate it. Use Magnus’ network, and have it waitin for me when I get to Lisbon. I don’t really want ta be sailin along the English coast right now, but if I can get enough of a lead, that will help. Also, let word get to Drake that I am runnin fer the Cape of Good Hope. Just give me three days head start a’fore ye leak that information, if’n ye please. I think if the ship’s ready ta sail when I get there, we can put out immediately. It’ll take the better part of a week to get to Lisbon this time of year, but if we can get enough of a lead on Drake, we might be able to take him, and rid the world of him.”
Sylvie looked at Flint, and sighed. “If you think that this is your best course of action, then I shall wish you luck. I think that mayhaps you are overreacting, but I have yet to get all of the information back on how close Elizabeth was to this cousin you killed. I shall pass your regrets to the others who wished to see you, as I do agree, you needs be off immediately. Magnus or one of his most trusted will be in Lisbon awaiting your arrival, and will have the most current and accurate information I can get for you. Please do travel safely, and come back in one piece. You have been part of our enterprise here from the beginning, and I would take it as a personal insult if someone were to remove you from my employ. Take care, my captain, and know that all within the Masion de la Rouge wish you and your crew a safe journey.”
Flint stood, bowed, and began to walk away. Stopping at the door, he turned and grinned. “No worries, lass. If I’m destined to die at the hands of some fop, I’d have been killed years ago. I’ll take care of Drake, and come back with some silks and spices for you in the bargain!” He then spun on his heel and walked off.
© 2010 Jack Black of Flint
“Here ye be, lad, lemme give ye a hand,” Flint spoke quietly as he pulled the man on deck. “Welcome aboard me ship, lad, now, tell me who ye are?”
In a snooty tone, the man looked at Flint and spoke. “I am Sebastien Philippe de La Havre, Harbor Master for His Royal Majesty, King Henry IV, and I demand to know who YOU are, coming into my harbor on the evening tide. Protocol dictates that you shall wait the night outside the port, and have your ship brought in on the morning tide.”
Flint grinned and replied, “Ye obviously were’na listenin, lad, since I told ye who I was. But since ye seem ta be a bit thick headed, I’ll say it again. I be Captain BlackJack Flint, this is me ship. I’m in Calais on business, and I’ll be thankin ye ta get me ship ta the docks, so that I can get ABOUT me business. The ladies waitin fer me don’ like ta be kept waitin.”
De La Havre looked at Flint and asked, “Just who would you have business with at this hour of the night? There are NO good businesses open after sundown, so you MUST be up to trouble!”
“If’n ye REALLY wanna know, me business be with the Maison de la Rouge. I’m fairly certain ye’ve heard of them, and I KNOW King Henry has. So, if’n ye please, get yer pudgy arse up to the wheel, and tell me helmsman where I can put me damned ship, afore I get angry, cut yer damned throat, and toss ye overboard now!”, Flint growled in a low, menacing tone. The man yelped, and ran to the wheel, to aid Mr. Bradley in docking the ship. Flint chuckled softly and winked at his first mate, Mr. Thomas, over the harbor master’s head. “Amazin just what kind of power Madame Sylvie’s name has, isn’t it, lads?”
Two hours later, with the ship safely secured to the pier, Flint was giving orders to Mr. Thomas. “All right lad, I’m taking a small chest with a sampling of the jewels and cloth to Madame Sylvie. Keep the rest secure and dry, and I am willin ta bet that she’ll have a cart here tomorrow sometime to get the rest. Keep the mid and day watches aboard, liberty for the rest. Standard port rules apply, no booze or women aboard, and start checkin fer damage to both the ship and provisions in the morn.” Thomas saluted, and Flint walked down the gangplank, chest under his left arm.
Walking down the pier, Flint noticed a shadow in a doorway. He casually dropped a throwing blade from a hidden sheath into his palm. As he got within range to throw, the shadow spoke. “Stay yer blade, brother. It’s me, Magnus.” The shadow stepped forward, and it was as if the shadows themselves took form.
Magnus Pale, as he was known, was a wiry man, known for his expertise at gathering information, as well as more “artistic” talents. “Madame Sylvie sent me to watch fer ya. There’s strange things afoot, brother, I suggest we away quickly. I’ve already sent a coded message to yer Mr. Thomas advising him to prepare to put to sea as quickly as possible. I’ve horses this way.” Pale moved quickly towards a small alcove between two buildings, leading out two saddled horses. Flint began to secure the chest behind his saddle as he spoke.
“A’right Magnus, what the bloody hell is goin on? I’ve not even been in port two hours, and a’ready I’m in trouble? Even I am not THAT good.” And then a thought struck him. “The Elizabeth’s Pride. Bloody hell, that damned clumsy captain was related to someone important, wasn’t she????” The two men began to ride towards the south gate before Magnus spoke again.
“Ye know, BlackJack, all the years I’ve known ye, I’ve never known ye to make a move that stupid. Ye took out a ship belonging to the Queen of England, and killed one of her royal cousins.” Magnus raised a hand to cut off complaint, and continued. “That man was apparently one of Elizabeth’s favorite cousins, whom she thought highly of. Now the word is that her pet Privateer, Sir Francis Drake is after ye. I’ve orders ta get ye to the Maison de la Rouge, and let ye discuss things with Sylvie. Now let’s get out of here, while the gold I paid the guards at the gate to let us by is still worth somethin!”
With that, both men put their heels to horse, and galloped through the dark streets of Calais, into the night.
After about two hours of hard riding to the south and east, the men slowed the horses to a walk. Flint thought a few moments, then addressed Magnus again. “Tell me, brother, what news of the House? Business is well, I hope? I’m not goin ta get attacked by Sylvie’s brutes when I walk in there, am I?”
Magnus laughed heartily. “And what if they do, my brother? You know as well as I do that every single one of them was trained by the two of us sittin here, and I know full well ye didna show them ALL yer tricks, just as I held back as well. We’ve been livin this life far too long to expect anyone to not try to stab us in the back. And now, I’ve other duties, ye know the way from here, I wager?”
“Aye, lad. Straight on til mornin. Even I can’t get lost here… I’ve made this journey too many times. I’ll see ye after?”
“Aye, BlackJack. After. No worries about the cart, the arrangements have been made, the rest of the goods for the house should be offloaded and on their way by dawn. Tell Sylvie that she should expect the rest of the goods in two days. Try to stay outta trouble, a’right?” Magnus turned his horse, waved, and rode off into the darkness. Flint continued on his way to his final stop for the evening.
The sunrise found a tired dirty man approaching a large mansion, set in the middle of nowhere, on a lane lined with shade trees. As he saw the mansion grow in his vision, he pulled himself up straighter in the saddle, attempting to look more awake than he felt.. As he got within range, Flint could make out the bowmen on the roof, as well as the slack way that the men at the gate were only half watching him. Chuckling softly, Flint dropped his throwing knife from it’s hidden sheath yet again, knowing he was going to get to use it this time.
As he got into throwing range, one guard finally took notice of him, too late. The guard never even saw Flint move, and found his right shoulder pinned to the wooden door he was leaning against. The second guard quickly found himself in a similar predicament, as he was also pinned. Flint then quickly jumped from the saddle, drawing a pistol in his left hand, and cutlass in his right.
“Now, lads, I know ye were taught better than that. Why in the hells are ye sittin here letting yerself be taken so easily? This isn’t what Madame Sylvie pays ye for, is it? Or are ye getting lazy with the knowledge that yer Mistress be getting so powerful that most think it folly ta attack her?” Both men looked at each other, and didn’t answer. Flint laughed, and continued. “Do ye not even recognize the man who trained ye both? I realize it’s been nigh on a year since I’ve been gone, but do ye both have rocks in yer skulls?”
At the last statement, the doors began to open, dragging the stuck guards with it. Flint laughed at the two tripping over their feet as they were dragged into the grounds. As the doors came fully open, Flint found himself face to face with Madame Sylvie’s Housecarl.
“Captain, I see you have made it here safely, including your usual theatrics. Madame Sylvie is waiting for you in the main lounge. Breakfast will be there shortly as well. However, looking at and smelling you, I think a bath and clean clothes would be in order first. I shall tell Madame Sylvie that you are delayed.” The Housecarl clapped his hands, and servants came forward. Two stable boys quickly took the horse towards the stables, while a third handed the chest from behind the saddle to Flint. “I shall take that to Madame Sylvie, so that she may inspect the contents whilst you are in your bath, Captain.” Flint, knowing he would not win this battle, chose silence, handing over the chest, and allowing two more servants to lead him to the bathing area.
Two hours later, Flint found himself freshly scrubbed, shaved, and in clean clothes. He walked into Madame Sylvie’s main lounge, feeling quite relaxed. As he approached, he saw Sylvie sitting at the large round table, the chest he carried in front of her.
“Madame Sylvie,” Flint spoke, as he knelt, kissing her hand. “It does my heart good to see you well. I trust ye’ve had few problems in my absence? Magnus was as norm, maddeningly short on details.” He then took a seat next to her, which seemed to be the cue for servants to bring out platters of steaming eggs, sausage, croissants, and tea. Flint fell to with a will, piling food on the plate in front of him, while he waited for Sylvie to speak.
“It has been some time since you last graced our halls, Captain, and it is quite apparent that your manners have not improved with time. I know when last you were with us, we had finally gotten you to start using utensils properly. It would appear that your time at sea with your men has caused a reversion of your old habits. However, if the rest of your cargo meets the quality of the sample you have brought with you, we shall once again, be able to do business. Magnus gave me assurances that the rest of the delivery should be here by tomorrow latest, having arranged for the porters to remove it from your ship and onto the wagons during the night. Now, when you are done eating, we can discuss the more important issues that face you now. Of that business, one would have to consider Sir Francis Drake to be of your highest priority. Unfortunately, due to your current situation, you will be unable to see the others, as you will be leaving as soon as we are concluded here. I have already arranged with my merchants at the pier to give Mr. Thomas whatever he needs to get your ship ready for a month at sea, and for the bill to come to me. With the materials coming, it will be some time before I will be able to pay you your share, so I shall take payment for the stores out of that money. I hope you understand and can agree with this arrangement?”
Pouring them both a cup of tea, Flint leaned back in his chair. “Well, Madame, it would appear that ye’ve the advantage in our dealings this day. Whilst I agree with ye, that I must need put to sea quickly, I will trust that our previous business arrangements will set the tone of our futures, and that you will deal fairly. We’ve known each other too long, since before you started this household, and know too much about each other to hurt each other. Even Magnus doesn’t know the full extent of what we have done for each other in the past. Some secrets of yours I will take to the grave, as I gave my oath. That said, you are right, I must put out to sea quickly, but I need information first. I’m told that the “Elizabeth’s Pride” captain was a favored cousin of Queen Elizabeth herself, and that she has sent her fop after me.” Sylvie nodded, and he continued. “What I need now, is to know his last known position, and any and all information concerning how he is currently traveling. Single ship, fleet, how many guns and crew he has. I need to determine what is going to be better, to attempt to hide, or take the battle to him.”
Sylvie took her cup of tea, and nodded. “I will attempt to get the information you need. You are right, Drake is a fop, but he is one of the most dangerous fops on the seas, from all accounts. His victories seven years ago against the Spanish will live forever.”
Flint thought for a few moments, and made his decision. “Okay, if you can get the information about Drakes fleet, I would appreciate it. Use Magnus’ network, and have it waitin for me when I get to Lisbon. I don’t really want ta be sailin along the English coast right now, but if I can get enough of a lead, that will help. Also, let word get to Drake that I am runnin fer the Cape of Good Hope. Just give me three days head start a’fore ye leak that information, if’n ye please. I think if the ship’s ready ta sail when I get there, we can put out immediately. It’ll take the better part of a week to get to Lisbon this time of year, but if we can get enough of a lead on Drake, we might be able to take him, and rid the world of him.”
Sylvie looked at Flint, and sighed. “If you think that this is your best course of action, then I shall wish you luck. I think that mayhaps you are overreacting, but I have yet to get all of the information back on how close Elizabeth was to this cousin you killed. I shall pass your regrets to the others who wished to see you, as I do agree, you needs be off immediately. Magnus or one of his most trusted will be in Lisbon awaiting your arrival, and will have the most current and accurate information I can get for you. Please do travel safely, and come back in one piece. You have been part of our enterprise here from the beginning, and I would take it as a personal insult if someone were to remove you from my employ. Take care, my captain, and know that all within the Masion de la Rouge wish you and your crew a safe journey.”
Flint stood, bowed, and began to walk away. Stopping at the door, he turned and grinned. “No worries, lass. If I’m destined to die at the hands of some fop, I’d have been killed years ago. I’ll take care of Drake, and come back with some silks and spices for you in the bargain!” He then spun on his heel and walked off.
© 2010 Jack Black of Flint
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
The New Baron Was No Fool: by Vincent
The new Baron was no fool.
Had he only been told the toys were created by some of the talented artisans of Painted Wheel, and left at that, he would have been satisfied enough to believe it. It was the last bit, almost muttered, that gave him pause. “and Vincent”.
So there I was, called before Court, to defend myself from yet one more accusation of questionable acquisition practices. I asked to plea to the populace, my tongue being far too crude to taint the ears of the most noble wealthinesses before me.
“Who?” I stalled.
“Who among you would leave your cherished possessions unguarded for me to claim? Not one of you? Who would abandon their valuables with none but the most minimal of servants to lay watch upon?
Surely, finding this trove of toys in the hands of a mere child, toys I too was charged with providing for this Barony, mind you, was I to think it was not my right, nay my duty, to bring them forth where they could be properly protected and distributed to those more deserving, more cherishing, the good people here before me?”
I was on a rambling roll.
“And this most pathetic of guards, with their tiny little fingers clinging tightly, was no match for my superior strength, let me tell you.
‘Please m’ Lord’ they whimpered, ‘do not take away my toys’.
I pulled harder against their pleas, feeling their hands beginning to tremble under the strain. Unhand them said I.
‘These are the only things I have in all the world.’ they further cried.
Their grip was failing as we struggled on. Give them to me, demanded I.
And then…
And then,
They gave them to me. Yes. It was a gift. Given freely, as I have now given to all of you. A gift!”
“With only hope of but the most meager of tokens of appreciation” I muttered.
The new Baron was no fool.
© 2010 Vincent
Thursday, March 4, 2010
The Raptor, Part One: by Cap'n Jack Black of Flint
I've been wanting to get some persona stories from non Painted Wheel members as well as from members...after all, these are the people who populate our world, and all of them have great stories. BlackJack has taken me up on it. Thank you, Cap'n!
--Dulcy
The sun rises over the horizon in the distance. The Captain turns to the Mate at the bell, and says quietly, "Put the mid watch tae bed, and wake the day watch, Mr. Miller."
"Aye, Cap'n!" The Bosun brought a whistle to his lips, and began to sound the call. The Bosun's mates took up the whistle, calling down into the berthings for the day watch to come up.
"Mr. Miller, check with Cookie, and see if'n he can't safely light the galley fires, and get some hot food into these men. I'll be in me cabin if ye need me."
"Aye, Cap'n, will do so straight away. Do ye be havin a course in mind fer today?"
"Yes, make for Calais. I've a meeting with Madame Sylvie and the others coming up, and I would be remiss if I was to arrive late. However, if we stumble across a ship in need of salvage on the way, sing out!" With that, the Captain's wide grin split his close trimmed beard, and he went below.
"Black"Jack Flint, currently Captain of the Pirate Ship Raptor, went to his cabin, and sat at his desk, missing the chair as it slid out from underneath him. He had been captain of the ship for just under six months, and was still getting a feel for how she moved. "Blast!" Flint muttered to himself as he picked himself back up. Standing, he felt the ship turning hard to port. "What the devil is going on here?" he asked himself as he went to the door. At that moment, the cabin boy came in, and informed that there was a Merchant ship 2 points off the port bow, about a league off, and that Mr. Miller had given chase. "Very well, lad, inform the gun crews tae make ready, and tell Mr. Miller I will be up shortly." "Aye aye, Cap'n!" The dirty lad scampered off.
Flint arrived on the quarterdeck shortly thereafter, dressed in his traditional garb. Black tunic, knee breeches, and what his officers called "that ridiculous sash and head wrap", both of which were a bright vibrant purple. "Report, Mr. Miller!"
"Cap'n, we've a merchantman sitting low in the water, and I don't believe she's spotted us yet. We've got a good breeze pushing us towards her, and we're gaining fast. We should be able to take her fairly easily."
Flint grabbed a spyglass from the rack on the rail, and took a look. "Ye've been spotted now, Mr. Miller. She's flying every inch of sail she has, and ye're losing your lead. Mr. Bradley," Flint called to the pilot at the helm, "If you please, two points more to port, see if we can't regain some of that lead. We'll tack up a bit, and then see if we can't come back across, and rake her stern. Get the starboard gun crews loaded and ready to fire." Flint looked at the mast of the pursued ship. "Mr. Miller, can you make what colors she's flying?"
Miller looked again, and replied, "Looks like she's flying the Union Jack, sir."
"All right, then, fly the same, and see if we can't get them to slow down. Prepare our colors as well, to run up AFTER the first shots are fired. Don't run out the guns until I give the order."
Time crawled by as they gained on the ship. The tacking to port had helped to regain some lost ground, as well as having put up an extra sheet on the topsail. The Raptor was now in a fast pursuit, flying every inch of sail she could put on. "Mr. Miller, I believe you may now call full battle stations, and have the boarders begin their preparations. Mr. Golden!! Make ready to have the Port chasers send a warning shot across her as soon as you see our colors run up! Gun crews, as soon as Mr. Golden fires his warning shot, I want the starboard crews to run out! Port crews, stand by to assist reloading and aiming!"
Flint pulled the glass out again, and was judging the distance to the enemy ship. "What say you, Mr. Miller, I would put us at just over five hundred yards, yes?"
Miller took the glass, and made his own estimate. "Six hundred at the most, Cap'n. We should close to within five hundred in a moment."
Both men watched the ship grow larger as the distance closed. Then Flint called out, "Strike that Jack, and fly our true colors!!!! Mr. Golden, FIRE!!!!! Gun crews, run out and take aim! Go for the Rudder, if you can!!! We are still coming up on her stern. Reload as quickly as you can, with chain and make your second shots for her sheets!"
The Port chasers fired, as Captain Flint's personal colors went up, replacing the Union Jack that was on the mast. The enemy tried to heel over to break away, which was exactly what Flint was counting on. "GUN CREWS FIRE!!!" The sound of cannon fire could easily be heard over the pounding of the surf. Flint and Miller watched the enemy, to see what affect the Raptor's gun crews had, if any. Miller called out, "Her rudder's busted, Cap'n, it worked!!"
Flint shouted, "Boarders on deck! Helm, make ready to come alongside on her port. Mr. Golden, well done! Double load your guns to fire upon their crews as we pull up! Mr. Stone, if you please, have the quarterdeck guns follow the same order. Sweep their decks as we pull up, to reduce the risk to our boarders." The men shouted acknowledgement, and ran to carry out the orders.
The boarding parties swarmed on deck, with muskets on their backs, pistols and cutlasses and knives in their belts, and grapple lines in their hands. Flint smiled, and turned to Mr. Miller. "We've got another advantage, Mr. Miller. The wind just turned, and is now blowing her into us. On my order, reef all sails so as to not get tangled in theirs."
Miller nodded, and answered, "Aye aye, sir."
Flint turned to the helmsman. "We're ready whenever you are, Mr. Bradley."
"Aye, Cap'n, we be comin alongside now."
Flint looked, and replied, "Well done, lad, not a scrape to be heard! Grapples away, reef all sails, boarders, take her!!!!" The cabin boy arrived on deck with Flint's pistols, and cutlass. After belting his weapons on, he moved down to board the enemy ship.
Miller called out, "Cap'n she's ours! She's struck her colors, and they're surrendering!!!" A cheer went up throughout the ship.
Flint boarded, and headed for the quarterdeck, where he found his First Mate, Mr. Thomas, and several boarders surrounding the Officer staff of the taken ship, who all looked very unhappy. "Gentlemen, I be Captain "Black"Jack Flint, Captain of the ship Raptor. Who be the Captain here, and what ship is this?"
One of the officers stepped forward. "I am currently acting as captain, as your "Warning shot" took our captain's head off his shoulders. The man never knew what hit him. The ship is called Elizabeth's Pride."
Flint grinned insolently. "Well then, he didn't have tae worry about why his ship was taken so easily, did he? Gentlemen, I'll take yer swords and me men will take the rest of yer weapons. Soon as we can find a place to be settin ye ashore, we'll do so. Only thing I need from you lads is yer word that there'll be no trouble between here and there, or I shall have ye put over now, tae swim home."
The captured officers looked at each other, and shrugged. The "Acting" Captain spoke again. "This was our first voyage, and was supposed to be relatively easy. We left Port Jamaica a month ago, most of us having been there since we were young lads, and were returning to London with jewelry and gold for Queen Elizabeth, and goods to trade on the market."
"Well then, methinks this turned out to be a rather profitable voyage, after all. Methinks Madame Sylvie would be thrilled to have some new jewels, and of course I'll have tae be finding something nice for my Lady Ophelia, as well. Mr. Thomas, if you please, make sure you've got firm control of the ship, and pick some of your men to stay here with you, and we'll take you in tow until we make landfall." Flint turned to the Raptor. "Mr. Miller!" Flint shouted across the span.
"Aye, sir!" came the reply from the Raptor's quarterdeck.
"Mr. Miller, if you would be so kind, please tell me where the nearest spot of semi-hospitable land is fer us to set these men?" Miller left the side to go check the charts, and came back about fine minutes later.
"We can hit Lisbon in two days, on our way to Calais!"
"Fair enough!" Flint turned back to the captives. "Gentlemen, it looks like you're to be our guests for at least another two days, providing the weather holds, you'll have to find other passage home from Lisbon. No worries, I'm a gentleman, I'll not take anyone's personal monies or property, just what is on the Manifest, and anything else I find in the holds. Mr. Thomas, do ye have a Quartermaster among yer lot tae go over the manifests?" Thomas nodded in the affirmative. "Fair enough, then, set him to work, and I want copies of the Manifests before we hit Lisbon. Also, someone bring me the Captain's log, so that I might review it. I'll be returning to the Raptor as soon as I get the log, Mr. Thomas, so the ship will be yours."
"Aye aye, Cap'n."
A cabin boy arrived with the Ship's and Captain's personal logs, and Flint returned to the Raptor. "Mr. Miller, at your convenience, break us free of the Pride, and take her under tow. She's not goin much of anywhere with no rudder, is she? I'll be below reviewing these logs."
"Aye, sir, if anything comes up, we'll sing out."
Flint turned to go below, and stopped. "Oh, and Mr. Miller, an extra rum ration to the crew with dinner, with my thanks for a job well done today." The crew cheered the Captain as he went below.
The trip to Lisbon went smoothly, with no further problems. Captain Flint had decided that he wasn't going to sell the Pride, as she apparently was contracted with the Queen herself. Last thing he wanted at this point was that fop, Francis Drake chasing him all over the seas. Once the two ships arrived in Lisbon Port, Flint had all the cargo moved from the Pride to the Raptor, and sold off whatever he could get a good profit for. All the jewelry was kept for Madame Sylvie to go through first, for her and her ladies. Then she would have her people sell the rest of it, and Flint would get his share of the profits.
The Pride's crew was then released, and their officers had their weapons returned. Elizabeth's Pride was then allowed to put in for repairs to her rudder, and then back underway for London. The Raptor then set sail, seeking the next trophy on the way to Calais.
© 2010 Jack Black of Flint
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Congratulations!
Well, well, well. Here is an exerpt from the Court Report from Twelfth Night in Rock Hill this past weekend:
AFTERNOON COURT
> (Master Bran Trefonnen was the primary herald)
>
> Several members of the Cyddlain Downs musical group “A Wake at the Wheel”
> were recognized.
> - Ivar Ulfsson received his Award of Arms.
> - Vincent D’orleans received his Award of Arms.
> - Katherine D’orleans received her Award of Arms.
> - Aysha of Cyddlain Downs received her Award of Arms.
Good job, folks. And as Ivar delightedly pointed out, they actually brought it to us. I guess they know of our habit of ducking court.
Anyways, thank you Morwenna, thank you Your Majesties, and thanks to everyone who came over to see these four be recognized. It really made the day special for us!
AFTERNOON COURT
> (Master Bran Trefonnen was the primary herald)
>
> Several members of the Cyddlain Downs musical group “A Wake at the Wheel”
> were recognized.
> - Ivar Ulfsson received his Award of Arms.
> - Vincent D’orleans received his Award of Arms.
> - Katherine D’orleans received her Award of Arms.
> - Aysha of Cyddlain Downs received her Award of Arms.
Good job, folks. And as Ivar delightedly pointed out, they actually brought it to us. I guess they know of our habit of ducking court.
Anyways, thank you Morwenna, thank you Your Majesties, and thanks to everyone who came over to see these four be recognized. It really made the day special for us!
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